Summer

by Karen Kingsbury

  He hung his head for a moment. His actor friend was caught up in a conversation near the food line, and Dayne was glad. He didn’t need an audience now. His heart slammed around like an errant pinball, but he had to face whatever the magazines held. He looked at the cover again and quickly opened it to the centerfold section. Sure enough, there he was in half a dozen photos with Randi Wells. A picture of the two of them leaving the nightclub arm in arm, one of them rubbing noses, and another of him helping her into his limo. The most damaging picture was the biggest, a shot of Randi leaning on him as he used her keys to help her into her house.

  Below the photos and a heading that read, “Second Time Around?” was a short story saying that Randi was considering the role starring opposite Dayne in his next film—the one scheduled to shoot in Mexico this fall. “The world already loves the on-screen chemistry between these two. Now that Randi’s single and Dayne’s new marriage is on the rocks, maybe these stars will find real love the second time around.”

  Anger raced through Dayne’s veins, consuming him. They didn’t know a thing about real love. He should call his attorney and file a suit against the rag. Never mind that the magazine was owned by the same company that produced For Real. Celebrities had sued tabloids in the past and come out victorious. Not that it would stop them. Tabs could pay out hefty settlement fees and still keep printing dirt on celebrities. Gossip was lucrative.

  He scanned the next few pages and read a quote from a “source close to Katy Hart” that she had been impressed with her director from the beginning. “Rumor is he wants Katy in his next film too. Insiders think he’s interested in more than Katy’s acting ability.”

  Dayne shoved the magazine aside and glanced at the others scattered on the table. The news was the same in each—positioned differently and with headlines that varied by a few words. It didn’t matter which tabloid a person picked up; the message was clear. Katy and Dayne’s new marriage was on the rocks. Big-time.

  His appetite was gone, his rage too great to allow room for anything else. He picked up his plate and tossed it in the trash. Then, without turning back to check on his friend, he left through the side door. He didn’t quit walking until he was past the arena and halfway across the thirty-acre field behind the ranch.

  Dayne was supposed to film another scene in half an hour, but that could wait. For now he needed space and perspective before he stormed up to the director and quit. He stopped and put his hands on his hips, his back to the ranch and its outbuildings. Amazing that a camera crew hadn’t followed him out here. This was newsworthy, after all. The day the tabloids hit the stands, loaded with the most dirt on his marriage so far. Certainly the viewing audience would want Dayne’s reaction.

  The hot sun baked his shoulders, but he didn’t care. Within an hour Katy would finish her scene, and then what? Since they’d been back from Bloomington, they were constantly at odds. He’d disregarded rumors that she’d been too friendly with the horse trainer, Rick, while he was in Los Angeles, but when they talked about it, her reaction was defensive.

  “Give me a break.” She’d rolled her eyes and then waved toward the arena. “I did everything I could to stay away from the guy. I treated him like he was twelve.”

  Clearly the magazines were trying to create conflict. But he and Katy couldn’t simply ignore the stories in the tabloids. Like any marriage, they needed to communicate. The trouble was, if they talked about the stories in the rags, there was a sense that maybe they were believing them.

  It was a no-win situation.

  And most of the time they didn’t have the chance to talk anyway. Katy was busy all the time, giving an interview to this or that magazine and doing prepublicity radio spots for the movie. If that wasn’t enough, they’d made their decision. Since Dayne would be busy in Mexico, Katy could take the role in their director’s next film, the one shooting in England. Which meant once this film wrapped up, they’d have hardly any time before they were separated for as much as two months.

  Dayne rubbed the back of his neck and stared as far into the sky as he could. A pair of hawks made lazy circles against the blue. What was he doing here in New Mexico? He should be home in Bloomington. He’d never planned to marry an actress. If this was the life he wanted, he could’ve stayed with any of the dozen women he’d dated over the last ten years. Katy was different; that was what made her attractive. She was honest and genuine and devoted to God.

  He paced a few steps in either direction and pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket. He flipped it open and dialed his dad’s number. Five seconds passed and then ten. He studied the phone, trying to make out the signal indicator in the glare of the sunlight. Come on . . . connect. Please, God . . . But after twenty seconds, a series of beeps sounded and a message appeared. No signal available.

  His dad would’ve had something to say to him, some bit of wisdom or advice. He’d stayed in a happy marriage right up until the day Elizabeth died. Dayne crossed his arms and looked at the ground between his feet. Was he jealous of Katy? He let the question hang around his heart for half a minute. No, he wasn’t jealous. She could have a career in the movies if she wanted.

  He slipped his hands in his pockets and looked past the split-rail fence that bordered the ranch to the highway beyond. A part of him wanted to keep walking, head down to the blacktop road, and figure a way out of the madness. He closed his eyes and exhaled. But he needed to get back before Stephen sent a search party for him. When he returned, he couldn’t allow anything but his usual relaxed demeanor, the easy grin. When all he wanted to do was find Katy and run for their lives, for the life he wanted to share with her. Yes, the next few hours would test his acting.

  A deep breath filled his lungs, and he found his resolve. Maybe he could check in on Katy before he started filming and let her know he loved her. No matter what the paparazzi were trying to do. If he hurried, he might find her before the reality show people shoved a camera in his face again. He turned around and took the first steps back to the set, and he heard someone yell, “Roll it! Get his reaction!”

  The For Real camera crew was set up at the edge of the ranch, a video camera aimed straight at him. Even as his heart was breaking for Katy, and as his earlier rage once again consumed him, Dayne did the only thing he could do.

  He smiled.

  The hours became days, and the days became two fast and harried weeks. It was the last Monday in June, time to start shooting the intimate scenes between Katy and Dayne. The love scenes.

  Dayne was in his trailer, pacing and staring out the tinted windows every few seconds, looking for Katy. What was taking her so long? Why wasn’t she more anxious to meet with him? Didn’t she feel things going sideways? Couldn’t she see that the stories in the tabloids were the work of For Real?

  There was a knock at the door, and Dayne felt himself exhale. Finally. He took long strides and opened it. “Katy, I—” He stopped cold.

  “Uh, yeah . . . sorry, Dayne.” It was one of the other actors. “Katy asked me to tell you she can’t make it. She’s busy in wardrobe.” The guy shrugged and shifted his eyes downward for a few seconds. When he looked up again, there was an awkwardness in his body language. No question the actor felt bad for bearing this news. “She said to tell you she’ll see you on the set in an hour.”

  “Thanks.” Dayne forced himself to appear casual, confident, easygoing. The way Dayne Matthews was expected to react. He smiled. “Tell her I’ll see her there.”

  But when he closed the door behind him, he leaned against it. She wasn’t coming. Whatever the problems between them, they were bad and getting worse all the time.

  He didn’t have to guess what was waiting for him outside the trailer door. The crew of For Real was closing in, capturing their story. Look, their actions shouted. America’s golden couple is struggling! The strain of working on a movie together is ripping them apart! Everyone tune in and see for yourself!

  Dayne straightened, reeled back, and drove his fist hard i
nto the hollow door, shattering the first layer of wood. His knuckles started bleeding, but he didn’t care. He was breathing hard, and he stepped back, furious with himself and even angrier with the camera crew outside.

  How could he have agreed to the reality show? The problem wasn’t Katy, of course. Her ignorance of the business had convinced her that having a reality show on the set was a good thing, that they wouldn’t have to run from the press if they gave interviews and allowed pictures all day long. Even after everything that had gone wrong by having the press on the movie set, Dayne could understand what Katy was thinking. How would she have known any different?

  But what was his excuse? He should’ve said something that morning on their honeymoon when he took the call from his agent. Some nights he went to sleep dreaming about how different life might be if he’d only said no. No, they wouldn’t parade around for any camera crew, because their story simply wasn’t sensational enough. Dayne and Katy were already married. Any good storyteller knew that once the conflict was resolved, it was time to pull out.

  Unless more conflict could be created.

  How had he missed that? How could he have put their marriage on the line for a chance to avoid being chased by the paparazzi?

  He dropped to the nearest chair, anchored his elbows on the table, and covered his face with his hands. His leg ached, the one he almost lost in the car accident. He rubbed it and clenched his jaw. The accident had nearly killed him. Of course he would’ve been open to an idea that might avoid another wreck. He replayed in his mind Katy’s reaction to the first batch of cover stories two weeks ago.

  After taking a few minutes alone in the field behind the ranch, he’d found Katy in the dining area surrounded by a couple of the producers and film editors. The magazines were piled at the end of her table.

  His heart beating in his throat, he motioned for her to step away for a minute. She did as he asked and followed him out the side door to a quiet spot. The For Real crews were somewhere nearby, but for a few minutes, they were alone.

  Dayne took her hands in his. “I’m sorry.” His fingers shook and he swallowed, trying to find his voice. “Nothing happened with me and Randi. I want you to know that.”

  “I trust you.” Katy smiled, but it didn’t come close to reaching her eyes. “I just wish there would’ve been someone else at the club who could’ve driven her home.” She angled her head. “You know?”

  “I tried that.” He didn’t want to mention the young starlets who’d been bothering him. “I wanted out of there. . . . I didn’t know what else to do with her. She was too drunk to walk.”

  Katy pulled her hands from Dayne’s and folded her arms. “I could tell by the way she was leaning on you.”

  A frustrated sigh came from him. “See . . .” He turned away and then quickly faced her again. “I knew you’d be mad.” He hadn’t wanted to bring up the shots of her, but now he did so without holding back. “Not like you turned in early that weekend.” He waved his hand back at the lodge, working to keep his voice low. “Everyone on the set’s talking about whether you and Stephen really have a thing.”

  “That’s ridiculous.” She was angry for the first time since they’d stepped outside. “Stephen kisses everyone like that. He wanted to talk about his next movie. Nothing more.”

  “To the average grocery shopper walking through the checkout, it looks like more.” He threw his hands up. Nothing was working with her. “Both our pictures look like more. That’s why I’m sorry.”

  Katy steeled herself, the same way she had a number of times when they said good-bye over the past few years. The look in her eyes was something he hadn’t seen since then, and he couldn’t figure out what she was feeling. “Forget about it.” She looked past him. “I’m in a meeting. I need to get back.”

  He wanted to scream at her. What meeting could possibly be more important than working this out? “Are we okay, then? You and me?”

  “Sure.” She shrugged, and something cold flashed in her eyes. “We’re like every other Hollywood couple, Dayne. I go my way and you go yours, and the press captures every moment for the whole world to see.” She managed another halfhearted smile. “I guess we both knew what we were getting ourselves into that night.”

  And with that, Katy was gone. Her comment was fired at him, not herself. Dayne knew she felt no sense of guilt for having dinner with the movie’s director. Every time they’d discussed the photos from that night her attitude was the same. She was innocent, carrying out business. And he was careless, allowing a movie meeting with Randi to drift late into the night, placing him in the position to look to the world like his marriage meant nothing.

  “I know you’re not a playboy,” she’d told him, “but your fans don’t know it.”

  Last week’s magazines hadn’t helped the situation. There were no more shots of Katy with Stephen, but the press had found batches of unused pictures of Dayne and Randi. The headlines continued to sound the alarm. Could it really last? Could the top celebrity of the day marry a small-town girl and really have it work out? Or would Dayne find himself unable to resist the glamorous women who had always pursued him?

  As for Katy, the take by the press was slightly different by the second week. Headlines said things like “Katy Hart Turns Cold Shoulder to Cameras” and “Katy Questioning Her Role as Dayne Matthews’ Wife.” The stories made her look embarrassed and heartsick, not speaking to Dayne and quietly nursing her wounds from her husband’s tryst with Randi Wells.

  The memories of the past few weeks lifted. Dayne lowered his hands and stared out the window of his trailer. He couldn’t do anything about the slant of the tabloid stories, but he could do something for his wife. He could demand a break in the schedule and take her back to Bloomington. He could walk with her around Lake Monroe and sit with her on their deck at the lake house. His love for her had ignited in that world, not this one. So going back even for a week might change everything. He could hold her hands and pray with her and promise he’d be more careful in the future.

  But first she had to agree to meet with him.

  The last two weeks she’d stayed up late in the living room of their rented suite, and most mornings he’d find her curled up on the pullout couch. That’s how bad things had gotten. This morning, she was gone before he stepped out of the shower. When he analyzed the situation, he couldn’t make any sense of it. She knew him better than anyone ever had. She couldn’t possibly doubt his loyalty.

  So then what was the problem?

  He ordered his anger back into the shadows of his heart and studied his knuckles. Something else had to be going on. If only they could find thirty minutes alone to figure it out, to work through it.

  Dayne went to his closet, grabbed a denim shirt, and slipped it on over his white T-shirt. He’d been hitting the gym for an hour each morning just to work through his frustration. Every minute of his workout, he’d wrestle with God, asking for wisdom and trying to understand how everything wonderful had gotten so bad.

  But for now they had a movie to film.

  He buttoned up the lower half of the shirt and glanced in the mirror. The worn-in Wrangler jeans and boots made him look like he belonged on a ranch. As he was leaving his trailer, he stopped at the door and ran his fingers over the splintered hole. I’m sorry, God. I’m all out of answers. Please show us the way.

  Dayne hesitated, waiting for a response. But none came. He drew a long breath and stepped out of his trailer.

  He worked with makeup for half an hour and met with one of the editors. When it was finally time for the scene, he walked out of the lodge and stared at the arena. From where he stood he could see Katy standing next to Stephen and three of his assistants. She was nodding, smiling.

  In that instant he had to wonder if there was more at stake than her anger at him, her doubt. Maybe being in a movie, being the subject of so much attention, was changing her. He shuddered, and a sick feeling choked him. Katy was much too genuine for something like that to hap
pen. His mouth felt dry, and as he headed toward the set, he reassured himself over and over again.

  But his doubts remained.

  One of the assistant directors spotted him first. “Dayne!” The man waved at him to follow. “We need to get you on the horse.”

  “Right.” He smiled, because now that they’d heard his name, the For Real cameras were once again following him. Happy Dayne Matthews, unaware of the world falling apart around him. That’s all he was going to let them see today.

  The scenes they were about to shoot would have to carry the emotion of the film. The first was maybe the most pivotal of all. After more than a decade apart, Katy’s character had finally found Dayne’s character—though he didn’t know this. By this point in the film, viewers would know both Katy and Dayne, and they’d understand that her search for Dayne had led to this point: the culmination of Katy’s search and, for Dayne, a shocking visit from a past love he thought he’d never see again.

  A shiny silver sedan had been moved onto the set, and one of the production assistants was helping Katy into the driver’s seat. Across the way, another assistant had Dayne’s horse saddled and ready to go. Dayne had ridden a friend’s horse off and on while he lived in Malibu, but working with Rick had helped him feel more comfortable. He had no trouble mounting the horse and getting set in his saddle.

  “Okay, Dayne, why don’t you trot him around a few times, get him worked in a little.”

  Dayne clucked his tongue twice, and the horse responded immediately. How strange this was going to be, having Katy come to him for the cameras when she hadn’t made a point of coming to him in real life. He wasn’t sure what sort of emotions the director would get today. They were barely speaking to each other. Even so, his heart beat faster at the thought of seeing Katy face-to-face. Even if it was all an act.

  “All right, let’s have quiet on the set!” Stephen took charge.

  Around the set, people stilled and watched the action in the arena.