Forgiven

by Karen Kingsbury

  Bailey clasped her hands together and did a partial knee bend. “Oh, my goodness, I can’t believe that just happened.” She bounced some more and took hold of Tim’s forearm. She kept her voice low enough that no one on either side of them could’ve heard her. “He remembered you, Tim. Can you believe that?”

  “I know.” He let out a quick burst of air and ran his fingers through his hair. “I mean, he was at rehearsals the other day, but I don’t think I had much of a part.”

  “He was at Charlie Brown.” Jenny smiled at the kids.

  “He was?” Connor was a little louder than the others. Jenny raised an eyebrow at him and he lowered his voice. “How did we miss that?”

  “Katy told me he snuck in on the last night of the show. He sat in the back and watched the ending, and then he left.” She turned away from the taped-off area and motioned for the others to follow her. “I guess he was doing research for his location work.”

  “That’s so cool.” Bailey looked at Tim again. “Maybe he can get you a break in the movie business.”

  They were still talking about it when they reached the car. None of the kids could get over how well Dayne had played it off, how he had treated them like any other fans, even while he talked about CKT and Katy Hart. But the part that stuck out to Jenny was something more hidden, something only she had picked up on. Since Katy had mentioned that she’d been to Hollywood to read for a movie starring opposite Dayne Matthews, Jenny and Jim had worried about her. When it became clear that she had feelings for Dayne, they were even more concerned.

  They saw the headlines at the supermarket checkouts. Dayne was a reckless playboy, a selfish guy who would use whatever girl walked into his life and never think twice about it. Even after he’d been to their house the other day, her prayers for Katy had been singularly focused. God, keep Katy away from Dayne Matthews.

  But now she would have to change that prayer. From here on out, she would pray that God have His way with whatever had grown between Katy and Dayne. Because this afternoon she’d seen a human side to Dayne Matthews. Human and vulnerable and very much concerned about one girl and only one girl. Not his leading lady, no matter what the tabloids said or whom he was living with. That girl wasn’t Kelly Parker.

  It was Katy Hart.

  Dayne watched the Flanigans and Tim Reed leave. He forced himself to keep up the act, to keep making his way along the line of fans, talking to them, answering their questions. Things had settled down among the spectators, and only rarely did he have screaming girls along the police tape anymore. The fans who remained were chatty and personable. He needed to give them more time, more one-on-one attention.

  But with Katy’s note in his pocket, he was dying for a moment to himself. When he reached the end of the line, he waved back at Kelly and Mitch and motioned to his trailer. They nodded, understanding that he probably had to use the restroom or freshen up. He kept his pace slow even as he headed up the trailer steps and shut the door behind him.

  He quickly jerked it from his pocket and opened it.

  Dayne,

  I need to talk to you. The paper says you finish at five. Meet me at the Lake Monroe trailhead at six o’clock.

  Thinking of you,

  Katy

  His hands trembled as he read it two more times. So she hadn’t forgotten about him. Every day, every hour he scanned the perimeter where they were shooting, hoping to see her somewhere in the background. But she hadn’t been by since that first day, and he hadn’t called her.

  He’d barely had a minute to himself, but it was more than that. Kelly was with him now. They hadn’t slept together—he couldn’t, not after the time he’d spent with Katy Hart. Whenever Kelly suggested that he move into her room at the Marriott, he would ward her off with excuses about working on his lines and needing his space.

  But he had to pretend things were okay because of the film. The act he was playing for the press and the fans was one he continued after the cameras stopped. He was kind and touchy around Kelly, kissing her often and letting her think everything was fine. A few days ago, she stopped asking about Katy and whether he was thinking about her.

  Which meant he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for.

  Now he looked at the note again and made a plan. Kelly had talked about their having dinner with Mitch, but that was impossible. Whatever it took, at six o’clock he would be at Lake Monroe waiting for Katy.

  He tucked the note back in his pocket, stepped out of his trailer, and joined Kelly and Mitch in the middle of the cordoned-off area. Then he worked with Kelly on one more scene.

  As soon as Mitch gave word that they were finished, Kelly came to Dayne and put her arms around his waist. “Still up for dinner?”

  “Not tonight.” He watched disappointment change her expression.

  “Why not? Mitch is looking forward to it.”

  The lies were adding up, and Dayne was starting to hate it. Lying used to come easily, but not anymore. Maybe it was part of his interest in Kabbalah, letting go of negative emotions. He narrowed his eyes and looked up. “My agent sent me a script, something he wants me to get back to him about first thing in the morning.” The lie took root. He looked at his watch. “I’ve got three—maybe four—hours of reading ahead of me at least.”

  She pouted, but her eyes told him she believed every word. A gofer brought each of them a bottle of water, and she took a few steps back. “Things were good today.”

  “Very good.”

  Mitch walked up, and Dayne repeated the lie. It was easier to tell this time around, but as he was getting to the part about his agent wanting the script read by morning, one of the minor stars in the film, Hawk Daniels, approached them and put his arm around Kelly. He whispered something in her ear, and she . . .

  Dayne took his eyes from Mitch and studied Kelly. Yes, she was blushing. She was whispering to Hawk and blushing.

  Mitch was watching too, and he rolled his eyes. He plastered what was obviously a fake smile on his face, and in a voice intended for their small group alone, he inclined his head toward Hawk and Kelly. “Don’t give the bloodsuckers something to write about. Please.”

  Hawk nodded at Dayne. Then he grinned once more at Kelly and went on his way.

  “Huh.” Dayne gave Kelly a look. “Good friend?”

  She tried to gather herself. “New friend.” She took hold of Mitch’s hand. “Looks like you and I are having dinner by ourselves.”

  “Oh, good. Next thing you know I’ll be in the tabs.”

  They said their good-byes, and Dayne rode back to the Holiday Inn with one of the gofers. The ride was quiet, because Dayne kept playing the scene with Kelly and Hawk over in his mind.

  Was she seeing him?

  Any other season in his life and a scene like that would have bothered him. But not now. Watching them had given him something he hadn’t felt for a long time when it came to Kelly Parker.

  A sense of peace. Maybe that’s why she hadn’t pushed the issue of spending more intimate time together this week. Maybe Hawk had replaced him. Knowing what was bound to come when they were finished filming the movie, Dayne could only hope so.

  He thanked the gofer and found his rental car. The paparazzi must’ve gone to dinner. They were lazier in Bloomington than they were in LA. Photos were snapped all day during the shoot and in any off moments when the stars were having casual conversation or taking pictures with fans. But so far the photographers hadn’t followed them around at night.

  There was an assumption on a location shoot like this one: work hard during the day and turn in early each night. After all, they’d given the press no reason to sense a scandal. And what interesting thing could the stars of Dream On possibly do in Bloomington, Indiana?

  Dayne climbed into his car and smiled. If they only knew.

  The closer he got to Lake Monroe, the more nervous he felt. He had only a few more days in Bloomington, and since Katy had kept her distance, he hadn’t expected to hear from her a
gain. Not that he wasn’t constantly thinking of a way to see her.

  But as busy as his filming schedule was, there hadn’t been a chance. Until now.

  He pulled into the lake parking lot, cut the engine, and looked around. Katy’s car was parked a hundred yards away near what looked like a private boat club. She must’ve walked the longer distance so he wouldn’t be tempted to park near her, just in case he was being tailed by paparazzi.

  The sound of frogs filled the evening air, and he looked over his shoulder. No one had followed him. He climbed out and shut the door, feeling his heartbeat all the way to his fingertips. This was exactly the thing Mitch Henry had forbidden him to do. “Don’t see the girl, Matthews. Stay away from the girl.”

  He shut the words from his mind. No one would ever find them here.

  The night was warmer than it had been all week, probably because of the low clouds. A fine layer of mist hung over the lake, and the air was thick and humid. He looked down, something he did without thinking anymore. His way of keeping as much privacy as possible, even here where he couldn’t see another person anywhere. He found the trail, and as soon as he was in among the trees he spotted her.

  She was standing against the trailhead sign, watching him. Beside her on the ground was a brown paper bag. He slowed down. How could he have stayed away from her? Even from fifty yards away he could feel his heart respond to her. Whatever this was about, the news must be good. The last time they were together, she told him she didn’t see any way to make things work between them.

  But now . . . why else had she asked him to come?

  He closed the distance between them and ran his tongue over his lips. His mouth was dry; he was anxious about what she wanted to say. When he was a few feet from her he stopped and looked into her eyes. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Emotions must have warred in her heart, because her expression went from cautious joy to fear and back to joy again. She moved the toe of her tennis shoe in a circle in front of her. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Katy . . .” He couldn’t pretend about how he felt. Not when they were alone in the fading sunlight on a wooded trail, a world away from anyone or anything but the two of them. He ordered himself to hold his ground, not to take her in his arms until he heard her out. “Did Jenny give you my message?”

  “That you miss me?” She smiled. “Yes.”

  His lips parted, but he couldn’t find the words. Finally he nodded. “I do. I . . . I’ve thought about you every day.”

  “Yeah.” A hint of sadness played in her eyes. “Me too.”

  He could feel his knees shaking, and he marveled at himself. No one had ever done this to him, made him feel like a kid with his first crush. He could have just about any woman he wanted, and for most of his adult life, he’d done just that. But this was something so different. Like he’d woken up and realized who he really was. “So—” he brushed at a mosquito circling near his face—“how’s Annie going?”

  “We’ve got a derelict dog.” She made a funny face. “If he doesn’t work out, I told the kids I’d wear the collar and leash.”

  He chuckled and shifted his position, not sure whether she wanted to walk or stay where they were. “I bet the kids liked that.”

  “They did.” Her voice was soft, musical almost. “I think they’re hoping the dog’ll stay bad.” She nodded up the path a ways and picked up the brown bag. “Let’s walk.” She glanced past him, back toward the parking lot. “Just in case.”

  “Okay.” Dayne wasn’t worried. The paparazzi wouldn’t have a clue where to find him. Still, Katy had more to lose than he did. He followed her another twenty yards down the trail. She stopped and leaned against one of two trees that stood only a foot apart from each other. He gave her a questioning look. “Here?”

  “This is good. I don’t want to be too far from the cars.”

  He thought of something then. Maybe it wasn’t only the paparazzi that had her nervous. It was late in the day, and the sun was setting. She was remembering the time they were together this close to dark, when the knife-wielding fan had jumped out at them. No wonder she wanted to stay out of sight, but not too far from their cars. He leaned against the tree opposite her, the toes of their shoes touching. “How’s the Bible study going?”

  “Very good.” Her tone was suddenly passionate, and he was reminded that CKT wasn’t only a job for Katy—it was a calling. She looked up through the tree branches at the pink-streaked sky overhead. “The kids’ hearts are changing, Dayne. I see it more every time we get together.”

  “I’m glad.” He didn’t want to rush her, but he had to know. “So . . . why are we here?”

  She still had the brown bag in her hands, and now she set it down and pulled something out, a few pieces of paper stapled together. “I did the research, like I said I would.”

  “Research?” Was she talking about the film or something else?

  “On Kabbalah. Remember, I said I’d look into it?”

  “Oh, that.” He brought his hands together and felt his bare wrist. Mitch hadn’t wanted him wearing the Kabbalah bracelet during the filming. One other bit of information they could deny the media. “What’d you find?”

  Her eyes were more serious than he’d ever seen them. “It’s bad stuff, Dayne. Some people say it’s a cult.”

  “Really?” A sick feeling rumbled in his gut. “How come?”

  “Well, let me ask you.” She handed the papers over to him. “Has anyone from the Kabbalah Center talked to you about making a large donation, something about money taking you through most of the spiritual steps?”

  Dayne felt the blood leave his face. How could she have known that? He flipped through the pages. On them were two topics: The Bible and Kabbalah—Some of the Differences and Why Some People Think Kabbalah’s a Cult. He looked at her. “You did this? You took the time to put this together?”

  She nodded. “I told you I would.”

  “Thanks.” He was suddenly winded. How close had he come to writing a seven-figure check to the Learning Center? It was something he had planned to do when he got home. He shook his head to clear his mind. “I’ll read it when I get back to the hotel room.”

  Her eyes held his for a long while. “I think you need to go back, Dayne.”

  “Back to the hotel?” He’d just gotten here. She couldn’t have only wanted to give him the notes and then be on her way, could she?

  “No.” She stared into the loneliest, most confused part of him. “Back to your roots, to the faith your adoptive parents tried to teach you.”

  He brought his lips together and for a moment said nothing, only peered through the trees at the darkness falling over the lake. Finally he shrugged. “Where should I start, Katy? No one in Hollywood thinks like that. No one I know, anyway.”

  “Start with the photograph—the one your birth mother gave you.” She slipped her hands behind her. “You said there was a letter on the back, something you’ve never read.”

  “Right.”

  “So . . . go find it. Read it. The way back has to start somewhere for all of us.”

  “The way back?” He loved this about Katy, the fact that she could talk about real things. Not just scripts and dinners and how the press might view them.

  “The way back to God, Dayne. He’s the reason you’re here, the reason we found each other in the first place. So that you’d have a reason to go back to the beginning.”

  “But . . . I don’t know; the guys at the Kabbalah Center talked about finding freedom and peace, getting rid of negative feelings.” He leaned his head back against the tree. “Doesn’t that sound good to you?”

  “It sounds like something only God can take care of.” She touched his arm. “God and you.”

  He pressed his fingers to his chest. “See, I have all this . . . I don’t know—anger—I guess.” The frogs were louder than before, and he raised his voice. “I told you about my adoptive parents, but I didn’t tell you how I feel now. I’m angry at them.” He
waved his hand at another mosquito. “They picked God over me. Now I’m supposed to go looking for God?”

  She eased her fingers around his wrist. “You have to search. The answers are out there, Dayne.” She reached back into the bag and pulled out a book. No, it wasn’t a book—it was a Bible. She handed it to him. “I got you this. So the search would be easier.”

  “Oh.” He made a quiet sarcastic sound and then regretted it. Her sincerity was touching, but that didn’t make her suggestions any more plausible for him. “I won’t find the answers at the Kabbalah Center—” he held up the Bible—“but I will find them here?”

  “Yes.” She had no doubts whatsoever; that much was clear from her tone.

  The path was getting dark. They had only a few more minutes of daylight before they’d have to go back. “Why, Katy? Why the Bible?”

  “Because it’s the only thing on earth that is the authoritative Word of God. Any search for truth has to start there, right? Because God’s the author of truth.”

  Dayne let that roll around in his mind. He’d never thought of it that way. God being the author of truth. He looked at the Bible, then at her. This wasn’t the time to have a debate. He’d missed her too much to waste their time that way. He slipped the Bible and the document on Kabbalah back into the brown bag. “Thank you.”

  “Meaning we aren’t going to talk about it.” She searched his face, his eyes.

  “Not now. We don’t have much time, Katy. It means a lot to me that you’d do this, though. The research and the Bible.” He paused. “Really, thank you.”

  She nodded and looked at something on the ground near her feet. After a while her eyes found his and she spoke straight to his soul. “What you said earlier . . . that you missed me . . .”

  “Yes.”

  “I missed you too.” There was shame in her voice, and it cut him deep. Was he that bad for her that she hated the idea of missing him? He studied her, waiting for her to finish. She stood straighter, no longer leaning against the tree. “I tried not to miss you, but I did. I couldn’t help it.”