Summer

by Karen Kingsbury

  “You’re comin’ home with me?” She set her legs out and onto the ground. She remained motionless for a few seconds.

  “Randi!”

  “Okay . . . okay.” She held her hand out to him.

  He took it and pulled her to her feet. He could hear the car doors opening behind him, feel the cameramen rushing up to him. “Go ahead!” he shouted. “Take your pictures. And tell me you’ve never tried to help a friend.”

  “Some friend, Matthews!” It was the same smart mouth who’d said something back at the nightclub.

  Dayne hesitated. He clenched his fist. He could imagine the pleasure of shoving it deep into the guy’s face.

  “Go ahead, Dayne.” The guy obviously understood what was about to happen. “I’ve got the camera right on you. Take your best shot. Let it fly.”

  Dayne narrowed his eyes and looked away. A fight would prove nothing. It would only look worse in a headline: “Dayne Matthews Punches Photographer while Helping Randi Wells into Her House.” No, he couldn’t have that in print. He stared at the front door and kept walking.

  Behind him, his driver was waiting. “How long, sir?”

  “Not long.”

  “Yeah.” One of the photographers laughed. “Fifteen, twenty minutes tops.”

  Dayne’s rage was getting the best of him. Their comments made him furious and sick at the same time. He moved faster, and Randi did her best to keep up.

  “Wow . . . it’s a race!” She was still laughing, but her eyes were wide, slightly fearful. “Don’t let me fall.”

  They reached her door, and he found the right key. The entire time, he could feel the paparazzi just a few feet behind them. What right did they have to do this? They were trespassing, harassing him. He could call the police and report them. But what would it prove? A slap on the wrist and they’d be back again.

  Dayne opened the door and helped Randi inside. As soon as he could, he slammed the door. Go ahead, he thought. Write your stories. He’d been here a few times before, and now he couldn’t get out of her house fast enough.

  She clung to his waist as they walked down the hallway to her bedroom. He flipped on lights as they went.

  “You love me, right?” She squinted up at him. The lights were brighter than anything in the club or limo.

  “Oh, sure, Randi.” He didn’t slow his pace. “This is just how I wanted my night to go.”

  Once he got her into her room, he set her on the bed. He was looking for a light switch when she started to take off her top.

  “No!” He held up his hand. She could figure out how to get into bed by herself. “Good night, Randi.”

  She let her top fall back into place and held her hand out to him. “Help me. I need you.”

  Her voice was whiny, and even though he wasn’t tempted by her, he could feel the Holy Spirit urging him to leave. He took another few steps back. “Talk to you later, friend.”

  She was still calling after him as he jogged back down the hallway and through her front door. He stopped, surprised. The paparazzi had disappeared. “Of course,” he muttered. “Who wants a picture of a guy keeping his word?”

  On his way back to his Malibu house, he tried calling Katy a few times. She had to know about the events of the night. What if some gossip columnist blasted the news on the Internet or on one of the entertainment cable channels? Katy could be flipping the channels, wishing he would hurry and come home, and she could see the pictures of him and Randi.

  “Come on, Katy. . . . Answer the phone.”

  Finally he tried one of the other actors, a guy he’d worked with a few times before.

  “Yeah?” He sounded distracted.

  “Hey, man, I’m looking for Katy.”

  “Katy? Yeah, she’s getting a late-night lesson from old Rick, the horse trainer.” The guy laughed.

  “Listen, man, this isn’t funny.” Dayne hated being so far away. Whatever was happening on the set, he needed Katy. Now. “Where is she?”

  “Just kidding, Matthews.” His voice grew more serious. “I think she’s having dinner with the director. Just the two of them.”

  Dayne thanked his friend and snapped his phone shut. His heart raced, and he squeezed his eyes shut. What was happening? Katy had gone to dinner with Stephen? Alone? He raked his fingers through his hair and opened his eyes. He had no reason to doubt her, no reason to suspect anything was wrong.

  But all he could think about was something Katy had said one night last week. They’d been talking about the dailies from their shooting in Los Angeles, and Katy had smiled. “Stephen is incredible. Sometimes I’d like to get inside his head and see things the way he sees them.”

  Was that why they’d gone out to dinner the same night Dayne left for Los Angeles? He stopped himself and stared at the floor of the limo. Nothing was wrong, nothing a little time together wouldn’t fix. But one thing was certain. Letting a reality show invade the set was not working out the way he and Katy had planned.

  The press weren’t chasing Dayne and Katy through town, because they didn’t have to. That part was going according to their intentions. And they had known the reality show would place interest in their marriage at an all-time high. He tried not to notice, but there was no escaping the recent headlines about Katy and him being the perfect couple with the perfect marriage. He thought about the photos with Randi probably being sent across some e-mail even at that moment.

  The problem with being America’s favorite couple hadn’t been obvious when they agreed to the reality show. But now Dayne could see exactly how the paparazzi were thinking. Because the magazines would build them up for only one reason.

  To watch them fall.

  Jenny Flanigan took her seat next to Jim and glanced at her program. The weeks of rehearsal had flown by, and now it was opening night for Godspell.

  “It was a good idea, this play.” Jim leaned into her. “Bailey and Connor seem a lot closer to God.”

  “Maybe He’s preparing them.” She looked at her husband. “Katy said this is it. The theater’s definitely being sold.”

  Jim had reason to celebrate the closing of CKT. Without the theater group, there was nothing holding the Flanigan family here, no reason he couldn’t walk away from the problems on his high school team and take a position with one of the interested NFL teams this summer. But his expression held nothing but sorrow. “I don’t know what these kids’ll do without it.”

  “I’ve thought about starting my own group, finding a theater at the university, something.” Jenny felt the familiar frustration. “But Bethany Allen, the coordinator, says they’ve already tried everything.”

  The conversation dropped off, and Jenny watched people filling the seats. Most of the regulars were here, the families who’d been with CKT since its beginning and supportive community members like the Baxters. Jenny turned in her seat and watched John and his friend Elaine file in. Behind them were four of John’s kids and their spouses and children.

  Ashley was walking with Kari—both of them very clearly pregnant. Ashley scanned the audience and spotted Jenny. The two exchanged a smile.

  Jenny faced the stage again. Bailey was nervous about tonight. She had a couple of solos and a scene where her character was caught in adultery. Cody was coming in his own car straight from work. His job at the batting cages didn’t give him enough hours, so Jim had gotten him a position at the school working in the weight room. That way he’d leave town with a little money when it came time to head out for boot camp.

  The commotion and excitement around the theater grew, and Jenny savored it. She looked up to the box, the seat where Katy usually sat on opening night. It was sad that she and Dayne weren’t here. Katy would’ve been impressed with the job Rhonda and Chad had pulled off. Jenny had attended three of the dress rehearsals last week, and each one was better than the last. The power of the parables shone through in each scene, and by the end of the last rehearsal, Jenny had noticed several parents wiping their eyes during the crucifixion scen
e.

  She nudged Jim. “The boys seem excited.”

  Jim looked down the row at their four youngest, dressed in button-down shirts and their best church pants. He chuckled and shook his head. “They’re way more cultured than I was at that age.”

  “I like it, how they’re equally comfortable in a theater or tearing up the soccer field.”

  “The football field, you mean.” Jim grinned at her.

  It was an ongoing joke between them, whether their three Haitian sons would ever really love football as much as they loved soccer. Jenny had no doubts. With a talented football coach for a father, the boys would gravitate toward the gridiron one way or another. It was destiny.

  Something caught her eye and she looked up. Dotty Young, Marissa’s mother, was walking over. Jenny felt a wave of anxiety. She hadn’t talked to Dotty since Marissa told her about being pregnant. As far as Jenny understood, Dotty didn’t know that anyone outside her family was aware of her daughter’s situation.

  Jenny kept her smile in place. “This is awkward,” she whispered to Jim. “What am I supposed to say?”

  There was no time for Jim to answer her.

  “Hello!” Dotty stopped at their row and slid past Jim.

  Jenny stood and hugged the woman. “It’s good to see you!”

  “I thought I’d find you here. Opening night and all.” Dotty looked happy and carefree, as if she didn’t have a worry in the world.

  Jenny felt her suspicions rise. Either Marissa hadn’t really told her mother after all or the woman was determined to put on a good face. Before she could say anything, she spotted Marissa near the back of the theater. The girl had on a baggy sweatshirt. She looked slightly heavier, but she was doing a good job of hiding her pregnancy.

  Jenny blinked and focused on Dotty. She had to clear the air, had to let Dotty know that she already knew about Marissa’s trouble. Jenny leaned closer so no one else around them could hear. “I understand Marissa told you about—”

  “The show?” Dotty waved her hand dramatically. “Oh yes. Marissa wouldn’t miss Bailey’s opening night for anything.”

  A silence fell between them, and Jenny felt Jim elbow her. “So . . . how’re things at home?”

  “Great.” Dotty lifted her hands. “No complaints. Marissa pulled off a 3.8 on her last report card. We’re still hoping she’ll get a scholarship to the University of Michigan. Her dad and I are both alums, you know.”

  “That’s right.” Jenny wanted to scream. Was the woman serious? Did she not see what was happening with her own daughter? “Is Marissa still dating that boy, the one in college?” Another elbow from Jim, and Jenny allowed a lighthearted laugh. “Just wondering.”

  Dotty frowned. “We didn’t care for him. He’s out of the picture. Just as well. Marissa has too much ahead of her to worry about a boyfriend right now.”

  “Exactly.” Jim spoke before Jenny had the chance. “That’s what Bailey’s been saying too.”

  Jenny found her resolve. Jim’s warnings were most likely a reminder that this wasn’t the time or place, and he was right. But she couldn’t stay completely silent. Jenny touched Dotty’s elbow. Her tone grew more serious. “We need to talk, okay? Tomorrow morning, maybe?”

  Dotty’s expression changed, and she blinked twice. “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes. But we can’t talk about it now.” Jenny managed a sad smile. “What time can I call tomorrow?”

  “Uh . . .” Dotty bit her lip. Worry flashed in her eyes. “Say around ten?”

  “Perfect.” The small talk continued for another minute, and then Dotty hurried off to join her daughter in one of the rows near the back.

  “Unbelievable.” Jenny watched her go. “That woman doesn’t have a clue about Marissa.”

  “Marissa lied?”

  “Apparently.” She returned to her seat. “I’ll have to tell her tomorrow morning. I told Marissa I would.”

  “You have to. . . . I guess I can’t believe she lied to Bailey.”

  “Yep, the very next day after our talk. Called Bailey and said she’d told her mother, just like I’d asked her to.”

  The music started, and the houselights went down. Cody came rushing down the aisle and maneuvered his way into the seat at the end of the row, the one they’d saved for him. He gave Jenny and Jim a smile and pretended to wipe the sweat from his brow. He’d made it just in time.

  CKT’s interpretation of Godspell was completely glorifying to God. It began with a heartrending version of “Prepare Ye the Way of the Lord,” performed by one of the older boys who played John the Baptist. The message was clear. Something big was about to happen; someone big was about to come into their lives.

  The pace of the music changed, and the stage filled with kids—all of them dressed in street clothes, the way they’d look if John the Baptist came walking into their greenroom downstairs. Bailey had a spot near the front, and Connor was close to her. Both of them were featured in the number—probably because of their dancing ability.

  Jenny snuck a look at Cody. As he watched Bailey, a sweet, shining sadness filled his eyes—something Jenny hadn’t seen before. A longing, maybe, or a regret. She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t mistake how much he cared for her. Anyone could’ve seen that much.

  One of Bailey’s scenes was after the opening number, and she pulled it off beautifully. She and Jenny had prayed in her room every night for the last week, and Bailey had asked each time for the same thing. That her part might touch the hearts of people who came to the show.

  Now, as Bailey fell to a heap before her accusers, as she allowed Jesus, played by Tim Reed, to take her by the hand and help her to her feet, Jenny could only imagine how Marissa Young was feeling. How badly she needed the touch of the Master’s hand. How wonderful it would feel to have Him help her to her feet and lead her away from the life she’d stumbled into. And Jenny wondered something else. Whether all the praying they’d done was less for an entire audience and more for one specific person.

  The frightened, pregnant girl sitting at the back of the theater.

  As with every CKT performance, John Baxter bought opening night tickets for his entire family. It was a tradition now, something the whole group looked forward to. John loved everything about CKT’s version of Godspell. He loved the feel of Elaine sitting beside him and the way the kids onstage brought humor to certain parables and emotion to others.

  When the lights lifted for intermission, he looked at his family spread out over a three-row section of seats. The tension between Brooke and Ashley finally seemed to have eased. They weren’t sharing the same row, but at least they’d both come. That was a start, anyway. Brooke had promised him that she wouldn’t bring up Ashley’s pregnancy again, no matter what she personally thought. The idea of an abortion now wasn’t something even Brooke recommended. Ashley’s baby was far too developed to do anything but carry her to term.

  “No one wanted to listen to me,” Brooke had told John last night. “So I’ll drop it. But when that baby’s born and the family’s not ready for a fatally ill child, don’t forget I was the one who tried to help.”

  John had to agree with Brooke on one point at least. By now Ashley should’ve gone back to Dr. McDaniel for another test. Her baby was due in two months, and she and Landon didn’t have any idea what to expect. They were still praying for a miracle, expecting one. John was praying too. He’d learned with Hayley that all things were possible with God. But if God had a different plan this time, Ashley needed to be ready. He let the thought pass.

  “You’re thinking of Ashley.” Elaine smiled at him. “Right?”

  “Yes.” He looked at her and had to fight the impulse to kiss her. Whatever else happened, he could only imagine his feelings for Elaine getting stronger. There would be long walks and longer days and nights on her front porch, their latest favorite spot. “She needs to see her doctor.”

  “She does.”

  John turned so he could see Ashley, smiling and talking t
o Landon, Kari, and Ryan. One of them must’ve said something funny, because Ashley tipped her head back and laughed out loud.

  Elaine took a slow breath. “I have to admit, though, that no news seems to have been good for her.” She narrowed her eyes, thoughtful. “Does it really hurt if they don’t find out until a few weeks before the delivery?”

  John ran the idea through his mind. If Ashley and Landon’s baby had anencephaly, they would need to schedule a C-section and prepare for their daughter’s death. He studied Ashley, the way she looked happy and trusting, as if everything was going to go exactly as she wanted it to. He shook his head. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. As long as they see the doctor in the next month or so.”

  “Good.” Elaine smiled. “Maybe God’ll give them a miracle after all. She looks rested and beautiful.”

  “And the baby’s more active than either Devin or Cole.” John settled back in his seat. “At least that’s what Ashley says.”

  The lights dimmed, and the second act began. Halfway through, during one of the scene changes, John felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and found Cole’s face only inches from his.

  “Papa, next time . . . me and Maddie wanna try out for the show.” He was whispering a little too loud. “Okay?”

  “Okay.” He patted Cole’s hand. “You’ll have to talk about it with your mom.”

  John turned his attention back to the stage, but his heart went out to Cole and Maddie and any other child interested in CKT. According to Ashley, the theater was in big trouble. CKT might be shutting down. If that happened, his grandkids might never know the wonder of being part of a group as good for them as CKT.

  The end of the show was far more powerful than John expected. Tim Reed did a fantastic job playing Jesus, and as he walked among his friends at the Last Supper, he looked deeply troubled over what was about to happen. As the crucifixion took place, John heard sniffling coming from several of his kids and grandkids. Elaine too was dabbing her eyes.

  Knowing that Jesus had died for their sins was a truth all of them lived with, sometimes too easily. But watching Jesus’ death take place through a live drama brought the reality home. The play ended with a glorious resurrection scene, the victory of Christ sure and complete.