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  CHANGED SOMEHOW

  THE POTTER’S HOUSE BOOKS TWO – BOOK 7

  CHLOE S. FLANAGAN

  Copyright © 2020 Chloe S. Flanagan

  Scripture quotations are from New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.

  2 Corinthians 3:18 (NRSV)

  NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  The 24 books that form The Potter’s House Books Series Two are linked by the theme of hope, redemption, and second chances. They are all stand-alone books and can be read in any order. Books will become progressively available from January 7, 2020.

  Book 1: The Hope We Share, by Juliette Duncan

  Book 2: Beyond the Deep, Kristen M. Fraser

  Book 3: Honor’s Reward, by Mary Manners

  Book 4: Hands of Grace, by Brenda S Anderson

  Book 5: Always You, by Jen Rodewald

  Book 6: Her Cowboy Forever, by Dora Hiers

  Book 7: Changed Somehow, by Chloe Flanagan

  Books 8: Sweet Scent of Forgiveness, by Delia Latham

  Books 9-24 to be advised

  ◆◆◆

  I hope you’ll consider signing up for my author newsletter for news on my writing plus a ton of book recommendations. As a thanks for signing up, you’ll receive the prologue and first chapter of my novel, A Time for Every Matter.

  1

  Floating on air is such a clichéd phrase.

  But there really wasn’t a more original way to describe the moment. In a few short months, she would finally see a theater poster with the words “Starring Natalie Rivers” printed on it.

  Okay, so maybe after all this time, her face wasn’t lighting up the “Great White Way” yet—yikes! another cliché—but the lead in the off-Broadway production she’d just landed was a compelling role. And that’s what mattered.

  In The Seat Fillers, her character, the neglected daughter of a Hollywood star, would overcome addiction and excess to help others in similar situations. Portraying the character before and after the transformation would require a lot of range. If she executed it right and captured the right people’s attention, the part could make her career.

  Descending from her cloud long enough to check the storefront signs around her, she realized she’d almost passed the dry cleaners. Once she spotted it, she hurried inside to pick up her boyfriend Sebastian’s dry cleaning, rolling her eyes as she paid the steep price. There were at least a half dozen cheaper cleaners in the surrounding neighborhood, but he insisted on using what he thought was the best. She accepted the garments with a smirk. Oh well, it was his money.

  The simple act of re-entering the warm, slightly humid midafternoon sunlight was enough to return her thoughts to the role. After the first audition, as with most of her auditions, she’d driven herself nuts trying to figure out whether the director had liked her or not. She’d done a scene from the beginning of the play when her character, Marissa, had just stolen money from her dad to buy drugs. In that moment, Marissa had been drowning in despair and self-loathing.

  Then, the director had asked her to do a scene after the character got clean, a scene where she confronted the opportunistic drug dealer who supplied to underage kids in Beverly Hills. Marissa was now confident and fueled by righteous passion. The contrast was sharp, but Natalie had been almost certain she had nailed it.

  Apparently, all those seasons of being a swing actor who embodied vastly different characters within the same production had paid off, because she got the callback.

  She released a self-satisfied sigh and stepped off the curb across from Sebastian’s apartment building, only to hear the screech of brakes followed by the blare of a horn.

  “Watch where you’re going, blondie!” the driver of the taxi that had nearly plowed into her leaned out his window and shouted. He finished the tirade with a few expletives and shook his fist at her.

  Turning to face the cab head on, she looked the driver straight in the eyes and flashed the gradual, brilliant smile she’d practiced in front of the mirror for hours. She raised her head and slid her shoulders back, showcasing all her generous assets at once. Immediately, the driver stopped shouting, so she puckered her lips and kissed the air in his direction. His mouth fell open and his gaze, she didn’t doubt for a second, followed her all the way across the street until she entered the building.

  ◆◆◆

  “I knew you’d get it!”

  Natalie quirked her brow at Sebastian’s enthusiasm. It wasn’t like him to be encouraging. He was generally too self-absorbed for that. “Thanks, baby. I wasn’t so sure.”

  He paced the room excitedly. “You were a shoo-in for a lead like that. I knew that when we first met.” He stopped and faced her. “Marlowe is directing, right? Maybe you can talk to him about considering me for the play he’s supposed to do next.”

  Ah. That explained his excitement. “Yeah, maybe in a few weeks, we’ll be on those kind of terms.”

  His thin lips curled back over his perfect white teeth. “Now you’re talking!”

  Bounding across the room, he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her hard. The whole time, his hand snaked further and further down her back.

  She was too good at her craft to squirm in his grasp, even though his attentions alternated between numbing and repulsive. Besides, what Sebastian didn’t know was that—now that she wasn’t in between parts anymore—she wouldn’t need to stay at his place to save money.

  Yeah, she’d be on the right terms with a well-known director soon, but she wouldn’t stick around long enough for Sebastian to benefit from it.

  2

  One of the rookie actors actually applauded.

  Natalie had just finished her first read-through of the pivotal scene in the play where Marissa hit the rocky bottom of her self-destructive lifestyle.

  Staring up at the ceiling, arms outstretched and eyes damp, she cried, “I can’t do this anymore!”

  The scene ended, and the room was perfectly still—that is, until nineteen-year-old Ryan Fletcher started applauding from his place in the corner of the room.

  Snickers ran through the other players and crew, but Natalie sent him an indulgent smile.

  “All right, that’s enough! Let’s move on,” Marlowe barked. “Fletcher!” He turned on the young man. “Since you have everyone’s attention now, you can read next. Get over here.”

  Ryan’s face reddened, but he hurried over and sat across the table from Natalie.

  Her smile broadened. Normally, she wouldn’t have much patience for some kid cast in his first major speaking part in a real play, but she’d always make an exception for an admirer.

  Ryan settled into his chair and role. He slouched, making his already small frame seem even more waif-like. Then he began reading his lines in a cracking voice that made him sound more adolescent. Just like that, four or five years faded away and he was Liam, the misguided teenager.

  “So what if it does kill me, Marissa? It’s not like anyone will care!” he cued her, then stared straight at her, his deep blue eyes wide, pain-fil
led, and searching right through her.

  A thick lump filled Natalie’s throat and nearly choked off her breath. Still, his piercing eyes pulled on her. Why was he looking at her like that? So expectant and needy.

  Her heart began to pound violently. What was the line? How could she forget? She always worked hard to know dialogue well enough to go almost entirely off book by the first rehearsal. Now she was scanning the script for the words as though she’d never seen it before.

  Marlowe cleared his throat, which snapped her into focus enough to find her place.

  “I—” It came out like a croak. She swallowed and tried again. “I care Liam. You matter to me, and I’ll never let anything hurt you—even if that means protecting you from yourself.”

  It took all of her self-control not to wince at her own delivery. The words had mechanically slid out, like her tongue was a cheesy dialogue conveyor belt.

  She glanced at Marlowe, who simply glared. Alec, the assistant director, cut in. “Why don’t we press on? We need to block …”

  “No!” Marlowe interrupted him. “No! Natalie, do that again. Ryan, cue her.”

  “It’s not like anyone would care!”

  She leaned forward, not bothering to look at her script. “I care! You matter to me, Tim—Liam! You matter to me, and I’ll never let anything hurt you. Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

  “Did I miss something here? Are we putting on a high school production?” Marlowe demanded. “Do it again!”

  So she did again and again, each time sounding less believable than the last, until they finally moved on to another scene with different actors. She tried to pay attention, but panic churned in her stomach. What was wrong with her? Although Marlowe’s high school drama remark stung, he’d been right.

  A whole week of preparations, blocking scenes, and rehearsals went by, with Natalie polishing every part of her performance except the scenes with Ryan. For those, she could barely get through without stammering and getting panicky.

  Finally, at the end of the fifth rehearsal, Marlowe pulled her aside in the hallway, leaving the door to the theater ajar such that the entire cast and crew could probably hear too. “Natalie, what is going on here? You are ruining the entire production with your performance in the Liam scenes.”

  “You could always cut that part out,” she suggested.

  “No, I’m not going to cut it out just because you have some kind of hang-up!”

  “Then give me a little more time to work it out, please. I’ll get there. I always do.”

  He crossed his arms and scowled. “No, I really don’t think you will. I don’t think you have the heart for this, Natalie.”

  “W—what do you mean?”

  He threw up his hands. “Am I speaking Greek or something? I mean you’re a faker, Natalie. You may call yourself an actor while you go around putting on a mask to pretend you’re a queen or a doctor, or anything else, but you’re really nothing but a faker. You don’t have the heart or soul to actually be this part.”

  He pointed in the general direction of her midsection. “Something is missing there.”

  His words resounded through her, vibrating on her heat and pain receptors as if he had physically struck her, instead of merely insulting her.

  Her hand went to her mouth. “That’s not true. I—” She dropped her arm, whirled around, and ran for the exit.

  “Where do you think you’re going? Look, you cause me any more problems like this, and I’ll see to it you never get cast in this city again!”

  3

  “I’ve got the blues,” the lead singer of Natalie’s favorite jazz band crooned through her earbuds.

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Natalie muttered as she threw diced ham, onions, and other vegetables into a cast-iron skillet and tossed them in oil.

  She and Sebastian rarely ate in, so when the impulse to prepare a home-cooked meal had attacked, omelets were the only thing she could make with the hodgepodge of ingredients on hand in the kitchen.

  After her confrontation with Marlowe, she had rushed home to the apartment, simultaneously exhausted and wound up. Now she was cooking for Sebastian—maybe for the first time in their four-month relationship—and listening to her music full blast in hopes of drowning out the director’s words.

  No heart.

  She vigorously beat the eggs while the mixture in the skillet sizzled. Who was he to talk to her about heart? Everyone knew he was the type of director who delighted in bringing actors to tears with harsh critiques of their delivery. It was all in the name of excellence, people would say. He was one of the best because he expected 200 percent from his actors.

  Maybe that was all that was behind his attack on her, too. Surely he wouldn’t have pushed her like that if he hadn’t thought he could prod her into a better performance.

  She poured the eggs over the meat and vegetable mixture and began tilting the pan to distribute everything evenly.

  Maybe Marlowe thought he could make her excel. But could he? Her reaction to her scene with Ryan was terrifying. She had never experienced anything like it.

  Well, that wasn’t quite true. She had experienced something like it, but that had been a completely different situation. This wasn’t some squiggly, needy infant she’d been dealing with; this was practically a grown man.

  So what did it all mean? That she couldn’t pull off a maternal role? At her age, that would wipe out about half of her potential roles within a couple of years.

  The eggs were beginning to firm when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She jumped and spun around to face Sebastian.

  His lips were moving, so she pulled out her earbuds. “What?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I said, didn’t you hear me come in?”

  “No, and you startled me.”

  “Startled you? What about me? I thought I had stumbled into the wrong apartment. What are you doing at the stove?”

  “Go wash your hands, idiot. It will be ready in a minute.”

  He didn’t argue, and a few minutes later, they sat down.

  “Hey, this is actually pretty good,” he remarked.

  “Thanks.”

  Good thing she wasn’t feeling chatty, because he rambled about his day of auditions all through the rest of the meal and the dishwashing.

  Afterwards, they sat down on the sofa.

  He was still talking. “All I have tomorrow is one audition for a bit part in the new Denton production.”

  With a groan, he rested his elbows on his knees and began rubbing his forehead.

  “What’s the matter? Do you have a headache?“

  “This whole business is a headache!”

  She watched him dramatize over his lot in life for a while longer, then slowly reached her arms out to him. “Come here a minute.”

  He dropped his hands and looked confused. “Why?”

  “Would you just come here?” She helped him relax into a reclining position with his head resting on her lap. Methodically, she began massaging his temples with even, counterclockwise rotations.

  Circle. Circle. Circle. Gentle and concerned. There. Anyone from a mile away could see she was a warm and caring girlfriend.

  The tiny muscles beneath her fingers tensed, and she refocused on his face. He was frowning up at her. “Hey, what’s up with you tonight, Natalie? I didn’t realize your Marissa character was some kind of June Cleaver role.”

  Immediately, her hands stilled. Geez, he was more perceptive than she gave him credit for. What was that old saying? You can’t con a con?

  “I don’t have a role anymore,” she admitted.

  “What?” He sat up straight on the sofa and faced her.

  She looked away and leaned back into the cushion, now 100 percent exhausted as she recounted her confrontation with Marlowe.

  When she finished her story, he released a sigh. “Oh, I see. It’s not like you lost the part or anything. I mean, Marlowe is being a total diva, but everyone knows he’s like that. He can�
��t just fire you, though.”

  Her lips went tight. “Maybe not, but I’m not going back to the play.”

  “Are you crazy? Nobody walks away from an Osborne Marlowe play. You’ll never get work again!”

  “I’m not sure I even care anymore.”

  “Do you hear yourself right now? What are you talking about?”

  She stood up and faced him. “Would it kill you to give me a little support, and help me figure it out instead of rushing to judgment?”

  “Figure what out?” He threw his hands up. “All I see is you getting hysterical because you had a little fight with the director. Deal with it! It happens all the time. You don’t throw away your career over it. Working with him is going to open so many doors.”

  “Doors for you, you mean? Isn’t that what you’re thinking? You’re waiting for me to get in good with Marlowe so I can talk him into giving you a chance!”

  He sprang to his feet and stood toe to toe with her. “What’s wrong with that? Isn’t that what anybody would want? Let’s face it, Natalie. You’re a decent actress and a total hottie, but that’s all you’ve got going for you. So if you get a chance like this, you really shouldn’t mess it up. That would be stupid.”

  “A decent actress? What do you know about any of it? You couldn’t get a job handing out fliers without latching onto someone else’s influence. You’re just a spoiled rich kid living a pipe dream on his family’s dime!”

  His face went fiery red. “I never noticed you complaining about getting free room and board on that dime!”

  She released a shuddering laugh. “Oh no, Sebastian, sharing a home and bed with you is a lot of things, but it’s certainly not free.”

  At that, his complexion went from red to pale. “Then maybe you’d be happier finding someone better to sponge off!”

  “Maybe! It wouldn’t be hard! I’ll leave tonight, in fact.”

  “Good luck! Just be sure and get your hands on his wallet before he figures out what a frigid jezebel you are!”