Catch a Falling Star (15 page)

Billy didn’t care if the entire population of Starlight was aggravated with him.
They
hadn’t had their tragedy paraded in front of everyone. It didn’t seem so pathetic while he was being filmed, not until Maureen’s editors had condensed over eighteen months of pain into twenty-two minutes. In the week since the screening at the high school auditorium, his phone had rung multiple times a day.

He hadn’t called Justine. He looked at the calendar on the workshop wall. Her surgery was the next day, August 22
nd
. Her scar revision under her chin extending to her jaw line. Her final surgery, and she was free to leave Texas for good, if she wanted to. Rumor had it, come Labor Day weekend, Justine was flying back to California.

“Billy?” Maddie’s voice drifted toward him from the workshop door.

“C’mon in.” He tried not to sigh. Ever since the night Maddie had made the cake, she’s skulked around as if he’d scolded her for something.

“You need to call Justine. Her surgery is tomorrow, and she’s nervous about it.” Maddie propped her hands on her hips.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t think me calling is going to make much of a difference.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“I’m sorry you think so.”

The rumble of tires on the dirt drive made them both leave the workshop. Herb Bush rolled up in his classic Ford. When he left the pickup, Billy noticed that he carried a black portfolio.

“Uncle Herb!” Maddie called out.

“Hello Madelynn. And Billy,” Herb said as he crossed the yard. “I’m glad you’re here. I need a few minutes of your time.”

“Of course. Come in and have some iced tea. Or coffee, if you like.” They shook hands and headed to the house.

“Coffee, if you have some. I know it’s going to hit a hundred today, but gotta have my coffee.” Herb followed Billy into the kitchen.

“So, what do you need to talk to me about?” Billy asked once he’d gotten Herb a cup of coffee and himself a tall, iced Dr Pepper.

“Thank you, son.” Herb pulled the cup of coffee on the table toward him then mopped his brow of perspiration. “As you know, I’m president of Starlight’s Service Club International. We like to give toward worthy organizations that help this area be a better place. At last night’s meeting, we voted to give you one thousand dollars toward your work at Hopeful Acres.”

“Wow. A thousand dollars.” Nobody had ever given him a chunk of cash like that before. “That would be a big help. A huge help.”

“We’re happy to do it. But one thing you need to do is set up nonprofit status for Hopeful Acres.”

“I smell red tape.”

There’s paperwork involved, but believe me, this will protect you. If you get more donations of money like this, it will be much harder for someone to accuse you of taking the money and running off with it. It’ll protect your personal assets, too. If Hopeful Acres is a nonprofit, you’ll be able to get certain benefits.”

Billy nodded. “I can see that. Is that something you can help me with?”

“I can’t file the paperwork for you, but I can steer you in the right direction.”

“Wow, I appreciate that. Very much.” The idea of red tape made him sick to his stomach. He thought he’d escaped a lot of it with his discharge from the Army.

“Now, about our friend, Justine. . .”

“Uncle Herb, I really don’t want to talk about her. I’m glad I was able to help her get to her doctor appointments, but she’s made it clear she’s not planning to stay here. And that’s all I have to say about it.” He didn’t want to sound disrespectful. He’d called Herb and Zalea his uncle and aunt when the couple took his parents under their wing, not long after the Tuckers moved to Starlight. There were some things, though, that he couldn’t and didn’t want to talk about.

“I understand, I understand.” Herb paused. “But we at the Service Club are behind what you’re doing and are proud to help you on your way.”

Herb sucked down the rest of his coffee and took his time talking about the upcoming Yellowjackets football season, if Billy thought the Jackets would make it to the state playoffs at all.

“I dunno. That’s more Jake’s department. He’s keeping positive about the season, I do know that.”

“Well, he’s got some big shoes to fill after Coach Oster’s move up to Kansas State.” Herb grinned. “But if anyone can, it’s Jake.”

“He doesn’t let much stop him, that’s for sure.”

“And neither do you, son.” Herb closed his portfolio and stood. “That show lets everyone see that nothing stops a Tucker. Do your parents know about it?”

Billy shook his head. “No, I haven’t mentioned it to them.”

“I wanted to,” called Maddie from the den. “But he said I couldn’t.”

“Why not? They’d be proud to see their son’s story told so well.”

Billy merely grunted.

“Well, gotta run. I have some appointments, and Zalea’s making a special dinner tonight. She’ll be squawking if I’m not on time.” He shook hands with Billy before he left.

His story was told
so well
? Billy almost chuckled. He didn’t know what show Herb had watched, but it certainly wasn’t the one that Maureen Baker had cooked up and that Justine Campbell had used to get her career on track again.

#             

Justine woke up in the recovery room, her face numb. The rest of her was numb, too. But her heart ached. Billy had to have known about her surgery, and he still didn’t come. Or call, even.

Why did God let her fall in love? Of course, if she blamed Him for that, she ought to blame Him for the car accident. Nope, this was all her own doing. She ought to have listened to her first instinct and not gotten attached at all.

The boots. She’d blame those gorgeous boots that Billy had made for himself, and blame herself for wanting her own boots in the first place.

“Ms. Campbell.” The nurse’s voice sounded far away, at the end of a tunnel. “You have a few people asking to see you.”

All she could do was grunt. Here came Azalea around the corner, along with Tamarind carrying a bouquet of flowers, and. . .Mom?

Her mom, here at the hospital?

“Oh, honey. . . .” Mom stood by her side and touched her forehead. “You okay?”

“Unh.”

“She can’t talk right now. Her bandage is keeping her mouth from opening much,” the nurse said. She turned to Justine. “The doctor will be by shortly to talk to you about the surgery and when you’ll be ready for discharge.” She smiled at them then left the room.

Tamarind stepped up with the flowers and set them on the table near the bed. “Hey, hope you like these.”

Justine nodded. The surgeon must have used a powerful nerve block.

“We hope you’re healed up really soon so you can get to your new job.” Azalea sounded cheerful, but her last phrase sounded as if it had a bitter taste on her tongue.

She couldn’t tell them everything on her mind, especially not the part about Billy. And especially with Tamarind in the room. She had only seen the woman twice since the screening of the show, and they hadn’t spoken either time.

“If you need anything, I will be right there at the house to help you,” Mom was saying.

Justine made her foggy brain focus on her mother’s words. Why was Mom being so. . .motherly? She’d been acting strangely ever since the night of the episode screening.

Whatever the change, Justine welcomed it with caution.

“I’m sure Billy sends his best,” Azalea said.

Justine shrugged. Her eyes stung. She blinked hard and tried wiping her eyes. The sooner she left, the better. Even if she had to find a doctor to see her in follow-up in California.

“Here we are, Billy,” said Pastor Mike from Starlight Community Church. “We’re here to help, however we can.”

The youth minister had brought a group of teenagers to the ranch on Labor Day weekend to help do odd jobs, clear brush away, or whatever Billy needed.

“Welcome, welcome.” Billy surveyed the group of kids. “Make sure you drink plenty of water. It’s going to get really hot today, and we don’t want anyone to get heat stroke. That’s no fun, and it’s dangerous, too.”

“I had no idea what you were doing here, until I saw the show.” Pastor Mike watched the kids choosing what kind of yard work equipment they were going to use. “We’re trying to teach the kids the value of service and giving something without receiving anything in return.”

“I expect we’re going to need more help, especially later in the fall when we start framing the second cottage. My brother’s already into football season, but I’d like to get the second cottage framed and at least the roof on and exterior walls up before cold weather sets in.”

“We can have some of the guys from the men’s group help with that, plus any of the older teens interested in helping out and learning a new skill.” Pastor Mike tied a bandanna around his head. “You just tell us what you want, and we’ll get working on it.”

“Hey, is Justine Campbell going to be here?” one of the girls asked. “I saw her on that show, talking to you about the cottage.”

“Um, no,” Billy admitted. “She left for California this morning, I believe.” When would the reminders cease? He nearly called her a couple of days ago, but what would he say? She’d been right, that it was okay for him to have help at Hopeful Acres. Much as he didn’t like to acknowledge that fact. Yup, he’d been stubborn in his disbelief.

“So what would you like us to do today?” asked Pastor Mike.

“There’s a lot of brush that needs to be cut back behind the cottage,” Billy said. “Make sure, if you’re working in that area, to use gloves. If you see a snake, don’t mess with it.” That’s all they’d need, someone getting bitten. He reminded himself to ask the lawyer he’d been talking to about what kind of liability insurance he should have. Or waivers for people to sign.

By the time lunchtime arrived, the mercury had hit 100 degrees, and Pastor Mike suggested they call it quits for the day. Billy agreed. The kids had cleared the dry-brush fire hazard out of the way, and some of the older kids had laid pavers for a walking path.

“Great job everyone, and thank you.”

At last the group left, but the reminder that this was all due to Justine’s idea stayed behind. He glanced at his phone. It was nearly 1 p.m., which made it about 11 a.m. on the west coast. Justine’s flight would arrive at LAX in the next hour.

He also saw by his phone that he had a missed call. Justine. At nine thirty that morning. He had his finger poised to dial her number then hit the
clear
button instead. No, he wouldn’t set himself up again. He went one step farther and deleted her number from his phone.

Billy headed for his workshop and the comfort of the air conditioning. He needed to start on a new boot project, and he might as well work off some of his steam by working the leather.

A pair of boot uppers in a pink floral design sat on the table. Justine’s boots. He picked them up. She said she didn’t want them anymore, didn’t care. Maybe he could sell them after he made them. It would be better than wasting the leather by throwing the uppers away.

He brought the uppers to his main work table, placed the leather in front of him, and began to work. Once he finished these boots, he’d have purged Justine Campbell from his system, and not a trace of her would remain.

#             

The air smelled different in California. Justine could tell as she walked up the Jetway, dragging her rolling carry-on. But she was back, for good. Mom was going to keep an eye on her house for her. She would return for Thanksgiving, and Mom would come to LA for Christmas.

She slipped her sunglasses on as she entered the terminal. She wasn’t in the mood to talk, wasn’t in the mood to sign anything. She only wanted to get to the apartment that Maureen had found for her and let her aching muscles rest. At least on this flight, she hadn’t been welcomed by a Texas-sized thunderstorm.

A familiar-looking figure waited for her at the end of the escalator. He wore a smirk. Tyler?

“Miss me?” was the first thing he asked her.

“Hello to you too,” was all Justine replied. “So how was New Zealand? I see you lived it up down there. And how did you know I was coming?” Why she was jealous, she didn’t understand in the least. She’d moved on, had her heart broken, but the idea of Tyler not returning any phone calls or giving her the courtesy of an explanation set her teeth on edge.

“One of my assistants works with someone at Baker Street Productions.”

“That's convenient.”

“Baby, that was a misunderstanding about New Zealand.” He followed her toward the baggage claim area. “You know how things can look. We just went out for a few drinks after a long day on the set. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Well, I met someone in Texas, and I was. Sort of.”

He took her arm, forcing her to stop. “Come with me. I have a car ready. We can have the airline send your bags to wherever you want.”

Her bum leg had started to ache when she ran into Tyler. “I can take five minutes to pick up my bags.” Really, she didn’t realize until now how demanding he was, how much he assumed the world would operate the way he wanted it. She wasn’t about to reconcile with him or anyone right now, for that matter.

But exhaustion had caught up with her on the way from the gate to the baggage claim area. “Okay. This once.”

He led her from the terminal to the curb, where a black Town Car waited, its windows tinted dark to shield occupants from curious eyes. However, across the arrival lanes, Justine glimpsed a figure holding a telephoto lens. Back into the fishbowl again.

“Here we go.” Tyler opened the rear passenger door for her. “And I’ll take your bag. Sir, could you pop the trunk?”

As Justine settled onto the soft leather seat, she rehearsed in her mind the words it would take to drill into Ty’s head that they were over, there was no chance of them getting back together, and she wished him well. Like a dutiful assistant, he put her carry-on into the trunk then joined her in the back seat.

“You feel like lunch? You’re probably starving.” His smile lit up the space between them. Nope, she was immune to its brightness.

The idea made her smile in response. “Lunch sounds fine. You know, there was someone out there with a camera a minute ago.” They pulled away from curb, and the driver maneuvered them into the traffic departing the airport.

“Of course. So what?”

“Yes, so what?” Being nobody special was incredibly freeing, she realized. Now that she no longer had that A-list image to keep up and add stress to her life, she found it far easier to be unbothered by things like photographers perched in strategic places.

“Where do you want to eat? I’m buying, and it’s whatever you want.” His eyes sparkled. If the man ever grew up, he’d make someone a fine catch. But Tyler Drake likely would never settle down.

“Pink’s.” She watched the familiar neighborhoods pass by her window. “I want a bacon chili cheese dog, onion rings, and a root beer.”

“You’re a cheap date.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not free.”

Ty’s laughter rang out through the back seat, and the driver glanced in the rearview mirror and through the clear Plexiglas partition.

“Pink’s it is.” Ty pushed the intercom button for the front seat. “Sir, take us to Pink’s. The lady wants a hot dog.”

Justine turned her phone on and started checking her text messages. Maureen, with a message to call once she got settled. They had a brainstorming session tomorrow, and a salon day for Justine the next, “for a new look,” Maureen had said.

“You starting work right away?” Ty asked.

“Yes. I have a new job.”

“I heard. I also heard you're getting paid next to nothing. You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Maybe to some people. But I’ve found something that I really,
really
love doing now. Because it helps people. I’m going to get to help tell stories that the world needs to hear.” Even here in LA, back among the bustling traffic, this comforted her.

“Good for you. That’s truly admirable.” Ty settled onto the leather cushion and stretched his arm across the back of the seat behind her. “I’ve thought of doing some volunteer work, once I get things to slow down a little bit.”

Justine nodded. “I’ll be paid well. Not like I’m used to, but if the ratings take off it could be really good.”

The thought of helping people and showing the good stories in the world, about people coming back from adversity, made her smile. Until she thought of Billy.

She looked at her phone. It was mid afternoon in Texas, probably at least 100 degrees. If not working on his plans for Hopeful Acres, Billy was likely hard at work on some boots. She had called him on the way to the airport that morning, but he didn’t answer. His anger had turned to a silence. The silence was far, far worse than the anger.

Please God, help him understand I did it because I love him, and no one was trying to make him look like a fool or a hard luck case.
Stubborn, stubborn man. Proud, too. His decision had sealed her decision to leave Starlight.

“Oh, this traffic.” Ty shifted closer to her. “There, that’s better.”

“Good grief.” Justine rolled her eyes.

“What’s with you?” He put his arm around her shoulders. “The last time we really saw each other, you couldn’t get close enough to me.”

“Everything’s different now, Ty. I’m different now.” If he didn’t quit, she’d have the driver pull over, and she’d call a cab.

“We can still be together. You don’t find me repulsive now, do you?” He was using the “charmer” voice, the one that women swooned over. Part of her imagined going back to him. But she couldn’t.

“Of course I don’t.” She shook her head. “Let’s just enjoy catching up, and we’ll have lunch.”

“I was hoping to catch up.” He put his other hand on her knee.

“Me too. But not that way.” She slid his hand away. “So what are you working on now?”

He shifted to a straighter position, then shrugged, but kept his arm around her shoulders. “I’m still recovering from the New Zealand shoot. Mac is going to have something new for me after New Year’s. I was thinking of jetting off to Paris, then driving to Switzerland for ha-has, some skiing at Thanksgiving.”

“Ah, I see.” The itinerary sounded foreign to her ears, the memories fading. She’d love to have that kind of a budget again. What she could do with all the money she’d burned in the past. . .But Paris did sound lovely. . . .

“So, what happened with your house? I heard about the bank auction.”

“Neil happened. Thanks to him, I’m nearly broke.” Justine bit her lip. “Ty, he signed papers without my consent, in my name.”

“I told ya not to trust that guy 100 percent.”

“I never remember you saying that.” But she was blind to a lot of things way back when, living it up and spending in blissful ignorance. Mom hadn’t taught her much about money other than when you spent it, to make it count.

“I did. I realize it costs you more, but one guy handling
everything
for you. Bad business move. My agent and my manager may fight over things occasionally, but at least I know neither of them has enough power to put their fingers into my money.”

“I feel so foolish. My lawyer’s going after him, though.”

“Well, you still have property in Texas, right?”

“I do.” Not that she was going to live there anytime soon.

“Hang onto it. You’ll always have it to come home to.” His phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and looked at it. “Speaking of which, I’ve been waiting on an offer on one of my properties. Gotta take this.”

Tyler left her alone with her thoughts for the rest of the drive. She sure hadn’t missed this traffic. But the hot dogs, yes.

At last, the driver pulled up at Pink’s and let them out. Justine adjusted her sunglasses and looked at the bright pink restaurant, an iconic fixture in LA for decades. If she couldn’t have barbecue from The Pit, she would at least enjoy lunch here.

“Pick us up here in an hour,” said Ty.

“You got it,” the driver said with a tip of his cap and drove off.

The crowd started murmuring when Ty and Justine approached. Cell phones came out. Fine. Justine didn’t care anymore. She’d explain to her mother about Ty, that they weren’t together. Azalea would know, too. If Billy believed her? Well, she wasn’t going to spend her time worrying about it.

They stood in line, and Ty slid an arm around her waist. “I really,
really
missed you.”

She couldn’t lie. She missed him at first, but not anymore. “Ty, we should talk. I wanted to wait until we sat down with lunch.”

“We can talk here, while we wait.”