by Laura Ward
“Where are the boys tonight?”
I looked over my shoulder and saw Reynolds sitting at the table. “Downstairs. They ate earlier and are having a movie night.” I squeezed my hands together, flexing and un-flexing them to get rid of that tingly sensation. I had become tolerant of some touch. The number of times he had squeezed my hand as we discussed a painful topic had steadily increased. I was improving.
I joined him at the table with my plate of food. “Wine? Do you like Chianti?” I avoided eye contact and concentrated on the label of the bottle.
“I do.” The rasp to his voice made my stomach flip. “Let me.” Reynolds took the bottle from my hand, once again causing us to touch. He smiled, but I couldn’t do the same. That small sliver of contact made me nervous. This was nothing more than an accidental touch between friends, but it was almost like I wanted it to be more. I needed to get a handle on myself.
We ate in silence. Except for the moans. The guy must have really liked Italian food. After each bite, he sighed or groaned and my heartbeat sped. His reaction was to the food, but hell if it didn’t sound intimate.
My mind raced. Intimate? What was wrong with me? Nothing is special here. This was a simple meal shared with a work colleague.
We need to start talking.
I cleared my throat and distracted myself with another sip, okay gulp, of wine. Open your damn mouth and speak, Liz! “How are you feeling after our trip to the agency?” Thank you, brain. That was better.
Reynolds put down his fork and leaned back in his seat. “Everything clicked for me yesterday. It all makes sense now, and I feel connected to this project. I sat down to write this morning, and it flowed. I didn’t stop for hours.”
“I’m so relieved. I wasn’t sure if you had been uncomfortable or maybe changed your mind?” I worried that he wouldn’t get the heart of Jack’s mission—that people with disabilities should be respected and loved, not locked away. If he was bothered by Abby’s flirtation, or thrown by Andy’s upper body strength, or just not moved by them…then the movie would never portray Jack’s passion fully.
Reynolds put a piece of garlic bread on his plate, shaking his head at my question. “No way. I want to help these people, and I want to spread Jack’s message. But I have to ask you about Elwood. I noticed a scar on his face. What happened?”
My stomach rolled at the memory and I inhaled deeply before I could begin. “Elwood’s story is horrifying, but not uncommon. He was attacked repeatedly by a night worker. The man would pick on him before bed, kicking him, punching him, whipping him with a belt. Elwood fought back, just once, and the man beat his face against the bathroom mirror until it broke. It wasn’t until his social worker came to visit three days later that Elwood got medical attention. So he has the scar. And to this day, if anyone raises their voice to him or if he feels uncomfortable in a situation, he touches that scar on his face.”
“Jesus. That’s awful. He seems like a harmless man.” Reynolds looked into his wine glass and sighed.
“Elwood’s story is tragic, like so many others, because he is both gentle and strong, sweet and capable. It took someone like Jack to meet him and believe in him. His life is completely different now. He’s more confident. He’s a dedicated worker and a loyal friend. He’s enjoying a fulfilling life.” I smiled, thinking of Elwood’s joy at being an independent, productive member of society.
Reynolds nodded, rubbing his lips as he thought. “As soon as I saw him and talked to him, I thought we should create a central character from his story in our movie. We would need to ask permission from everyone we would like to base stories on, but I think they would agree. What do you think?”
“I love it, and they will be thrilled to be included.” My voice rose in excitement. “The storyline will be captivating because it actually happened, and who wouldn’t love Elwood? He’ll be more famous than Jack!”
Tapping my foot on the floor, I felt adrenaline surge through me. “Do you think if this screenplay does become a movie, we could hire actors with disabilities to play these roles?”
Reynolds twirled pasta around his fork and stared at me. His eyes lit up and he dropped his fork. “Nothing could hammer home the message of this movie more than something as authentic as that.” He brought his fist to his mouth and I grinned. “What a brilliant idea.” Reynolds gave me a wide smile and then picked up his fork and continued to eat with purpose.
A lightness filled my chest. Swirling my wine in my glass, I watched him. He appeared genuinely relaxed and happy. The fact that I had helped make him feel that way brought me a serenity I hadn’t felt in a long while. “Good. Now I wanted to ask you something. You mentioned before how much you needed this opportunity. From what I’ve read, you don’t lack for parts in movies. Why is this so important to you? Why now?”
Reynolds wiped his mouth with a napkin and took a long drink of wine. “I’m sure you don’t have time to watch much entertainment news, but I was in a fairly long-term, for me anyway, relationship with an actress. Have you heard of Kylie Ford?”
I nodded and played with my napkin in my lap. Kylie Ford was one of the sexiest actresses in L.A. She was stick thin, with long, wavy brown hair. She had crystal-clear blue eyes and impossibly plump lips. I swallowed my wine in another large gulp. What must it be like to eat dinner with a plain Jane like me when he was used to dating someone like Kylie Ford?
“Kylie and I met on a movie set, fell for each other hard and fast, and bought a house together. We had a quick and very intense relationship. We even talked about getting married. I thought I loved her.” My stomach hardened.
Reynolds looked at me with a searching gaze, studying my reaction. I nodded again, encouraging him to open up. The past few days had been me talking non-stop. I was glad to hear more about him.
“Over a month ago, I found out Kylie was cheating on me with Quinn Rogers. Talk about a kick in the gut.” Reynolds toyed with the edge of his placemat. “She tried to play innocent. Right. Like I couldn’t see through her second-rate acting.”
Reynolds’ nostrils flared and a vein in his neck twitched. “When I wouldn’t forgive her, she told me I deserved it since I was old and stupid.” He clenched both his hands into fists on top of the table as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Kylie was the first woman I ever loved….or, I thought I did. It shocked me that she turned out to be such a two-timing bitch. I had to get the hell out of L.A. I needed direction and control of my life, so I went to visit my parents.”
I couldn’t stop myself from leaning over the table and grabbing his fisted hand.
“I’m so sorry. I know how much losing someone hurts. Heartbreak, of any kind, is devastating.” Seeing him betrayed by someone he cared about was terrible. I had never been cheated on, but I could only imagine the myriad of emotions involved.
Reynolds shot out of his chair. “Liz, don’t you dare compare my break up with Kylie to the pain you’ve experienced.” His voice was raised, and he began pacing the length of the kitchen.
“Pain is pain. We can’t compare or judge who feels worse. We all have harrowing moments in life, and we need to support each other through them.” Reynolds slowed his pace and leaned over the kitchen chair.
I sipped my wine before continuing. “How did you make the decision to write Jack’s story?”
“I stayed with my parents for about a month. Their advice has always been rock solid. I told them how pissed I had become with the insincerity of the Hollywood scene. They suggested that I take a break from acting and find a project that would renew my faith in humanity.” Reynolds used air quotes around his last words.
Reynolds paused and folded his hands together, still leaning over the kitchen chair. He watched me carefully, appearing unsure if he should go on. I smiled, waiting patiently for him to continue.
“My parents… Jesus, this is harder than I thought it would be.” He looked away and cleared his throat before continuing. “My parents had a daughter, named Joy, who was born with sev
ere disabilities back in the 1960’s. They institutionalized her right after she was born, and then she died there a short time later from abuse. My parents just told me this story.”
He looked up at me with torment in his eyes. “Liz, I…I never knew about her. They’re still devastated by the whole thing.”
Now I got it. I understood exactly what was driving Reynolds to complete this project. Reynolds never needed to work another day in his life if he so chose. He could hand select projects and only work with A-list celebrities in any other movie he wanted. But he had learned something that rocked him. Instead of choosing to do what many others would and push the feelings aside, Reynolds chose to embrace them and move forward in a new direction.
Death. Betrayal. Violence. We shared these experiences, in different ways, yet still very much the same. We were more alike than not, and now I knew why. Once you’ve been crushed by the fragility of life, you learned to fight for what matters.
I stood up, pushing my chair back behind me and walked over to him. “I’m sorry for your parents’ loss. People back then weren’t counseled about their options. They were often pressured into making a decision about their child when they were physically and emotionally exhausted.” I placed my hand on Reynolds’ back and felt the strain in his muscles. I wanted to say more to him. I wanted to tell him how I understood what he was dealing with beneath the surface, but I kept that to myself. It was too much.
Too soon.
And I was too afraid to open up to him like that.
Reynolds looked up at me, his mouth tilted up on one side. “So right away I knew I wanted to do a project that could possibly lessen my parents’ suffering and help keep Joy’s memory alive for them. The next day, I watched a news story that talked about Jack. It was probably a thirty-second blurb on the reason behind the shooting, but I was obsessed. I stayed up all night researching online.”
I offered Reynolds his glass of wine, and he sipped it, sitting back down in his chair.
“I researched some very basic history on institutionalization, and then I looked up Jack. I didn’t find much. You didn’t give any interviews…” He smiled at me with understanding, and I returned it gratefully.
“What I did find and read was how Jack was a beloved member of the disability community. The online messages, letters, and tributes moved me like I had never been moved by a story before. He was someone I truly wished I could have met. That’s when I got the idea for the movie. I knew others would wish they had gotten to know him, too.” Reynolds exhaled before finishing. “And while I know that this is so much bigger than me and my pathetic troubles, I wanted to learn more about someone like Jack. I’ve found success professionally, but I can’t find it personally. I’m not who I want to be, Liz, and reading about Jack…”
Reynolds paused and looked around the dimly lit kitchen. “Something about Jack makes me want to be a better man. I honestly don’t believe I could have become that man in L.A. I needed to leave all of that selfishness and deceit behind. I needed something authentic, and Jack’s story is about as real as they come.”
The thought had never occurred to me that my family could help Reynolds like the way he was helping us. All I focused on was how Jack’s legacy would be preserved. If Reynolds could heal and grow along the way, this experience would be even more important for all of us.
“Reynolds, I’m glad you found us. I’ve felt genuine enthusiasm for the first time in so long. Other than my kids, working on this project is my reason for getting up in the morning. I know it took heartbreak to get you here, and I’m truly sorry for that, but I’m happy you’re here.”
Reynolds smiled down at me and held my gaze. I should have looked away, but I was caught up in the emotion in his blue eyes. Finally, I turned to clear the table. Reynolds helped and then wrapped an arm around my shoulders at the sink. He pulled me to his side, and I stiffened nervously. Again.
“I’ll leave Baltimore with some serious pounds if you keep this up.” He winked at me as he rubbed his washboard abs and continued his embrace. “That was fu-freaking tasty. You cooked. I clean.”
“Ha!” I laughed at his swift recovery from the almost F-bomb and shrugged out from under his arm. Hand squeezes were one thing, but I wasn’t ready for anything else. Not wanting to hurt his feelings at what was a very innocent gesture, I decided to play it off. “Do you even know how to wash dishes? That pipe-looking thing over there is called a faucet, and this silver box here is called a dishwasher. I know your housekeepers turn it on. Do you even know how?”
“Psshhh, oh ye of little faith!” He whipped the kitchen towel at me as I jumped out of the way, giggling. I turned around to see Griff standing in the kitchen, holding Hayden’s hand. His face was contorted in anger.
“Uh, Mom, Hayden’s sleepy.” Hayden held out his arms to me, and I picked him up and cradled him to my chest. Griffin glared at Reynolds and then at me.
“Thanks, buddy. I’m going to take him to bed. Are you and Grayson okay?” Griff narrowed his eyes at Reynolds’ back and shrugged before heading back to the basement. My heart sank. He was really pissed off and that was the last thing in the world I wanted. Shit. Was it just Reynolds’ presence that threatened him or was it more?
Part of me knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was a widow, learning to cope with my new life and my grief. Griff had no idea because I hid my pain from everyone. The other part of me knew my son was right to be mad. Smiling or laughing with another man would never be okay again.
“Are you sure you’re okay cleaning up? I need to take Hayden up to bed.”
Griff slammed the basement door so hard the wall rattled, and I sighed.
“I’ve got this. No worries. Night, Hayden.” Reynolds rubbed Hayden’s back, and he lifted his sleepy head to smile at Reynolds.
“Night, night, Reyn.” Hayden’s head rested on my shoulder, and his tiny arms wrapped around my neck. I looked into Reynolds’ eyes and saw a flash of emotion. I rested my head on Hayden’s and carried him upstairs. Sadness washed over me as I remembered the comfortable nighttime routine Jack and I used to have with the boys.
We were lying in bed finishing his train story when I looked into the hallway and saw Reynolds, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Climbing out of bed, I knelt next to Hayden and sang him his goodnight lullaby in his ear. Then I kissed him and whispered, “I love you, Hayden. Past heaven.”
Shutting Hayden’s door, I stood in front of Reynolds. He stared down at me in the same rigid stance I had seen earlier. He unfolded his arms and leaned close to my ear.
“I came up here to say goodnight, but then I saw you with Hayden. I know this is hard for you, so I’m asking.” His voice was ragged and husky. “I need to hold you for a minute. Please?” I shivered and hesitated. My head said no and my legs wanted to back away, but my heart. My heart saw his heart. In that split second every fear, worry, and doubt dissipated. I nodded as I looked up at him. I didn’t know how I was able to give my permission, but I did. He needed me at that moment. I couldn’t tell him no. I couldn’t pull away.
He held me so hard against his chest I could feel the defined muscles under his shirt. I had the ridiculous compulsion to put my hands under his shirt and feel if they were actually as cut and hard as I imagined. Instead, I forced my arms to stay at my sides and balled up my fists. My pulse raced as I smelled his masculine scent. He released me for a moment, and then he grabbed my arms and pulled them around his back. I stood, awkwardly hugging him, not sure what to do. I rested my cheek on his chest and heard his strong heartbeat. We stayed that way in silence for a few minutes.
“You may not understand this…hell, I’m not sure I understand this. But I just needed to hold you.” His words were very innocent, but the look in his eyes made me dizzy and my knees buckle.
“What are you doing, Reynolds?” I whispered, still pressed to his chest. My stomach was rolling as my nerves increased.
“I don’t know,” he admit
ted. “I feel so much right now….I…..” He broke off and sounded as confused as I felt.
I looked up at his face, and I didn’t see the Hollywood superstar. I just saw him. I somehow managed to shake my head. “We need to focus on this screenplay. Finishing this screenplay is all we need to be thinking about.” I said we, but I meant him. We were both floundering in life. We were both trying to find a new path, a new way to live. This was not a time to cross any lines. I sure as hell wasn’t able to, and even if he thought he was, he’d be wrong. We needed to put all of the energy we had into the one thing that mattered right now—spreading Jack’s message and honoring Joy. Nothing else. It would be too much.
Too soon.
Too scary.
“Right.” He clenched his eyes shut and nodded. I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. Then he opened his eyes and drew his fingers down my cheek. “Right, focus.” Reynolds kissed the top of my head and pulled away. We walked downstairs, and he left with a reticent goodbye.
As soon as Griffin and Grayson were in bed I crawled under my covers and called Cindy.
“This better be good. Keith was starting to woo me.” Cindy laughed and Keith groaned in the background.
“Don’t answer your phone when you’re about to get some. Jeez, Cind. Keith will hate me forever,” I teased.
“He can wait a minute. I need to hear how he liked your chicken parm and if you got your flirt on?”
In my pause, I heard the sound of a sports show coming from Cindy’s bedroom. Poor Keith. “I didn’t flirt, but he did hug me.”
“What?” Cindy screeched, and the sound of the television became louder through the phone.
“He hugged me. He asked first, and I nodded yes.”
“How did it feel?” Cindy asked, her voice softer.
Closing my eyes, I remembered the feeling of Reynolds arms wrapped around me. “It’s hard to admit, but it felt good. I felt safe. But that’s ridiculous. It was a hug. It meant nothing.”