The Road Home

Chapter 3

"Get up! You've got a meeting at seven and it's six thirty. Please wake up!"

Harper rolled over and tried to open her eyes. Every time Mel beat on the door of the small room, it sent ripples of pain throughout her entire body.

"Just a minute," she whispered, however, Mel kept hollering and pounding. Finally able to get out of the bed, she unlocked the door.

Mel flung it open barely missing Harper.

"You already missed the meeting last night. You can't miss this!" She flew past Harper in the direction of the suitcases still packed on the floor. "You're going to be late!"

"What time is it?" Harper was in a daze. She watched Mel open a suitcase then dodged the clothes she threw at her.

"Get changed. Quick! It's six-thirty."

"In the morning?"

Mel stopped running around the room to give her a look of exasperation. "Yes!"

"My head is killing me."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Mel tossed a hairbrush on the bed. "You can do this! Brush your hair and hurry. You're fine!"

Fine? Fine was the last thing she was at the moment. Had she had any energy she would have explained that to the crazy woman she paid to help her hold life together. But she didn't care at the moment.

"Hurry!" Mel begged.

Harper slowly got dressed and after putting her hair in a clip and brushing her teeth she slipped on her shoes. Thinking that she would give a million dollars for a cup of coffee, she was soon out the door and following Mel across the lot.

The crispness of the air was a nice surprise and helped waken her. It wasn't long before they walked into the large room full of long tables and folding chairs. The aroma of fresh coffee hit them as soon as they opened the door giving Harper hope of making it through the morning.

She tried not to make eye contact with anyone as she walked to a table, taking the first seat she came to. The last thing she felt like doing was chatting with the cast. She massaged her temples, wishing the throbbing would subside while Mel went in search of the coffee. Without warning, Brett leaned on the table directly in front of her giving the table a jolt. Harper looked up, their faces inches apart.

"Are you ok?" he asked, quietly.

She recognized that panicky look. She had seen it before when she worked with him, however, never intended for her. She nodded but assumed he would know better.

They stared at each other for a moment. Harper saw the anxiety in his eyes before he walked away. He had a lot riding on this movie.

An older woman approached from the right and pulled up a chair. She placed her coffee on the table then sat next to Harper. "How are you, dear?"

"Fine." That seemed to be the word of the day. She might as well use it. She glanced at the dark skinned lady with wiry, white hair. Her sincere smile made Harper feel a bit guilty for her flippant reply. She returned a weak smile.

"I'm so glad to be here." The elderly lady plopped her large purse on the table.

"Here you go." A tall man placed a script in front of Harper then one in front of the lady.

"Thank you." The woman took her script then stood to greet him. "I'm Marion White Eagle."

Harper tried not to pay any attention to the lady or the man who she realized was the professor although couldn't help hearing the excitement in the woman's voice. She remembered the days of enthusiasm over a new project. The thrill of meeting different people and learning a new story used to keep her from sleeping at night. A week ago she was interested in this project. Now it was a different story. She rubbed her throbbing forehead.