Another picture of Nona and her dog on a wide, sweeping lawn. She, in her bathing suit, being sprayed with a hose. Mouth open in silent laughter. Innocent. Young. Dripping wet, head to toe.
Laughter peppered the crowd.
“Nona Dysart, at the age of sixteen, filled out as many postcards as she could write.” Another picture of Nona, hair up in a bandanna, surrounded by postcards.
“By a twist of fate, she won that soap box contest, and ended up with a movie contract. A girl who had a knack for comic timing, possessed the face of an angel, and could sing like a nightingale. At a time when Hollywood cranked out movies, the industry desperately sought out new blood. The girl next door became America’s sweetheart. She soon filled stages across the country with stories of whimsy, slapstick comedy, and romance.”
Deep breath. Here came the hard part. Misty swept her attention around the room, found and focused on her grandmother.
Nona nodded, encouraging. However, even in the spotlight, Misty noted diamond tears glittering on her cheeks. Her regal chin remained up.
With an exhale, Misty continued, voice sure even though her nerves jangled. “But, what America didn’t see lay further behind the scenes.” Behind her, Misty knew the scene changed, and with it, the tone of the background music.
Desiree had added a feeling of mystique in her edit bay, behind the newsreel footage. The once-chirpy, enthusiastic blonde Nona Dysart faded into a sullen, reclusive, and agitated starlet. Protected by the studio, the source of her anxiety, the next series of scenes showed the change. A young woman who ducked from cameras, and hid behind raised coats and her handlers. No longer did she grin and wave to her adoring public. No longer a high school homecoming queen made good, the clips showed Nona Dysart stumbling up the stairs of the movie studio, on the arm of a dapper film executive who shouted, “No comment! Let her through!”
As the film clips ended, and the still shots returned in a montage, Misty told the story as her grandmother had shared it with her. Every word, corroborated with facts from medical records and broken contracts. “The young girl suffered from her sudden rise to fame, and more specifically, from a grueling studio-driven schedule that weakened her bubbly nature. The executives suggested pills. Drugs. Left in a haze and often confused, Nona Dysart felt the pressure to perform. Box office tallies soon took a dive as her public no longer believed in her performances. While girls Nona had grown up with were studying to be nurses, teachers, or getting married and having babies, Nona Dysart teetered on the verge of collapse.”
The scene shifted to an eight millimeter shot of Nona entering a sanitarium. The same film executive signing her in, nodding as he left her there, wide-eyed, hollow cheeked, terrified. The doors closed behind as Nona reached out, screaming, crying, abandoned.
A news headline spun that the star had needed rest. The prescriptions and doctor evaluations told a different story. The young starlet was addicted to the very drugs that were supposed to propel her career. Instead, she slid backward into chaos. Oblivion. Obscurity. Until, at last, she was saved by the love of a man.
Hopeful music flooded the speakers, as a much different, twenty-something Nona Dysart walked along the bank of Lake Arrowhead in the mid-fifties. Stylish dress of crop pants and tied, checked blouse, large rimmed glasses, but a spark about her that had been lost returned once more. Next, a home movie showed a scene of her walking, hand in hand, with a broad-shouldered man, Misty’s grandfather.
A lump welled in her throat as Misty described the chance meeting at the Lake Arrowhead shore that had changed the young, reclusive starlet’s life forever. “As my grandmother has often said, ‘sometimes a chance meeting is just the thing to propel you out of the darkness, and into the light.’” Attention drifting to Cain, she chewed her lip. At that moment, the truth of the words skewered her heart.
He smiled from just beyond the stage lights. There, at the table, sat their collective families—Mom and Evelyn clasped hands, each with tears streaming, and Dad beamed with pride.
“Thank you, Grandma Nona, for joining us back in the light. Now, for everyone’s viewing pleasure, the nineteen-fifty-seven smash hit: His and Hers. Starring—in her first role as a newlywed—healed and whole, America’s forever sweetheart, Nona Darling.”
The audience roared with applause, followed by a standing ovation as a film student helped Nona slowly, gently, to the stage to her granddaughter’s side.
Misty closed her eyes, fully enveloped in her grandmother’s warm embrace. She stepped back, so Nona could have her full moment in the spotlight.
“I’m a gal of few words.” Nona spoke, her voice sure, unwavering into the microphone. “So, I’ll say it plain. We all make mistakes. There are Prince Charmings out there, sure. John was the best of them. But a gal needs to pull herself up by her own bootstraps.”
Her focus remained on Misty, their fingers laced. Grandma squeezed her hand, tight. “I’d like to thank my granddaughter for her honesty, and dedication to the truth. Thank you, to Almond Valley College, and its wonderful theater arts program, for your recognition. And most of all, thank you all, for sharing this wonderful night with me.”
More applause. Exit, stage left.
They made their way back to the table, followed by the spotlight, arms wrapped around one another.
Face damp, Grandma mouthed her silent thank you, head high, breathing easy as she returned to her seat next to Anton who gently kissed her cheek. Grandma glowed from within.
Misty joined Cain at her seat, first giving Desiree a long hug, then squeezing her parents, his parents, and her sister, each in turn. Her heart barely slowed its rapid pace.
The houselights faded, the room darkened. His and Hers filled the silver screen. The audience cheered when Nona Darling’s name displayed in the opening credits.
Misty couldn’t sit still. She pushed back from the table.
Cain touched her arm. “You okay?”
“I just need some air.”
“Want some company?” he offered.
“No. You stay. I’ll be back in a minute.” She swept her way through the crowd, nodding and smiling at patrons on her way out of the room.
Once outside, she took a deep cleansing breath of fresh air. Though she’d seen some of the paparazzi grab their mobile devices to dash out the news, Misty knew their pre-designed press release, and theater student orchestrated You-Tube release of the Forever Darling featurette had already gone out as the show began.
All had fallen into place. Clockwork. Or a perfectly penned script. The only thing missing was her final confrontation with Todd. Her shoulders shuddered at the thought.
Though resolve flooded her soul, worry pinched her eyebrows along with the sudden onset of headache. She peeked across the thinning crowd. No sign of Todd’s unmistakable, larger-than-life form. Maybe he’d taken his lumps and gone back to the city. Knowing Todd, however, he’d be outside somewhere, lurking.
Misty raised her gown’s hem and trotted up the stairs to the portico. Moonlight swept between the pillars, bathing the granite and brick façade in silver. Hands to the rail, she tilted her head back to the stars, the cool evening air bringing goose bumps on her arms as she breathed in her newfound freedom.
The Long Valley College campus spread out beyond the theater. The long rectangle of luminous grass, the hills rising beyond the gateway arch. Somewhere in the brick building at her back, Cain sat with her family, eating, drinking, and enjoying their victory. She already planned to recommend Desiree for studio work. If the girl was ready, there’d be features lined up in spades. Grandma and Anton had their love affair, and could now enjoy each other through more than e-mail. Another circle, now complete.
And Cain…with that silly worried look on his face, his hand darting to his coat pocket, so obviously up to something. As Desiree said, he played for keeps. So, what was he thinking? Marriage? Kids? Is that what the future had in store for them? A life like those families she’d watched down the hill, with the moms i
n mini-vans?
Was that what happens after the happily ever after? A smile crept up from her soul. Funny. The idea of finding out with Cain promised to be an adventure in itself.
“Misty!” Todd’s voice ricocheted off the brick walls.
“Are you still here?” Misty steeled herself, turned, and watched him stumble upstairs to confront her.
“Bravo, kid. You one upped me.” His deep, velvet voice couldn’t disguise the barbs he flung her direction. “Finally.”
“I think I’ve said all there is to say tonight.” She stepped away, to the rail. The moon painted the college campus silver, a black-and-white movie.
“Not yet.” He grabbed her shoulder and flung her around to face him.
“You don’t get to talk to me that way.” She tossed away his hand, keeping her tone icicle cold. “Not ever again.”
“You think you can one up me and I’ll just sit by and watch it happen?” Todd leered, taking a step closer. “Not a chance.”
“Worked for you.” Misty raised her chin. “I told you I wouldn’t let you tarnish her name.”
“I just got word from PPZ. They cancelled the show.” Todd tugged at his collar, loosening his tie. One meaty hand clenched the rail, the other reached into his pocket for his phone. He wagged it at her with a scowl. “They want to option yours instead. All that work of mine. Trashed. Just like everything since you left me. Abandoned me.”
“Your work. Is that what you call it?” Misty’s lip quivered in anger. Her nostrils flared at the heat of his breath, laced with sick-sweet Scotch. “Those diaries you found. The pictures. They weren’t yours to use. They belong to Nona. It’s her story, don’t you see?” She hung onto the rail, her raft in this sea of confusion.
His hand trailed up her arm.
She cringed. He’d obviously read her wrong, like always, seeing her attempts to reason with him as an apology.
“And so you told her side. But, the other one.” His hand clamped vice-like onto her shoulder. “That’s where the money is. We’ll make a go again. We were so good, once upon a time.”
“Then I came to my senses.” She stood frozen, knowing he’d meet her defiance with rage. Just like always. “Let go. You’re hurting me.”
His smile dripped with poison as he only gripped her tighter. “That’s the problem with you. You’re a bleeding heart when you need to be a viper.”
“You don’t know me at all, do you, Todd?” Giving a forceful backward shrug, she freed herself, rail in her back. Cain. She focused on the source of her strength, a stable platform on which to stand. She hadn’t a doubt in her mind that Cain wasn’t a million times the man that Todd could ever hope to be.
“So, what now? You think you’re better than me? That you’ll get an award for this…showcase?” Murder filled his voice as he loomed. “You think you and that shrimp you showed up with have any real chance in this world? You’re a dreamer, Misty. You always were.”
She eyed his balled-up fists, the way his body shook with bare restraint. He wouldn’t dare hit her, would he? At that moment, anything seemed possible. “You’re drunk, Todd.” She took a step back, heart pounding. Misty glanced around for someone, anyone who might be witnessing this.
The outside bars were gone—packed up and rolled out—the caterers in the back, watching the movie with the rest of Long Valley. They were completely alone on the moon-swept portico. She turned her back to him. “Go home and sleep it off.”
“Don’t say another word.” His hand rocked her around, his other cocked back to strike. Todd’s scowl radiated with the full force of his attention, alcohol soured his breath, and his obvious intentions.
“Please…” She grappled on the rail, eyeing which way to flee. Either into a pillar or over the side, neither one a welcome substitute to the crack of his hand.
“Just let me think how I can…repay you for ruining my shot at the exposé of the decade.” Instead, his hand found her throat, fingers tightened into a squeeze.
Terror shot through her blood. There’d be no witnesses to this savage attack, save for the stars above.
Choked for breath, she tore at his hand, scratching with manicured nails. His grip loosened slightly along with a hiss of pain.
Misty kicked at his shins, finding her bony target with the heel of her shoe.
With the strike, his hand opened.
She struggled back, heel catching in the hem of her gown as his hands found purchase in the tangles of her hair.
Footsteps echoed from beyond their struggle.
A familiar shout, though she couldn’t turn to see. Cain!
In an instant, she found herself flung from the fray. A scuffle, a solid whump as fists connected to bodies. A slump as someone collapsed.
Grasping the rail, she pulled herself back to standing, each breath drawing ragged and hot, and surveyed the aftermath.
Todd lay, knocked flat, on the ground.
Cain stood over him, breathing hard, his fists remained clenched, looking ready to pummel him again should he so much as twitch. “Big man, beating up on a woman.” He shrugged out of his torn coat, massaging his knuckles as he reached for Misty, and settled the black jacket over her exposed shoulders. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll make it.” She swept a hand to her disheveled hair and yanked out the remaining pins. The strands fell loose around her shoulders.
“You’re gorgeous.” Cain drew her up gently, securing her with a soft kiss.
“And you’re right on time.” She breathed into his neck, his warmth radiating into her skin. “Thanks.”
They both turned toward Todd, now sitting knees drawn up under his chin, bewildered look on his face as he blinked at his surroundings. A group of the student ushers, just released from their duties, caught sight of them, and rushed over to assist.
“You guys.” Cain grabbed the first two he saw, motioning the others to follow. “Go get him a cab, or something.”
Standing arm in arm, they watched Todd escorted into the red cab, then driven out of sight, cabbie following Cain’s orders to take him straight to the airport.
“That went slightly differently than I’d planned, but I’ll take it just the same.” Misty touched her throat. There would be fingerprint bruises there tomorrow, evidence of the encounter.
Cain frowned, observing her face, neck, and biceps where Todd manhandled her. His forehead crumpled as he inspected each bruise. Hands draped at her waist, he guided them to sway slightly to music only they could hear. His light kiss dusked her lips, voice raw with emotion as he caressed her with his gaze, folded her into his warm embrace. “I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute, can I?”
“I wish you wouldn’t.” Blood rushed like rapids in her veins. They fit so neatly together, so perfectly.
Turning back to the doors, she slipped her arms into the coat, feeling something hard in that breast pocket he’d worried all night. She patted it down, finding a square of velvet unsuccessfully hidden there. “What’s this?”
“Misty…” He started forward, reaching to block her. “Now’s as good a time as any, I guess.”
“You move fast, Trovato.”
“I’ve waited a long time to find a girl like you.” He moved to kneel.
“No.” Hand to his chest, she halted his progress. She held her head high. “Not now. This is Grandma’s night.”
“I can’t get anything past you, can I?” His lips pressed into a grin.
“Not for the next fifty years or so.” She shrugged out of his jacket, held it for him to slip into, and then linked arms with his.
“Well, since you know what’s coming, you might as well be involved in the process.” He squeezed her close. “What’s your idea of a perfect engagement? A five-star dinner? A trip to Paris? You name it, it’s yours.”
“Take me for a walk in the olive grove tomorrow. Ask me then, okay?” She darted up her brows. “Oh, and if it’s not too much trouble, a song would be nice.”
“A song?�
� He laughed, tilting his head to hers as he helped her down the stairs.
“You know. A love song.” She walked by his side, and then arm in arm, they stepped inside the theater as the credits rolled. “Just for me?”
“Already done.”
She paused at his silence, searched his face. “Seriously?”
“I wrote it the first time I saw you…” He drew her close, drank of her lips. Parting, he widened his smile. “The day I met you at the fountain, when my wish came true.”
“Your wish?” her thoughts flitted to that sun-spilled day, the fountain, and his stumbling words. “I thought it was mine.”
“Maybe, but I got what I always wanted.” His thumb traced her jaw, hand cupping her face, treasuring her with each subtle caress. “This? The way I feel when I’m with you? It’s what I always dreamed of having.”
“And what is that?” She bit her lip, breathing in the warmth of love radiating from his gaze.
“My very own Darling.”
Acknowledgements
Special thanks, as ever, to my special friends in the SDCWG, Temecula Chapter Critique Group, for this story—especially, Beverly, Rebecca, Dona, Dan, Pascal, and Tyler.
While writing this story, I spent a great deal of time in Old Town Temecula, the lovely California town I call home. Inspiration for the Long Valley Olive Oil Company came from the Temecula Olive Oil Company, where I’ve spent many an afternoon sampling and discussing olive oil, and the intricacies around the bottling process.
I also spent a lazy, sunny, California afternoon at South Coast Winery with the lovely Becca Perry, owner of Lily Pad Floral Design in Manhattan Beach, of the Los Angeles Southbay. Becca gave some wonderful ideas for “what if” flower arrangements, answering my questions while we sipped lovely Chardonnay by the pool, and daydreamed.
Thanks also, to my mother, who helped me become an “old movie” junkie during those insanely hot Tucson, Arizona summers—when we closed the curtains on the blazing sun and called it a rainy afternoon. I grew up on Doris Day, Sandra Dee, Paula Prentiss, Rock Hudson, and any number of black-and-white and early color films—learning about true love and happily ever afters enough to believe in, and recognize my own.
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