“The movie star?” Kari’s voice jumped a notch, and she hushed herself. “Dayne Matthews? Hollywood’s Dayne Matthews?”
Ashley laughed. “Most people don’t know about it.” She shrugged. “I guess he came to town for some reason, research or something. He stopped at the Bloomington Community Theater and saw her. When it came time to cast his next film he had his director look into her for the lead.” Ashley angled her head so the light wind hit her face square on. “She went to Los Angeles a couple times, read for the part, and was offered the role. But then some fan of Dayne’s attacked them near a private beach.” She shook her head. “Katy came home and never looked back.”
“Wow.” Kari’s mouth was open. “Things like that don’t just happen.”
“I know.” Ashley squinted against the sun as Ryan turned the boat back toward the docks. “I think she still has feelings for him. But no, about your question, Katy isn’t seeing anyone. She isn’t lonely. I mean, she has the CKT families, of course. I think she’s good friends with the CKT choreographer, Rhonda. But there’s no guy in the picture.”
“Hey,” Kari shifted and adjusted the blanket over little Ryan’s face so the sun wasn’t directly on him—”Dayne Matthews is coming to town; did you know that?”
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“He is?” Ashley sat a little straighter and crooked her elbow around the side of the boat. The spray of the water on her arm felt wonderful. “What for?”
“I read it in the paper the other day. His new movie, I guess. He wants part of it set in a small town, and he picked Bloomington.”
Ashley gave her sister a wry look. “Hmmm. I’ll bet he’s looking for more than a small-town atmosphere.”
“Katy Hart?”
“Sounds like it.” She brushed the water off her arm, leaned toward the rear of the boat, and flicked it at Landon.
He grinned at her and gave her a look that said he’d get her back at some point.
Kari laughed at the two of them. “So Katy doesn’t know he’s coming?”
“I don’t think so.” She slid back to her spot near Kari. “She didn’t say anything. With the accident, I doubt she’s been aware of much else.”
At the back end of the boat, Landon pulled a skinny worm from the bucket of dirt and took four ominous steps in her direction. Ashley let out a scream, but Kari put her finger to her lips. “Shhh.” She gave a pointed look to Landon. “You wake up the baby, you get to rock him back to sleep.”
Landon considered it and then took another step toward Ashley, his arm outstretched, the worm dangling from his fingers. Ashley gripped the side of the boat and leaned back, slightly over the water. Then she mouthed the word please.
He stopped and laughed. Behind him, Cole and Jessie both giggled and gave each other high fives. Landon turned and dropped the worm back in the bucket.
“That was close.” Ashley straightened up and exhaled hard. She wagged a finger in Landon’s direction, but she could feel her eyes dancing. She loved teasing him, playing with him this way.
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aware of the worm incident. He looked over his shoulder at Ashley. “You’re lucky; you deserved it.”
“I guess.” Ashley laughed and shot an apologetic smile at Landon. “I did get him wet, didn’t I?”
After the silliness passed, Kari’s expression turned pensive. “That would be so tough, being a Hollywood star.”
“It would.” Ashley was breathless from her antics, but she settled into her spot and looked at her sister. “You couldn’t go anywhere without being noticed or followed. And forget having any sort of normal relationship.”
“Was that part of the problem for Katy Hart?”
“I think so. She said. something about thegn being from two different worlds.”
Kari nodded. “It’s the truth.” Baby Ryan woke and stretched his arms out from beneath the blanket. Kari held him up closer to her shoulder. “Ryan and I watched a Dayne Matthews movie the other day.” She chuckled. “Luke was right.
The two of them do look alike.”
“I remember.” Ashley recalled when Luke had come home for a visit and talked about Dayne’s being a client at his law firm and how some of the guys at the office saw a resemblance between the two of them. She caught the spray from the lake and dusted it over her cheeks.
“Yeah, it’s pretty amazing,” Kari said. “I mean, it’s not exact or anything, but they could be related.”
“Funny.” Ashley pulled her legs up and tucked her knees beneath her chin. “When will Dayne be here?”
“Next week, I think. Filming begins Tuesday or Wednesday, according to the article.”
“Hmmm.” Ashley shifted her gaze to the children. They were still mesmerized by the fish in the bucket, careful to stay seated. “Should be interesting.”
“You think he’ll contact Katy?”
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when she talked about him. If he feels the same way about her, he’ll contact her. Probably the first day he’s here.”
“True.” Kari bounced little Ryan. “Why else would he come to Bloomington for his small-town shots?”
“Exactly.”
They reached shore, and the guys started collecting the fishing rods and buckets. Cole and Jessie gathered their sweatshirts and empty water bottles, and the group headed onto the dock.
Cole tugged on Ryan’s shirt. “Thanks for taking me, Uncle Ryan. That side of the lake is way better for fishing.”
Jessie ran up beside him. “And it’s way better for catching big fish—like I’m good at catching.” She smiled at Cole. “Right, Coley?”
He stuck his tongue out at her and then looked at Ashley to see if she was watching. When he saw that she was, he pulled his tongue back in and smiled at Jessie. “Right, Jess, that’s ‘zactly right.”
The adults hid their chuckles again and said their goodbyes. On the ride home, Ashley and Landon talked about Dayne Matthews and his visit and the funeral later today and how much fun it had been to spend a morning fishing on Lake Monroe. As they headed up the sidewalk toward the house, Ashley let Cole run ahead and she pulled Landon close. It was warmer than usual, and it felt wonderful to stand there in each other’s arms, the sun on their faces.
“Have I told you today how much I love you?” Ashley kissed him and pulled back enough to see his eyes. “I love watching you and Cole fish.”
“And I love watching you.” He touched his lips to hers, lingering long enough to stir the passion within her, a passion that belonged to Landon alone. “Let’s go in so you can call Katy Hart.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Let me know if I can do anything too, okay?”
She loved that about him, that he understood exactly what 113
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she was thinking. Yes, she’d wanted to pull him aside and hug him, tell him how much she cared for him. Mostly becausem other than the worm incident—they’d had little contact or conversation on the boat. But he was right. Her mind was thinking ahead to Katy Hart and how she was going to handle being strong for so many children tonight.
And something else: whether Katy knew that in the middle of the sadness and tragedy, Dayne Matthews was about to walk back into her life.
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CHAPTER TWELVE …….. ,, ,, , …..
DAYNE FOUND OUT ABOUT THE ACCIDENT fifteen minutes after he arrived in Bloomington. His flight had landed in
Indianapolis just before five o’clock, and this time he was careful renting his car.
He used his new driver’s license that showed his middle name as his first name.
Allen Matthews, it read. Between that and his baseball cap, the guy at the rental-car counter didn’t seem to catch who he really was. He did one other thing differently. He picked an inexpensive four-door sedan, a car without tracking technology. The first time he’d come to Bloomington, the paparazzi had found him because of the OnStar in his rented vehicle.
Not this time.
The press wouldn’t expect him in Bloomington until early next week. It was only Thursday, and when he pulled into town it wasn’t quite seven o’clock. He drove to the downtown area and tried to remember where the theater was, but his mind was going in a hundred different directions. He was here again, back in 116
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the place where his family lived, where he might’ve grown up if things had been different. Back in Katy Hart’s town.
A redbrick elementary school stretched out on the right side of the road ahead of him. He turned into the empty parking lot and killed the engine. A warm breeze moved in the trees that lined the street. Dayne closed his eyes. What was it about this place? The other time he’d been here it had felt this way too, as if he were someone else, someone completely removed from the gossip and pressure and insanity of Hollywood.
He opened the windows and breathed the Indiana air deeply. It was clean and fresh and smelled faintly of newly cut grass. Two small boys on bicycles rode past, and a few feet behind them a smiling man and woman tried to keep up. The place was a living movie set for small-town America.
Until that minute he hadn’t known what he was going to do with these days.
Whether he would call the Baxters and tell them the truth or drive up and down the streets he might’ve grown up on. But now that he was here, now that the pink streaks in the sunset were fading to dark and the September evening was cool ing fast, he knew without a doubt.
He wanted to find Katy, had to find her.
She had stayed in his mind since the last time he’d seen her, since the night he’d dropped her off at her hotel and told her goodbye. Through his handful of unanswered phone calls and his days with Kelly Parker and the weeks that had passed since, Katy had hidden away in his mind waiting for the right moment to take over again.
This was that moment.
He took his cell phone from the console beside him, flipped it open, and punched in her number. Even before it rang the call went to a voice mail. He snapped it closed and set it back down. The sound of children laughing filled the distant air, and he closed his eyes again. How was he supposed to find her? He had just a few days, no time to waste. The theater was an option, of 117
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course. On a Thursday night the group might be there rehearsing or painting sets. It was possible.
But he wasn’t sure how to find it, and he didn’t want to waste time driving around. Then it hit him. He could call the local paper, The Bloomington Press, the same publication that had run the recent story on his location filming.
Reporters worked evenings every day of the week. They’d know the address of the theater and whether a play was in the works or not.
A minute later Dayne was being connected to someone in the arts department at the newspaper’s office. A tired voice came on the line. “Life Section, can I help you?”
“Yes, I’m from out of town.” He leaned back against the headrest and stared at the darkening sky. “Could you tell me where the Bloomington Community Theater is?”
The reporter didn’t perk up, but he rattled off the information, and when Dayne pressed him, he provided cross streets and directions.
“Could you tell me if the Christian Kids Theater has a play going on now?”
The man hesitated. “Christian Kids Theater?”
“Yes.” Dayne caught a change in the man’s voice, but he couldn’t read it. “They did Tom Sawyer over the summer.”
“I know the group.” The man hesitated again. “They’re working on a play, yes.
But most of them attended a funeral today.”
Dayne’s heart fell to the floor of the car. Funeral? He leaned forward and took hold of the steering wheel. “Someone in the group?”
“You didn’t hear about the accident?” The man’s tone was heavy. “Terrible car wreck almost a week ago.”
All Dayne could see was Katy’s face, her smile, the way her eyes had shone in the moonlight on the beach at Paradise Cove. He forced himself to ask the question: “Who… whose funeral?”
“A little girl, twelve years old. Sarah Jo Stryker. It’s been all over the papers.”
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Sorrow and relief took turns within Dayne. Sarah Jo Stryker? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Dayne couldn’t help but think the obvious. At least it wasn’t Katy Hart. “What …. how did it happen?”
“Drunk driver. Hit a van with one mom and four kids the night of their auditions for Annie. One little boy died that night, a six-year-old. Sarah Jo died on Monday.”
The mix of emotions turned to one—nausea. He had arrived in town smack in the middle of one of Katy’s darkest hours. She loved the kids of CKT, loved them enough that she had returned to them without looking back. They were her life, and now trag edy had ripped a hole right through the middle of it.
“Hey, thanks for the information.” Dayne sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What time was the funeral?”
There was a pause and in the background the rustling of paper. “Five o’clock.
Not sure how long it might’ve lasted.”
Dayne thanked the man again and closed his phone. A drunk driver had done the damage? So Bloomington wasn’t Mayberry after all. But it was small and close-knit. The entire community was probably touched by the accident.
Katy would be with the kids tonight, either still at the funeral or wherever they might’ve gone afterwards. There was only one place he could go, the place where he had seen Katy the first time. The Bloomington Community Theater. He turned the ig nition key and followed the reporter’s directions.
Five minutes later he had the building in view, straight ahead of him, the same old spires and turn-of-the-century architecture. The same marquee in front.
He had expected it to be dark, the parking lot empty. But a dozen cars were parked in a cluster, and a handful of people were leaving the theater. Dayne pulled in and parked near the back of the lot. He remembered the last time he did this—when he came to Bloomington to visit his birth mother, Elizabeth 119
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Baxter, at the hospital. Something about coming to this town switched him from the one being watched to the one watching.
The people leaving the theater didn’t notice him. They moved slowly, and even when he rolled his windows down he couldn’t hear their conversations. Over the next ten minutes several more left through the side doors, found their cars, and drove away. Finally there were just two cars left—a red two-door in the spot closest to the road and a white Jeep. Another few minutes passed, and two girls came through the doors.