Chapter 12

We were deep into discussions about adopting the day that I stumbled upon George Seward, Chief Operating Officer of Southern Sky Films. It wasn’t that I stumbled into George. His car – a nineteen seventy, hand-made Excalibur – broke down on the road I took to our house from town. George was standing in the road beside his car when I rounded the bend, braked and pulled over to offer him a ride.

“Much obliged, young fellow,” he said affably as he hopped in. “The old gal is much too beautiful to put out to pasture, and my ex-wife, contrary Mary, would lose her mind trying to get it back if I did.” I thought that his comment was cute and that it pegged him as a good guy in my book. “Do you ever have mobile service out here? I can’t raise a thing.”

“It actually comes back about a half mile ahead. My house is on top of the mountain and we have excellent reception, so give it a minute and you call everyone on your list.

“What brings you out to the back woods, if I’m not being nosey?”

“One of my little side ventures is making movies for cable networks. We’re about to start shooting the exterior shots for a movie set on a farm way out in the country. And one of my bushel basket of associate producers thinks I’ll find the right setting out here ... somewhere.” Mr. Seward was about sixty-five, hearty looking, and seemed happy to be riding with a complete stranger to a house out in the middle of nowhere, so his decision making skills might have needed a little work. “So,” he continued, “I’ve been riding all over these back roads looking for just the place. So far I’ve not found it.”

We rode to the house where Abby ran out to greet me. After our kisses and hugs, I introduced George to Abby and he knelt to make himself exactly her height, took her hand as gentle as could be, and kissed the back of that hand, declaring, “Well ... young lady. You are about the prettiest thing I’ve seen in two decades. It’s too darn bad that you jumped the gun and married this fellow. I would have been thrilled to capture your heart and make you the next ex-Mrs. George Seward.”

It was easy for anyone to see that George was welcome at our house.

We chatted in the family room, looking out the windows over the big back deck, where we could watch the water as it flickered around in the cold wind. George eventually gave in and told Abby all about his movie company, regaling her with stories about movie stars, epic productions, near disasters and other things of interest to them both. I watched the water and enjoyed doing nothing.

At one point George asked if we might like to see how they make movies in the modern era and Abby nearly jumped out of her skirt volunteering to go watch. By the time the flat-bed wrecker arrived and picked up the Excalibur, and one of George’s assistants arrived to give him a ride back into town, we had been invited to spend the next two days on set, in their hastily acquired sound stage, watching the interior shots being set up and filmed.

Abby and I walked George out to meet his ride and promised to show up bright and early to watch the filming of his movie. I could feel Abby’s excitement as we shared kitchen duties, getting supper ready. She was so excited to see how it all worked. It made me wonder if she was one of those girls that spent her childhood dreaming of being a starlet.

The morning dawned bright and unusually cold for Branson, Missouri. Abby was up and busy getting ready to run into two to see the movie set so early that we had to kill time or be there before anyone else. On the drive down I asked about her excitement.

“When I was teaching I spent a couple of years consulting on some scripts for our drama department. My English background helped me cut through the dialogue and clean it up, and I had a little bit of talent where suggesting changed to make the script more believable was concerned. I loved working on those scripts and I just can’t wait to see how the movie company puts all of that together to make a good film.” Her happiness was enough for me. As long as it made her happy, I was game to hang around and see what I could learn.

The temporary home of Southern Sky productions was deep inside of a corporate park. Their production was taking place inside a large warehouse that was reconfigured for their need. It was a huge building and seemed to have plenty of space for everything going on. As I looked around I knew one thing for certain. There was no way trying to duplicate what they were doing in Branson was even a small fraction of what it would cost to do it in California. George Seward was saving a bundle using the location for everything instead of paying exorbitant union labor and Los Angeles area prices for everything.

We gave our names to the guard at the entrance to their parking area and he directed us to a parking spot very close to the main doors. Abby was almost giddy with excitement as we quietly entered, thinking we might be interrupting if we made any sound above a whisper.

Being quiet was a non-starter. The noise level inside the warehouse was brutal. Everywhere we looked scenery was being moved around, lights were being set up, people were having costume checks, and microphone volumes were being set. Abby acted like she felt right at home in the midst of all the chaos. She smiled and greeted everyone that passed by and made eye contact. Her smile rubbed off on several people, who looked kind of sour before she lit their world with her happiness. I felt very blessed to be the one she chose as I watched people respond to her innate joyfulness.