“And blackout,” Jude calls. Cole and I breathe in time with each other, neither of us willing to sever that connection we just made. The electricity of it still snaps and crackles between us.

“Wow,” Willa whispers. “Wow. Beautiful way to end a scene. Avril, was that okay for you?”

I nod and then, suddenly, I burst into tears. I’m just feeling so much.

So much Eden.

So much me.

So much of my mother.

“Okay,” Willa says, “company, take ten.” People start to drift away.

Willa leaves Cole standing there, staring. She takes my hand and leads me over to a dark corner of the barn.

“Breathe,” she whispers, and she pulls me into a hug. “You’re okay.” I nod against her shoulder. She’s smoothing my hair, and it feels so good to have her petting me and making soothing noises in my ear. “Shhh. It’s okay, my lovely.”

For one short second, I have a flash of my mother. She’s tucking me into bed. Smoothing my hair. Kissing me good night. She’s humming something beautiful while she pats my back.

It’s like a bolt of lightning straight to the heart, the shock of that memory. It makes me tremble with loneliness. And I ache for her. That woman I’m almost starting to remember. I have to bite my lip to keep from wailing.

“There’s no shame in feeling, Avril. You can’t make your audience feel if you can’t feel.” Willa’s hand is making slow, soothing circles on my back. “Your mother was the same way. She kept a lot of things to herself. And I admired her for that strength.” She shakes her head. “God knows I wanted it for myself.” I pull back to stare at her, because Willa is such a force. I can’t imagine her ever feeling weak. She reaches up, tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “But that summer, here, Nicole was learning to let herself feel.” I hear the jangle of bracelets as her hand drops back to her lap. “Whisper Cove has a way of teaching you what you need to learn.”

I nod again, and Willa offers me a tissue. Then she sends me off to the bathroom to wash my face. But I’m afraid to turn on the sink, so I dab at my eyes with a dry paper towel. And when I’m finished, Willa tells Jude to call the others in.

Back to work.

“The show must go on,” she says with a reassuring smile in my direction. “We’re creating something extraordinary.”

The rest of rehearsal is good. We work the scene over and over, but I keep it together. I let myself feel enough. But not too much. I’m finding that line. Walking an emotional tightrope.

“You okay?” Cole asks when Willa lets us all go. “That was intense. What happened earlier.”

“Yeah. I just . . .”