Third Half

by P. R. Garlick

  Martin had also expected to pick up their relationship where it had left off, but soon noted the changes in her. "Who is he?" Martin asked grimly, totally surprising her one night over dinner in her apartment.

  "He? What in the world do you . . .?" She stopped, knowing Martin could see right through her. He'd watched her act on the stage, and knew that was what she was doing now.

  "I'd rather know now, while we're still only friends," he replied with a serious look. "Who's the lucky man?"

  "Just someone I met. Out paths crossed briefly. It was almost like a scene from one of your plays." She looked at Martin with a sad smile. "But it's over now." She laughed without humor. "Fortunately for him. As it was, I nearly got him killed."

  "I assume it was someone you met while trying to locate your brother." He reached for her hand. "Do you want to talk about it?"

  "No. I want to forget it. It's all over now."

  "That look on your face doesn't say it's over for you."

  "But it is!" She got up abruptly. "And we've both returned to whom we really are."

  "Okay, I just wanted to make certain it wouldn't affect your performance."

  "Don't worry, Martin," she assured him. "It won't. After all, this is the break I've been waiting for." She sighed and looked up at him. "I promise to do my best to make it a good performance."

  "That's all I can ask." He looked at her doubtfully. "With only a week to go, I won't find anyone else to fill in for you. And the thought of Tina . . ." He quivered.

  "Martin, if you're that worried, let's stop talking and spend our time going over my lines," she suggested, trying to push everything else from her mind.

  I

  The following morning she was surprise by an unexpected visit from her brother. "I've come to take you to breakfast. I'm not too early am I?" He laughed. "You look like you had a late one last night."

  "I was up till two studying my lines." She looked at the clock on her wall. "Good God, Jack. It's only seven now!"

  Jack threw back his head and laughed. "Some people do get out of bed early, you know. But it's probably the farmer in me. We rise with the sun."

  "Is that where you've been all this time?" she asked. "I mean, since I left you in California."

  "Most of it. I stayed there until everything was cleared up."

  "And Marsh?" she asked, avoiding his eyes as she spoke.

  "I hear he's doing much better." Jack walked over to the sofa and sat down. "He was still in the hospital when I left there."

  "I'm glad about that," she said nervously. "I guess I don't have to tell you to make yourself at home. I'll go and get dressed. Being taken out for breakfast, by my brother, is a novelty I can't refuse. I get to see so little of you."

  "That's why I'm here," he said, watching as she turned to face him again. "Go get ready first. We can talk over breakfast."

  Liane did as he asked, but was curious to hear what he had meant by his words. She was also anxious to hear more about Marsh, though she'd never admit it. Several times during the past weeks she had wondered just how he was doing. She had to resist the temptation to call and find out for herself.

  I

  "Okay, now for the reason I'm here." Jack began after they had placed their order with the waitress. "I'm going to be home for awhile and wanted you to come up for a visit. I thought the vacation might do you good. And besides, I rarely get to see my sisters anymore."

  "I know." She sighed. "But I doubt that I can. My show opens Friday night. I was hoping you could make it down for that. I'm playing the lead. It's the chance I've been waiting for."

  Jack stared at her strangely before going on. "I remember how you used to love to ride. Don't you think you could make it for just one day?"

  "I don't know," she hesitated.

  "You look like you could use a vacation," he added quickly. "A real one this time. I don't think your visit to South America could be classified as one."

  "Hardly." She forced a dry laugh as her thoughts returned to Marsh. "Maybe I could get away for one day."

  "Good. You can fly up. It saves time," he said quickly. Too quickly.

  "Fly?" She looked at him suspiciously. "I think I did enough of that to last a lifetime."

  "I may as well confess, Marsh will be there. It's his first real outing since being discharged from the hospital. I thought he could . . ."

  "No!" She shook her blonde head. "I'm really very busy with the play. Besides, I don't think he'd be happy to see me again – or does he even know you planned this?" She was afraid to hope.

  "I kept my promise, Sis," Jack said. "I haven't mentioned you to him once."

  "And did he mention anything?"

  "Nothing." He frowned. "But he was really in pretty bad shape. I've only spoken to him a couple times on the phone since I left L.A."

  "Jack, it's clear he wants nothing to do with me."

  "You can't be sure of that. He's got a lot on his mind."

  She shook her head. "No, Jack. He's better off rid of me. I was a thorn in his side. I nearly got him killed."

  "That wasn't your fault . . .he was doing his job." Jack frowned. "And you were both trying to save me."

  "Jack, please don't insist. I know you want to help me. You probably feel you owe it to me for trying to help you. But you don't. Just leave things the way they are. Please."

  "Liane, are you sure?"

  "I'm sure." She forced a smile. "But I still want to see you at my opening night. You can escort me to the cast party later after the show."

  "That sounds like an opportunity I don't want to miss." He looked at her more seriously. "I just want to see you happy, Sis."

  "Thanks, Jack. I will be," she replied, but wasn't very convincing.

  I

  "I have to speak to you," Mary Catherine said as she entered her sister's apartment. "A long, overdue talk!"

  Liane closed the door behind her sister, confused by the uncommon angry tones in Mary Catherine's voice.

  "What's wrong?" she asked, suddenly reminded of the last time her sister looked this upset. Only that time it was fear. "Maybe you should sit."

  "Maybe we should. I believe your explanation may be a long one," the nun stated.

  "My explanation. I don't understand."

  "Your explanation about what really happened in South America, while you were pretending to be me."

  "I already did explain that." Liane looked away, her face growing red. "At least about the most important things."

  "I think you left out the most important things. I know what I've said about omitting things, but this was different!"

  "There was only one thing I didn't tell you . . ." Stunned, Liane felt the color drain from her face. "How did you find out?"

  "You mean, that I was supposed to have had a romantic interlude with a handsome pilot, while stranded in the middle of the jungles of Peru," Mary Catherine said. "How do you think I found out? The man who shared the experience told me. That's how! Of course it was only after he insulted me with a verbal onslaught I could never repeat."

  "He what? When?"

  "I went up to Jack's farm in Connecticut. You knew I was invited. Jack said he asked you too."

  "Yes, he did. But I refused because . . .well, because Marsh would be there."

  "Why didn't you ever clear things up with him? My goodness, Liane, the man thought I was you. At least at first he did. He was well into his tirade before he realized his mistake. Then he was just as confused as I was."

  "I never told him." Liane grimaced. "I wanted to. But the timing was never right."

  "The timing was never right! I would think while you were . . . or even before you . . ."

  "I couldn't tell him," Liane explained. "I wasn't certain I could trust him."

  "Not trust him! But you could . . ." Mary Catherine leaned back against the white chair and sighed. "Never mind. Why didn't you tell him once you found Jack?"

  "He was shot and in the hospital. I thought it was better that I just lea
ve."

  "Simple as that, right?" Mary Catherine said, more softly now. "But it wasn't simple at all, was it?"

  "No, but it didn't really matter." Liane turned weary green eyes toward her sister. "I'm sorry if he took his anger out on you. I didn't think it mattered since I'd never see him again."

  "You didn't consider my ever seeing him."

  Liane shrugged. "I thought Jack would . . ." Her frown grew. "I'm sorry M.C. . . .It was all my fault. I made Jack promise not to talk to Marsh about me. If Marsh hadn't figured out who I really was on his own, Jack wouldn't have broken that promise and told him."

  "Well he knows now."

  "I hope he wasn't too hard on you, M.C."

  "Hard on me isn't an adequate description."

  "What else can I say? If I had gone up there like Jack asked, I could have spared you all the embarrassment."

  "Yes, and you could have gotten everything cleared up."

  "There isn't anything to clear up, M.C. I'm certain he made it clear to you just how he feels."

  "He did that . . .but do you . . ." Mary Catherine couldn't continue as they were interrupted by the shrill ring of Liane's telephone.

  "That was Martin," Liane said when she hung up and returned to the room. "There's been a last minute change and he wants me down at the theater right away. I'm sorry, but I have to run."

  "But Liane, I was in the middle of telling you what Marsh said."

  "M.C., I think I can assume it wasn't anything flattering. I've done nothing but get in Marsh's way. He's probably thrilled that it was you visiting Jack rather than me."

  "Liane, I think you should listen . . ." Mary Catherine started, but stopped. "Oh well, you have enough on your mind. I suppose it's best you hear this later."

  "Thanks, Sis," Liane said as she picked up her purse. "I gotta go now." She stopped at the doorway. "You will be there tonight, won't you. I'd like to have my family in the audience. Jack said he's coming."

  "Don't worry, everyone you care about will be there," Mary Catherine said as she passed her through the door.

  CH-15

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Liane was finally able to escape the crowds of well wishers after the final curtain of the play. It had been a success in the eyes of the audience and it was unavoidable that she would be greeted by the many people backstage.

  Now trying to relax, she sat back in the seat, as the limo Martin had hired took her to her apartment. She was glad she had sent a messenger with her key so Jack and M.C. wouldn't have to wait at the theater.

  Instead they could wait in the comfort of her apartment until she could make her escape and return home. Then later they would drop Mary Catherine at the convent before Jack and she went on to the cast party.

  Closing her eyes she waited for the sweet feeling of success. She had worked so long and hard to reach this point in her career. And now that it was here, she felt strangely void of feelings.

  Telling herself she was simply tired, she tried to forget the feeling of discontentment she had since returning to New York.

  Slowly stepping from the huge car she approached her building, dreading the evening ahead. Everyone at Martin's cast party would expect her to be filled with excitement and delight. But she knew it would take even more acting than she had done on the stage that evening, to give them that impression.

  "Hello, Miss Spencer," the security guard said as he saw her approach. "How did you do?"

  "I think even the critics loved us." She smiled at the man. "Did my guests arrive?"

  "Yes. He said he had a key, so I left him through a while ago."

  "Thanks, Leo." She turned and went inside the building.

  She had to ring the bell and wait for them to let her inside. When the door opened she headed straight for the sofa, throwing her knit shawl onto a chair as she passed.

  "I'm glad that's over with," she said with a long sigh. "Now all I have to worry about is the rest of the evening. I'm glad you'll be with me." She turned to stare at the man in the center of the room.

  Though he had shaved his beard and exchanged his flight jacket for a tuxedo, she knew immediately who he was. "Marsh!" Her green eyes were wide with disbelief. "How did you get in here?"

  As he walked toward her, she saw that he was leaning heavily on a cane. "Your leg. How is it? Jack said you were doing better." Her concern was obvious as she looked up at him.

  "I've had to make quite a few adjustments." He laughed dryly. "The second bullet nearly killed me, but it was the first one that killed my career with the government."

  She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. I know how good you were at it."

  "I can still fly. I'm good at that too." He shrugged.

  Again taking in his full appearance she looked puzzled. "Were you at the theater tonight?"

  "Yes."

  "But why?"

  "You could say I was curious."

  "Curious? About what?"

  "I wanted to know if you're always such a good actress." He stared at her intently. "Or is it that you just play certain roles better than others?"

  "I thought you understood why I dressed as my sister," she said knowing the implication of his words.

  "Now I do. But I only just found out it was a role you were playing . . .And a very good one, I might add. I suppose I should have guessed. There were plenty of signs."

  "Signs?" she repeated.

  Marsh shook his head with a frown. "I never would have thought a nun would go out of her way to enjoy a scented bubble bath. Or wear very sexy undergarments beneath her habit. Or . . ."

  "Never mind." She held up her hand to stop him. "I get the idea."

  "It wasn't until I took a good look at the real Mary Catherine that I finally knew she wasn't you. Or should I say you weren't her?"

  "I should have told you it was an act."

  "Yes, you should have, Liane. But was it all acting?" he asked, coming closer. "That's what I came here to find out."

  She tried to look away, but he grabbed her and turned her to face him. Their eyes locked a moment before he slowly lowered his lips to hers. The passion that flared was impossible to hide and Liane felt empty when he finally pulled away.

  "Was that acting too, Liane? If it was, you should get an award."

  "No. But does it matter?"

  "Yes, very much." He smiled, erasing the tried lines from his face. "I wouldn't want you to be acting when you become my wife. That is, if you will marry me."

  "Marry you?" She frowned and shook her head. "No, not after everything I've done."

  "Done! What have you done besides make me want you with every ounce of my being. Make me need you to feel whole. Make me fall in love with you?"

  The depth of emotion in his voice rocked her. "You're in love with me?" she asked dumbly.

  Slowly he smiled. "Yes. Maybe it was the first moment I saw you. Maybe it was later. But I fell in love with you. I fought those feelings because of whom I was, and whom I thought you were. But I lost.

  "I wanted you so badly it was eating me up inside. With only time to think while I laid in that hospital it had built up to such an extent, I'm afraid, I said a lot of terrible things when I thought I was finally saying them to you."

  Liane felt tears sting her eyes as she looked up at the man she loved. "But then you found out it was the real Mary Catherine. I'm sorry you learned that way."

  "I'm not," Marsh smiled. "I got all that anger out of my system and she seemed very understanding about it after we finally figured out what was going on."

  "Yes," Liane said suddenly.

  "Yes, what?"

  "Yes, I'll marry you. I love you too."

  "What about your career?"

  "My career doesn't mean nearly as much to me as what I once thought it did. When I thought I lost you, and returned to this, I realized it had little meaning."

  "If you get bored there are plenty of theaters in Los Angeles."

  "Bored?" Suddenly Liane laughed. "After what we've been through togethe
r I'd welcome a little boredom. Besides I know some parts of our lives could never be boring."

  Marsh pulled her back into his arms, all the love showing in his brown eyes as he looked down into her face. "When can we start sharing those times."

  "As soon as we go to the cast party and make Tina Berry's day."

  Marsh looked puzzled.

  "She's my understudy. The only other person who knows my part, much to Martin Sloane's displeasure. But he'll get over it."

  "Will he mind very much about you leaving?"

  "Not half as much as I would mind spending another minute away from you. Besides, he's got a hit on his hands, no matter who's playing the leading role."

  "Then we have something in common," Marsh said with a wide grin. "Because I know I have a hit on my hands. The difference is only you can be my leading lady."