The Promise of Change

Chapter 12



As Sarah waited for Michael to instruct the actors and crew, she asked herself why she’d written such a romantic final scene. She couldn’t have ended with a handshake? Thank God she hadn’t written a sex scene! Note to self: Any future books where Alex may cast himself as the hero will have no sex scenes. Strictly PG.

The location manager had found a cozy little 1920s bungalow in Berkeley Park, a lovely neighborhood just west of mid-town Atlanta, to serve as Aunt Millie’s house.

Christen comes to Atlanta in search of Amelia and finds her living in her aunt’s modest house, despite having inherited over two million dollars. The exterior scene where Christen unexpectedly appears at Amelia’s door had already been shot, and the crew had moved into the tiny living room.

Brooke, Alex and Sarah had managed to reduce the tension to a low hum, but Sarah wasn’t sure which of them, Alex or herself, had it worse: while he had to act like he loved her, Sarah had to watch while he kissed her.

“Okay, let’s block the scene.” Michael took his seat next to Sarah’s. “Brooke, you walk into the room stopping in front of the sofa and turn to face Alex. Alex you follow Brooke, hesitating in the doorway, then you make up your mind to tell her that you love her, and persuade her she loves you, whether she wants to admit it or not.”

Brooke and Alex followed Michael’s direction, but in place of their lines, Brooke asked, “Alex, do you think you can play this scene convincingly?”

“Brooke, I’ll play my role with consummate professionalism, and everyone who watches will believe I’m totally captivated by you, but make no mistake, I’ll detest every minute of it,” he growled.

Their expressions and body language were at odds with their words. If this were a silent film, the audience would think they were confessing their undying love for one another.

“Okay. Let’s roll,” Michael instructed.

This was followed by the assistant director’s instructions. “Quiet everyone. Roll sound. Roll camera.”


Amelia, pain and confusion on her face: “Christen, I don’t understand why you’re here. We can’t possibly have anything more to say to one another—”

Christen, approaching Amelia with determination: “I beg to differ. I think we have a great deal to say to one another—”

Amelia: “Did you fly all the way to Atlanta to berate me for my despicable behavior towards Lady Victoria? If so, save your breath. I know I was horribly rude and conveyed my apologies in a letter to be given to her by Margaret, although I’d understand if Lady Victoria refused it.” Amelia turns her back on Christen.

Christen walks up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders: “Amelia.” He whispers her name. “I didn’t come to berate you. Quite the contrary.” He turns her to face him, placing his hands on either side of her face. “I came to make you believe that I’m in love with you, notwithstanding what Charles led you to believe. I’ve been in love with you from the moment you called me a pompous, condescending blue-blood and I pointed out that pompous and condescending were redundant.” Christen smiles.

Amelia is speechless.

Christen, still smiling: “Apparently I’ve discovered how to leave you speechless. All I have to do is say ‘I love you.’ I’ll have to remember that when we next argue.”

Amelia recovers her capacity for speech: “You’re taking a great deal for granted, aren’t you? I haven’t declared my feelings for you—”

Christen, complacently: “Oh, there’s no need. You love me, too.”

Amelia, shaking her head: “Arrogant to the last—”

Christen cuts off her words with a kiss. She puts her arms around his neck. He pulls back. “I love you, Amelia Hampton.”

Amelia jumps up, wrapping her legs around his waist, exactly the type of behavior Christen would have abhorred before. Instead of chiding her, he places his hands under her bottom, laughing and spinning her around. She pulls his face to hers and they kiss.

“Cut. Print. Great job.”

Breathe. At least that take was done. Knowing Michael, only twenty more to go. Sarah’s relief was short-lived, however. As she looked on, Brooke’s legs were still wrapped around Alex’s waist, her lips still pressed to his. She knew Brooke was only doing it to aggravate her, but it rankled nonetheless.

“Brooke,” Alex spoke against her mouth, “if I wasn’t a gentleman, I’d drop you on your despicable little ass. Now let go before I forget my manners.”

“Oh, did Michael say ‘cut?’ I guess I didn’t hear him.” She dropped her legs from his waist, and stepped back, wearing a smug expression on her pretty face.

Sarah groaned. This was going to be a long day.

“How do you do it?” At his confused expression, Sarah continued. “Make people believe you’re madly in love with someone you actually despise?”

They were finishing a light dinner in their hotel suite. After the tabloid articles, there was no point in pretending their relationship was a secret, plus Sarah was sure Brooke had already enlightened everyone.

It was after midnight, late to be eating, but they didn’t wrap up until after ten, the goal being to finish the principal photography today, four months to the day they started filming.

“It’s what I do. How do you conjure beautiful, complex characters out of thin air, or create breathtaking settings with words? We have both found our calling, and when that happens, we often exceed our own expectations. You’re willing to do the hard things in order to perfect your craft.”

“But what I do seems easy by comparison. My work is solitary. I don’t have to deal with troublesome people on a daily basis.”

“Mind over matter I guess.” He shrugged, taking a sip of his Southern iced tea, something he’d recently discovered in Atlanta. “You remember the actress who played Fanny Price? She reeked of garlic every day.” He made a face wrinkling his nose.

“Ooh.” Sarah made a similar face. “Yet you made me, and millions of others believe that you, or rather Edmund, were in love with her.”

“Well, I’m not sure about millions, but there you have it, mind over matter, or in that case mind over odor.”

They both chuckled.

“Should I be concerned that it’s mind over matter with me?” Sarah said it teasingly, but a part of her was serious.

“Sarah, I could never be anything but myself around you.” He reached across the table and took her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. “It’s inescapable. When I tried to act angry around you, I failed. I couldn’t sustain an emotion that was contrary to my actual feelings. After all day pretending emotions I don’t really feel, being myself with you is . . . liberating.” His eyes held hers. “No. I cannot act with you. It is always undeniably real.”