Screen Play (23 page)

~
Twenty-six
~

The night sky was murky black when the limo rolled smartly to the curb at LAX. I sat in the back seat listening to the sound of a 747 fly overhead, imagining Luke inside. We waited in celebrity parking, a designated area for limousines and VIPs. My driver, who told me his name was Angus, was short, burly, and bearded, the kind you might see in a strongman competition heaving telephone poles and lifting two-ton stones. He was polite and perfectly professional and seemed to really enjoy his job.

At 7:20 p.m., Luke walked out of the main terminal with an army duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He looked down the row of cars. I asked Angus to drive slowly and pull up in front of him.

When Angus stopped the limousine, I opened the back door myself and stepped out. Luke had already seen my no-makeup, jeans-and-pullover look on our picnic, but I wanted this meeting to be different. After the rehearsal, I went back to Sydney’s and dressed like it was Oscar night—perfect makeup and hair, heels, and a form-flattering black evening gown.

It’s difficult to say whether Luke was stunned by the glamour, or merely by seeing me, but either way, he noticed.

“You look fantastic,” Luke said. His mouth remained open as if he had more to say, but no other words fell out. The canvas duffel bag fell, and we came together in an embrace, the starlet and the lumberjack still wearing his work jeans, boots, white shirt, and denim jacket.

We kissed under the yellow glow of the airport lighting.

“I feel a little underdressed,” Luke said, brushing away make-believe dirt from his jacket. “I barely had time to pack a bag and get myself to the airport.”

“Don’t worry. I have tonight all planned. You’ll be fine.”

Angus popped open the trunk and loaded Luke’s duffel bag. I introduced the two, always drawn to the practice of inclusion. A picture of the
Apartment 19
cast flashed in my mind, all of us onstage, hands clasped together, bent low in a bow of humility and thanks to our audience. How we hugged one another backstage, like a family once lost and now reunited.

With images of prom nights and wedding days dancing in my head, Luke and I slid in the stretch limo.

“So this is what Hollywood stardom is all about?”

“I’ve got connections,” I joked, even though that’s exactly what it was.

“I was expecting a rental car and heart-to-heart talk in the parking lot of an all-night diner.”

“As tempting as that sounds, I hope you won’t be disappointed with something else I have in mind.”

We rode through the neon sprawl of Los Angeles en route to Marina del Rey. Streetlights brightened and dimmed in the back of the limo. Our hands slid across the leather seat until they found each other. Luke’s touch was both gentle and strong.

Angus pulled into the marina and got out to open our door. The breeze blowing in off Santa Monica Bay was surprisingly warm. Luke and I walked to the boat slip where the
Aloha Freedom
would be waiting for us with a crew of three. The yacht was just as Paul had described it—seventy-feet of luxury with a dining room on the top deck and five cabins below.

“Is this yours?” Luke asked

“Not quite. It belongs to the movie studio. They’re giving it to us, with crew, for the night.”

Paul DeAngelo had been delighted to hear from me so soon. It was obviously an extraordinary perk, but the studio was expecting big things from Joseph’s
Winter Dreams,
and they wanted everyone involved to feel good about making the film.

Captain Charlie Brewer welcomed us aboard with his first mate, Lan, and a woman, Alex Preux, who as it turned out was our personal assistant for the duration of the voyage. After a brief formal greeting and some general information to aid us on our private cruise, Captain Brewer and Lan excused themselves and returned to the bridge. Alex invited Luke and me to stow our things below deck.

“Dinner will be served once we’re clear of the marina. The boat is yours to roam and explore. There’s a game room and full bar on the main deck; all the cabins are below. Is there anything I can get you?”

Luke and I looked at each other, both of us way out of our league. “I think we’re good,” I said.

Alex returned to the prepping area on the upper deck, leaving Luke and me alone.

“Okay,
now
you have to tell me … how did you arrange all this?”

“It’s a gift from the studio.”

Luke strolled around the upper deck, as in awe as I was of our surroundings.

“It’s really amazing. I mean, I can’t think of anything in my experience that even comes close. Sure, I got to sit in the actual car used in
Starsky and Hutch
once. But this? It’s a little overwhelming.”

“They did go a bit overboard,” I said.

Luke laughed. “I’m not sure it’s wise to say ‘overboard’ on a boat.”

I laughed too and closed the space between us.

“Maybe this isn’t us, Luke, but it is another piece of evidence that my life has changed. It’s
still
changing. I don’t know what this new life will look like, but I think it’s okay to enjoy the good things that come, even if they’re unlike anything either of us has done before.”

We walked to the railing and watched the marina shrink in the distance, the vanity lights of Angus’s limo looking like a fading party on wheels.

“Harper, all I want is you. I don’t need all this,” he said. “However … sitting in Starsky and Hutch’s car is now only the
second
coolest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I was going for special. I guess I overshot that by a bit,” I said. I so wanted things to be right.

“No, it’s perfect. Why don’t you excuse me while I take a quick shower, and I’ll join you here in about ten minutes, okay?”

“Okay,” I said. He bent down and kissed me before disappearing below deck.

Music began filtering in like fog from hidden speakers somewhere aboard the ship. Alex appeared from the kitchen carrying glasses and a small bucket of ice.

“What is this music, Alex? It’s wonderful.”

“It’s a CD of songs the studio has placed in movies since the 1930s. Big band dance pieces, love ballads, romantic serenades. It seems to fit the ship somehow. Hope you’re hungry. Dinner will be served in about twenty minutes.”

I took my overnight bag and stepped carefully down five dark mahogany stairs to the lower deck. Everything about the boat was first-class. The hallway was lit by blown-glass wall sconces, and the walls were decorated with original artwork framed in gold. I could hear water spraying from the shower in the first cabin, so I turned the gold handle on the compartment door across the hallway to store my things.

Spectacular
didn’t begin to convey the extravagant decor inside my cabin. A king-size bed governed the room, dressed in a jade-green coverlet turned down to reveal the Egyptian cotton sheets beneath. Twin brushed-silver wall lamps extended from just above the dark-stained headboard, their soft light spilling onto the bed, revealing the designer’s consideration for bedtime reading. A soft ivory carpet welcomed my bare feet like it had been waiting for me, and every other detail, from faucets to electronics, surpassed anything I’d seen even in a showroom.

After putting my things away, I returned to the main deck. Alex had set the table in a space shielded by three partitions, the fourth side open to the ocean. A formal white cloth covered the square table. She’d lit a candle and covered it with a glass globe, while dishes, silver, and glassware all stood at attention.

Luke made his entrance from below deck, hair still wet from the shower. He’d shaved and changed into dark slacks and a smart-looking shirt so free of wrinkles I assumed he’d found an iron in his room.

“Nice music,” he said. “I think this may be the perfect time to ask you to dance.”

Taking our lead from the music, we danced in a slow, gentle motion, hands on waist and shoulder, not quite formal, not quite an embrace. Around us the Pacific Ocean was like a private playground, clear and black under the starry sky except for a few deck lights from faraway ships and the distant coast of Catalina Island.

“It’s so beautiful here. Warm, perfect,” I said into his neck. Ripples caught the bright starlight on the water around us. Above us, the moon glowed as white as bone.

“We always seem to find ourselves in the company of ‘perfect.’ I think it’s following us.”

“I haven’t dared utter how good God’s been to me these last few months. I’ve just wanted to say ‘thank You’ and keep as quiet as possible.”

“You are living a blessed life, aren’t you? Broadway actress, Hollywood film star. What’s next? Oh, yeah. Dancing with me on a luxury yacht.”

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m really just a simple person at heart?”

“Ordinarily, no,” Luke said, tilting my chin up so he could look at my face. “But since I’m just an Alaskan logger who owns only one decent suit, I can’t think of anything else that would explain what you’re doing with me.”

“Maybe I like the way you help people. Or the way you do business. Or maybe I was just captured by those photos of you on the front porch of your cabin. If that doesn’t convince you, than maybe knowing how you’d drop everything to come help me would show you why I feel the way I do.”

“And how exactly is it that you feel?”

I bought a little time by melting into his arms, and we danced cheek to cheek. I wanted to say the perfect thing, but just then Alex appeared with the first dinner course, and I made a midcourse correction.

“Hungry,” I answered.

After a meal of Tuscan chicken, asparagus, and a peach torte, Luke and I walked to the bow of the ship.

“I know this sounds idiotic, but the ocean is absolutely enormous,” I said.

“No, no. I think Magellan said something like that.”

We stared out at the endless expanse, the moon drawing a streak of white as far as the horizon. Luke pointed off into the distance.

“Just a few thousand miles straight ahead of us is Japan,” he said. “And if we sailed in
that direction”
—he pointed his hand further south—“for a few days, we’d be in Hawaii. Have you ever been there?”

“No, but I think I’d love the islands.”

“They’re beautiful. Everything looks like the day of creation.”

Luke squinted one eye as if looking through a telescope. He pointed in a third direction. “If we were to sail that way, we’d end up in a remote area of Southeast Asia where I’ll be about this time next week.”

“Why are you going to Southeast Asia?”

“Another mission trip, supply run, whatever you want to call it. It’s the biggest tour I make all year.”

“What will you be doing there?”

“Missionaries are building a hospital. Each year I fly in medical equipment, medicine, supplies. Those kinds of things.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“About ten days, a little more with travel.”

“Send postcards?”

“I would if there was any way to mail them. Everything gets on and off the island by boat or canoe.”

We stood at the front of the ship in silence for a moment, holding tight to one another as the breeze began to cool. I was well past the point of recognizing a love that had eluded me all of my life. This was it. I felt like a newborn fawn trying to stand on her wobbly legs for the first time.

“I’m not sure I want to go on much longer without you in my life,” I said, the words coming directly from my heart, bypassing logic and circumstance. “It scares me a little to think of you flying across the Pacific by yourself, but on the other hand, knowing how much I’ll miss you tells me how I really feel about us.”

“Which is where we were before the dinner interrupted us,” said Luke. “So … you’re an actress. You’re good at reading people, right? What would you guess Harper Gray is feeling right now?”

I tried to smile. “Since this is all so new to her, she probably feels very overwhelmed, carried away by something powerful like ocean waves, something that’s not safe, but good. Her mind would be thinking,
There’s so much you don’t know, slow down
, but her heart would be saying,
The fire you prayed for has been lit and is burning a beautiful, healthy glow. Don’t douse it, keep feeding it until it’s a passion that will burn forever.
”