by Susan Hatler
The boys’ graduation day had been one of her happiest days, too, but why would Lia’s graduation have been one of Ethan’s saddest? Sadie remembered how excited they felt, all three girls throwing their caps in the air at the same time, and a great pool party at her house afterward. The only thing missing had been Ethan.
Reading her mind, Ethan resumed. “I always felt awful leaving her with our dad while I went off to college. I kept thinking that if I worked extra hard then I could save enough money to get her into college and away from Dad.”
“She knew how much you cared.”
He shook his head, then stopped to step forward and pick up the picture of smiling Lia. “I saved enough money to fly home for that weekend. Then my agent called and said they had an audition for me. I decided to take it, and that’s why I missed you girls at your graduation. Missed the chance to save Lia. She up and married Vance right after.”
Sadie stroked Ethan’s arm. “I know Lia was so proud of you, Ethan. She would have felt terrible if you passed up the opportunity when she knew that was all you’d ever wanted.”
“That wasn’t all I ever wanted, though,” Ethan slumped into his new leather chair. “What I wanted most was for Lia to be safe, in a better life, away from our father and the wretchedness that had been our life. Instead, I wasn’t there when Vance proposed to her after the graduation ceremony. She accepted, thinking she could get away from Dad and unburden me.”
Sadie ached when Ethan leaned forward and propped his forehead against his hands. “You know, Ethan,” she said, “Lia never blamed you for her troubles. I think she’d be hurt to know how much you’ve taken this on. You were young, trying so hard to be a good brother, and did what you thought was right at the time. You weren’t omniscient. You couldn’t possibly have known what Lia would do or why.”
Sadie looked down at Ethan, still drooped in his chair, and felt her heart swell with love. “I know I’m a bit protective of you, as you are of Lia, but I do think you’re being too hard on yourself. Remember what you told me about forgiveness when I was thirteen?”
He lifted his face and chuckled. “Was that when I caught Liz hammering a bra on the school bulletin board with the note, ‘Sadie—keep dreaming’ on it?”
“Yeah,” replied Sadie with a short laugh. “I wanted to commit bloody murder. I was in the eighth grade and furious with the Almighty for making me flat as a board. After you took the bra and note down, you walked home with me and told me something wise. You said that revenge can feel great for a while, but forgiveness feels great for a lifetime.”
Ethan’s shoulders released some of the tension. He leaned forward. With one finger he traced his sister’s profile over the glass in the frame. “You’re telling me to forgive myself?”
Sadie nodded, quick and decisively. “Yes. You can hate yourself for a lifetime, or you can forgive and love yourself the rest of your life.”
“Love myself,” Ethan repeated. “Not an easy task, Sadie.”
“I know,” she said. “Loving at all doesn’t come easily for you. To really love you need to trust, and your parents and Vance didn’t give you any reason to trust anyone.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened. “Out of everyone, I find it hardest to trust myself.”
Sadie knew not to push the moment. Instead, she led him to the window and showed him the view of the town, with its steeply pitched corrugated tin roofs, narrow sidewalks, and wide street framed by broad leafed maples.
“Just how I remember it,” Ethan said, smiling widely. “Thanks, Sadie, for bringing me home.”
***
Later, after Ethan configured his computer settings and set out a few more photos, he begged Sadie to take a break from her spreadsheets and join him in touring the historic theater. She’d been attempting to work but had found herself distracted by Ethan’s presence in the office. She might as well spend the time with him rather than gazing vacantly at her computer monitor.
“I want to show you where I almost lost my virginity,” he said as he grabbed her hand to lead her down the curved stairs to the lobby.
She stopped, mid-step, trying to pull her hand from his. “Whoa there, stud muffin. I don’t need a visual of some hot actress seducing you.”
Ethan’s eyes danced as he looked at her. Grabbing her hand more tightly, he pulled her through the lobby and into the theater itself, tugging her past the rows of plush red velvet seats with cast iron legs to the stage.
“I was in a play, you goof. I’m not talking about real life. At seventeen I thought I had it made when I landed that role—the actress cast as my seductress was totally hot. Then, during rehearsal, I discovered she had the most awful breath.” Ethan hopped up onto the stage, reached down a hand to Sadie.
She laughed as he swung her up to stand by him.
“I swear,” he continued, “she must have believed in the supernatural and was eating garlic to keep the ghosts at bay. Every time I had to kiss her I thought her garlic breath would kill me and there I’d be, dead before the curtain rose. My gravestone would be the only one in the history of time to read, ‘Died a virgin, killed by halitosis.’”
The laughter shaking Sadie felt so good. Ethan’s sense of humor certainly hadn’t left him. As she worked to gain her breath back, she wondered how long it had been since she’d laughed that hard.
She could feel the warmth of his hand holding hers as he led her across the stage. His long fingers wrapped hers up in a solid grip. It wasn’t the hand-hold of lovers, but the solid grip of a friend. This time no tingles accompanied the touch.
She could do this, she thought. She could hold his hand and not react. All she had to do was put her mind to it.
“Here’s where I got my first kiss, right behind this curtain.” Ethan let go of her hand to pull aside the heavy drape of the red velvet stage curtain.
“A stage kiss or a real one?”
“Oh, it was real, all right. I even tried to get to second base and grab the girl’s boobs, but she kicked me, so I dropped that plan. Nice kiss, though.”
“With the halitosis actress?”
Ethan shook his head. “Nah, not her.”
Sadie’s heart clenched, envy flooding her system. “Please tell me it wasn’t Liz.”
“Jealous?” Ethan teased.
“Of her?” Sadie snorted. “Never.”
Even though Ethan’s laugh was soft, it still carried through the auditorium. “It wasn’t Liz, and she’s not such a dingbat as she makes herself out to be. She just has issues.”
Like I care, Sadie thought. “I’m surprised it wasn’t Liz. I guess I’d always thought that she’d had been your first kiss, and the one you lost your virginity to.”
“No to both,” Ethan said. “I never did sleep with her.”
Sadie blinked in surprise. She’d always assumed he’d slept with Liz. That’s what the rumors around town had been.
Ethan dropped the curtain back into position and beckoned Sadie to follow him down a narrow set of stairs backstage. How many actors had run up and down this set of stairs? How many stars, how many ingénues? How many directors?
Sadie realized full well what a responsibility she held to her community. Success of the festival meant ongoing financial success of Meadowview. So many local artisans and business owners relied on the tourist dollars brought in to their small community. If the quality of the festival went down under her guidance, the critics would pan it and the tourists would cease to come. Even a single bad season could have an effect on local revenue.
She sighed, feeling the weight on her shoulders. Shrugging it off, she followed Ethan the rest of the way into the “Pit,” as they called it—the dressing rooms. Or dressing room, to be precise. Because the footprint of the theater’s site was so small, little space had been left for makeup and wardrobe. One long area with mirrors and a counter along the wall occupied the space. A tiny bathroom jutted out from one corner, the only place for privacy.
“I can see why we switched all musi
cals and large-cast productions to our outdoor Summer Stock and stopped doing them here in the winter. The outdoor stage at the park has great dressing rooms and loads more space. Wasn’t it crowded?” Sadie ran a finger down the counter, wondering how many people over the years had sat here, putting on makeup under the large bulbs framing each mirror, eager anticipation knotting their stomachs.
Ethan nodded. “We’d sometimes drape a curtain across the area over there,” he gestured to the back of the wall, “mostly for the teenage girls who wouldn’t change in front of anyone and the boys who kept trying to sneak a peek.”
“Gee, guess I could figure out who one of those boys was.”
“Yep, totally guilty. I got to see more boobs than most guys my age.”
“You’re bad,” Sadie admonished.
“Hey, I was a teen with raging hormones, and those actresses were hot.”
Jealousy stabbed her chest. “Did you ever sleep with any of them?” She regretted the question the minute it came out of her mouth.
Ethan ruffled her hair with his hand, laughing as he spoke. “Amazingly, I stayed a virgin until college. Got wondrously close a few times, though. But I did have a load of fun with those older women, including the time I touched bare asses with the hottest leading lady on stage.”
Sadie stopped suddenly. She may not want to know how or when he lost his virginity, but this sounded juicy. “Do tell,” she drawled.
Ethan took one last look at the Pit, then headed back to the stairs. “She and I had to get completely nude during a costume change and it was cramped down here. We were standing back-to-back, and I bent over to pull on my pants at the same time she bent over. Needless to say, when our bare butts bumped together, my seventeen-year-old hormones kicked in. I couldn’t get my pants pulled up fast enough.”
Sadie let out a loud laugh. “What did the actress do when your bare butt hit hers?”
Ethan’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Well, she apologized sweetly, but I had to go on stage with…well…let’s just say one part of me was standing at attention.”
Sadie couldn’t stop laughing even after they’d left the Pit and went back upstairs to their offices. For the rest of the day the image of Ethan walking onto the stage desperately trying to cover his front would pop back into her head, sending her into helpless giggles.
Chapter Twelve
Sadie woke the next morning with a buzzing excitement in her stomach. The first day of work with Ethan had gone better than she could have hoped. He’d made her laugh in such a free way, like a child. As she stepped into the steaming shower and felt the warm water stroke her skin, she also remembered how turned on she’d been in his presence. It wasn’t just how he looked—though he certainly looked great in that white Oxford shirt and faded jeans—but how he smelled, how he sounded when he laughed, how his body would accidentally brush up against hers.
Fortunately, the attraction hadn’t interfered with her work. Together, she and Ethan had slogged through a pile of scripts and resumes, making headway in next spring’s production schedule. The progress made with his help relieved much of the anxiety building since the former director resigned. Making the festival work lay squarely on her shoulders, but working with Ethan made it feel more like a partnership.
She’d discovered this when Ethan had made an important suggestion regarding the financial viability of the festival. Typically, the festival had placed all its child-centered plays such as musicals during the summer to bring in vacationing families. Ethan’s suggestion of coupling the fun musicals and kid shows with ones with edgier content, geared toward a more mature audience, would mean a bigger draw for families throughout the entire year. With the spending power of children, Ethan had noted, tourist dollars would pour into the community. The added bonus of his financial acumen only verified her decision to hire him.
Shower complete, Sadie gazed at her blow dryer and flat iron. Ever since Ethan mentioned he liked her frizzy hair, she’d played with the idea of going back to au natural. Today she planned to use the product her stylist said would ease frizz. After styling her curls, Sadie found that the corkscrew ringlets framing her face didn’t look half bad. Not exactly the frizzy halo Ethan remembered from her youth, but a more natural look softened her features while controlled ringlets added polish.
“Oh, great. I’d better not be turning into the girl who changes everything for a man,” she muttered, then regretted talking while applying makeup as she’d just narrowly missed her eye with the mascara wand. She finished dressing and went to collect the papers she’d brought home from work the night before. As she shoved them in her bag, one of the pages fluttered to the floor. It was the tri-fold press release announcing Ethan’s new position, featuring his head shot on the front.
When she saw his photo, a rush of desire flooded her body. The lust she’d felt for Ethan most of yesterday was back, and with intensity. She groaned. After yesterday’s near-perpetual state of arousal, she wasn’t eager to spend another day all in a thither. Garnering her strength, she pushed the images of Ethan out of her mind. She was scheduled to arrive at the office in fifteen minutes, and it simply wouldn’t do to arrive all dewy-eyed and fluttery. She had to gain control over her crush.
Or risk losing everything.
Twenty minutes later, she arrived to an empty office. As the artistic director, Ethan didn’t need to punch a time clock, she reminded herself. Still, there were contracts to sign, a web site designer to hire, and Ethan’s special project to discuss. She sat down in her office and read emails, then got up and turned the copy machine on, then turned it off and on again only because it made a delightful hum when she flicked the switch, then walked to the window, looking for Ethan. When he still hadn’t shown after twenty minutes, it dawned on her that he could be in the theater itself—on the stage, or maybe checking out the backstage area. She dashed out of the office and tromped down the stairs. Once in the auditorium, she yelled out his name. Silence. No Ethan. Damn. This was beginning to get annoying—his second day at work, and he was a no-show? How irresponsible.
Oh, who was she kidding? She missed him, plain and simple.
She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled his name again.
“Hey, what’s all the fuss?” The suddenness of Ethan’s voice, right behind Sadie’s shoulder, caused her to jump.
“Don’t do that,” she said, hand on her chest, feeling her heart pound against her ribcage.
“Do what?” Ethan, with his arched brow, feigned innocence.
Sadie shot him a glare and gave his arm a light punch. “Stop goofing off. I was looking for you to see if you want to talk about your special project.”
Ethan put his arm around her waist, pulling her close as he escorted her up the theater aisle to the stairwell. “Sure, now’s good. Let me grab a few items before we sit down.”
Once upstairs, while Ethan busied himself printing out pages, she brewed a pot of coffee.
Pouring coffee nearly turned dangerous when she forgot what she was doing mid-pour, her eyes having been distracted by Ethan’s shoulders, strong and lean under his white polo shirt, and his adorable butt packaged neatly in a pair of jeans.
Balancing her overly full mug, Sadie wandered over to the couch. Eyes glued to Ethan, she made herself comfortable on the leather sofa. Finished with collecting his printed pages, Ethan slid down beside her, his shoulder grazing hers. When he handed her a folder, their fingers touched. A shock of electricity shot from Sadie’s hand to her belly. She shook her head. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and she wanted to jump him. Not a good way to start the day.
Ethan, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. He opened his copy without looking at her. “The folder contains all you need to know about the Youth Theater Academy to pitch it to the Courant Foundation’s board of directors.”
Sadie fanned open the folder, impressed with the formal presentation. “You didn’t do this all yesterday, did you?”
He twirled a short curl on his te
mple between his thumb and forefinger. “Nope. I started in on this the day you said I was hired. I put some finishing touches on it last night.”
Although she only skimmed the pages, Sadie could see the amount of work and analysis Ethan put into the proposal. “This is impressive, Ethan. I need to go through the budget with a microscope, but from what I can tell at first glance, this appears feasible and within a reasonable budget.” She balanced her coffee cup on her knee as she leaned back.
Ethan draped his arm along the back of the couch, not quite touching her. He smelled of something woody, a scent that wafted over Sadie like a warm blanket. She eased in a long breath, willing herself to remain calm. Yesterday she’d felt attracted to him, but not to this degree. What was different about today?
“There’s only one difficulty,” Ethan said, leaning forward to spread open his folder on the coffee table.
How long would it take Sadie to get used to Ethan’s constant presence, for her heart to stop fluttering every time she saw him or felt him next to her?
“Sadie?”
Ethan’s voice nudged her brain. She’d been miles away. God, she had to gain control of her ridiculous infatuation—if Ethan could get over sleeping with her and work with her undistracted, she should be able to, as well.
“Um, sorry. I didn’t mean to drift off like that. You were saying there might be a hitch?”
Ethan pointed to a page in the folder. “Because of the kids’ school schedule, the program needs to happen in the summer. But, it needs a venue—”
“And our outdoor theater and this one are both booked solid during the summer.” Sadie finished Ethan’s sentence.
“Yep, that’s it exactly,” he said, picking up his coffee cup. “However, I have an idea. I’m thinking we could reopen the plans to renovate the old Towhee Lake campground. Remember that place?
