Someday Soon

by Janelle Taylor

  “Oh, Ty!” She clung to him in joy and disbelief. “I almost left. It was only your father,” she bubbled, “who convinced me to give one last try. I thought you hated me!”

  “My father?”

  “He came to see me this morning. He wanted me to convince you to go back, but I told him you would never listen to me. But I had to see you. I had to! And he told me not to give up on love.”

  “My father told you that?”

  “In so many words. He convinced me, or maybe I just wanted to be convinced.”

  “He was acting, then. Those lines are straight out of one of his roles.”

  Cammie’s mouth dropped open. Of course! Now that Ty reminded her, she could visualize the entire scene of one of his earlier films. “Now I know why it sounded so familiar! That—that—rascal!” she bit out, for lack of a better adjective.

  They pulled back to stare at each other, neither knowing quite what to think. Then Ty threw back his head and laughed, and Cammie, relieved and delighted, shook her head and chuckled. “I was totally fooled!” she declared. “Totally!”

  “He’s always been a good actor,” Ty admitted grudgingly. “Fair to poor as a father and human being, but he’s earned his success in films.”

  “Oh, Ty.”

  “Come here,” he said gruffly, kissing her hard until Cammie’s limbs felt as if they were weightless. “I don’t want to think about anything but us right now.”

  “I agree,” she sighed happily, and that was enough.

  An hour later, they sat curled together on the couch, watching the sun-dappled water turn to a sheet of molten gold. Summer was on its way.

  “I had a terrible night,” Ty murmured into the warmth and sweetness of her nape. “All those feelings came back: betrayal and anger and helplessness. I wanted to kill my father, and I wanted to hurt you like you’d hurt me.”

  “I love you,” she said by way of answer.

  “God, Cammie…I love you, too.”

  His utterance to the words he’d so long denied shocked them both. But once said, Ty refused to take them back. He squeezed her tight, afraid to let go. “I guess I can’t help myself. And somewhere in the middle of the night I realized that fact. Then it didn’t matter anymore. I didn’t care. I’d already determined I was going to catch the first flight to Los Angeles and find you.”

  “You’re serious?” Cammie twisted to stare into his eyes.

  He nodded.

  “I don’t believe this,” she murmured wonderingly. “I didn’t think you would ever trust me again.”

  “Why not? In the first place there was the indisputable fact that you didn’t bring the screenplay with you. And even if you had, well, things changed between us pretty fast, if you know what I mean.”

  She fought a smile. “You mean, sisterly and brotherly affection changed?”

  “Uh huh. In a big way.”

  He kissed her ravenously all over her face and neck until Cammie was squealing with delight, scrambling to get away. “You’re tickling me!”

  “Good.”

  “Stop it, Ty! Oh…good grief…damn…oh! You …stop!” she squealed, just as a banging sounded on the front door again.

  “Samuel,” Cammie murmured.

  Ty groaned in frustration, collapsing against her at this latest interruption. “Go away!” he yelled.

  They both gazed expectantly at the door, and sure enough it opened beneath the intruder’s hand. Samuel stuck his head inside, spied them together on the couch, and his handsome, craggy face relaxed in a grin.

  “Well, finally,” he declared. “Now, we can get down to business…”

  If Cammie had been asked to script what a showdown between Ty, his father, and herself would entail, she could not have imagined any kind of happy ending. But now, hours into the discussion among the three of them, as she replaced the filter on the coffee maker, filled the carafe, then set the whole contraption in motion one more time, she almost believed it could be.

  Watching the brown fluid drip into the carafe, she listened to the quiet drone of Samuel’s instructions to his son. Oh, not that Ty was carefully listening; she suspected he’d checked out hours ago. And she’d performed this coffee-making task too many times over the course of the afternoon and evening to count. But she and Ty were both content to let Mr. Stovall, Sr., have his say, mainly because it was the only way they could think of to get him out of their hair.

  Samuel had plunked himself down in the armchair, acting as if nothing untoward had ever taken place between him and Ty. He’d then set about making plans for all three of them, and it was a testament to Ty’s newfound patience that he let his father ramble and plot and cajole. What he thought about the proceedings, Cammie could only guess.

  In logical order, Samuel laid out the facts of how Rock Bottom was to be produced, when, and by whom. He was a far better advocate for the project than Cammie could ever have been. He cared, whereas Cammie had simply let it all happen around her. She was glad she’d never had to truly be Rock Bottom’s guiding emissary.

  Now, slipping a steaming mug between Ty’s hands, Cammie raised her brows in a silent question to Sam, asking him if he’d like the same.

  “No, thanks,” he answered. “Unless you’ve got some brantly?”

  “Scotch,” Ty reminded him.

  “Never mind.”

  Cammie sat down by Ty on the couch. Lovingly, he placed one hand on her knee. Samuel barely flicked it a glance; he was on a track and nothing could derail him. “So, what do you think of it?” he asked into the pause that followed. He gestured to the copy of Rock Bottom which lay on the coffee table between them. “No more beating around the bush. What do you honestly think of it?”

  “I told Cammie already. It’s good.”

  “I mean as a project for you,” Samuel pushed impatiently. “Are you interested?”

  “I live in Bayrock.”

  Samuel muttered a few unintelligible words that sounded like half-formed curses to Cammie’s ears. Ty merely looked amused. “Will you come back and take the role?” Samuel rephrased, his mouth a hard line, his own patience razor thin.

  “You spent hours yesterday telling me how the press is ready to pounce on my bones. There’s no going back without setting off a media circus.”

  “There isn’t anyway,” Samuel interrupted. “Your return will headline every channel.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me want to come back?”

  “Rock Bottom is the reason to come back. And Camilla,” he put in as an afterthought. “You’ve obviously got deep feelings going here, and she’s not crazy enough to give up her career and live like a mountain man’s dimwit bride.”

  Ty rolled his eyes. Cammie was too happy to take offense one way or another, but she did manage to say, “This is hardly a ‘mountain man’ abode.”

  “My point is, the media storm will follow you regardless. Come back and do the film. It’s perfect for you, and I know you want it. I want it for you.”

  “No offense, but I don’t trust your ‘fatherly’ feelings.”

  “It’s all I want, Tyler,” Samuel insisted, looking for all the world like he really meant it. But then, he was a consummate actor, as Cammie appreciated more with each passing minute.

  Ty gave his father a long look, then turned to regard Cammie thoughtfully. “What do you think I should do?”

  Cammie’s lips parted. “Ty, this is entirely up to you. Are you—seriously considering returning?”

  “Do it!” Samuel jumped in. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime, don’t you see? It’s time to take control. You are Norm Franklin,” he insisted, referring to Rock Bottom’s central character.

  “And redemption’s the theme,” Ty finished with a faint smile.

  “Ridicule all you want, Son. In this, I’m right. I’m always right when it comes to picking a film.”

  Ty gazed at the man he’d hated for so many years. His emotions warred with his intellect. A great many of the things Samuel said w
ere true; a great many were selfish fiction. He had half a mind to tell his father where to stick it, but juvenile “feel goods” were always hollow and unimportant.

  With a sigh and a sense of coming home, Ty said simply, “All right, I’ll do it, on one condition.”

  “What’s that?” Samuel asked a bit fearfully.

  “That Cammie is definitely my co-star. No ifs, ands, or buts, and no changing at the last minute.”

  “Done!” Samuel declared, rising and thrusting out his hand to his son to seal the deal. “I’ll call the producers at once. Welcome back, Tyler. It’s about time!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Tyler wiped the sweat from his brow as he climbed from the workout bench and got to his feet. The smiling girl at the desk looked eager to help, but he just signaled her with a shake of his head and a mouthed, “Thanks” to let her know he was in no need of assistance. Heading outside, he walked back to his cabin and the boxes that awaited him.

  Two nights earlier Cammie had left for the bright lights of Los Angeles. She followed in Samuel’s wake, but he, Tyler, had stayed on to complete the final touches of his departure from this town which had been his home for so long.

  He’d already said his good-byes. He’d stopped by Rodeo Bob’s and explained to Corky that he was leaving. Corky, who’d been poleaxed by Ty’s appearance sans beard, protested long and loud about his friend’s decision to leave. Ty had nearly told his friend the truth about his identity, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. It would spoil their relationship; he’d had it happen to him too many times in the past. And he wanted to remember Corky as the friend who thought he was Jerry Mercer, not Tyler Stovall. Eventually, of course, the truth would come out and Ty would have to come back to Bayrock and face Corky, but he wanted to get through the baptism by fire in Hollywood first.

  Ty had then made a point of running into Missy. After exclaiming over his shaven chin, she’d boldly stepped forward and hugged him close. “You really look like that actor now!” she laughed.

  The truth grated along his nerves; the pain was almost physical. He hated this. Hated having to be “that screen idol” again, and yet, he wanted to go back to filmmaking. He hadn’t been able to confess the truth to Missy, either. He’d even stalled telling her he was leaving because he really didn’t want to face her histrionics. And he had a mental picture of her stunned by the realization she’d been a paramour of the infamous Tyler Stovall himself—then selling the rights to her “tell-all” book to the highest bidder. The thought curdled his stomach. He managed to mumble to her that he was leaving Bayrock, but whether she understood that it was forever, he couldn’t tell. She stared at him with huge, uncomprehending eyes.

  Maybe he was a coward, but he wanted the people of Bayrock planted in his memory just the way they were. Besides, he had enough problems with the uncertain future ahead of him.

  You’re nuts. Completely crazy. You have no idea what’s in store. It’s a nightmare. The words reverberated silently.

  But there was Cammie. He loved her desperately. Loved her in a way that amazed and humbled him. And the timing was right to go back. For Cammie, and for his own sense of self, he knew he was making the correct choice.

  Still, it was hard, and when he’d given Missy a last, platonic kiss good-bye on the cheek, he’d felt like a charlatan. Tears welled in her eyes and she choked out, “You really love her, don’t you?” Ty, after a brief hesitation, had nodded. Yes, he really loved her.

  Now, stepping inside his cabin, Ty glanced around the familiar environs, his heartstrings tugging. So, here he was, ready to go. He just needed to put the finishing touches on his packing, and he was set to leave. He’d shipped a ton of stuff already to his pal Bruce’s place. And he’d called Nanette, who’d been rapturous over his confession of love for Cammie, but less enthusiastic about his return to Los Angeles.

  “Don’t let them eat you up,” she warned.

  Ty had been amused. “I can handle myself. And I can handle my father.”

  “I’m going to brace myself for the hue and cry. Keep Cammie close. You’ll need her.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  Now, as he took one long, last look out the windows to the bay, Ty closed his eyes and imagined Cammie’s soft smile, jewel-like eyes, and tender touch. She was his bright light, and he’d almost thrown her away over silly fears that nevertheless hung in the corners of his mind like cobwebs.

  “The past is dead,” he said aloud, his voice sounding unnaturally harsh and loud in the empty room.

  The future was waiting.

  Los Angeles lay brown and dusty beneath an unusually hot sun as the jet screeched and lurched to a stop on the landing strip. Cammie waited until the pilot pulled up to the gate before unclipping her seatbelt. A flurry of passengers yanked luggage from the overhead bins. With barely concealed impatience, she waited until the aisle was clear and she could make her way up the jetway.

  Susannah paced about at the gate, much to Cammie’s amazement.

  “You came to meet me?” Cammie’s lips curved into a surprised smile.

  “Are you kidding? You call and tell me Tyler Stovall’s coming back, and you expect me to just sit on my hands! Of course I came!” she nearly screeched.

  “Shhh…I told you he’s not on this flight. He’s got some things to take care of first.”

  “I know. I know! But I couldn’t wait to hear the details. And besides, you could use a lift.”

  Cammie’s amusement continued. Susannah, who was as harried and busy as any successful agent could be, did not make a habit of picking up her clients and/or friends at the airport. In fact, this was the first time on record, Cammie was certain.

  And though Cammie had told Susannah about Ty’s decision to step into the shark-infested waters of Hollywood again, she had neglected to bring up the information of her own relationship with him. That secret was too new, too raw, to reveal right off the bat. Let Susannah, and the rest of the world, get used to having Tyler Stovall and all the resulting media frenzy that would surround him for a while before adding to the melee.

  “So, spill!” Susannah insisted as she and Cammie climbed into her white convertible. The top was up though the sun was shining. Susannah wasn’t fool enough to completely lose her coif.

  “I told you almost everything already,” Cammie insisted. “I couldn’t bring up the screenplay. I just couldn’t do it.”

  “But Stovall Sr. took care of that, right?” Susannah stated grimly.

  “Among other things,” Cammie muttered.

  “So, then what?”

  “Ty was—I don’t know—sure he’d been used and tricked by his father again. And by me. But then he thought about it, and well, Rock Bottom speaks for itself. Everything kind of came together. End of story.” She sighed. “I still can’t believe it!”

  “When’s he getting here? When’s he talking to the Connellys?”

  “Samuel’s been after him, but Ty made it clear that if anyone said anything before he was ready, he would back out. I don’t know if he really would, but Samuel’s not taking any chances.” Cammie shook her head. “What’s his stake in this anyway? I mean, you’d think he was the one up for the role, not Ty.”

  Susannah gave Cammie a searching look. “Oh, my God. Of course you don’t know. I just found out myself.”

  “Don’t know what?” Cammie asked, alarm feathering along her nerves.

  “I was in a meeting with the Connellys and your lovely ex.”

  “Paul. Yes, yes.” Cammie was impatient.

  “Apparently, there have been some extra negotiations taking place.”

  “With Samuel?” Cammie asked, her heart sinking.

  “Jim and Nora wouldn’t really say. Not to me, anyway, so I’m just guessing here, but you know the part of Norm Franklin’s father?”

  “Oh, no…!”

  “I’m thinking the Connellys have agreed to give Samuel the role. It makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, after all, he’s perfect
. And the publicity over father and son in the same film…Well, it’s a gold mine.”

  “Oh, I hope you’re wrong. I really hope you’re wrong.”

  Susannah grimaced. “Unfortunately, I have instincts over these things.”

  “Susannah, Ty will never do it.” Cammie’s brain spun wildly. “He’ll think we set him up. Again!”

  “It might not even be true.”

  “But what if it is. I can’t even imagine what he’ll think!”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  Cammie gazed at her friend in despair. Susannah didn’t know the tricky ins and outs of her relationship with Ty, so she had no way of understanding how Ty would react to—what he would view—as this newest betrayal. “Somehow, it will reflect on me.” She sighed.

  “Stop being such a pessimist. You don’t have to bring it up. Wait until he gets here.”

  “Oh, no.” Cammie shook her head emphatically. “That’ll be worse. He needs to be warned.”

  “I shouldn’t have told you.” Susannah gripped the wheel with extra force, pushing her toe on the accelerator with sudden emotion. “We don’t know anything for sure.”

  “You don’t understand. I can’t even think straight about this!” Cammie collapsed against the leather upholstery, as spent as if she’d run a marathon. “And to think that I almost felt sorry for Samuel a time or two, when he was acting all miserable about how his relationship with Ty had turned out.”

  “Whose fault is that!”

  “Exactly. But I wanted them to reconcile, I guess. I wanted them to put the past where it belongs: in the past. It makes me feel used that he had this other agenda all along. I should have known! There’s not an altruistic bone in Samuel Stovall’s body. It was all about what Ty’s return would do for him!”

  “He’s a bastard,” Susannah agreed without heat.

  “I have to tell Ty,” Cammie said, feeling tired all over. “I have to.”