“What if I don’t want it? What if I walk away from it all tomorrow?”
She smiled. “You won’t. We both know that. You have contracts and promises and obligations.” Tears stung at her eyes, but she dodged them with a laugh. “Wherever you go, you’ll still be Dayne Matthews.”
“And you—” he traced her profile with his finger, his touch as soft as silk—“will be the only girl who’s ever found a way past the surface.” He cupped the side of her face. “I want more than today, Katy. I want every day this week and the next and for months and years after that.”
She gave him a sad smile. “It doesn’t matter what either of us wants.” A flock of geese flew overhead, and she glanced up. His hand was still framing her face, and she found his eyes again. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The world thinks people like me can have whatever we want, anything money can buy.” He gave a bitter laugh and let his hand fall to hers. “But I can’t do anything, pay any amount to have this . . .” He waved his other hand toward the football field and the campus beyond. Then he looked deeply at her again. “Or to have you.”
Katy was breathless. She hadn’t expected the afternoon to end this way, with such honesty and emotion. But she regretted none of it. Not after what had happened to Sarah Jo Stryker and Ben Hanover. She brought her lips to his this time, and again the kiss was sweeter than any she’d known. When she pulled back, she felt the heat in her cheeks. “I didn’t think we’d do this, wind up like this.”
“Me, either.”
“If you’d asked me a week ago—” her voice was soft, little more than a whisper—“I would’ve said, ‘Why bother?’” She snuggled up against him and stared out at the band. They were warming up for another song. “But after Sarah Jo died, I realized something. If you have feelings for someone, you’re better off to tell them. That way . . . if tomorrow doesn’t come, there are no regrets to sort through, no question marks.”
“I like that.” He slid his fingers between hers, their shoulders touching as they watched the band director raise his arms, leading the members in an upbeat salsa number. “I like it a lot. No question marks.”
“Yes.” She sighed. “But it doesn’t change anything else, does it?”
“No.” He stood and pulled her to her feet. Then he put his arms around her waist, and she took hold of his shoulders. They kissed again, still nothing too involved. “You have practice in an hour.”
“I do.” She didn’t want the moment to end, but it had to. The clock was pushing them mercilessly toward the hour of reckoning, toward the reality each of them had chosen. Hers in small-town America where life was rich and somewhat less complicated. His in the limelight of Hollywood. She ran her fingers over his red bracelet, the one he still wore.
“I’m still looking into Kabbalah.”
She narrowed her eyes, seeing her way to the deeper parts of him. “I think the answers you’re looking for are somewhere else, Dayne.”
“Maybe they’re right here.” He kissed her once more. He seemed intoxicated with her, the same way she felt about him.
“Maybe.” She smiled. “But we’ll talk about that later.”
“Hey . . .” He still held her, but the pensive look from a moment ago lifted. “Can I come? to rehearsal?”
“Dayne . . .” She gazed up at the clear sky. How could she discourage him when everything in her wanted to tell him yes? Finally she said the obvious. “Everyone will know.”
“Not necessarily. I’ll wear a sweatshirt and a baseball cap.” He hugged her to himself, and they swayed for a few seconds. “Please, Katy, let me come. I’ll leave if things get weird.”
She thought about it until the salsa song was finished. Maybe he was right. What would it hurt? He was due in town in a few days, anyway. Then it wouldn’t even be unusual that he might stop in at a local theater rehearsal. Rhonda wouldn’t be surprised, certainly. Not Ashley Baxter Blake either or Jenny Flanigan. Enough people knew about their connection to make it possible, right?
“Okay.” She stepped back and shook her head at him. “I can’t tell you no.”
He held her hand all the way down the stadium steps and raced her back to the cafeteria. When they reached the grassy lawn on the other side, he tripped and landed on his hands and knees, but he sat up and snagged her ankles as she tried to pass him. “Not so fast.”
“Hey . . . you’re cheating.” She pulled him to his feet, and by the time they reached her car, they were laughing as hard as they had after the rainstorm.
They were still breathless as she pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward his hotel. She stayed outside while he ran in and grabbed a sweatshirt and baseball cap. Apparently no one in the lobby recognized him, because he dashed back out and waved as he headed for his rental car. He was driving since she wasn’t sure how long she’d have to stay at rehearsal that night. But as he followed her to Bloomington Community Church, the place where CKT held most of its rehearsals, Katy could feel something inside her begin to change. They had found their way to a place that didn’t really exist, and now it was time to take the first step back into reality.
As soon as she parked her car, he climbed out of his and into her passenger seat. He pulled on the sweatshirt and donned the baseball cap. Then he winked at her. “See? Dayne who?”
“Dayne, you’re gonna get caught.” She grabbed her bag from the backseat.
“Let me go first. I’ll find a place inside, and no one will ever know the difference.” He hesitated as his eyes held hers. He looked like he wanted to kiss her again, but he didn’t. She had more to lose than he did, her reputation and her privacy. The paparazzi didn’t seem to be in Bloomington yet, but just in case, she appreciated the way he held back. He tipped the brim of his baseball cap in her direction, opened the car door, and bounded across the parking lot.
She waited until he was inside before taking a deep breath and checking her look in the mirror. What had just happened to her? Had she really spent the day with Dayne Matthews, walking around the lake and getting caught in a downpour, traversing the pathways at Indiana University, and kissing him at the top of the football stadium?
The better question was this: how was she going to pull sixty grieving kids together so they could focus on the rehearsal? There was only one way—the way she’d come to count on more with every year. She closed her eyes and gripped the steering wheel. God, I’m not sure about today or why it happened. But I meant what I said. I want Dayne to know how I feel, even if we never have a day like this again. She sighed and opened her eyes.
Kids were arriving, and several cars were pulling into the lot. She had only a few more minutes.
Lord, show me why he’s here, why he walked back into my life. I won’t take a step toward his world, and he can’t take a step toward mine. So why, Lord . . . ?
She was quiet, and she felt a stirring in her heart, something slow and soft like the gentlest breeze. Precious daughter, make the most of every opportunity.
A chill ran down her arms, and she let go of the steering wheel. There were times when she could hear God so clearly, His voice seemed almost audible.
This was one of those times.
Okay, God, fine . . . but what sort of opportunity is it? An opportunity for me or for him? She blinked, the possibilities close around her. Or is it an opportunity for both of us?
She waited, but this time no still, small voice blew whispers across her soul. God had a reason for their meeting—that’s all she was sure about. Now she could only hope that one day she might know what that reason was.
Even if it took years to figure it out.
There was only one place Ashley wanted to be this Friday night.
After attending the funeral and knowing what lay ahead for the members of CKT, she and Landon and Cole had decided that they would watch tonight’s Annie rehearsal.
Cole was fascinated by the music and chaos and the idea of kids becoming characters on a stage. But mostly he and Landon came for s
upport, so Ashley would have someone to sit with. The sets committee would meet near the end of practice. Her real reason for coming was to watch Katy Hart work her magic with the kids, even now, in their season of sorrow.
The three of them arrived ten minutes after practice started, and they found seats on the left side of the sanctuary, near the back.
Katy was up front, explaining about what would happen next. “We’ve all been through a loss.” She kept her voice kind and even, making eye contact with each of the students. “Now we need to take hold of that loss and move it off center stage. The community will be especially aware of our struggles, and they’ll expect less from this production.”
Ashley felt a lump in her throat. She reached for Landon’s hand.
Katy stepped closer to the kids. “I think Sarah Jo would expect more from it.” She hesitated, as if maybe she was too choked up to finish her sentence right away. “And that’s what we’re going to give. More than ever, so that Sarah Jo and Ben would be proud of our efforts.”
She continued, giving directions to the various groups of actors and singers and dancers. Some would meet with Nancy and Al Helmes, learning parts for the opening song. Others would gather with Rhonda for instruction on the dance number in “It’s the Hard-Knock Life.”
When they all had their assignments, Katy spotted Ashley near the back and hurried up the aisle. “Ashley!” Ashley stood and the two hugged. “Will you help us with sets again?”
“Of course.” She sat back down and pointed to Landon. “I’ve got my helper back. That’s what counts.”
“And me!” Cole raised his hand. “I’ll help too!”
“Good.” Katy grinned and gave Cole a high five. Then her expression fell. She looked at Ashley. “Will you pray about something?”
“Of course.” Ashley looked at Landon, and he nodded in agreement. “What’s up?”
“It’s the older kids.” She leaned against the back of the next pew, her eyes sadder than before. “They want to circulate a petition in the community. Find a way to make the drunk driver get the most severe punishment.”
Ashley was confused. “I can see that. He’s a repeat offender, right?”
“He is.” She caught her long hair with one hand and pulled it over her right shoulder. “He should be punished. I have nothing against that.” The kids were noisy in the background. “But the guy was just a kid himself. Still young enough to be part of CKT if things had been different.”
“I read a story about him.” Landon eased Cole to the other side so they could talk. “He’s just eighteen.”
“Exactly.” Katy thought for a minute. “I keep thinking—who’s going to tell him the truth? That Jesus died for him too. Who’s going to give him a reason to change, you know?”
Ashley hadn’t thought of that before. There were so many unfair things in life. The way Jean-Claude had left her alone after finding out she was pregnant, the steroid user who killed Kari’s first husband, little Hayley’s near drowning. “You want the kids to forgive him—is that it?”
“I guess so.” Katy’s eyes were damp. “They’re so mad at him. A group like ours has to be capable of more than anger.”
Ashley felt for her new friend, for the task that lay ahead of her. “I’ll pray.”
“Thanks.” She pointed at the group of kids still gathered near the front of the sanctuary. “Duty calls.”
“Hey, Katy.”
She stopped and turned around.
“Landon and Cole are leaving early. Can you give me a ride home?”
“Hmmm—” she winced—“the creative team is meeting for an hour after practice. But I’m sure one of the other moms can do it.”
“Okay, I’ll ask one of them.” Katy was right; the sets committee would have someone going her way.
After an hour of watching thirteen girls and little Kyle Lanham singing on their knees with wash buckets in the orphanage scene, Landon gave her a light kiss and said, “I’m taking him home.”
Cole still looked interested, but he was yawning. Ashley reached over and took his hand. “What do you think of this? Hard work, huh?”
“Lots.” Cole’s eyes were big. “It’s like baseball practice.”
“Maybe you’ll be onstage one day, Coley.” She wrinkled her nose at him.
“Nah.” He stood and took Landon’s hand. “I’m a baseball guy, Mommy.”
Landon bent down and kissed the top of Cole’s head. “That’s my boy.” He gave Ashley a crooked grin. “See you at home.”
When her boys were gone, Ashley set her forearms on the pew in front of her and rested her chin on her wrist. Katy and Rhonda were in the middle of the little girls, trying to think of choreography to fill in for the part of the song when there weren’t any words.
“We could have four girls cartwheel across the stage from opposite directions.” Rhonda stepped back and surveyed the open space. “Sort of the orphanage-gone-crazy look.”
As a way of trying it out, Rhonda organized the little girls on both sides of the stage and had them pretend to shake blankets and make beds, all to the music Al Helmes was playing on the piano. Then she and Katy did cartwheels from either side of the stage, crossing in the middle and winding up with their hands in the air, right on beat.
The little girls went wild, clapping and screaming and volunteering to do the cartwheels. Katy adjusted her shirt and shooed them back, laughing right along with them. The progress continued, and after thirty more minutes, the scene began to take shape. The girls not only did cartwheels toward each other, but afterwards, two of the smaller girls formed a single cartwheel, with each girl holding on to the ankles of the other.
Katy caught the feet of one of the girls just as she was about to tumble off the stage. “This way we can take the act on the road and open for circuses.” She spread her free hand out in front of her. “All over America!”
Everyone laughed, and Katy reworked the double cartwheel.
Ashley loved the atmosphere. It wasn’t so different from painting, really. She took an empty canvas, and with mere pastels and watercolors, with oils and a handful of brushes, she could bring a scene to life. Landon liked to tell her that when he looked at one of her paintings, he could feel the breeze, smell the flowers. They were that real.
That’s the way it was with theater. The stage was the canvas, and someone with Katy Hart’s talent could use a handful of kids and bring a scene to life. She leaned back in the pew and looked around the sanctuary. Other parents sat in small clusters, quietly knitting or watching the rehearsal.
Ashley was just about to return her attention to the front of the huge room when she spotted a guy sitting at the back of the right side of the church. Even from across the room, the man looked familiar, and Ashley squinted. He wore a sweatshirt and a baseball cap, and he was completely caught up in watching the scene come together.
Or maybe he was completely caught up in watching Katy Hart.
Ashley studied him for a moment longer, and then it hit her. She drew a quiet gasp and resisted the urge to cover her mouth. It wasn’t just any old guy watching rehearsal—the man was Dayne Matthews. He had the same look. And of course it made sense. Dayne was scheduled to be in town on Tuesday. Why wouldn’t he come a few days early? He and Katy had shared something special, right? Wasn’t that what Katy had said a few days ago at the hospital?
The idea was alluring. Dayne Matthews, hiding near the back of the sanctuary so he could be near Katy. Ashley shifted her position and looked at the front of the room again. She didn’t want to be caught staring at him. No doubt he got enough of that in Los Angeles. She wasn’t one to get starstruck or want autographs from famous people, but she wanted to meet Dayne. If nothing more than to see the real side of him, the side the public knew nothing about.
Katy was now organizing all the kids onstage for the opening scene when Annie sings “Maybe” while the other orphans try to sleep. With everyone focused on that, Ashley rose and walked quietly around the back o
f the sanctuary to where Dayne was sitting. The closer she got, the more sure she was. He was Dayne Matthews, no doubt.
Katy had a rule about rehearsals. Anyone could come, but they had to stay quiet. Because of that, Ashley slipped into the pew beside Dayne and smiled when he jumped back a little. “Hi.” She kept her voice to a whisper and held out her hand. “I’m Ashley Blake. You’re a friend of Katy’s, right?”
Only then did she doubt her actions. Dayne looked like an animal caught in a trap. Swallowing hard, he glanced over his shoulder at the back door of the sanctuary. When he looked at her, his mouth hung open for a moment. Finally he shook her hand and let his linger. Not in a way that showed interest in her, but in a way that conveyed surprise and something else . . . shock maybe.
“I’m David Marshall.”
David Marshall? Ashley forced her lips into a straight line and refused to smile. Fine. If he needed to keep his cover, she wouldn’t say anything. Not yet, anyway. It would be better to get to know him. Then she could tell him later that he didn’t have to lie anymore. She already knew who he was.
And of all people, she’d be the last one to ruin his cover. Especially when he looked like such a nice guy. Up close she could see what she’d heard the others in her family talk about. The resemblance was uncanny. It set her at ease, made her feel like she’d known him all her life.
Never mind that he was a big star. Here in the back of the Bloomington Community Church sanctuary, he looked just like her brother, Luke.
Dayne couldn’t believe it was happening.
He’d thought about the possibility, sure. If he was going to hang out at the CKT rehearsal, there was a chance he’d see his sister. But never for a minute did he think that she’d walk up and take the seat beside him. His mouth was dry, and he was still trying to find a way to get through the introductions.
He was sitting beside his sister! He released her hand and tried not to stare at her. “You . . . you have a child in the play?” It was something to say, a way to direct the focus somewhere other than on himself. He pointed to the makeshift stage up front. “They’re doing a great job.”
Forgiven Page 16
