“With every punch I threw at Mertz, I was really battling with my personal pain, punishing myself for my mistakes while simultaneously hoping to displace the blame on someone else. Mertz is far from an innocent party in all this, but I used what he did to Beth as an excuse to lash out at him. Sure, I did it to defend her, but I’m ashamed to say she wasn’t the sole reason for my attack. I’ve been seeing an analyst, you know. He made me realize a lot of things, and I’m not angry like I used to be.”
Connie sighed. “When you hit Luther, I saw my own hurt in your eyes. That’s why I went after him as well. I felt united with you then, as silly as it sounds. It was in that moment I realized you and I are a lot alike, only I buried my pain for years while yours was palpable.”
“Because you’re stronger than me.”
Connie clasped his hand tighter. “That’s not true. You showed remarkable strength and courage when you confided in Beth. I was too scared to open up. Foolishly, I thought everything would go away if I ignored it long enough. You’re also right that inflicting pain upon Luther wasn’t the answer. I had to search within myself for redemption and to reclaim my self-worth.”
“You’re a decent broad, Connie.” This time, Aidan didn’t hesitate to look her right in the eye. “Beth told me how you dragged her out of my house and encouraged her to continue on in my absence, how you supported her at the hospital, took care of me, and helped clean me up.”
“When Matthew and I flew to Chicago and saw you…” Connie grimaced. “All I could think about was how much I wished I could apologize to you and set things right between us. I was worried I’d never get the chance.”
“Even if I didn’t wake up from my coma, you would’ve earned my respect, Connie. I owe you a thank you for everything you’ve done for me and Beth.”
“It’s what friends do. I’m just glad our suffering is behind us and we have the opportunity to start anew.” Connie placed her head on his chest and closed her eyes. Her brow smoothed out with the arrival of her smile.
Aidan slowed their steps to fit the music. Man, if the old Aidan Evans were allowed a glimpse into his future, he would’ve denied its authenticity. Never would he have predicted that he and Connie would be friends—and dancing together, of all things.
The song came to an end. When Aidan looked around, an uncharacteristic blush leapt into his cheeks. Every guest had cleared the dance floor. Applause broke out. Beth brushed tears from her eyes.
Aidan took Connie’s hand and kissed it. “I’m honored you granted me this dance.”
She curtsied, in a grand and beautiful way, as only she could. “And I’m honored you consider me a friend.”
Aidan brought Connie back to her husband. He and Beth wished the newlyweds a lovely honeymoon in Europe, made dinner plans with Nathan and Olivia for next week, and then exited into a tepid fall night.
Last night, they had checked into the Seaside Inn, where the rest of the wedding guests resided. As nice as those accommodations were, they didn’t feel like staying there again. Their Golden Gloves promotional tour would make them extra accessible to the public in the coming months. Tonight, they desired to spend time alone together in a place where no one could find them.
Several blocks from the reception hall, tucked away on an unassuming side street, they stumbled upon a charming motel. Aidan paid the desk clerk extra money to keep their whereabouts a secret, and he and Beth blissfully, passionately, slipped into temporary obscurity.
Chapter Twenty-One
Beth and Aidan strolled along Broadway before dawn, the echoes of their footsteps the only sounds on the typically busy New York City road. Fourteen hours from now, Golden Gloves would premiere at the 46th Street Theatre. Fans, friends, industry peers, and notable members of the press would crowd the area for red carpet festivities, and their idle footfalls would fade amongst the chaos. Right now, they could enjoy their togetherness without interference and exercise their renewed outlook on their careers and relationship: Life is a journey, not a destination.
Beth and Aidan both took unprecedented paths in their professions and prevailed. Most importantly, they achieved individual redemption and reclaimed their self-confidence because of what they found in each other. They didn’t worry about what lay ahead for them. Everything would turn out all right, regardless of any future obstacles they faced. Love empowered and saved, and brightened people’s days during the darkest storms—as long as they put in some hard work along the way, of course.
Newspapers all over the country predicted Golden Gloves would break box office records. The media dubbed the film as their acting debut as a couple, which piqued the public’s interest, but it was the glowing reviews from critics granted advance screenings that really fueled the buzz. The film opened nationwide next week, and theaters expected lineups hours before tickets went on sale. Aidan and Beth were just grateful they could finally share Joe and Mary’s story with the world.
This morning, their walk brought them to many landmarks from their courtship, including the famed Actors Studio. During Beth’s first visit as a guest, she completed a scene with Paul Newman, and then much to her shock and excitement, Aidan rose from his chair in the back of the room—the epitome of the gorgeous, brooding rebel—to take the blue-eyed actor’s place. But it was for other reasons she would remember that day forever. Aidan asked her out on their first date that afternoon, and it was also the first time they performed together, marking the start of their professional partnership.
Aidan exuded energy, passion, and realism during their scene, demonstrating in a raw and captivating way what acting was truly about. Watching his incredible gift onscreen was awe-inspiring. Live? Well, there was nothing like it.
From then on, Beth viewed their profession with more esteem. To self-reflect, to tap into emotions buried deep within oneself in order to pull off an authentic performance, was no easy feat, by any means—whether an actor was a natural performer like Aidan or someone who needed continuous coaching to achieve his greatest potential. Beth was now honored to be a member of the Actors Studio and to have the opportunity to nurture her craft alongside acclaimed professionals in theater and film.
Before long, the couple arrived at the 46th Street Theatre, which was already decorated for the premiere. The film’s title and their names in equal billing lit up the marquee. The velvet ropes were secured, and a sign erected on an easel at the entrance announced the event information.
Beth and Aidan huddled together against a brisk wind in front of a Golden Gloves promotional poster, one of many mounted on the theater’s exterior. In the advertisement, Joe was dressed for a fight, his gloved fists raised and his narrowed eyes fixed ahead. Mary stood in the background with a gentle grip on his shoulder. While Joe’s features were set tightly, hers were softened by hope and adoration. In spite of these differences, their united front was unmistakable. Mary’s subtle gesture proclaimed their love for each other and determination to triumph over their troubles as a couple more effectively than if they shared an intimate embrace.
Mary supported Joe through it all. Whether physically or in spirit, she was always in his corner. She was with him as he slaved away at the factory, as he trained at the gym all day, every day, improving his mental and physical well-being…when he entered the ring for his first bout since his former opponent’s demise, and every bout after that. She was there during every punch he threw, every hit he took, and kneeled beside him whenever his guilt and torment brought him to the mat. But her greatest influence? Allowing him to stand back up on his own. Because any real woman—a woman who truly wanted to support her husband and exemplify the good wife—recognized the value of a man’s self-worth and encouraged him to find his own way. Only Joe, and Joe alone, had the power to knock out his demons and keep them down for the count.
“Once our film is no longer in theaters, we should collect some of the posters and hang them up in our home.” Aidan’s eyebrows rose. “What do you think, baby?”
Beth giggl
ed at his joke. “Oh, sure. In fact, we should convert our apartment to a Golden Gloves art gallery and charge the public admission.”
“Is that sarcasm I detect?” Aidan smirked. “So does that mean you wouldn’t want a picture of me half-naked mounted above our bed?”
Beth tapped her chin in faux contemplation. “You know, I always thought our amazing acting abilities generated all the interest in Golden Gloves, but perhaps the attention is really due to women all over the world wishing to see you shirtless.”
A grin spread across Aidan’s lips, gracing his face with boyish splendor. “Are you saying I’m nothing but a sexy beefcake, whose sole purpose is to satiate the carnal sexual desires of the entire female population?”
Beth clasped her hands behind his neck, presenting her best demure look while trying to hold back a smile. “Well, you are on the cover of Photoplay’s special Movie Star Hunks issue this month, voted number one by the magazine’s readers.”
Aidan’s gaze floated down her body, radiating a heated admiration that communicated he’d be more than happy to see her without a shirt on. Unlike the Golden Gloves poster, however, she’d be for his eyes only. “The only thing I care about is whether I satisfy your carnal desires.”
The threat of a smile evaporated as Beth’s longing skyrocketed, fueled by cherished memories she hoped to replicate when they returned home. “I’d say our lovemaking in the foyer prior to our walk, and our two romps in the parlor yesterday evening…oh, and our christening of the kitchen table yesterday morning thoroughly demonstrate your wondrous sexual prowess and how well you satiate my every need.” She kissed him softly. “I love you and cannot wait to marry you.”
Aidan’s expression sobered, his playfulness transforming to tenderness. “I love you, too, Marie.”
Beth drew back from him. Her lower lip quivered, her eyes grew moist. Goodness. She never thought hearing him address her by her given name would yield such joy. “You haven’t called me Marie before. Why now?”
Aidan framed her face with his hands. His gaze bore into hers, strengthened by sincerity. “Because I want you to know that I love every part of you, past and present, and I will also love the woman you’ll become in the future.”
Tears trailed down her cheeks. “Elizabeth Evans is the name I will wear most proudly.”
Taking her hand, Aidan ushered her away from the theater’s lights. They pressed up against the vacant box office, two anonymous shadows locked in a fervent embrace, their lips caressing and uttering promises of forever.
Before heading home, they paused in front of the Golden Gloves poster again. Beth placed her hand on Aidan’s shoulder and squeezed. Their reflections in the glass merged with the faces of their movie counterparts, a time capsule of youth, a reminder of all they had been through and attained.
At dusk, they would walk the red carpet together, smiling for the cameras and openly sharing affection, marking yet another important moment in their relationship. Beth would dedicate a section in her scrapbook to the premiere and document every new milestone until every page was full like she had dreamed about on her trip back to Clarkson—the first stop on her renewed flight as Elizabeth Sutton, a lifelong journey that would always be made in the company of her beloved. Destination: anywhere.
Chapter Twenty-Two
February 1959
Beth awoke to find the other side of the bed empty and the apartment strangely quiet in light of recent events. She looked toward the nightstand. The clock displayed three in the morning.
Dressed in a silk negligee gifted to her by her husband, she slipped out of bed and walked barefoot into the hallway. The door to her right was ajar. She crept up to it and poked her head inside the room.
Aidan stood in the darkened nursery before a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Central Park, clad only in a pair of worn black jeans. A flurry of snow fell outside, dusting the glass with thick, white flakes. His sleep-tossed hair glowed copper in the moonlight.
Two-week-old Hannah Catherine Evans lay in his arms, held to his bare chest in a manner at odds with the strength flaunted by his physique. Aidan’s head was bowed to his sleeping daughter, who looked so tiny in comparison, dressed in her finest satin nightgown. He rocked her gently, humming the lullaby he wrote for her on the piano.
Although they had been married for over three years, Beth’s pregnancy came as a surprise. Aidan was moved to tears by the news, although he later confided he worried about his ability to be a good father. He wanted desperately to give his child all the love he missed out on after his mother died but felt the pressures he put on himself were so great he couldn’t possibly meet his own expectations. His biggest fear in life was failing as a parent, now that he was more confident in his role as a husband.
Moments like these reinforced the words Beth had assured him throughout her pregnancy. When Hannah was born, unconditional love and instinct took over, making up for all of their doubts and inexperience. Aidan was an excellent father. In fact, he spoiled Hannah terribly. It was endearing, especially since he still had the reputation of the surly, rebellious young actor from Spike Rollins, who enjoyed racing his sports cars and motorcycles through the streets of Manhattan—though he had toned down his speed when he learned of Hannah’s impending arrival.
If Beth thought Aidan was overprotective during their courtship and marriage, it was nothing compared to the guardianship he showed his daughter. The bond between them was already impenetrable. Beth often admired the two of them, wondering what she did to deserve such a blessed life.
The nursery fell silent as Aidan brushed his lips to Hannah’s forehead. “My beautiful girl,” he whispered. “I love you and your mother so very much.”
Following a gentle kiss to Hannah’s nose, Aidan turned his head to rest his cheek on her forehead. He closed his eyes and resumed his song while he swayed with her against the backdrop of the storm outside.
Beth smiled and tiptoed back to bed, where her husband’s lullaby ushered her into her own peaceful sleep.
Epilogue
October 1985
“Thank you, Mrs. Evans. It was a pleasure working with you.”
“The pleasure was mine.” Beth stood and shook the hand of Lester Harold, the CEO of the company publishing her memoir.
With the release of Taking Flight: The Journey of Elizabeth Sutton fast approaching, Beth was excited but also nervous. She’d toyed with the idea of writing her life story thus far for a while, but the task had intimidated her. Gathering over fifty years of memories was a tough feat. However, when Nathan Taggart put her in touch with Mr. Harold two years ago, they hit it off right away, giving her the motivation she needed to begin.
Mr. Harold’s assistant had recorded Beth’s experiences as she dictated them, and then he transcribed them. To assist her with the accuracy of some events, she referred to the journals and scrapbooks she had written and compiled over the years.
Once the book hit shelves, Beth would embark on a ten-city North American promotional tour, participating in in-store signings as well as television appearances on all the major networks. The buzz for her memoir was overwhelmingly positive, which was welcome news. There were times during the writing process when she wondered if anyone would care to read about her life. Advanced sales had already put her at the top of the New York Times Best Seller list. She couldn’t wait to get on the road and meet her fans.
Although Beth remained truthful in her memoir, she didn’t cover all the larger events in her life, such as what happened between her and Luther Mertz. She mentioned Mr. Mertz’s contention concerning her relationship with Aidan, but she didn’t broach the subject of his blackmail. Some details needed to stay private. Her autobiography was not a sleazy tell-all. If she didn’t have something nice to say about someone, she either referenced them in passing or skipped certain stories entirely. All of her milestones were covered, so she didn’t feel as if she was cheating her readers out of anything important.
Mr. Harold accompanied Be
th to the door and they exchanged good-byes. A Lincoln Town Car waited for her in front of the midtown office building. Her driver, Sam, already had the back door open. For the last fifteen years, Sam had been a valued employee—honest, hardworking, and kind. Beth and Aidan had lucked out when he applied to work for them after retiring from a thirty-year career in law enforcement.
Gripping her coat close to shield herself from the crisp October wind, Beth greeted Sam with a smile. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”
“Less than five minutes, Mrs. Evans.” He shared a grin, accentuating the lines in his face. “How did it go with Mr. Harold?”
“Wonderful.” A gust of wind blew down the street. Beth pushed the hair out of her eyes. “I still can’t believe I’m only a week away from the book’s release.”
“I must say, I’m looking forward to reading it myself.”
She patted his forearm. “I hope you enjoy it.”
“I have no doubt I will.”
“Ms. Sutton?” A young woman approached, smiling broadly. “I’m sorry to bother you, but, well, I saw you and really wanted to say hi.”
Beth smiled back. “Don’t worry. You’re not bothering me.”
“My mother and I saw you last year on Broadway. You were amazing.” The young woman wrung her hands. “I’ve caught some of your films on television as well. I’m a huge admirer.”
“Why, thank you.” Beth moved closer. “What’s your name?”
“Marcia. Marcia Potts.” She blushed. “A lot of my friends like Bo Derek and Farrah Fawcett, but you’re my favorite actress.”
“What a compliment.” Beth giggled. “I never thought I’d compete with a perfect 10 or one of Charlie’s Angels, especially at my age.”
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