Family

by Karen Kingsbury

  She folded the paper and set it on the bed beside her. If there was a way to blink herself back to Bloomington, she would’ve done it. But before she could imagine how she was supposed to take her next step, her cell phone beside the bed began to vibrate. She grabbed it and glanced at the caller ID. Dayne. She opened it and held it to her ear. Only then did she realize that her entire body was shaking. “Hello?”

  “Katy, did you see it?” Dayne sounded breathless, more worried than she’d ever heard him.

  She closed her eyes and steadied herself. “Yes. I read every word.”

  “Listen, don’t panic.” He groaned and muttered something under his breath. “I can’t believe they bought the photo from the beach. The whole thing is so much more about me than you, Katy. You have to believe that.”

  “But they made me look like a tramp.” There were tears in her voice, and she gritted her teeth. She couldn’t break down, not now. They had an entire day of testimony ahead of them. “Everyone will think we’ve been together this whole time.”

  “Katy . . . stop.” He breathed out, and his voice grew calmer than before. “Remember my prayer last night?”

  “Yes, of course.” She couldn’t make her ribs expand enough to grab a full breath. Instead she gripped the phone and stared at the slice of light coming from the closed curtains. “I remember.”

  “So here’s what you hold on to.” He paused. “It doesn’t matter what the LA Times says. It doesn’t matter if everyone in the world believes that you and I have been in a relationship. God matters; that’s all. He knows the truth, and we know the truth. And anyone who knows us will know the truth eventually.” His words were clear and measured, without the fear that strained his tone a moment ago. “Can you believe that?”

  Her heart was pounding so loud she had to struggle to hear him. But his words made her think. He had a point. So what if the world thought something mistaken about her? They didn’t know her. And one day when the dust from the trial settled, she could make things clear with the people who did know her, right? Her body stopped shaking. “I guess so.”

  “Okay, so you go into court today with your head high. The two of us avoid each other, and Joe Morris handles the media. He’ll stick to the same story. You and I are friends. Stories of our romantic involvement are false. We’ll get through this, Katy. We will. Just remember the media’s only interested in you because of me.”

  Her heart was still pounding but not as fast as before. “Okay.” She ran her tongue along the inside of her mouth. It was so dry she could barely swallow. “I have to get ready.”

  “Don’t panic. Please, Katy. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  She pictured him, the way he’d looked the night before in her arms. “All right.” She began to feel the peace she’d had earlier. “I promise.”

  When the call ended, she took a shower and got ready as fast as she could. Maybe the story had only run in Los Angeles, and if that were the case, then her world in Bloomington might still be intact. Maybe this morning the Flanigans and Rhonda and CKT coordinator Bethany Allen weren’t all waking up to the same story spread across the LA paper.

  She had ten minutes until Luke Baxter would be at the back door of the hotel to pick her up. She flipped open her phone and called Jenny’s cell. It would be hours later in Bloomington. Jenny would be running errands or volunteering at Bailey’s high school, the way she often did. Still, it was worth a try.

  The phone rang twice, three times, then went to voice mail. She hung up before the end of the message. Whatever the papers in Bloomington said that morning, she’d have to find out later. She gathered her purse, checked her look once more, and begged God to go before her.

  She headed down to the lobby and toward the back door. Six photographers were lined up near the door, and edging his way in front of them was Luke, ready to shield her as they moved to his rental car. She thought about running or hiding her face, but what was the point? They knew her name and her role in the trial, and they knew that she was connected with Dayne.

  Ignore them. That’s what Dayne had advised her before, and it was the only logical course of action now. They couldn’t harm her, and the pictures would be useless. Katy Hart leaving her hotel under the protection of a legal assistant? Big deal. Holding her head high, the way Dayne had told her to do, she moved in next to Luke, and the two of them stepped into daylight.

  The cameras took aim, and the photographers began making rapid clicks, snapping dozens of photos in a matter of seconds. Fine. She refused to look at them as they walked to Luke’s car. But she wasn’t prepared for the questions.

  “How long have you and Dayne been lovers?” One of the cameramen stayed a foot in front of her, blocking her path and moving only enough to let her continue on. “Tell us, Katy. How long?”

  Luke held out his hand. “Step aside, please.”

  Katy felt her face grow hot. A memory flashed in her mind, a story in one of the tabloids about a famous pop singer throwing a full cup of pop in the face of a photographer. And another where a well-known, usually levelheaded movie star had knocked a member of the paparazzi to the ground. No wonder. She kept her eyes on Luke’s car and let him lead her around the photographer.

  “Were you sleeping with Dayne while he was living with Kelly Parker?”

  “Where did you and Dayne hook up in Bloomington during the location shoot for Dream On?”

  The questions blended together and made her nauseous. Fight, Katy . . . keep walking, she told herself. Three more seconds, two . . . she reached the passenger door of Luke’s car just as he opened it. She climbed inside, and as Luke shut it she hit the lock button. The paparazzi surrounded her half of the car, still snapping pictures even as Luke pulled away.

  He made a frustrated sound. “Vultures.”

  Katy couldn’t breathe well enough to respond. Every bit of truth she’d told herself earlier in the hotel room, every sensible word Dayne had spoken to her seemed foreign and unreachable.

  “You okay?” Luke was calm. He headed onto the main boulevard, ignoring the revving engines and screeching tires behind him.

  “I . . . I don’t know.” She slumped down in her seat. How was she even here? She hadn’t wanted this life, right? Wasn’t that why she hadn’t taken the part in Dream On in the first place? Wasn’t this the lifestyle that had led her first love, Tad Thompson, to choose drugs? Maybe he’d taken them because he couldn’t see any other way out. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

  Tears stung her eyes, and she glanced at the side mirror. All six cars were following them. She was the hot story of the day, and they weren’t about to relent. Not anytime soon. And that made her think of something. What if Dayne was wrong? What if their interest lasted after the trial and followed her home to Bloomington? And how, without miraculous intervention, would she and Dayne ever have another moment alone like the one they’d had last night?

  “Katy . . . this will pass.” Luke pulled up to a stoplight and looked at her. “Dayne warned us it would be like this, but it’ll pass. As soon as something else takes their attention.”

  It was as if he could read her mind. She nodded and turned her gaze straight ahead for the rest of the trip. The whole way she reminded herself that Dayne and Luke were right, that the intense scrutiny couldn’t really hurt her, not the person she was inside. But she felt sick and uptight the entire ride and even more so as Luke escorted her through the back door of the courtroom.

  Paparazzi had figured out that the back door was a viable entrance, and dozens of cameramen lined the sidewalk.

  Katy and Luke were halfway to the door, dodging questions and cameras, when the strangest thing happened. One of the photographers from farther back in the pack yelled, “Dayne, tell us how long you and Katy have been an item.”

  Luke stopped for a moment, obviously confused. “My name is Luke Baxter. I’m a legal assistant for Dayne Matthews.” He shaded his eyes and directed his words to the place from where the question had be
en fired. “We have no comment at this time.”

  He put his arm around Katy and ushered her into the building. When they were inside he shook his head. “The guys in my office think the same thing—that I look like Dayne.”

  In that instant the paparazzi was forgotten. “Yes.” Katy caught her breath and studied him. “The other day . . . your voice, the way you moved. Everything about you reminded me of Dayne.”

  Luke shrugged, and a familiar smile, Dayne’s smile, hung on his lips. “They say everyone has a double out there somewhere.”

  She narrowed her eyes, amazed more than ever at the resemblance. “I guess.”

  “My wife says I’m better looking.” He chuckled. “But she’s a little biased.” He took a few steps. “Come on, let’s get to the courtroom.”

  The press was back in full force, and they took pictures of her as she walked into the courtroom with Luke. At least they couldn’t shout questions at her. She exchanged a look with Dayne but only long enough for her to see that he was confident and collected.

  Katy glanced at the defense table. Margie was seated next to the gray-haired attorney. Her hands were cuffed, and she looked more sedate. Maybe they’d drugged her to keep her quiet.

  Even so, Katy felt like her stomach was about to drop to her knees. She wasn’t sure what would happen next or whether her world was about to crash in on her. Luke sat next to her, and once in a while he patted her arm, but still her stomach remained tight, her breathing shallow.

  The proceedings began, and Dayne was called to the witness stand again. Only then did she truly feel that she might survive the day. Not because of anything anyone had said or the atmosphere in the courtroom. But because for the first time she had a reason to look at Dayne, to get lost in his eyes. What she saw there told her he was at peace, and more than that, he was praying.

  Strange, really, how he was showing more maturity in his faith than she was. And she’d been a Christian longer. But then, he’d been raised with the same faith. All the truths, all the power of God’s Word had been a part of his life since he was a child—same as her. Now that he had claimed that faith as his own, it was stronger than Katy had imagined. Strong enough to give her a sense of protection.

  As a little girl she had learned that the eyes were the window to the soul. Since that was true, she could see by looking at Dayne’s that his soul was not consumed with fear, the way hers had been. It was consumed with God.

  And that was enough to get them both through whatever might come next.

  Dayne was dying to get Katy alone, to hold her and whisper to her the way he had the night before. To assure her that everything really would be okay, no matter how it felt in that moment. But he was helpless to do anything but sit, cool and collected, on the witness stand.

  This was the part of the proceedings Dayne was most concerned about. He and Tara Lawson had worked with his attorney Joe Morris making sure the line of questioning would steer clear of the events that led Dayne and Katy to Paradise Cove the night of the attack. Now he could only pray with every breath that the information would remain vague, that he wouldn’t be required to admit that he and Katy had held hands or kissed or discussed anything but her possible part in the movie.

  Katy had already been traumatized by the publicity, and the scrutiny had only just begun. The tabloids would make the Times article look passive. But by then he’d at least have time to talk to Katy. For now he wanted to keep from making things worse.

  So far Tara’s questions had been perfect. Rather than avoid the subject of why Dayne was at the beach, she tackled it head-on, keeping the details to a professional level. “Mr. Matthews, could you tell the jury who you were with on the night of the attack?”

  Dayne leaned close to the microphone. “I was with an actress, Katy Hart.”

  “Why were you with Katy Hart at Paradise Cove that night?”

  “We were discussing the possibility of her taking a leading role in one of my films.” He shrugged. “I took her to Paradise Cove because it’s a private beach, to avoid the paparazzi.”

  “Very well.” Tara didn’t miss a beat. “You and Ms. Hart were at Paradise Cove discussing business. Could you detail what happened as you left the beach and headed for your car?”

  And just like that they were past the line of questioning involving the time he and Katy were alone on the beach. He resisted the urge to smile at Katy. Instead he willed her to know that things were going well, and nothing he’d say from the witness stand would cause her any more hurt.

  Over the next hour, Tara led Dayne through a vivid description of Margie Madden’s attack. For the most part, the defendant remained lethargic, her eyes glued to the table in front of her. Dayne was pretty sure she’d been doped up with Valium or some other drug to keep her quiet.

  Tara walked closer to the witness stand. With her tailored suit and note file, she was the picture of self-assurance. “Can you identify the woman who jumped from the bushes and put a knife to Ms. Hart’s throat?”

  Dayne pointed across the room at Margie. “She’s sitting there, at the defendant’s table.”

  For the first time that morning, Margie stirred. She turned her attention to Dayne and glared at him. “You’re a lousy husband.” The words were out before her attorney could say anything.

  Across the back of the courtroom there was a rustle of cameras and reporters flipping notepads as twenty-some people scrambled to capture the colorful quote.

  Dayne turned his attention back to Tara. From the corner of his eye he saw the defense attorney talking sternly with Margie.

  The prosecutor acted as if she hadn’t heard Margie’s comment. “Mr. Matthews, did the defendant threaten to kill Ms. Hart?”

  “Yes.” Dayne worked the muscles in his jaw. He could feel the eyes of the jury on him, feel them anxious to deliver a conviction on his behalf.

  “And did the defendant threaten to kill you also, Mr. Matthews?”

  “Yes, she did.” Dayne kept his attention on Tara, every bit as professional as she was.

  “Did you believe, Mr. Matthews, that the defendant indeed intended to kill Ms. Hart?”

  “Yes, I believe she intended to kill Ms. Hart. Definitely.” Again the media stirred. The story must’ve felt irresistible.

  Tara paced toward the jury and checked her notes. Dayne wanted to cheer her on. She was perfect, allowing the twelve men and women the chance to look from Dayne to Margie and back again, giving them time to process what had happened that night. The defendant had threatened to kill with every intention of carrying it out.

  After a long pause, Tara looked at Dayne. “Do you believe the defendant would’ve killed you if she’d had the chance?”

  “Yes.”

  “And why didn’t she kill you?”

  “Objection.” The gray-haired attorney might’ve looked flustered. He might’ve been at the helm of a sinking ship, but he wasn’t going down without something of a fight. He was on his feet. “The prosecutor is leading the witness, Your Honor.”

  “Sustained.” Judge Nguyen nodded at Tara. “Keep your objectivity, counsel.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Tara nodded, stern and remorseful. She checked her notes and tried again. “Mr. Matthews, what happened after the defendant threatened to kill Ms. Hart?”

  “I kicked the knife from her hand, grabbed her, and knocked her to the ground.”

  “Why did you do this?”

  Dayne kept his tone grave. “The defendant had the knife pressed against Ms. Hart’s throat. If I hadn’t done something, I believe she would’ve killed Ms. Hart.”

  The questioning continued, all of it one-sided. Tara finished just before lunch, and the judge ordered an hour break.

  Dayne returned immediately to his place beside Joe Morris, and the group moved in silence to the private sitting area adjacent to the courtroom. Once they were inside, Dayne found Katy and took her in his arms. He had nothing to hide from his attorney, and Tara couldn’t have been surprised.


  “Are you okay?” He spoke low near her ear. The others around them fell into various conversations, giving them what little privacy they could possibly have in the cramped quarters.

  “I’m fine. Really.” She smiled, but he could see the fear in her eyes. “You’re doing fantastic up there.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Lunch is being brought up,” Tara Lawson announced. “I think Joe needs a few minutes with Dayne and Katy before then.” She motioned toward the hall. “I want to meet with my team and go over a few details.”

  Joe shot him a silent apology. “She’s right. We need to talk about today’s story.”

  Dayne wasn’t finished. He wanted to ask Katy if she felt him praying for her, but clearly this wasn’t the time. Instead he gave her hand a single squeeze and led the way to the table where Joe was sitting.

  In that moment, even though he’d been praying all morning, he felt drained by the proceedings. Where Katy was concerned, he always felt like they were taking steps backward, falling farther into a hole. When all he wanted to do was move forward, tell her how he really felt, and make plans to do so for the rest of his life. There, in the stuffy, windowless room, the idea of ever reaching that place felt utterly impossible.

  “I didn’t like the article this morning.” Joe had a copy of the LA Times. He spread it out on the table.

  Dayne glanced at Katy. Her face looked a shade paler than before. Sure, she’d already seen it. But seeing it again was bound to send another wave of alarm through her body. He folded his arms on the table in front of him. “None of us liked it.”

  “I can’t believe they ran the picture from the beach.” Katy’s voice was small but angry.

  “They’ll run it in every tabloid next week.” Joe raised his brow in her direction. “I want you to be ready.”

  She nodded, her lips pressed tight together.

  Until lunch came they talked about the second tier of strategy with the press. They would stay with the story that Katy and Dayne were not romantically involved, no matter what was hinted at or speculated, no matter what story might run in the tabs.