“Ugh.” Bailey made a face. As close as they were, she struggled with helping around the house. She was always being reminded to do the dishes or clean her room or help fold laundry. When Cody was out of earshot, she looked over her shoulder at Jenny, her eyes all lit up. Then she mouthed the words he’s so gorgeous!
Jenny rolled her eyes this time. She gave a mock stern look to her daughter and pointed at the sink. “Enough boy talk,” she whispered. “Do the dishes.”
Bailey laughed, and Jenny opened the paper. A story on the front page detailed Sarah Jo’s funeral and the hundreds of students and families who remembered her. Jenny read it. Amazing how much that girl had touched the community. Her story about how she had sung so beautifully in Tom Sawyer had been run and rerun in the paper and played on local television news.
The part that stuck out today was at the end of the article. Katy Hart was quoted as saying, “Sarah Jo’s song will play out forever and ever because she believed in Jesus Christ. That’s the way it is with people who have Him as their Savior.”
Jenny loved that about the local paper. This was middle America, and the reporters weren’t afraid to tell it like it was. Even if the truth involved Jesus. Jenny turned the page and drifted past articles on a new local park and the funding needed for a new grade school.
She turned to the Life Section next, and halfway down the page something caught her attention. The headline read “Dayne Matthews and Crew Slated to Start Local Filming.” This was the first she’d heard of Dayne Matthews coming to town. The article was brief, stating that the cast and crew for Dayne’s upcoming film, Dream On, would arrive in town on Monday and begin filming on Wednesday. The location shooting was scheduled to last two weeks.
An hour later, after Bailey had gotten a ride to school with Cody, Katy came down from her garage apartment. She looked ready to head out somewhere. Like Bailey, her eyes were still a little swollen.
Jenny held up the kettle. “Coffee?”
“Not today.” Katy slung her bag over her shoulder. “I have a meeting.”
Jenny lowered her chin. “With Dayne Matthews?”
Katy didn’t set her bag down or jerk back. But something subtle in her eyes gave her away. She blinked. “You know?”
“I know he’ll be here by Tuesday.” She motioned to the folded newspaper. “I figured he might’ve come in a few days early.”
“He did.” Katy took her cell phone from her bag and set the bag on the desk. Then she came to Jenny, her eyes dark. “I saw him last night. After everyone left the theater. He’d heard about Sarah Jo’s funeral and didn’t know where to find me. He drove to the theater on a hunch and because he wanted to see it again. We talked for a while.” She made a face that said she was uncomfortable with the situation. “He wants to see me today.”
Jenny kept from showing any disapproval. She didn’t know Dayne Matthews, but she knew the sort of life he lived. It wasn’t a life Katy wanted any part of, here or in Hollywood. She kept her tone even. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him yes. I’m picking him up at his hotel and taking him to Lake Monroe.” Katy studied the folded newspaper. “He seems different, Jenny. I think he wants to change. He’s even searching for God.” She paused. “What do you know about Kabbalah?”
“Hmmm.” Jenny worked to keep the alarm from her voice. “A lot of Hollywood actors are into it. To be honest, Katy, that’s some scary stuff. Have you researched it?”
“Not yet.”
“They believe they can attain equality with God.” One of Jim and Ryan’s former NFL teammates had gotten into it. She and Jim had taken a modern religion class at church so they could talk to the player about God’s real plan for life and spirituality. She still remembered the basic flaws in the Kabbalah teachings. “It’s very contrary to Scripture.”
“I didn’t know that.” Katy opened the paper and scanned the page until she saw the article. After a minute she said, “He’ll be here for two weeks still; that’s what the story says.” She set the paper down. “I’ll research Kabbalah and talk to him. I know it has to be a lot different than how he was raised.”
“How was he raised?”
“By missionary parents.”
Jenny smiled. “Then I’d say it’s a lot different.” She paused, letting Katy get her bearings. “Do you have feelings for him?”
Katy sighed and clutched her cell phone between her hands. “I’ve spent all night asking myself that.” She glanced at the newspaper on the counter again. “He’s a public figure, Jenny. There couldn’t be any future with him.” She looked up. “But there are feelings. For both of us.”
Her cell phone rang, and for a moment their eyes locked and Katy did nothing. Then in a rush she flipped it open and said, “Hello?”
Jenny watched her expression change, and she knew. It was Dayne; it had to be. She’d never seen Katy respond that way before. She raised her eyebrows at Katy. “Dayne?”
Without breaking the conversation, Katy nodded. Then, still talking, she picked up her bag, waved at Jenny, and left through the front door. At the same time, Jim bounded in through the back door. He had gotten up early to tackle a persistent spread of blackberry bushes. They grew up around the back fence every year, and every fall Jim cut them down to the roots.
It was hard work, but he loved it. He was in his element outdoors, and every year he talked about selling everything, moving to Montana, and buying a thousand-acre horse ranch. Jenny would listen patiently, then remind him that the football season was under way, or just around the corner, or that spring weight-lifting and quarterback camps had started.
And always he would laugh and tell her he was only kidding. He couldn’t leave the kids at Clear Creek, not when they were still building such a successful program. The head coach was Ryan Taylor, and Jim was his top assistant. Jim’s time was spent tending to their real-estate investments from his old NFL days, meeting with other coaches and kids for prayer and Bible studies, and coaching the Clear Creek Cougars.
There didn’t seem to be any change on the horizon.
He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Mission accomplished! No more blackberry bushes.”
She breathed in the smell of him, musky dirt and faded aftershave. “Until next year.”
“Right.” Some of his enthusiasm faded. “Until next year.”
“Ahhh, honey—” she turned and slipped her hands around to the small of his back—“I didn’t mean to ruin the moment.”
“No.” He was playing with her, trying to sound like a victim. “It’s okay. I spend three hours in the fields and you shoot me down.”
She giggled. “I love that you tease me.” She pulled him closer. “Isn’t it fun? Being married like this?”
He brought his lips to hers and kissed her, long and slow. His chest still heaved from the field work and the fact that he’d probably jogged the whole way across their several acres to the house.
When they came up for air, he grinned at her and traced her upper lip with his finger. “I still can’t believe you said yes.”
“I can’t believe you asked.”
They kissed again, and he gave her another hug before moving on to the cupboard. “I’m starved.” He found a box of Cheerios and set it on the counter. “How was Bailey this morning?”
“Better.” Jenny sat on a barstool. She rested her elbow on the granite top and rested her chin in her hand. “The CKT kids are going to be okay. Things like this only bring those kinds of kids closer together.”
“Mmmm, you’re right.” He poured a bowl of cereal and topped it with milk. Then he took the stool beside her. “Is she still angry about the drunk driver?”
“Furious.” Jenny shuddered. “It scares me a little.”
He put his spoon down and set his hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be all right. It’s normal to feel that way.”
“I guess.” She met his eyes. “Dayne Matthews is coming to town. Did you see that in the paper?”
“Yesterday.” He took a bite, his attention still on her.
“It was in again today.” She sat up and laid her forearms on the counter. “Katy’s spending today with him.”
“Really?” Jim finished chewing, but there was worry in his eyes. “Is that a good thing?”
“I don’t know.” Jenny sighed. She reached out and took hold of his free hand. “Do you know how much I love you, Mr. Flanigan?”
“More now that the blackberry bushes are down?” His eyes twinkled, and he chuckled despite the bite of cereal in his mouth.
“Well, yes. A little more, maybe.” She laughed. “No, seriously. I would hate to be single again. I think about Bailey and Katy, and all I want for them is this.”
“Cheerios in the morning?”
She gave him a teasing look, took the spoon from him, and set it in his bowl. Then she stood and framed his face with her hands. “This, Jim. I want them to find someone who loves God first and them second.”
“Doesn’t sound very romantic, does it?” He made a funny face at her.
“It is, though.” She leaned in and kissed him. “What we have is everything romance and marriage are supposed to be. But it’s rare, Jim. A few people find it, and that’s all.” She searched his eyes, and in them she saw that he understood. “I want this for Katy and Bailey, because they deserve this type of love. It’s what they’ve prayed for all their lives.”
Jim raised one eyebrow. “Bailey’s a little young, don’t you think?”
She gave him a playful whack on the shoulder. “Not yet, but soon. You know what I mean. The years go way too fast. Sometimes I see her look at Cody Coleman or Tanner Williams, and I wonder if any of the guys she knows could ever grow up to love her the way you love me. The way you love God.”
“Honey—” he kissed first her right cheek, then her left—“God figured things out for the two of us.” He angled his head, and a lighthearted knowing look filled his eyes. “He’ll figure things out for them too.”
“Even for Katy?” Jenny knew better than to doubt. But Dayne Matthews? What girl could resist a guy like him? Even if being with him made no practical sense at all?
Jim pushed his cereal bowl to the side and pulled her close. They kissed, and then he whispered low to her, “Yes, love. Even for Katy.”
Something in his tone told her that he was right—she had nothing to worry about. Wherever Katy and Dayne spent the day, God would be there. And He would give Katy the same sense He’d given her. Sense enough to recognize when a man was the best thing to come her way.
And sense enough to run like crazy when he wasn’t.
Dayne and Katy were only a hundred yards into the lake trail when Dayne changed the conversation from talk about the weather and the water and the benefits of living along the shore. He couldn’t keep things surface between them, not when every step he took felt like a dream.
They wore T-shirts and jeans, with sweatshirts tied around their waists in case a wind came up over the water. But a tornado could pass by and he wouldn’t notice. Not when he was completely consumed with her. How could he be here in Bloomington, hiking a dirt trail around a pristine lake with Katy Hart at his side? It didn’t seem real, like something from a dream or a movie. With every minute that passed he felt more taken by her, more aware of her presence. She was everything he’d ever wanted, even if he could never have her.
But now, as they hit the official trailhead and tossed their empty Starbucks cups into a trash can, he had questions. “So what’ve you been doing, Katy? Seeing anyone?”
He expected her to look away or tell him that she’d fallen in love. That would help explain why she hadn’t returned his calls. But instead she giggled, and her arm brushed against his. As laughter filled her eyes, she looked more beautiful than he’d ever realized before.
“Either you’re dating a comedian—” he was comfortable with her, his words unhurried—“or I missed something.”
“You missed the RPSer.” She caught her breath and grinned at him. “I met him the night of auditions. He was ready to get married the next day, I think.”
“Really?” Dayne could see she was joking and that she had no interest in the guy. Still, he hated the idea of someone else moving in on her. “What’s an RPSer?”
“That’s what I asked.” She stopped and turned toward him. “The guy’s an expert at rock-paper-scissors.” She held out her hand and pounded it with her other fist. “Remember that game kids played at school way back when?” She shook her head. “All he could talk about was strategy and talent and whether I’d caught him in the finals on ESPN.”
“You didn’t, right?”
“Of course not.” She made a face at him. “I thought the guy was joking. An RPSer? I tell you, Dayne, the pickings are slim here in Bloomington.”
He stopped and waited until she did the same and their eyes met. The mood between them changed, and Dayne was glad. He might have only one day to tell her how he felt. He didn’t want to spend the whole time joking around. “Can I tell you something, Katy?”
“What?” Her eyes held his, waiting.
“They’re slim in Hollywood too.”
“Well . . .” A wall went up in her eyes. She gave him a smile that told him she wasn’t ready to bare her heart. Not yet, anyway. “Good thing you have Kelly, then, huh?”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Touché, he wanted to tell her. Instead he winced. “Yeah.” He set his feet in motion again, and she fell in beside him. “Good thing.”
They walked a little more, and then Katy glanced at him. “Tell me about your parents. I have a friend whose parents are missionaries. She says it’s sort of like being a pastor’s kid. Lots of scrutiny, that type of thing.”
For all the connections he had in the entertainment industry and all the people he talked with on a daily basis, this was one topic that never came up. The story of his parents and him, the tale of his childhood. But it wasn’t the time to talk about that, was it? Katy wouldn’t want all the details. She was only trying to be friendly.
He made flirty eyes at her. “Yeah, we missionary kids were a lot of work—I can tell you that. Getting our languages mixed up and never knowing first thing in the morning if we should eat or hit the fund-raising trail.”
She laughed but only briefly. “Come on. I’m serious, Dayne. What was it like?”
Her questions had a way of peeling back the layers, exposing another time and place when he was just a kid being raised by strangers because his parents were busy telling people about Jesus. He really didn’t want to talk about it, but they had all afternoon. Clouds had rolled in overhead, and the trees that lined the path cast dark shadows on the trail. He caught her eyes. “You really want to know?”
“Yes.” They slowed their pace. “Can you remember anything else? Before they were missionaries, you know, when you were really young?”
“Funny, I’ve asked myself that.” He kicked at a few loose rocks and slid his hands into his pockets. “But there’s nothing. They signed up for work in Indonesia when I wasn’t quite four years old.”
The look in Katy’s eyes told him she disapproved. “You were just a baby.”
“I was old enough for boarding school.” He wanted to keep the story light, but it didn’t feel that way. Not after stuffing the details in the dark places of his heart for so many years. He had the outside edge of the trail, and he looked past her through the trees to the lake. “Actually, it was a nice place. Clean and safe, good people working there.”
His story began to unfold, slowly at first and then with more imagery and detail. He was six when he realized that he and the others in his class didn’t live like other American kids.
Dayne and his parents went back home on furlough that year and had three months in Detroit, Michigan, attending the church that supported them. That Christmas, one of the boys in his Sunday school class talked about playing family games at the dinner table each night.
“At school, yo
u mean?” Dayne sat cross-legged in the circle, confused. “Dinner happens at school, right?”
The other children gave him funny looks, and one little girl laughed out loud. “No, silly,” she said. “Dinner happens at home with your mommy and daddy.”
Apparently the Sunday school teacher knew about Dayne’s background, because she took control of the moment. “Children, some boys and girls live with their friends and their teachers. It’s called boarding school.” She smiled at Dayne. “That’s where you live, right?”
He nodded, but he felt strange and different.
The teacher went on. “Dayne’s parents go around the jungles of Indonesia—far, far away from the United States—and they tell people about Jesus.”
One of the girls said it best, said something that had stayed with Dayne ever since. No matter how far he traveled from that time, he could still hear what she said next: “Why don’t his mommy and daddy stay home and teach him about Jesus? That way they could play games at the dinner table.”
Indeed.
His next memory came from sometime around his ninth birthday. His parents tried to make it back for the occasion, but they rarely did. They would come a few weeks before or a month after, but almost never during the week of his birthday. The dorm mother had brought a handful of kids out onto the lawn so they could play and sing happy birthday to Dayne.
But he wanted his parents, wanted them in the worst way.
He pulled the dorm mother aside. “I don’t want everyone to sing this year.”
“Why, Dayne, what do you want?” She was a round woman with a friendly face and warm eyes. “Want me to bake you a chocolate cake?”
“No thank you.” He squirmed a little. “I want my mom and dad, if that’s okay.”
“Now, honey, you know they’re not coming.” She smoothed his hair back from his forehead. “They’re probably in the middle of a Bible study with the jungle people.”
Even at the time her answer sounded strange. “Why would they be hanging out with jungle people, when they could be home with me?”
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