Taking a deep, steadying breath, she started forward—
All
at once Bella heard Jacques singing in his glorious tenor voice, beckoning to
her . . . She whirled around, frantically searching for him, becoming more
giddy and befuddled by the second. She felt as if she had become a shard of
light herself and was spinning out of control, lost in the kaleidoscope.
Overwhelmed, she clutched her head and blinked back tears of helpless
confusion—
Then,
miraculously, the dazzling motion, the whirring lights, stopped. Suddenly Bella
found herself standing at the edge of a stage, but a different stage. She was
staring transfixed at an audience of men and women in Victorian costumes. Her
horrified eyes drank in a montage of men with pomaded hair, wearing striped
sack coats and bow ties, women in high-necked frocks, with quaint hats
garnished with flowers. In the orchestra pit, the conductor—a scowling stranger
with mutton chop whiskers—was holding aloft his baton, obviously waiting for
her signal to begin.
Begin
what? As chuckles erupted from the spectators, Bella was mortified, her
heart thundering in panic. She realized she was standing in the midst of a
scene from one of her own nightmares. She was supposed to sing a solo—but she
didn't know what her song was or where she was!
Then
she heard Jacques's sexy voice whisper, “Sing for me, Bella . . .”
She
whirled, desperately trying to find him, and caught a glimpse of him in a
toreador costume. She blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Then she was staggered
by dizziness and felt herself spinning away again . . .
“Bella!”
Someone
grabbed her arm, and she jerked around to find herself facing Hank, one of the
stagehands, amid the same crazy, dancing light that had thrust her into another
dimension only seconds before. Dumbfounded, she gaped at the young man.
“Bella,
don't just stand there like a statue, come get in your cage,” he whispered
urgently. “And watch where you're going, for heaven's sake.”
Bella
spotted her cage at center stage and started toward it. She stumbled, and at
once Hank steadied her arm.
“You
okay?” he asked.
She
nodded. “It's just the lights are making me dizzy.”
“Tell
me about it.”
Grabbing
Bella by the waist, Hank hoisted her inside the cage, shut its door, and secured
the latch. As the cage was lifted on its cable and the lights went back up,
Bella held up her rose and smiled tremulously at Victor Daly, who was still
costumed in his striped coat, straw hat, and spats. A chill washed over her—for
Daly looked just like one of the old-time gentlemen she had just spotted in
that other audience!
What other audience? As Victor began to sing and Bella's cage began to gently sway,
she reeled at what had just happened to her. For just a few seconds, she could
have sworn she'd been transported to another time. She'd even caught a glimpse
of a possibly living Jacques in a toreador costume . . .
Oh,
mercy! she thought, thunderstruck. Hadn't the article she'd read stated that
the historical troupe had staged Carmen immediately prior to Kaleidoscope?
She
shuddered violently. Had she truly traveled through time—and found herself
facing an audience from another era? But how could this be? Surely she was just
letting the atmosphere of the spooky old theater get the better of her. Perhaps
the experience had been only a brief dream, or the product of an overly active
imagination—and the dizziness she had felt when the chandelier revolved.
Chapter Seven
Back
to Contents
“You
look very far away, my dear.”
Late
the following afternoon, Bella sat with Gran in the bay window of her room.
Gran had been dozing in her rocker, Bella sitting on the footstool, gazing out
the window at a cardinal perched on a branch of a huge old crepe myrtle,
singing a plaintive song.
Bella
flashed Gran a smile. “You were far away, too. I thought you were going to take
a nice long nap.”
Isabella
yawned. “I want to take full
All
at once Bella heard Jacques singing in his glorious tenor voice, beckoning to
her . . . She whirled around, frantically searching for him, becoming more
giddy and befuddled by the second. She felt as if she had become a shard of
light herself and was spinning out of control, lost in the kaleidoscope.
Overwhelmed, she clutched her head and blinked back tears of helpless
confusion—
Then,
miraculously, the dazzling motion, the whirring lights, stopped. Suddenly Bella
found herself standing at the edge of a stage, but a different stage. She was
staring transfixed at an audience of men and women in Victorian costumes. Her
horrified eyes drank in a montage of men with pomaded hair, wearing striped
sack coats and bow ties, women in high-necked frocks, with quaint hats
garnished with flowers. In the orchestra pit, the conductor—a scowling stranger
with mutton chop whiskers—was holding aloft his baton, obviously waiting for
her signal to begin.
Begin
what? As chuckles erupted from the spectators, Bella was mortified, her
heart thundering in panic. She realized she was standing in the midst of a
scene from one of her own nightmares. She was supposed to sing a solo—but she
didn't know what her song was or where she was!
Then
she heard Jacques's sexy voice whisper, “Sing for me, Bella . . .”
She
whirled, desperately trying to find him, and caught a glimpse of him in a
toreador costume. She blinked at him uncomprehendingly. Then she was staggered
by dizziness and felt herself spinning away again . . .
“Bella!”
Someone
grabbed her arm, and she jerked around to find herself facing Hank, one of the
stagehands, amid the same crazy, dancing light that had thrust her into another
dimension only seconds before. Dumbfounded, she gaped at the young man.
“Bella,
don't just stand there like a statue, come get in your cage,” he whispered
urgently. “And watch where you're going, for heaven's sake.”
Bella
spotted her cage at center stage and started toward it. She stumbled, and at
once Hank steadied her arm.
“You
okay?” he asked.
She
nodded. “It's just the lights are making me dizzy.”
“Tell
me about it.”
Grabbing
Bella by the waist, Hank hoisted her inside the cage, shut its door, and secured
the latch. As the cage was lifted on its cable and the lights went back up,
Bella held up her rose and smiled tremulously at Victor Daly, who was still
costumed in his striped coat, straw hat, and spats. A chill washed over her—for
Daly looked just like one of the old-time gentlemen she had just spotted in
that other audience!
What other audience? As Victor began to sing and Bella's cage began to gently sway,
she reeled at what had just happened to her. For just a few seconds, she could
have sworn she'd been transported to another time. She'd even caught a glimpse
of a possibly living Jacques in a toreador costume . . .
Oh,
mercy! she thought, thunderstruck. Hadn't the article she'd read stated that
the historical troupe had staged Carmen immediately prior to Kaleidoscope?
She
shuddered violently. Had she truly traveled through time—and found herself
facing an audience from another era? But how could this be? Surely she was just
letting the atmosphere of the spooky old theater get the better of her. Perhaps
the experience had been only a brief dream, or the product of an overly active
imagination—and the dizziness she had felt when the chandelier revolved.
Chapter Seven
Back
to Contents
“You
look very far away, my dear.”
Late
the following afternoon, Bella sat with Gran in the bay window of her room.
Gran had been dozing in her rocker, Bella sitting on the footstool, gazing out
the window at a cardinal perched on a branch of a huge old crepe myrtle,
singing a plaintive song.
Bella
flashed Gran a smile. “You were far away, too. I thought you were going to take
a nice long nap.”
Isabella
yawned. “I want to take full
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