“And now,” Miss Marshall said, “Dylan Bradshaw brings you some movie magic, with a little help from a friend.”
The curtain opened, revealing a blank stage with nothing but a large blue screen for a backdrop. Something exploded in the middle of the stage, sending up a plume of smoke. When the smoke cleared, Dylan stood before the screen, dressed as a magician, with a top hat, tails, cape, and cane.
“In the theater,” Dylan said in a small, nervous voice, “magic is done with a little sleight of hand.”
Tipping his top hat, he clumsily pulled out a bouquet of flowers. Then, making a face, he tossed the flowers over his shoulder. “Very boring.”
The audience let out a small laugh, not quite sure what to expect. Kate’s heart twisted in empathy. Her son was not a natural performer. If he bombed, he’d die of embarrassment.
“Which is why on the big screen”—Dylan held his arms out with the hat in one hand and the cane in the other—“we need something more. Something bigger. Like… a big sleight of hand!”
The blue screen came to life, and a giant hand appeared, reaching down as if to pluck Dylan off the stage. Dylan let out a holler and started to run. The hand grabbed him by the tails of his jacket. To Kate’s utter shock, even after what Miss Marshall had said about the harness in Dylan’s costume, the giant hand lifted him into the air. The Beatles’ “Magical Mystery Tour” boomed from the speakers as Dylan swung back and forth.
Just as Kate thought she’d die of heart failure, the hand set Dylan back on the stage. Behind him flashed scenes from movies, starting with old black-and-whites and segueing to Technicolor musicals. In every scene the characters appeared to be moving in time to the music. Dylan danced right along with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. He turned his cane into a gun and shot it out with cowboys and gangsters. He danced on the rooftops of London with Dick Van Dyke, and wielded his cane like a light saber against Darth Vader. Explosions, sound effects, and laser lights turned the stage into something akin to a rock concert.
Kate’s jaw dropped in awe. How much equipment had Mike borrowed from the movie company? No wonder people called him the Magic Man.
As the song drew to a close, a whole chorus line of alien creatures seemed to appear on the stage, dancing and playing their bizarre instruments as Dylan played his cane like a clarinet.
When the final note of the music fell suddenly to silence, the blue screen went blank. Dylan stretched his arms out to either side and announced, “And that, my friends, is how we do magic in the movies!”
The audience burst into wild applause as Dylan took his bow with all the panache of an orchestra conductor at Carnegie Hall. Kate clapped until her hands stung.
The other children filed back onstage along with the teacher for the final number. As they sang “There’s No Business Like Show Business,” each act stepped forward for another bow. When Dylan’s turn came, Mike jogged onstage to join him. They did a little soft-shoe shuffle, bowed to each other, then bowed to the audience. Kate’s heart swelled with pride in her son and gratitude toward Mike as she watched their easy camaraderie.
“Oh, Katy,” her mother breathed as the curtain came down and the lights went up. “Wasn’t he grand, now?”
“The hit of the show,” her father agreed.
Several other parents waved and called out congratulations on her son’s performance.
“If y’all will excuse me,” she said to her parents and her friends, “I want to go hug my son. And Mike.”
“Definitely Mike,” Linda agreed, laughing.
She started toward the doors by the stage, but something caught her eye and she turned. “Edward?” she whispered in disbelief as he came up the aisle. He looked as polished, handsome, and arrogant as ever, but for once she felt no anger at the sight of him, only surprise. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged and slipped his hands into the pockets of his dress slacks. “I had an appointment with a client today who lives out here at the lake. He mentioned his daughter was in the show tonight, and I remembered Dylan was supposed to be in it too.”
She waited for him to say something more, maybe that he’d been thinking about what she’d said and realized she was right, he needed to spend more time with his son. Instead, after an awkward pause, he nodded toward the stage. “Hey, the kid’s pretty good, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is.” She laughed, though the sound held no humor. She should have known better than to expect any verbal concessions from Edward. Even if he admitted to himself he was wrong about something, he’d never say it out loud. Well, he’d come tonight, of his own accord. That in itself amazed her.
“Hey, look,” he said, checking his watch, “I need to run, but I’d like to say hi to Dylan first.”
“I’ll send him out,” she said, and started to step away, then stopped and turned back. “Edward, thanks for coming tonight. It’ll mean a lot to Dylan.”
“Sure, no problem.” He shrugged easily, but the way he averted his eyes gave away his discomfort. Maybe there was hope for the man after all, Kate thought as she headed for the doors.
Backstage, she found pandemonium.
“Mom!” Dylan shouted when he saw her. “Did you see me? Did you see?”
“I certainly did.” Her gaze locked with Mike’s as he came up behind her son, and her stomach fluttered.
“I was really good, wasn’t I?” Dylan bounced on the balls of his feet.
“Yes, you were.” She smoothed his hair.
“And Mike too. Isn’t he cool?”
“The absolute coolest.” She smiled at Mike before giving her son her full attention. “There are some people out front who want to see you. Why don’t you go show them your costume?”
“You bet!” Dylan dashed off through the double metal doors.
Her heart warmed as she imagined his reaction to seeing his father. That moment was for them, though. She had her own special moment at hand. Pushing thoughts of her ex aside, she turned back to Mike. Her heart swelled with gratitude, joy, and love.
He nodded toward the door he’d come through earlier. “I don’t suppose you’d care to get some fresh air?” A child screeched in the background, making them both wince. “And some quiet.”
“I’d love to.” They didn’t touch as they walked side by side, and she wished he’d take her hand to stop it from shaking.
Outside, the night provided a refreshing relief from the backstage noise. Countless stars filled the sky and the freshness of evening in the Hill Country scented the air. Everything felt perfect, exactly as it should be, except for the giant butterflies battling to escape her stomach.
“So.” Mike cleared his throat. “What did you think of the show?”
“Are you kidding? You and Dylan were fabulous!” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what to say. I loved it.”
“I’m glad.” He nodded. “That is one great kid you have there, you know that?”
“Yeah, I do.” A smile blossomed inside her. “I’m glad you think so, though, since it looks like you’ll be spending a lot more time with him.”
“I look forward to that. Just—one small warning.”
“What?”
“The next few weeks are going to be even more insane than normal. What happened tonight… Jesus.” He rubbed his forehead, looking suddenly ragged. “We lost a lot of work through intentional sabotage.”
“Who would do such a thing?”
“Right now, we think it was someone Frank fired last week. Doesn’t matter. What matters is, I’m going to be working around the clock trying to reconstruct what we lost without asking for an extension on the deadline. Kate, I know how you feel about workaholics, but I swear, this won’t be forever. It’s just until—”
“Stop.” She put a hand over his mouth. “It’s okay.”
“It is?” He frowned.
“Tonight I realized what you’ve been trying to tell me all along. You’re not Edward, and the difference has nothing to do with how much ti
me you spend working, or how much you love what you do. I think it’s great that you’re so passionate about your job?”
“You do?”
“Yes,” she laughed at his baffled expression. “Everyone should be so blessed. I realized tonight, the difference between you and Edward has nothing to do with work. I don’t want to talk about him or make comparisons. What I feel with you doesn’t compare with that. At all. The difference is what you said about your relationship with your father. Maybe he had to put work first now and then, but you never doubted that he loved you. That’s all I want.”
“Then you’ve got it.” Relief washed over his face as he pulled her into his arms. “You will never doubt I love you, because I do. Same goes for Dylan. We’re going to make a wonderful team.”
“Good thing, since I may be facing a few deadlines of my own. It’ll be great to have a little help with this parenting thing.” Thinking of her own news, excitement bubbled up inside her.
“Oh?” His brow wrinkled with curiosity. “That’s right. You were supposed to talk to the magazine today. Well?”
She took a deep breath and held it a second before letting it out. “They’re going to give Dear Cupid a three month trial run!”
With a whoop, he scooped her into his arms and twirled her about. “I knew you could do it.”
“I know.” She laughed in sheer joy as he set her back on her feet. “Thank you for encouraging me to go after it. Their writing schedule is going to be a lot more demanding than what I had with Gwen, but I don’t care. I’m excited. Beyond excited.”
“God, I’m proud of you,” he said, eyes shining.
“Wow.” She blinked in surprise. “I think I like that as much as ‘I love you.’ “
“Well, get ready to hear both of them often.”
“You too.” She rose up and pressed her lips to his. The kiss deepened, filling her with joy. Still glowing, she sighed when it ended.
“Ah, Kate,” he signed, combing his fingers through her hair, “I was a goner the moment we met.”
“I think I was too. It just took me a little longer to realize it.” She met his gaze evenly. “Now that I have, I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you.”
“Thank God.” He kissed her again, long and hard, until the ground tilted beneath her feet, and the stars whirled overhead. When at last he lifted his head, she had to blink to bring him into focus.
“So.” He smiled broadly. “If two people who are nuts about each other asked Dear Cupid what to do next, what would she say?”
“She’d tell them not to waste any time tying the knot,” Kate answered without hesitation. “And that from here on out, they need to make every second they have together count.”
“I think that’s one bit of advice I can easily follow.” His head dipped toward hers. “Starting right now.”
Me too , she thought as he kissed her senseless. Most definitely, me too!
Epilogue
*
Dear Cupid,
Do you believe in love at first sight?
Mike, Your Biggest Fan
Dear Fan,
Absolutely!
Your Loving Wife, Kate
-The End—
For news about upcoming books and exclusive sneak previews, subscribe to Julie Ortolon’s free newsletter.
If you enjoyed Mike and Kate, visit Julie Ortolon’s Website (JulieOrtolon.com) to learn more about her award-winning contemporary romance novels.
KISSING IN THE DARK
*
By Wendy Lindstrom
Chapter One
*
Fredonia, New York
June 1879
THE TANGY SCENT of soaps and spices made Duke sneeze as he entered Brown & Shepherd’s store. He grunted in pain and he clapped a hand over his aching shoulder.
Wayne Archer looked up from the package of medicine he was delivering to the store. The stocky apothecary propped his fists on the counter and eyed Duke with suspicion. “Are you ill, Sheriff?”
“Morning, Archer.” Duke ignored the man’s question. Archer didn’t care about Duke’s health. He wanted to get elected sheriff in November. Six men were running for the position against Duke, who had been the sheriff of Chautauqua County since he was twenty-three years old. Five of the seven candidates could handle the position. Duke was one of them. Wayne Archer wasn’t.
Duke stepped away from the soaps and spices and greeted the store owner, Agatha Brown, a kind, elderly widow he’d known since he was a boy.
“You’re too late for licorice sticks,” she said. “I sold the last one yesterday afternoon to your niece, Rebecca.”
“That qualifies as a crime, Mrs. Brown.” He’d been buying or begging licorice sticks from her since he was old enough to ask for them, and he was still one of her best customers.
“My next shipment will arrive tomorrow. Will that keep me out of jail?” she asked.
“This time,” he said sternly.
Her laugh lit her eyes and transformed her somber demeanor into that of a softer, more youthful-looking woman. Agatha Brown was six years older than Duke’s mother, and could make some man a good companion, but Duke suspected she would choose to remain a widow. He’d been a boy when her husband died, and he barely remembered the man, but Agatha had never forgotten him. She seemed content to live with his memory and to run their store on Main Street in the Village of Fredonia.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Something to relieve a headache.” His nagging shoulder pain was bringing it on, but the last thing he would do was announce that fact to Archer. Which was why he wasn’t buying the powder in Archer’s apothecary: Archer would use the information to sway the voters.
Mrs. Brown pointed to the opposite wall of the store. “Top shelf on the left.”
“Thank you.” The pine floorboards sounded hollow beneath his boot heels as he wove his way past a rack of ready-made clothing. Heavily laden shelves sagged beneath tins of food, and wooden bins overflowed with everything from shovels and rakes to bolts of fabric. Brown & Shepherd’s carried anything a man or woman could need.
But as Duke surveyed the medicines, he felt a sharp poke in his ribs.
“Grayson.” Archer scowled at him. “For being a sheriff, you’re sadly unobservant.” He jerked his chin toward a boy who was examining a lady’s comb and brush set. “That young man is attempting to fill his pockets.”
The boy took a fancy lady’s brush from the oak box and slipped it inside his shirt.
Duke’s heart sank. He hated this part of his job.
The boy cast a furtive glance at Mrs. Brown, who was dusting trinkets then ducked outside.
Duke ignored Archer’s snide look, and quietly followed the boy. A few paces outside the store, he brought his hand down on the boy’s thin shoulder. “Hold up, young man.”
The boy yelped and spun to face him. The movement jerked Duke’s arm and sent a hot spear of pain into his shoulder socket. Damnation! His shoulder was so torn up he couldn’t even detain a child.
The skinny, long-limbed youth stared at him, dark eyes wide with fear as they locked on the silver sheriff’s badge pinned to Duke’s leather vest.
“I’m Sheriff Grayson,” Duke said. “You didn’t pay for that hair brush you’re hiding under your shirt.”
The boy’s gaze darted to either side, as if he were deciding whether or not to run.
“I’d rather not handcuff you, but I will if you try to run off on me.”
“I’ll put it back,” the boy said, his voice cracking into a fear-filled falsetto.
“Looks like you could use the brush.”
The boy lowered his eyes and raked bony fingers through his mop of brown hair. “It’s not for me.”
“Are you stealing it for your girl?”
“I don’t have a girl.”
“For your mother then?”
“No, sir.”
Duke rubbed his aching shoulder, cursing the
nagging pain that had made his life miserable for the past month.
The boy’s Adam’s apple dipped on a nervous swallow. “Are you taking me to jail?”
Jail wouldn’t teach him anything of value. “I’m taking you home so I can talk to your father.”
“I don’t have a father.”
No surprise there, Duke thought, but checked his unfair judgment. “We’ll talk to your mother then.”
“My mother’s dead.” The boy’s voice was so heavy with grief that Duke’s chest tightened in sympathy.
“How are you getting along without parents?”
“I’ve got Faith.”
“You’ll need more than faith and those light fingers to get by, son. Where are you sleeping?”
The boy turned away. “At home.”
Duke gripped the boy’s shoulder and spun him back around to face him. “I’m sorry about your parents and whatever troubles you’re having, but when I ask you a question I expect a straight answer.”
“I gave you one, sir.” The boy pointed toward Water Street. “I live at the old Colburn place with my older sister Faith and our aunts. We moved in three weeks ago.”
Duke had heard that somebody bought the mill, but he hadn’t stopped to officially welcome the owners to town yet. “Is your sister planning to reopen the grist mill?” he asked, believing it impossible for a woman to do so.
“No, sir.” The boy squinted as a bright flood of June sunshine washed across the plank and brick buildings on Main Street. “She’s a healer. So are my aunts.”
“Healers?”
“Yes, sir. They grow herbs and mix tonics and salves that help people.”
The warning twinge that tightened Duke’s gut was as unwelcome as Archer’s earlier probing. He did not need another problem right now, not with the election coming up, not while his wretched shoulder was making his life miserable.
The boy pulled the hair brush from beneath his shirt and handed it over. “I’d like to return this. I don’t want my sister to know what I did.”
His earnest plea moved Duke, but being soft on the boy wouldn’t serve the young man. “You should have considered that before you walked out of the store without paying for it. Come on,” he said, nudging him down Main Street. “Let’s see if your sister can heal your bent for stealing.”
Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set Page 28
