She snapped her fingers and headed in their direction. “Can you play some sort of edge-of-your-seat-type music? You know, just as Robin Hood and Kaspar are loading their bows and pulling back?”
“Of course.” Al grinned at her and rattled off a series of piano notes that was perfect for the moment.
Nancy was sitting beside him on the piano bench. “When they release their bows, Al can play a dissonant chord.” She nudged him. “Go ahead.”
“Something like this?” Al played a chord that somehow sounded like an arrow whizzing through the air.
“Perfect!” Katy raised her fist in the air. This was the part she loved, watching theater magic come to life. The victory wasn’t enough to release her heart of the weight it carried, but she welcomed the distraction. She pointed at the crew member. “Understand what we’re doing?”
The boy nodded. “Mr. Helmes plays the build-up music, and then he hits that chord. When he hits it—”
“You pop the arrow through.” Katy clapped. “It’ll work for sure.”
They ran through the scene a few times before the timing was right, but it was the fix she’d been looking for.
After an hour of working the lines and getting the blocking down for the entire scene, Katy was satisfied. She had someone send for Rhonda. “We need to see the sword fight.”
This was the scene that worried Katy the most. The swords weren’t real, of course. They were cut from wood and painted to look like swords. But they were heavy wooden clubs all the same. If the choreography wasn’t right on, boys would be lunging and missing and hitting air, perhaps falling to the stage and landing on their swords, or worse—getting a direct blow from one of the other sword fighters.
The boys filed in, Connor Flanigan among them.
Katy smiled to herself at the picture they made as they took the stage. Each with a sword in his hand, the boys looked like proud, young warriors. The scene would be breathtaking if they could pull it off without injury.
When the clanking of swords had settled down, Katy addressed them. “This will be the part in the play that people talk about an hour after they’ve seen the show.” She kept her tone serious. As much fun as it was to swing a sword at another cast mate, the kids had to realize the potential danger in the scene. “We have to be safe. But if we get this part right, we get the entire show right.”
The boys looked even prouder than before.
Katy stifled a grin as she looked them over. “Okay, let’s see what you’ve got.”
The fighting was between Robin Hood’s men and the men who belonged with the sheriff of Nottingham. When the show was performed, half the boys would be dressed like merry men, in raggedy forest-type costumes. The other half would be in regal attire. The boys knew which were which, and they formed twelve pairs, facing and circling each other with an intensity that was already ominous.
“Good!” Katy stood back and crossed her arms. “I like the emotion.”
“Ready?” Rhonda took the spot on the floor near center stage. “Five, six, seven, eight! One, two, three, four . . .” She kept counting as the boys launched into a routine of raising their swords and clanging them against the ones belonging to their opponents, first one way, then another.
Not until the third set of eight counts did three boys move their swords the wrong way. As they did, their face-off partners each brought swords down squarely against the arms of the boys who had messed up.
One boy fell to the floor and grabbed his arm, his face twisted in pain. Another one bent in half and hugged his arm to his middle. The third stood, frowning, and brushed himself off.
“Oh, dear.” Katy rushed onto the stage. She looked over her shoulder at Rhonda, a few steps behind her. “You told them not to go full force, right?”
“Right.” Rhonda went to the boy on the floor and helped him to his feet. By then the other two were already looking ready to try again. “Everyone okay?”
A round of nods came from the boys.
“All right, listen.” Katy raised her voice so they could all hear her. “We have to remember this is acting, not fighting.”
Rhonda exchanged a look with Katy. They had to bite their lips to keep from smiling. “Did everyone hear Katy?” Rhonda took the sword from the nearest boy. “When you swing your sword, you have to look like you’re swinging it with all your might.” She demonstrated by making a face. “But if you really swing that hard and if someone’s out of place—” she gestured to the boys who’d been hit—“someone’s going to get hurt.”
Katy raised her brow. “Everyone got that?”
The group nodded again.
“Okay, follow Rhonda.” Katy descended the stairs and took her place to the side.
Rhonda did the same, staying in the middle so she could direct. “Take your places.”
Rhonda slowed her count the next time, while Al and Nancy Helmes moved the townspeople into the lobby to finish the opening musical number.
By the time the parents began arriving, Katy was ready to declare her sword-fight scene an abysmal mistake. They had five broken swords, one bloody gash on the lower calf of a ten-year-old boy, and one bruised forehead.
When all the kids had been picked up and the last sword injury had been detailed and discussed with each parent, Katy flopped into a folding chair and stared at the ceiling.
“All right, then.” A few feet away, Rhonda leaned against the nearest wall and laughed. “Any other bright ideas?”
Katy sat up. “Helmets.” She jabbed her pointer finger at the air above her head. “Plastic swords and helmets.”
The door at the back of the room opened, and a very pregnant Ashley Baxter Blake walked in. She had her hand on a cart full of paint cans and supplies. “Landon says I can’t carry heavy boxes anymore.” She placed her hand on her abdomen and grinned. “Dr. Baxter agrees. But that’s because he’s my dad.”
Katy and Rhonda went to meet Ashley, and the trio crossed the hall. They were using the lobby to paint sets tonight.
When they reached their work spot, Katy gave Ashley a wary look. “You really think that baby’s staying in there until April?”
“I know. I’m huge.” Ashley stopped and pressed her fist to her lower back. “It was this way with Cole too. I look like I’m carrying triplets.”
“Yeah, but you’re one of those girls who doesn’t look pregnant anywhere else.” Rhonda patted her thighs. “I doubt I’ll be that lucky when it’s my turn.”
The group laughed, but a bit of sadness pierced Katy’s heart. When would it be time for either her or Rhonda to have children? When would God bring men into their lives who fit the bill of all they were praying for in a husband? Dayne’s face filled her mind. Kelly Parker would soon look like Ashley—bursting with life and love and glowing from all her body was going through. And Dayne would be right there beside her.
“Be right back.” Rhonda headed for one of the prop-committee dads. “Hey, could you please help me get the backdrop in from Ashley’s car . . . ?”
Katy felt the sting of tears. She wasn’t ready for this. Just being near Ashley made her feel lonely and left out. As if her time for love and new life might never come. She set the paint cans on one of the tables.
Ashley sat in a chair against the wall and sighed. “It’s getting harder to move.”
“I’ll bet.” Katy blinked the wetness from her eyes. She kept her attention on the paint cans, moving them this way and that so she wouldn’t have to look at Ashley. She and Ashley were becoming better friends all the time. Her sadness would make no sense at a moment like this. She gave a light sniff and smiled at Ashley. “Landon and Cole must be so excited.”
“Landon’s worse than my dad.” She made a mock look of concern. “‘Ashley, are you sure the paint fumes are okay for the baby? Did you take your vitamins? Are you getting enough to eat?’” She laughed. “I told him he was going to wind up in the hospital before I do if he doesn’t relax a little.”
Katy smiled, but she could
feel it stop short of her eyes.
“Hey . . .” Ashley’s tone changed. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” Katy’s emotions were skimming along the surface of her heart, but there was nothing she could do about it. “I guess.”
Before Ashley could say anything else, Rhonda and the prop dad came huffing through the door, the giant canvas rolled up and balanced on each of their shoulders.
“Where do you want it?” The dad was leading the way.
Rhonda looked like she was doing her best just to keep up.
Katy sprang to one side of a series of tables that had been placed side by side. “Here. Across the tops of these.”
Rhonda and the dad lumbered across the lobby and dropped the canvas on the center table.
Rhonda leaned her elbow on the canvas and wiped her other hand across her forehead. “That thing must weigh a hundred pounds.” She saluted the dad. “Glad you were here. Thank you.”
“No problem. Let me know if you need anything else.” He returned to the hallway, where a group of parents were already working on several oversize set pieces.
Rhonda was still out of breath. She rested against one of the tables and looked at Ashley. “How’d you get that thing in your Durango?”
“Landon and one of our neighbors.” Ashley stood and stretched her back. “Landon would’ve walked it here himself before he’d let me lift a single corner of it.”
“He’s a good man.”
Katy grabbed paint cans and used them to anchor two of the backdrop corners. Rhonda did the same with two other cans. For a few minutes, they talked about the direction the backdrop was taking and how professional it already looked and what an asset Ashley was to CKT.
But when the conversation fell off, Rhonda took a paintbrush from the box in Ashley’s roller cart and found her place beside Katy. “All right, friend. I’ve been waiting all night to hear what’s going on.”
“See . . .” Ashley was already working on a section of green and gray plants along the right side of the backdrop. “I knew something was wrong.”
“Is it that obvious?” Katy looked up. With all she was, she wanted to forget about Dayne Matthews. But he was as much a part of her as her next heartbeat. Maybe if she talked about her feelings for him now, with two of her closest friends, she could talk herself out of caring so much.
“I could see it right away.” Ashley slid her chair down a few inches and poised her paintbrush over a section that still had no color. A certainty filled her expression. “Is it Dayne Matthews?”
“Yes.” Katy blew at a wisp of her hair. Rhonda knew far more about the situation than Ashley. But Katy appreciated that her friend stayed quiet now. “He told me a month ago that Kelly Parker is pregnant.”
“And the baby’s his?” Ashley’s mouth stayed open, the shock on her face genuine.
Katy dipped her brush into a dark brown paint and dragged it carefully down the length of the biggest tree trunk. “The baby’s definitely Dayne’s.”
“No . . .” Anger flashed in Ashley’s eyes. “I saw how he looked at you, Katy. That guy couldn’t possibly love anyone the way he loves you. How could he . . . ?”
“Kelly’s five months pregnant.” Katy felt tears trying to rise up. “She was pregnant before they came here for the filming.”
“After the crazy-stalker thing.” Rhonda gave a knowing look to Ashley.
“Oh.” A resignation came into Ashley’s tone. “When you told him the two of you didn’t have a chance.”
“Right.” Katy swirled her brush through the brown paint and wiped off the excess. Her heart hurt just talking about it. “She moved in with Dayne after that, and . . . well, now they’re going to have a baby.”
For half a minute, none of them spoke. Then Katy stopped her brush midstroke. “So how come I’m not seeing Dayne and Kelly in the tabloids? How come they’re not all over the covers by now making plans to get married—like all the other pregnant Hollywood women and their boyfriends? And how come every gossip magazine has pictures of Kelly and Hawk Daniels?” She paused and held the paintbrush over the can. “I mean, have you seen anything in the magazines that makes you think Kelly’s back with Dayne?”
“No.” Ashley folded her arms. “Definitely not.”
Rhonda had moved to the other side of the canvas. “I’m trying to tell her it doesn’t matter if the tabs know about the baby yet.” She was working intently on painting in a long ivy vine. Her voice was kind, quiet, the humor from earlier gone. She looked straight at Katy. “Bottom line, he’s going to be a dad. And he’s planning to stay with Kelly, if she’ll take him.”
A weak moan came from Ashley. She set her brush against the edge of the can and leaned back in her chair. “I’m so sorry, Katy. You should’ve told me.”
“I know.” Katy didn’t mind the sympathy. But she hated hearing herself explain the situation. It only underscored why she never should’ve allowed herself to have feelings for Dayne in the first place. “I guess I hate how it sounds. Of course his girlfriend is pregnant.” She laughed, but there was nothing funny about the sound. “She was living with him. I mean, what was I thinking? I need to stop dwelling on him.”
They talked a little more about the tabloids and the lack of proof that Dayne was indeed making his way back to Kelly. But in the end Ashley agreed with Rhonda. It didn’t matter. Dayne Matthews had no place in Katy’s life. He was going to be a father.
What more was there to say?
They switched topics, and Ashley talked about her pregnancy.
That led to Rhonda’s questions about when it would ever be her turn to fall in love and have children. “I mean, honestly.” She took harder swipes at the ivy. “The only guy interested in me right now is ten years older and three inches shorter.”
Katy smiled. She liked hearing Rhonda talk about her misadventures in love. It made a very real, very depressing topic seem lighthearted and funny. As if they weren’t really wondering whether God had forgotten about them. She pointed her paintbrush at Rhonda. “Hey . . . short’s not so bad.”
“For you, maybe.” Rhonda made an exaggerated look straight down. “How do you talk to a guy when you literally can’t see eye to eye?”
They laughed, and the easygoing talk continued. The whole time, Katy tried to convince herself that she was ridiculous to waste another minute thinking about Dayne. Connecting with him, becoming his friend, having feelings for him—all of it was like something from a dream. Who ever heard of a small-town girl falling for a movie star and believing her feelings could actually lead to a relationship?
In some ways Katy wanted to laugh at herself for ever thinking—even in her weakest moments—that the two of them might have a chance. But she couldn’t convince her heart. Time and again as the night wore on she had to rope in her feelings, chide herself for remembering Dayne’s kiss or the way he looked in the moonlight on Malibu Beach.
Katy was thankful for the backdrop. Otherwise, Rhonda and Ashley would’ve seen how distracted she was. Rhonda for sure would’ve figured out that she must still be thinking about Dayne. But since they were determined to finish the canvas, neither of them mentioned it.
After an hour, they stood back and admired their work.
“It’s the best yet.” Ashley pressed her hand to the small of her back. “Even if this little guy’s been kicking the whole time.”
“Guy?” Katy faced her friend. “Did you find out?”
“No. We want to be surprised.” Ashley giggled. “Cole thinks he’s getting a brother. I guess I picked up on it.” She looked at her watch. “Good. Landon said he’d be awake until eleven. I’ll still have an hour with him.”
Again Katy felt the sting of her friend’s words. Not that Ashley meant anything by them, but the contrast was just so sharp. Ashley would go home to a man who had loved her since she was in high school. Home to a little boy who adored her and a home where very soon they would bring a new baby.
Katy would go home to the apartme
nt over the Flanigans’ garage, alone and with only a handful of social events scattered across the next few months of calendar space.
She helped Ashley pack her rolling cart, and the three of them found their jackets, bundled up, and headed to the parking lot. There was no snow, but the temperature was hovering around ten degrees. Katy and Rhonda helped Ashley load her vehicle and watched her drive off.
“I wonder if she knows how lucky she is.” Rhonda looked at the fading taillights on Ashley’s vehicle.
“She does.” Katy remembered the conversation she’d had with Ashley in the hospital several months ago when they were holding vigil for Sarah Jo Stryker, the twelve-year-old CKT star who died from injuries she received when a drunk driver hit her mother’s van last fall. “Ashley sees Landon as a gift from God. Nothing less.”
Rhonda gave her a sad smile. “You sounded healthy in there.” It was easy to read Katy’s eyes, even in the light of the streetlamps. “You know what I mean?”
“About Dayne?” Katy slid her hands into her coat pockets.
“Mmm-hmm.” She clutched her dance bag close to her middle. “You need to let him go.”
“I have.” Katy’s answer was quick. The air was icy against her cheeks. But under her jacket she was warm, so much so that she wasn’t shivering. “The moment he told me about Kelly I made it clear I had to leave. Obviously.”
“Okay.” Rhonda angled her head. She seemed to be working hard not to be pushy. She tugged on Katy’s jacket sleeve. “If you’ve let go of him, then good for you. Let’s just keep it that way.”
They said good-bye and went their separate ways, and only after Katy was getting in the car did she realize something that defied everything she’d told Rhonda and Ashley. How could she claim to be over Dayne when the reason she wasn’t cold was because of the cozy oversize sweatshirt she was wearing? The one she’d worn to practice almost every day for nearly a month. A sweatshirt that was warm and thick and gray with MICHIGAN written in block letters across the front.
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