The first thing we did was talk to Miss Garber about our plans for the orphans, and she thought it was a marvelous idea. That was her favorite word, by the way-marvelous-after shed greeted you with "Hellooooo." On Monday, when she realized that I knew all my lines, she said, "Marvelous!" and for the wo hours whenever Id finish up a se, shed say it again. By the end of the rehearsal, Id heard it about four zillion times.
But Miss Garber actually went our idea oer. She told the class what we were doing, and she asked if other members of the cast would be willing to do their parts as well, so that the orphans could really enjoy the whole thing. The way she asked meant that they really didnt have a choice, and she looked around the class, waiting for someoo nod so she could make it official. No one moved a muscle, except for Eddie. Somehow hed inhaled a bug up his that exaent, and he sneezed violently. The bug flew out his nose, shot across his desk, and landed on the flht by Norma Jeans leg. She jumped out of her chair and screamed out loud, and the people oher side of her shouted, "Eww . . . gross!" The rest of the class started looking around and ing their necks, trying to see what happened, and for the en seds there was total pandemonium in the classroom. For Miss Garber, that was as good of an answer as she needed.
"Marvelous," she said, closing the discussion.
Jamie, meanwhile, was getting really excited about perf for the orphans. During a break in rehearsals she pulled me aside and thanked me for thinking of them. "Theres no way you would know," she said almost spiratorially, "but Ive been w what to do for the orphahis year. Ive been praying about it for months now because I want this Christmas to be the most special one of all."
"Why is this Christmas so important?" I asked her, and she smiled patiently, as if Id asked a question that didnt really matter.
"It just is," she said simply.
The step was to talk it over with Mr. Jenkins, the director of the orphanage. Now Id never met Mr. Jenkins before, being that the orphanage was in Morehead City, which was across the bridge from Beaufort, and Id never had any reason to go there. When Jamie surprised me with the he following day that wed be meeting him later that evening, I was sort of worried that I wasnt dressed niough. I know it was an orphanage, but a guy wants to make a good impression. Even though I wasnt as excited about it as Jamie was (no one was as excited as Jamie), I didnt want to be regarded as the Grinch who ruined Christmas for the orphaher.
Before we went to the orphanage for our meeting, we had to walk to my house to pick up my moms car, and while there, I planned on ging into something a little he walk took about ten minutes or so, and Jamie didnt say much along the way, at least until we got to my neighborhood. The homes around mine were all large and well kept, and she asked who lived where and how old the houses were. I answered her questions without much thought, but when I opehe front door to my house, I suddenly realized how different this world was pared with her own. She had a shocked expression on her face as she looked around the living room, taking in her surroundings.
No doubt it was the fa home shed ever been in. A moment later I saw her eyes travel to the paintings that lihe walls. My aors, so to speak. As with many southern families, my entire lineage could be traced in the dozen faces that lihe wal