“Listen to me,” Hattie said sternly.
Claire sucked in another sob.
“If there is anything I have learned in my years on this earth, it’s no matter what our intentions are, things don’t always pan out the way we expect. Life is way too short to hold grudges.”
“But—”
“Now, now,” said Hattie. “I can see you’re hurting, and my great-nephew is not making it easier.”
“He hates me, doesn’t he?”
Hattie’s laugh lifted Claire’s spirits just a little. “He’s more stubborn than a Mallee bull, but I promise that he doesn’t hate you.”
Claire managed a smile.
“The report came back this morning, and the police said it definitely was an electrical fire. It could have happened at any time.”
“So it had nothing to do with the men from Ashton?”
Hattie shook her head.
“Thank goodness.”
“Why?”
“Because so many bad things have happened because of me. I’m beginning to think I’m cursed.”
“Nonsense,” said Hattie. “Sweetheart, this is life. Things do not always go our way. We just have to pick up the pieces and get on with it.”
“I know.” Claire crossed her legs at the ankles. “Some days are harder than others.”
“True.”
Claire shifted so she could face Hattie. “How are you really doing? Will you get better?”
Hattie’s smile appeared forced. “I’m not a spring chicken anymore, and whether we like it or not, our bodies defy our active minds. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a privilege getting old, especially when…” A breath caught in her throat.
“Especially when?”
“Especially when we’ve lost others way too early.” Hattie sat straight. “My heart’s not good, Claire. It’s only a matter of time…”
“No,” Claire said forcefully. “You’ve got plenty of years ahead of you.”
“Oh, darling girl, I wish I did. I’ve had an interesting life, and although there are some years I’d rather forget, it was the path I traveled, regrets and all.”
“What do you regret?”
“Ah.” Hattie waggled her finger. “Some things are better left unsaid.”
Claire didn’t push the issue, especially now that she and Hattie were in a good place.
“I need to ask you something,” said Claire.
“He’ll be home shortly.”
“That’s not it.” Although it was good to know she had some time up her sleeve before facing Luke. “I was wondering if you would mind giving me the keys to the cinema.”
Hattie’s lips drew into a thin line.
“Just for a day.”
“I don’t know, Claire.”
“I absolutely understand your reluctance. If I were you, I’d say no as well. I desperately want you to trust me, but I also understand you have no reason to.” Claire looked down at her lap and realized her fingers on both hands were crossed. “There’s something I need to do before I go.”
Hattie kept her eyes trained on the mountains in the distance, her body still. A minute ticked by and Claire worried that she’d gone too far.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Hattie said slowly.
“What if Luke came with me?”
“That would be his decision.”
Claire’s shoulders dropped. She didn’t like her chances. “If I can convince Luke to come with me, can I please go to the cinema? Just one last time.”
Hattie nodded, but she didn’t appear to have faith in her decision.
The screen door opened and Don came out with a tea tray. He placed it on the table next to Hattie and poured her a cup. Not once did his eyes meet Claire’s. She desperately wanted to apologize once more, but she suspected bringing it all up again would just make things worse, and possibly change Hattie’s mind.
Don went back inside without making Claire a cup of tea, so she set about making her own.
“He thinks I’m a fool talking to you.” Hattie sipped from her cup. “Angry or not, he still makes a good cuppa.”
Claire laughed. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Giving me a chance.”
“Sometimes a second chance is all we need.” Hattie put down the cup. “I know it seems like the townsfolk are over-the-top with their attitudes, but you need to understand there is a lot of history behind their behavior. Not just one incident, but many.”
“Oh.”
“One day I’ll explain in detail, but right now I need to rest.” She put her hand on Claire’s. “You’re welcome to stay here until Luke arrives. I hope you will forgive me, but I need to retire.”
“Of course.” Claire stood and helped Hattie up. She walked with her to the door where they were met by Don, who took Hattie by the elbow and led her to her room.
Claire stood at the front door, unsure what to do. There was no point going into town, as getting cold-shouldered by everyone would only chip away at her sensibilities. Waiting in the car in this heat would be a death sentence. Maybe a walk around the property. That way she could stretch her legs and get some fresh air.
She headed toward the cane fields, a little wary about what creepy crawlies were lurking. Trying to shake off her city-girl paranoia, Claire found herself meandering along the narrow paths between the sugarcane that rose high above her head. There was something comforting in being surrounded by the cane, like it was protecting her, giving her a moment to break away from the world. She’d only ever experienced that on beaches, when the waves rolled onto the shore, the vast expanse of blue ocean and sky representing the possibilities of her future. Yet here, cocooned among the sugarcane with the sun dancing across her skin, Claire felt the same sense of calm. Control.
Oh.
That was it. Ever since taking this job with Nigel’s miniseries, Claire’s world had spun out of control. With the happenings in Ashton then Starlight Creek—things she could never have foreseen—her sense of control had been ripped away and, in its place, uncertainty had taken over, leaving her reeling. She’d always prided herself on dealing with anything thrown at her, but with so much in such a short time her confidence had wavered. Scarlet was right.
Claire followed a path that wound through the fields. The mountains in the distance kept her company, as did the birds that fluttered in and out of the sugarcane. It was easy to lose herself here, and the longer she stayed, the calmer she felt.
Arriving at the river, she sat under a tree and took off her shoes. When was the last time she’d sat quietly and let her mind rest? Since leaving school her life had been a whirlwind, jumping from one job to another, constantly putting out feelers and making new contacts, thinking months ahead so she’d have new work lined up. And in the little spare time she did have, she was researching ideas for documentaries that ended up being nixed by the powers that be. All she needed was one idea that people couldn’t resist—though that seemed as likely as enrolling in the NASA space program.
Claire leaned against the tree, enjoying the shade cast by the thick leaves. She closed her eyes, breathed in the fresh air and concentrated on every muscle relaxing.
“You wanted to see me?”
Her body jerked and Claire opened her eyes. She rubbed her hand on her mouth, getting rid of the tell-tale dribble. How long had she been asleep?
“Yes,” she croaked. Her body ached and her brain was fuzzy.
“What did you want?” Although Luke’s tone was even, the underlying annoyance was obvious. So much for not hating her.
“I was hoping you might come to the cinema with me,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
“No.”
“Luke, I regret everything that happened, and I wish things could be different. The last thing I wanted was damage t
o the cinema, and I would never, ever have wanted Hattie to become ill because of it.”
“The doctors said it could have happened at any time.” He sounded a little less terse.
“I still can’t help but feel responsible.” Her shoulders slumped. “Everything’s a mess.”
Luke’s expression softened but he didn’t move toward her.
“I’m really sorry about everything.” She stood and brushed down her jeans.
“Is that why you wanted to see me? To apologize?”
“Yes.” She now worried her goal was too lofty. “I was also hoping you might be able to help me with something.”
Luke shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet. “I think you’ve done enough.”
“I want to make it up to Hattie. To you.” She reached for his hand, but both remained firmly in his pockets. Claire stepped back. “I get this is going to take time, but will you at least give it a go?”
Luke looked away, like the reeds beside the river were more interesting than her. “I don’t know.”
“How many times do I have to apologize? How many times do I have to remind you it was an electrical fault?”
“The electrical fault happened because the cinema hadn’t been used in so long, and the wires couldn’t cope with the strain.” He shook his head. “It’s all impossible.”
“Nothing’s impossible if you fully believe in it.” She tilted her head to the side. “How are plans for the retreat coming along?”
“It’s not going to happen.”
“You’re chicken.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re chicken. You’re scared of your art retreat actually happening.” Wow. That came out of the blue.
“No, I’m not.”
“Oh yes, you are, because if it happens you’ll have to admit that it absolutely is possible to have it all. And I think that scares you. You’re afraid of being happy.”
“I’m more than happy, thank you very much!” Luke’s indignant tone echoed down the valley.
“Really? Because it doesn’t appear that way. I get that you don’t want to let your dad down, and I absolutely understand why you try to keep the art from him. That’s kind and considerate and I admire you for that. But when will you get to do what you want? When will you finally realize your dreams?”
Luke stared into the distance, his jaw set hard. He breathed in heavily through his nostrils then turned to face her, his gaze steely. “All you talk about are dreams, yet you’re doing nothing to see your own to fruition. You blame it on people not being on board, or not having the right subject, or the timing being wrong. When will you stop blaming everyone else and just make it happen?”
“I have tried!”
“You’re looking in the wrong places,” he said.
“I look everywhere! I read books, newspapers, talk to people from all backgrounds and experiences…. I’m constantly searching for the subject that will get my documentary career off the ground.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“What?” She threw her arms wide. “What don’t I get?”
“You’re not looking here.” He pointed at his heart.
“What has that got to do with anything?” Man, he was frustrating.
“You are thinking with your head. Once you find a topic that connects with your heart, it will show.”
Annoyance roiled through her, because he was right. Ugh.
“Or,” he continued, appearing quite pleased with himself, “you do it yourself.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Don’t you have contacts who would work with you?”
“It costs money. A lot of money. And yes, I have contacts, but it would be like pushing a ball of manure up the hill with a stick. Filming a documentary is just a small part. There are wages and distribution and other production costs and—”
“And?”
“And it’s way more complicated than you think.”
“Then un-complicate it,” he said.
“If I could, I would.” Her tone sounded just as cranky as Luke’s had a short time ago.
“To quote the words of one Miss Montgomery, ‘Nothing’s impossible if you fully believe in it.’”
“Yeah, well, maybe Miss Montgomery is full of shit.” She kicked a stone that skittered into the river. “I didn’t want to see you so we could argue.”
“You wanted help?”
“Yes,” she said, grateful they’d changed the subject. “I know the insurance is looking after the inside of the theater. And I know I can’t possibly make it up to Hattie, but I at least want to try.”
“How?”
“I’d like to renovate the outside. Give it a face-lift. The facade itself isn’t in bad shape, it’s just faded and needs some plastering here and there.”
“Who’s going to pay for this?”
“I’ll supply the materials and the labor.”
“You can’t do it all by yourself.”
“I could, though it would take forever. I do have another idea, but I need your help.”
Chapter Thirty
1952 – Hollywood
Lena was keen to leave the dressing room after a long day of filming. Her solo number had gone off without a hitch, and she hadn’t been distracted by Reeves—she hadn’t seen him all day. He was busy being fitted and going over his solos. Tomorrow, though, would be a different story, and Lena had no idea how she would deal with it. She liked to think she could be cool, calm and collected, but it would be a challenge. Her desire for Reeves raged constantly within.
She walked across the lot to her car, surprised by the warmth of the evening. Normally it was cooler this time of year, but the balmy temperature made her want to go home and take a nice, relaxing dip in the pool. A martini would make the perfect accompaniment.
Lena started the car and steered toward the gate that opened on Barney’s command. Turning up the music, Lena sang and let the wind rush through the open windows, her hair whipping about. She took the long way home, reveling in being just another person driving home from work. This act of normalcy always helped ground her. She’d never let herself become one of those demanding actresses. It wasn’t in her nature, yet some people managed to play the role of diva with ease.
Jeanne.
Lena had managed subtle updates from Reeves, even though no one had seen her for weeks. According to Reeves’s agent, Jeanne was improving, but there was still a long road to full recovery.
Guilt threatened to muscle in on Lena every time she thought about stepping into a role originally meant for Jeanne, but what could she do? It wasn’t like she had caused Jeanne’s downfall—she’d been working toward that on her own for years. Lena was just helping out the studio in their hour of need. Though, if she were entirely honest, that wasn’t what troubled her the most. Her flirtation and attraction to Reeves was what really concerned her, because if Jeanne ever found out…it could be her undoing.
Eager to get home, Lena turned off the main road and wended her way up the hill toward her house. This business with Reeves had to stop. As much as she wanted to be with him, it could damage Jeanne beyond measure, and Lena was not willing to be party to someone’s meltdown. Though why should she be responsible for Jeanne’s problems? After all, they started well before Jeanne and Lena had met. Regardless, Lena’s conscience entertained the guilt.
“Fool,” she chastised herself.
Lena arrived at the gates of her house and waited for them to open. She put her foot on the accelerator, then slammed on the brakes when a dark figure stepped out of the shadows.
She would recognize that incredibly attractive physique anywhere.
“And you say I drive like a race car driver,” Reeves said as he approached her.
“What are you doing here?”
“T
hat’s a nice greeting.” He grinned then his expression turned serious. ‘We need to talk.’
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I think there is.” He cocked his head toward her house. “Do you mind if we discuss this inside?”
She motioned for him to get in the car. His nearness drove her crazy, and she despised not feeling in control of her emotions. Or her body. It was almost impossible to concentrate on the narrow driveway. How on earth would she complete this film with her sanity intact?
Lena pulled up to the front door. She got out and climbed the steps, her shaking hands gripping the keys. It took a couple of tries to get her key in the lock, especially since she could feel Reeves directly behind her. It would be so easy to turn around and kiss him with fervor…but what if Reeves had different ideas? Enough! The only way to find out was to lay it all on the table. But right now talking was the last thing she wanted to do….
The door finally clicked open. She put her purse on the stand and removed her hat and gloves. Reeves placed his hat on the hook beside hers, and for a fleeting moment she wondered what it would be like if they did this every night.
No!
“Drink?” she asked as they walked to her living room.
“Sure.”
“Sit, please.” Her formality seemed odd, though she had no idea how to act around Reeves right now. They were in uncharted territory, but they had to figure out the map quickly, because time was not on their side. Lena set about preparing martinis, eyeballing the ingredients and shaking them like an expert.
“You’ve done this a few times before,” said Reeves.
“You calling me an alcoholic?” she joked. She suddenly stopped shaking the vessel. “Sorry, that was not entirely appropriate.”
“It’s okay. We’re allowed to make jokes, and I know you didn’t direct that at Jeanne. You’re not that kind of person.”
Lena quickly finished making the cocktails. She handed one to Reeves, who took a sip. “This is the best martini I’ve had in a long time. Where did you learn to make these?”
“I worked as a waitress in a cocktail bar, and the barman showed me.” Lena sat on the chair opposite Reeves. She sipped her drink, resisting the urge to down it in one gulp. Martinis hadn’t reminded her of Charlie in years, but now the memories hit her with full force. Had she deliberately forgotten?
The Cinema of Lost Dreams Page 29