by Julia Day
My eyes widened in surprise. Not just that she’d admitted this, but that Micah had defended me. “I’m … grateful. I love being part of the show.”
“I don’t know what went on between the two of you, but I can see how much you’ve wounded him. Be careful.”
* * *
At intermission—also known as snack time—the cast went to the campers’ lounge and tore into the feast provided by parents. I didn’t feel like company, so I headed for the staff lounge. The door to the business office was slightly ajar, and the lights were out. I peeked inside.
Micah was bent over the desk, braced on his fists, chin tucked to his chest, eyes closed.
A force too intense to resist drew me into the room. “Hi.”
He shuddered and opened his eyes. “What?” Softly. No anger.
This was awful timing, but I needed to explain. Or thank him. Or … something. “Can we talk?”
“About the show?”
“About us.”
“There is no us.”
“Yes, there is. Just a different us.” I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Micah—”
“Don’t touch me,” he ground out. “Now, please go.”
I hesitated, hating what I was about to suggest, but knowing it had to be said. “I’ll quit. Elena will be able to find someone else to be the house manager for the shows.”
“Right, Brooke. Quit when it gets tough. Of course, Elena needs the hassle of finding someone else at this late date.” He shrank away, clutching his binder. “And forget about Natalie. The stress won’t get to her anymore. She doesn’t need you either.” He pushed through the door as he switched on his headset. “Hey, guys, I want everyone back in ten…”
* * *
“Jill,” Natalie said as my mother was pulling away from the arts center, “I guess you knew that Brooke and Micah were dating.”
“Yes, I did.” Mom glanced at me and mouthed: Were?
I gave a curt nod and put on my shades so that Mom couldn’t see my shiny eyes. Not a topic I could speak about right now.
“Why were you willing to be part of the conspiracy?”
“It wasn’t a conspiracy, Natalie. It was Brooke’s business, and I didn’t have the right to violate her confidence.”
“So if I tell you something, you won’t violate mine?”
“You can count on me to keep your secrets”—Mom’s gaze met Natalie’s in the rearview mirror—“unless I think your safety is compromised.”
“You sound like an adult.”
“Why, thank you.”
They smiled at each other. The conversation turned to plans for the rest of the weekend. I rested my head against the window and tuned everything out.
* * *
After dinner, Mom announced, “Brooke and I will clear the table tonight.”
Natalie took off for the backyard. Jeff shot us a concerned glance before heading out the door.
Mom didn’t make a move to clear the table. Instead, she gestured for me to follow her. We went out to the veranda, to rock on the glider. My go-to place as a kid when I was upset. I curled next to Mom and laid my head on her shoulder.
She smoothed my hair. “This has devastated you.”
Sniff. “Yeah.”
“Will you tell me what happened?”
I paused long enough to figure out whether my vocal cords could last through the answer. “Natalie didn’t like us dating, and I didn’t like being the person who’d broken her trust.”
“Did she ask you to dump him? Because that wouldn’t sit right with me.”
“She didn’t. It was completely my decision.”
“How did he take it?”
“Badly.” I’d sent away someone who adored me, someone I adored back. It was the best choice, and the worst thing I’d ever done. “He doesn’t think we should cater to her.”
“That’s none of his business.”
“I know.” Which didn’t make it easier. He was just as gone.
“He’s right, though. We do cater to her, and it’s not healthy for her or us.”
Of course it wasn’t, but that didn’t change the reality. “I knew she would fall apart when she found out, and I went after him anyway.”
“Oh, honey.” Mom slipped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to her side. “If you wanted him for the right reasons, then it wasn’t wrong.”
“What are the right reasons?”
“That he’s such a great guy; you couldn’t resist his brilliance. That however rough the path ahead might be, what you could be together made it worth trying.”
The truth of her words deepened the ache in my heart. I had to close my eyes against the pain.
“You never felt this way about Jonas. He was practice. Micah is…”
“Everything.”
We rocked silently. The wind whirled around us in gusts, whipping at my hair. Rain had hardly begun to plop on the roof when there was a boom and a torrent.
“Brooke, don’t beat yourself up because you went after something glorious.”
“I knew that Micah would get hurt.”
“Did he know that you were worried about Natalie?”
“Yes.”
“Micah’s a big boy. He could’ve said no.” She kissed my brow. “I’m glad you’re trying to think things through. To care about how you’ve affected others. But this outcome isn’t all on you. A lot of people made a lot of choices. You own your share, and let Micah and Natalie own theirs.”
Hearing his name had become more than I could take. I slipped from her arms and stood. “I’m scared this might mess with Natalie so much that she’ll screw things up in a performance—or even quit.”
“She won’t, Brooke. She loves that show. She won’t sacrifice it because she’s mad at you.”
“She could be so upset that she can’t control—”
“If we would teach her better coping skills instead of heading off every possible problem that comes along, we might believe that she can control her reaction.” Mom rose, too. “It made sense to be lax when she first came. It doesn’t make sense anymore.”
“We can’t strengthen the rules yet.”
“Maybe not, but we have to start sometime.”
“What does Jeff think?”
“He’d spoil her rotten for the rest of her life, if he could. He says it’s too soon to toughen things.”
“I agree with Jeff.”
“Traitor.” Her smile was strained. “After the show, we have to sit down as a family and work this out. Natalie has the right to learn how to navigate the bad parts of life.”
31
The Not Knowing
I brought a paperback mystery with me on Monday and hid in the back row of the auditorium, out of range of the booth. As the story drew me in, the rehearsal retreated into the background.
Midmorning, during a break, someone appeared at my side. I read to the end of the paragraph and looked up.
It was Lisa. “I need you to pick up the playbills.”
She’d warned me about being abrupt, so I’d known it going into this job, but it had gotten worse since Saturday. “I don’t have a car.”
“Ask Micah for his keys.”
I drank in his name like I was parched. “Okay.”
“No. Wait. Bad idea.” She glanced at her watch, shook her head, and said, “Go on. I told her that someone would be there soon, and I don’t have the time to come up with a different plan.”
He was in the booth with his back to the door, talking to the light and sound designers. They froze when they saw me.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Yes?” The word was clipped.
“I need the keys to your car.”
He stared for several seconds, filling the booth with an uncomfortable silence. After digging the keys from his pocket, he lobbed them onto a nearby table.
Reaction rippled through the room—from his team and me. The possibility of touching me disgusted him that much?
A fresh wa
ve of grief—barely restrained since Friday—overwhelmed me. Ducking my head, I took three steps to the table, snatched the keys, and darted from the room without making eye contact again.
* * *
After I got the box of playbills, I left them in Micah’s car and walked around the downtown shopping district, looking in windows, greeting people I knew. I stopped at the jewelry store and looked in. Della was with a customer, but she gave me a tiny nod of acknowledgment. I nodded back.
It was lunchtime before I got back to the arts center. After parking the car in the Daltons’ favorite spot, I walked inside, took the box to the office, and went into the staff lounge. Lisa was there with some other members of the production team, but no stage manager.
I went to the booth. He was the only one there. “Micah?”
He didn’t look up. “What?”
“The keys.”
“You can leave them on the table.”
I set them down and hesitated, unable to make my legs move. I’d never been this hurt with Jonas. Instead, I’d been relieved.
“Go, Brooke.”
I stared at the top of his head, willing him to look at me. Why couldn’t I leave him alone? I’d broken up with him. I was the one who’d ended things. Why was I the one who couldn’t let go, who couldn’t resist even the smallest sight of him? “Do you want me to avoid you?”
It took him a long time to answer. “No.”
“I will, if that’s what you need.”
“I said no.” His head lifted slightly, but he didn’t meet my gaze. “Now, please. Go.”
* * *
After dinner, my stepfather handed me a second check, this time for seventy-five dollars, the correct amount this week. I thanked him, ran upstairs, and got out the scrapbook. Flipping to the back, I updated the balance.
5870
5795
Progress was gradual, but at least it was going in the right direction.
There was a sharp rap, rap, rap at the door. That was strange. I slid the scrapbook behind the pillows and said, “Come in.”
Jeff stood on the threshold. “You’ve been working on my website.”
He sounded mild enough, but his arms were crossed. “Yes, sir.”
“I was clear about which changes you were allowed to make. A video was not on the list.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise.”
“It was—and not a good one.”
“So what’s wrong with it?”
His eyes narrowed at the defensiveness in my tone. “For starters, the voiceover is amateurish.”
Maybe I wasn’t professional voice talent, but amateurish was an exaggeration. “I’ll take it down.”
“No need to. I already have. But that’s not the worst problem with the video. You also used images I didn’t authorize.”
Deep breath. Remain politely calm. “I added a couple of extras. Why does that matter?”
“I’m planning to bid on one of those sites. I didn’t want that to be known, and now it’s out there.”
Ohmigod. The shot that didn’t have an after photo. It had been such a beautiful piece of land, I couldn’t resist including it. I looked at him, panic twisting my stomach into knots. How bad was it? “What will happen?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was growing louder. “Why couldn’t you just stick to the agreement, Brooke?”
My cheeks heated. “I thought I was doing a good thing.”
“You weren’t.” He dropped his head back and sucked in some tense breaths. “When did you upload the clip?”
“Saturday morning.”
He swore. “Did you load it anywhere else? YouTube?”
“No, sir.” The word came out hoarse. “Micah might have it on his Mac.”
“Micah?” Jeff’s gaze snapped to mine. “Why would he have it?”
“He came over to help.”
“Where were your mother and I?”
“In Lillington with Natalie.”
“You had a boy in this room while we were gone?”
“You make it sound like—”
“So you did. We have rules, Brooke.”
“I know, but—”
“What precisely were you doing?”
This conversation was already humiliating me, and Jeff’s implication shot it into the sickening zone. “None of your business. You’re not…” I bit off the sentence, but it was too late. You’re not my father shimmered in the air between us.
Jeff jerked as if slapped. “I see. Thank you for the clarification.”
My throat clogged with tears. I hadn’t meant that. It was the humiliation talking. But those horrible words were out there. I wanted to be so much more to him. Instead, I’d pushed him away and put that excruciating look in his eyes. How did I fix this?
“Jeff.” My mom stood in the doorway. Her voice was quiet and soothing. “This discussion needs to end.”
“She said…” He shuddered, then started over. “She said that the boy was alone with her when we weren’t home. Without our permission.”
“I heard. Natalie heard. It’s possible the whole neighborhood heard.”
He clamped his lips and faced her. They stared at each other in silent communication before he gave a sharp nod and edged past her. Heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs.
“Brooke.” Mom came into my room and shut the door. “May I stay?”
At my nod, she wiggled onto the end of the bed and crossed her legs, settling in for whatever I needed next. She had the look on her face that always stole my breath, the expression that whispered I love you unconditionally no matter what you say.
Her silence encouraged me to search through my mind, choosing only the best thoughts. I tossed the noise and the doubts into the corners and concentrated on the elusive truth, even if it hurt to look. “I’ve been trying too hard.”
“Why do you try too hard?”
“To make a difference.”
“Honey, you make a difference every time you walk in a room. It’s as effortless as your smile.” She reached for my hands. “Close your eyes.”
I did, squeezing them tight.
“Whenever I ask a question, tell me the first thing that comes into your head. No filtering. Just gut reaction. Okay?”
Nodding, I focused on her voice and the gentleness of her hands.
“What do you want?”
“I want what Natalie has.” Wait. Where had those words come from?
“What does Natalie have?”
“Micah.”
“What else?”
“A dad.” My eyes blinked open. Had I really spoken those disloyal words out loud? To my mother?
She didn’t look upset. More like … happy? “You could have one if you asked.”
“Jeff doesn’t act interested.”
“He’s trying to respect your wishes. You just told him he’s not your father.”
“I don’t know why I said that. I adore Jeff.”
“Well, honey, I couldn’t tell. I’m sure he couldn’t either, because if he did, Jeff would be all in.”
“How was I supposed to know?” I tugged my hands away from hers and pressed them to my burning face. “He’s affectionate with you and Natalie. He avoids contact with me like I’m contagious.”
“Of course he does. Jeff spent half of his life steeped in regulations, rules, and protocol. You are a minor. No honorable man would touch you unless you invited him. You haven’t given him any indication that you’d welcome his affection.”
“It would be welcome.” Completely, desperately welcome. “How do I let him know?”
“Decide what you’re comfortable with, and then be honest with him.”
Could it really be as simple as saying I’m ready for more than fist-bumps? “I just tell him what I want?”
“Yes. That’s all you have to do. He’s been in a daddy-daughter relationship for fifteen years. You’ve never been in one. If you ask, he’ll meet you halfway.” She leaned closer and kissed my forehead. T
hen she slipped from the bed and out the door, shutting it behind her.
I put the scrapbook away and stood, too restless to sit any longer. But what should I do? Jeff had been hurt by my comments, and I felt the same way about his. Yet, if my mother was right, on the other side of the misunderstanding lay a better relationship. We could be two apologies away from something that I’d dreamed of for as long as I’d known what a daddy was. It was tempting to run out to his workshop and ask now.
But I wouldn’t. I should wait until we both calmed down. If the conversation went the way I hoped, I’d want the memory to be lovely—with the hard feelings kept at a distance.
* * *
My thoughts had continued to race all evening, so I’d come out to the hammock a few minutes ago, to rock and watch the fireflies, hoping the distraction would help. And it had. I’d nearly made up my mind to go back inside when the workshop door squeaked open. Jeff’s heavy footsteps shushed through the grass toward me. I clutched my hands against my waist and stared at the night sky. Had the time come?
“Brooke, I’m here to apologize for getting angry with you.”
I nodded and said around the thickness in my throat, “I’m sorry about the photo.”
He took a deep breath. “I’ve been negligent about telling you what a great job you’re doing for my business. But no more surprises, please.”
“Okay.”
“I also want to apologize for implying that you’ve done anything inappropriate. I trust you.” His voice throbbed with hurt. “But I thought your safety was my business. Is that how you feel about me? That I’m not—”
“No, Jeff. No.” I pushed out of the hammock. Here was our chance to make things right. The moment demanded honesty. Respect. Courage. “You’ve been my stepfather for nine months, and I still don’t get how we should act around each other. We’re so careful and formal. Is it because I’ll be gone in another year? Is a relationship not worth the trouble?”
He was already shaking his head. “You’re worth the trouble to me, Brooke. I’ll be your stepdad forever. Just tell me how.”
I hadn’t realized what a huge burden the not knowing had been, because now it had eased and I could breathe freely. And since blurting out my thoughts unfiltered was working for me, I’d keep it going. “I wish we were closer.”
He smiled, a big, happy smile. “It’s what I want, too, but you’ll have to be patient with me. I’m kind of inexperienced with this stepfather gig.”