by Cindi Myers
“Who remembers that now?” She’d set out initially to make a career as a famous actress. A role in one show that lasted a few years wasn’t enough to fulfill her dreams. “I just feel like I left things unfinished,” she said.
Angela looked crestfallen. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Except that I’d really miss you if you left. And no matter what Jack says, I know he’d miss you, too.”
Tanya would miss a lot of people if she left. But would she miss them as much as she might regret not taking this opportunity? If Jack didn’t really love her it would be better to go away than to live here with the pain of seeing him all the time. “I still don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said. “But I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I make up my mind.”
“When do you have to let your agent know?” Angela asked.
“Soon. Within the next week.”
“That’s not a lot of time.”
She nodded. It wasn’t much time at all to decide on a direction for the rest of her life.
JACK SPENT THE BETTER PART of his off hours for the next week working on the Grump figure that would debut at Saturday evening’s festivities. Though he’d originally planned to find artists to help decorate the Grump, he’d been inspired to take on that part of the project himself. He’d found a book at the library with instructions for making papier-mâché. After building a frame out of scrap wood and string, he applied sheets of wet newspaper and glue to form a lumpy gray “skin” for his Grump. Now he was preparing to attach pictures and other items representing gripes and complaints. He’d let Casey in on his plans, and she’d taken a peek at some of the comments people had deposited in boxes around town and had collected pictures and objects Jack could use as illustrations.
He didn’t have the nerve to paste Tanya’s picture on there, but she was his chief gripe these days—and his chief heartache. The look on her face when he’d asked her about the script still haunted him. She’d looked guilty, and he’d known then that this wasn’t an ordinary script for a play.
Then she’d dropped the bomb about the offer from Hollywood as casually as if she was discussing a shopping expedition to Gunnison. It was as if she’d been expecting this opportunity all along. Had her talk about staying here to raise her daughter merely been a smoke screen to throw him off? Had she been using him to occupy her time until someone made her a better offer?
“She’s not like that,” he said out loud, waking Nugget, who’d been napping on his bed in a corner of the shop. The dog raised his head and looked at Jack.
“She wasn’t acting when she made love to me,” Jack said. “All those feelings between us were real.”
So maybe that meant this offer from her agent had been a surprise—one she couldn’t pass up. After all, her first love had always been acting. She was good at it. And she was a single mother with a daughter to raise. She’d be crazy to turn down this chance to make good money doing what she loved.
Except that part of him wanted her to love it here enough—no, wanted her to love him enough—to stay here. He thought she’d been happy here.
He thought she’d been happy with him.
He climbed down from the ladder and rummaged through the box of items Casey had collected, searching for something else to attach to the Grump statue. He pulled out a tattered softball jersey. Was someone mourning the end of the season or complaining about the team’s losses?
He checked the name on the back—the Bombers. They’d been local champions three seasons in a row only a few years before. Since then, they’d lost by a narrow margin. What once must have been worn with great pride by a player had now been abandoned, apparently out of frustration.
He draped the shirt across one shoulder of the Grump and thought about things he took pride in that might one day not matter so much. His accomplishments in the family business. The house he’d built. His reputation in the community. But he could see now that wasn’t always such a good thing.
Ten years ago, he’d been too proud to ask Tanya to stay with him. He’d thought not asking would be better than dealing with her rejection.
He could admit now that everything he’d accomplished since she’d left had been done at least partly in hope of one day impressing her. He’d wanted to be worthy of her dreams and ambitions, to show her she’d never lack for anything if she stayed with him.
But for all the money he’d earned and prestige he’d garnered, he could never give her the fame she craved. If the love and adoration of her friends and family here in Crested Butte weren’t enough to keep her here, why should he bother asking her to stay? Why should he open himself up to the pain of her rejection?
He reached into the box once more and pulled out a picture of a bunch of tall buildings and houses crowded together. Someone had taken a magic marker and drawn the universal No sign of a circle with a slash through it over the picture. Jack chuckled. Someone else wasn’t a fan of the growth in the area.
Growth Jack had had a hand in creating. When he’d bid on his first condo project, his dad had cautioned him not to be disappointed if he failed to win. “There are some big, national concerns bidding on that job, son,” Andy had warned. “Well-known names, people the project managers have worked with before. We’re just a small, local concern, not the type these big boys like to deal with.”
But the new project managers wanted to build goodwill in the community, and had vowed to hire as many locals as possible. Jack was in the right place at the right time. He and his crew had impressed the company with the quality of their work and one job led to another until he and his dad couldn’t hire workers fast enough.
If Jack had listened to his dad and others like him—if he’d been afraid of hearing no from the project managers—Crenshaw Construction would still be a little firm struggling to make payroll each week, instead of a million-dollar business.
So why did he pay so much attention to the no in his head when it came to Tanya?
“Because Tanya means a hell of a lot more to me than a bunch of condos,” he told Nugget.
The dog wagged its tail, then picked up a rope toy and laid it at Jack’s feet. An attempt at sympathy, or was the dog only enticing Jack to play?
Jack ignored Nugget and finished covering the surface of the Grump, arguing with himself. If Tanya had made up her mind to leave, he’d look like a jerk if he tried to argue with her.
If she’s leaving anyway, what does it matter if I look like a jerk? At least she’d know how I felt.
He’d already told her he loved her. Why did she need to know anything else?
Tell her again. Don’t let her wonder if it was merely three words I said in the heat of passion.
He had no right to ask her to give up her dream.
I could offer to go with her to California.
And what if she turns me down?
The thought made him sick to his stomach. But not as sick as he would be if he let her walk out of his life again.
Ten years ago, he’d managed to convince himself that he was over her, that he could be happy without her. Now he knew how far from the truth that was. Without her, he’d be miserable.
He owed it to himself to make sure Tanya knew how he felt. If she rejected him, she rejected him—he might one day recover from the pain. But if he was going to do it, he needed to do it right, and that might take some planning and a little help from his friends.
Chapter Fourteen
“I can’t believe you put the Grump up all by yourself,” Zephyr said. He and Bryan met Jack at the crossroads Saturday afternoon, intending to help set the Grump figure in place in preparation for that evening’s bonfire. But they’d found the Grump already positioned, a drape covering the seven-foot-tall statue.
“Max helped me with it,” Jack said. “Since the Grump’s hollow, it’s really pretty light.”
“At least let us see what it looks like…”
Zephyr started to lift the edge of the drape, but Jack slapped his hand away. “It�
�s supposed to be a surprise,” he said. “Besides, isn’t it about time you got dressed for the play?”
“We’ve got a little more time,” Bryan said. “The less time I have to spend in that dragon getup, the better.”
“Speaking of getups,” Zephyr said, “where’s Max? We can’t do the play without our Green Man.”
“He’ll be here,” Jack said. “He told me to let you know he might be running a little late, so don’t wait for him.”
“Then where’s Tanya?” Zephyr asked.
“Why are you looking at me?” Jack asked. He hadn’t seen or spoken to Tanya all week. He’d avoided going anywhere he’d be likely to run into her, needing the time to collect himself and work up his nerve to talk to her. But it worried him that she hadn’t sought him out.
“I think all the women are already at the start of the parade,” Bryan said. In addition to Tanya, a dozen local ladies played the parts of the maidens who accompanied the Earth Mother from business to business, collecting the gripe boxes, tossing flowers and candies and balancing out the male-female ratio of participants.
The three went inside the Chamber of Commerce building, which had been left open to serve as a changing room for the actors in the Vinotok play. “As long as you’re here, you can help me with this costume.” Bryan pulled the dragon head from a large trash bag. “It’s easier to get on with another person to help me line up the eyeholes.”
“Real old-time knights had pages to help them into their armor,” Zephyr said as he stripped off his shirt. He spoke through folds of pink satin as he pulled a doublet over his head. “But mine’s fake aluminum stuff and not even the whole suit.”
“We ought to make you wear a full suit of armor,” Bryan said as he stepped into the bottom half of the dragon costume, complete with a long spiked tail trailing behind. “Then at least the odds would be more even. This costume is really heavy.”
“But the dragon wins anyway, doesn’t he?” Jack asked. He lifted the dragon head onto Bryan’s shoulders. “How are the eyes?”
“Move it to the right a little. There, that’s good.” Bryan turned his head back and forth, then ran a little forward, then back. “But it’s hard to make the battle look very convincing, especially with Johnny Depp over there flailing away with his sword.”
Zephyr brandished the lightweight but convincing-looking sword. “En garde!”
“Yeah, yeah.” Bryan waved him away. “Save it for the performance.”
“Where is Max?” Zephyr fretted. “Maybe we should call him.”
“He might already be waiting up at the start of the parade,” Jack said. “You and Bryan had better get going—you’ll be late.”
“You’re right.”
They exited the building and started across the street, but Jack hung back.
“Aren’t you coming with us?” Bryan asked.
“You go on without me,” Jack said. “I need to make a few last-minute adjustments to the Grump.”
“We can help.” Zephyr started to lift the drapery once more.
“Go.” Jack pushed him away.
When they’d left, he turned back toward the Chamber building, but when he had his hand on the door, a familiar voice stopped him. “Hey, Jack? Have you seen my mom?”
He turned and saw Annie skipping toward him. She wore a peasant blouse and flowered skirt and a wreath of flowers in her hair—a miniature version of the maidens who accompanied the Earth Mother. “I think she’s down at the end of Elk Avenue,” he said. “Where the parade is supposed to start.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “My grandmother dropped me off here because this is where I thought we were supposed to meet.”
“Do you want me to take you to her?” he asked. Seeing Tanya now wasn’t part of his plan, but he couldn’t leave Annie stranded.
“No, that’s okay.” But she made no move to walk away. Instead, she clasped her hands in front of her and rocked back on her heels, staring up at the shrouded figure in front of them. “Is that the Grump?” she asked.
“Yes.” He waited for her to ask to see it, but she didn’t. “Do you have a part in the play?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m one of the Earth Mother’s children.” She giggled. “That sounds funny, since my mom doesn’t have any other children besides me. But the character of the Earth Mother has lots. Most of the kids from my class are pretending to be her children for this play.”
So that was Tanya’s solution to the problem of her not being pregnant. Instead of one unborn baby, her Earth Mother would have many children. The youngsters would add a new dimension to the play. Leave it to Tanya to take a decades-old tradition and make it even better.
“How is Nugget doing?” Annie asked.
“Nugget is doing good. You’ll have to come by and play with him again sometime soon.”
“I’d like that.” She adjusted the flower wreath on her head and looked up toward the mountains. “Isn’t it neat how the aspens turn such a pretty gold?” she asked. “It looks like someone spilled a bucket of yellow feathers all down the side of the mountain.”
Jack followed her gaze, trying to see what she saw. “It does look like that,” he agreed. “I guess they don’t have aspens in Los Angeles.”
“No. They have palm trees. They’re pretty, but they don’t turn any colors.” She glanced at him. “I’m glad we came here to live instead of California.”
“Oh? Why is that?” He held his breath, waiting.
“Lots of reasons. In California, I could never walk around town or go anywhere by myself. But Crested Butte is so small and I know practically everybody so I can go places and not be scared.” She made a face. “Not that my mom or grandmom let me go a lot of places by myself, but I can sit here and talk to you. I couldn’t do that in California.”
“No. It’s a pretty safe place as long as you’re careful.”
“And here there are all kinds of neat things to do,” Annie continued. “Hiking and swimming in the summer and skating and snowboarding and snowmobiling and snowshoeing in the winter. We never did anything like that in California.
“And Mom says as soon as we get our own house, I can have a dog,” Annie concluded. “In California we always lived in apartments and most of them don’t allow dogs.”
“So you’d be happy if your mom decided to stay in Crested Butte forever,” Jack said.
“I hope she does stay,” Annie said.
“But your dad is in California,” Jack said. “You’d probably see him more if you lived there.”
She shrugged. “He’s always off filming a movie somewhere. Right now he’s in Africa. I never saw him much in California and I don’t see him now.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Jack said. “If I had a little girl like you, I’d want to see her all the time.”
“I guess you could still have a little girl,” Annie said. “Of course, she wouldn’t be just like me.”
“She probably wouldn’t be as pretty,” he said.
She grinned. “Do you think so?” She twirled around in a circle, then stopped and looked down the street. “I guess I’d better get going. I don’t want to miss the parade.”
“Do you want me to go with you?” He repeated his earlier offer.
“That’s okay. I know the way.” She waved and ran off, the streamers of her flower crown sailing out behind her.
Jack watched her go, an odd tickle in his stomach. As much as he loved Tanya, he realized he’d fallen in love with Annie, too. He wanted her and her mother in his life forever. Talking to Annie gave him hope that this crazy plan he’d cooked up to keep them was absolutely the right thing to do.
DRESSED IN THE GAUZY gown and flower-wreathed crown of the Earth Mother, Tanya wandered among the participants gathered at the end of Elk Avenue for the procession to the Grump and the close of the Vinotok events. “Have you seen Annie?” she asked the other children. The little boys in their green shirts and the girls in their peasant blouses and skirts were already drawing oohs and
ahhs from the bystanders gathered at this end of the street. Nothing like cute kids to please a crowd.
But where was her own cute kid?
“Have you seen Max?” Zephyr, chain mail rattling, ambled up to her.
“No,” she said. “Have you see Annie?”
“I’m right here, Mom!” Annie skidded around a parked car and halted in front of her mother, panting, her cheeks red.
“Where have you been?” Tanya asked.
“I went to the Chamber of Commerce by mistake.” She turned to look down the street. “Hey, look! The parade is starting.”
Sure enough, the maidens and their escorts had begun their procession, strewing candy and flowers as they passed. They filed into the Eldo, their first stop, where those old enough were offered complimentary libations and the younger cast members enjoyed lemonade and homemade cookies. Then the establishment’s gripe box was collected and the group moved on to the next stop.
Tanya had placed her own gripe in the box at the Chocolate Moose. While the children munched chocolate gingerbread men, Tanya took the opportunity to pull Angela aside. “Have you seen Jack?” she asked.
Angela shook her head. “I know he’s been working on the Grump, but I haven’t seen him today. Why?”
“I haven’t heard from him all week.”
“You didn’t try to call him?”
“I was afraid to. What if you’re right and he is upset with me over that script?”
“Have you decided what you’re going to do about that part?”
“I think so.” Her decision depended partly on Jack. The fact that he hadn’t wanted to see her lately wasn’t a good sign.
“Care to tell me?” Angela asked.
“Not yet. Not until I’m totally sure. Then I promise you’ll know.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the group that was filing out the door. “I have to go,” she said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“See you at the bonfire,” Angela said. “I’ve got a date with a really hot dragon.”
