I had to write you back a quick one. OMGoodness about you and Vivienne. Does your sister know? She will be as happy as I am. We’ve tried to be nice about it, but now that Vivienne’s history I can say that we really didn’t approve of her. She wasn’t the one for you! And it has nothing to do with your “genetically predisposed” nonsense. You don’t really believe that, do you? If you did, it would be such a copout…
A.
P.S. Thanks for nothing on the career counseling. How am I going to make money at what you say I’m good at—writing? Believe me, I’ll need a better plan than that when/if I tell dear ol’ Dad I don’t want to be an attorney.
Chapter Twelve
Ellie arrived back at her condo in the heat of the day. After their “discussion” in the office, she and Will surreptitiously left The Shepherd of the Hills at separate times in their separate vehicles, and rendezvoused at Red Lobster, where he ate a late lunch. It was not far away from The Shepherd of the Hills, and Will had to get back to work in an hour for meetings. The plan was that after the meetings he was going to talk to his boss about his relationship with Ellie. Later that evening he was going to come over to her place and let her know how everything went. So she had the afternoon to be nervous.
She’d all but forgotten about the dog till she saw it lying on her WELCOME mat. It lifted its head when she opened the garage door, and by the time she stepped out of the car, it was beside her feet. The nub that must have once been a tail was wagging.
“I should not pet you,” Ellie said as she stooped to rub the dog behind its large, pointed ears. It rolled its eyes as if in ecstasy. “I do not need to feed and water you, or you’ll end up trying to stay here, and I definitely cannot keep you.” She pressed the button to make the garage door go down and held open the door to the house. “But I know you must be thirsty.”
The dog followed her upstairs, toenails clicking on the hard wood as they had on the sidewalk. It was a friendly sound. Ellie dropped her keys in the glass bowl, then turned on the faucet in the kitchen and filled a ceramic chafing dish. She set it down beside the bar in front of the dog. It looked at the water, then back up at her, then back at the water, and started to drink. It drank every drop in the dish. “My goodness,” Ellie said and filled it again.
She got out the phone book that was in the drawer under her computer, making a quick check to affirm that the dog was a female. While the dog sat on the floor and watched her with head cocked to one side, she called the pound, the newspaper, the radio station, and every veterinarian’s office in town. No one had reported a missing animal that fit this description. She left her name and number at each place in case someone did. Finally giving up the idea that the dog was going home, she went to the fridge to find some food.
When the dog emptied a salad plate full of shaved, smoked turkey, Ellie decided it was time for a bath. Something about the idea of bathing a dog in her kitchen sink bothered her, so while she changed her clothes into an old T-shirt and shorts, she filled her bathtub with a couple inches of water. She remembered when she and Beecher, as kids, helped Katherine bathe their Golden Retriever, Sadie, outside in the yard with dishwashing liquid. Sadie used to have such a pretty, shiny coat, so Ellie decided to try dishwashing soap on this dog. But when she walked back into the kitchen to get the liquid, the dog was missing from the kitchen rug, where it had lain down after eating.
“Hey—where are you, girlfriend?” she called, making a quick run through the apartment.
There was a clicking noise as Ellie rounded the corner of the kitchen and saw the dog emerge, ears back, from the guest room. Through the open door she could see a big yellow stain on the zebra-print rug. “Aargh!”
The dog watched her apologetically as she scrubbed the rug. Ellie was so thankful she’d bought a can of Resolve when she stocked her cleaning supplies, knowing herself and her tendency to spill wine or coffee or whatever she was drinking—especially when she stayed up late watching movies or studying. “No need to take you out now, I suppose.”
She turned on the ceiling fan in the room to dry out the rug and put up the Resolve. Depositing dirty washcloths into the washer, she picked up the dog and hauled her into her bathroom. Bending over the Jacuzzi to make sure the water was warm, Ellie placed the dog in the water.
In the bathtub the dog looked more pitiful than ever before. The animal stood there, not fighting much, as Ellie lathered her in soapy water. Noticing scratches on the dog’s back legs, Ellie gently wiped them clean with a washcloth. Around the dog’s neck grooves were carved into the fur, and skin was exposed in a worn patch. Ellie wondered if the dog might have escaped from a collar or once worn a chain that was too tight.
She’d never seen this kind of dog. The animal didn’t look like a mixed breed. She had distinct features: a snuffed-up nose, a painted blaze of white down the middle of her face, and the white collar of fur that melted into a totally black body. The dog’s feet, two of which were white, were small and terrier-like—and the body too, size-wise, though she was stocky, like a bulldog.
The animal’s eyes were bright. Ellie was afraid to mess with the dog’s face but felt she had to wash underneath the eyes, where the fur seemed stained with brown tears. She lifted the washcloth gently to stroke there, and when she did, the dog licked her on the hand. Ellie’s heart warmed. “You can’t be licking me. I can’t make you my dog, because then someone will call, and you’ll go home, and I’ll be sad. Okay?”
The dog licked her again.
When the dog had been thoroughly rinsed, Ellie wrapped her in an Egyptian cotton towel and carried her to the couch, where she held the animal for a few moments while she shivered. Ellie planned to dry the dog off and then wash the towel, but as Ellie held her, she stopped shivering, snuggled down into the towel, and fell asleep. This was the situation Ellie was in when she saw her phone vibrating where she’d left it on the coffee table.
“Hello?” She did a full yoga stretch to get to the phone from the table without waking the dog.
“Who’s that snoring?” It was Will.
“You’ll have to see when you get here.”
“That sounds interesting.”
“It is.”
“Are you having a good afternoon?”
“I am—yes, I am.” The dog opened her eyes lazily to look up at Ellie, then closed them again. Ellie patted the animal’s head. “What about you? How are the meetings?”
“They’re going well. I’ll tell you about them later. I’m about to go into the last one, though, and my boss will be there. I’m going to pull him aside afterward to tell him about us.”
“Well, good luck.” Ellie wished she had more to offer than that. The thought of Will talking to his boss about them dating made her stomach churn, though. She had no idea what to expect.
“Ellie? I wanted to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“I want to ask you to pray for me and pray for my boss that he’ll give us his favor.”
It was a new concept for Ellie. “His favor?”
“Like in the Old Testament, when God granted His people favor before kings.”
“Okay. Sure I will.”
“Thanks. I’ll feel a lot better if I know we’re together in prayer on this.”
They said good-bye.
She felt stupid, sitting there on the couch holding a dog and addressing God, but Will had asked her and she’d said she would. So Ellie began. “Dear God, I don’t know how to pray like this, but if You’re listening, please help Will. And please help his boss to grant us favor—approve of us dating—or I don’t know what will happen. We might break up, or I might quit being Sammy, which, come to think of it, might not be so bad after all. But then, what else would I do?” She didn’t know how else to end a seemingly one-sided conversation, so she said “Amen.”
* * * * *
When Will came over later, he was greeted at the door by Dot, the name Ellie had come up with during the two hours she held the dog o
n the couch. It occurred to her as she studied the dog’s fur that there was a small spot on her white collar. A beauty mark, like Cindy Crawford’s, or Marilyn Monroe’s. A dot. Dot wagged her nub as though she knew Will was a friend and peed all over his boots.
“So this is the little snoozer!”
“That’s her first accident since her bath!” Ellie leaned over to help him remove the boots, but he lifted her face to his eye level.
“I’ll take care of those.” He kissed her gently on the lips. “You smell wonderful.”
“Well, I had to have a bath too after cleaning her up.”
“What is that? You always smell wonderful.” He nuzzled into her neck, taking a deep breath of her hair. “Scarlett smelled like you the other night after the play. On my way home I was driving while intoxicated.”
She punched him lightly. “You’re silly. It’s just lavender. Let’s get this cleaned up.”
Will took off his boots, and the threesome walked out onto Ellie’s stoop, where he turned on the faucet and rinsed the tops of his boots. “I’ll just leave these out here to dry.”
“Go on and do your business, if you have any more.” Ellie pointed to the patch of grass that was her side yard. Dot trotted off the porch, relieved herself a little more, then scampered back to them. Ellie patted her head. “Good girl.”
As they entered the house and climbed the stairs together, Ellie told Will about how Dot had followed her home that morning when she ran, and the subsequent details that ended in her becoming Ellie’s adopted pet. “I’ve made peace with the fact that it might be temporary.”
“Well, she’s sure cute. And Boston Terriers are great dogs. I really can’t imagine one being a stray, though.”
“Is that what she is? How did you know?”
“I used to have one growing up. Name was Buster. He was the best dog ever.”
“What happened to him?”
“He lived to the ripe old age of sixteen, and then he just died. Even my mom cried when it happened.”
Ellie squeezed his hand. “It’s weird that there’s so much I don’t know about you. Sometimes it feels like we’ve been together forever.” She crossed into the kitchen while Will took a seat at the bar. “Tell me about your talk with the boss while I get our salads.”
“It was a blessed time. I basically told him I’d become attracted to you soon after meeting you but had no idea we’d end up dating, yet that’s what’s happened.” Will took the glass of water she offered him. “I told him the relationship was becoming increasingly important to me, and I didn’t want to stop dating, but I also didn’t want to do it on the sly.”
“Wow.” Ellie’s pulse quickened as she sliced a tomato and drizzled olive oil and vinegar over baby greens.
“Honestly, Ellie, I think he was afraid I might be about to quit, because he said, ‘Well, Will, I don’t have a problem with it if you don’t. We’re all adults. It’s not like you were dating before you cast her for the part.’”
She placed a salad plate in front of him, where there was already a fork and linen napkin, and took her seat on the barstool beside him.
“I said, ‘That’s true, sir. And I hate it that it puts us all in a strange position, but I think the best course is to face it head on. We don’t have anything to be ashamed of. I simply need your blessing to continue as director.’ Then he shook my hand and said, ‘You’ve got that.’ And it was over. He was on to other things.”
“I. Am. Amazed.” The knot that had formed in Ellie’s stomach loosened. “Do you think prayer made that much of a difference?”
Will took a bite of his salad. “I know prayer changes things. Of course it doesn’t always mean things will turn out as well as they did today. We just have to trust God’s perfect will. But I sure am thankful His will was to make things easy on us today.”
“Me too.” Ellie chewed on Will’s words as she chewed a bite of tomato.
“I didn’t realize it before, but I think a lot of it was the timing today too.”
“What do you mean?”
“The other meetings I had were with all of the Branson bigwigs. They’re hosting some VIPs here on our opening night, and they wanted to hammer out all of the details and make sure I was ready with the best show possible.”
“No pressure!”
Will sniggered. “Nah.”
“Sometimes I forget this is Little League for you.”
“It’s not, really. I take the work seriously. But it’s more in perspective now than it once was for me.”
The oven timer went off, and Ellie hopped off her barstool and took out a pan of pesto lasagna, setting it on the counter to cool. “Tell me more about that transformation—I want to understand it.”
A cloud passed over Will’s brow, and he turned on his stool to touch her arm as she came back around the bar. “Ellie.”
Stopping to face him, she searched the depths of his green eyes. “Is it something you don’t want to talk about? I mean, it can wait. It’s just that I have all of these ambitions—have had for years. They’ve been a driving force for me. It’s hard for me to get my head around why you would throw all of that away and come to Branson.”
He laughed, but the sound held no life. His shoulders sagged.
She continued, “Don’t get me wrong—I’m glad you’re here. I’m even glad I’m here, which I thought I’d never say in a million years.”
Will straightened his back. “I need to talk to you. Need you to know. But I want it to be the right time for both of us—and maybe it is. Could we go over to the couch and talk, though? I want you to be sure you’re ready. It’s pretty heavy.”
Chapter Thirteen
Will and Ellie faced each other on her red leather couch. He took her hands, which were folded in her lap, and with the motion she felt his urgency, his intensity. It scared her a little. His eyes deepened into pools of darker green. They reminded her of Loch Ness in Scotland, where her family once vacationed. She and Beecher were young enough then to still believe in the legend of the monster, and one day they looked for it—afraid but also hoping to see it pop out of the waters while Opa drove their rented boat. She remembered Katherine saying Loch Ness was about seven miles deep. Was that possible? Yet now Ellie wondered, as she stared into Will’s eyes, if she would fall in and drown.
“Do you remember that day at The Olive Garden?” Will’s voice broke the silence that had settled like a weight between them. “I was kind of flippant when I made a toast to honesty.”
Ellie nodded that she remembered.
“Well, I should not have been so glib about it, because you were telling me about your dreams.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“But it is. There’s a quote by Yeats: ‘Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.’ I haven’t done that for you. That day I was a little offended at the thought you might want more out of your career than to be in The Shepherd of the Hills. That was stupid of me, and selfish, and I apologize.”
“So you’re not always God’s perfect Will.” Ellie attempted a pun to lighten the mood a little. “It’s okay. There’s no need to apologize.”
Will was serious again. “Ellie, what I’m getting at is that honesty is not something small to me. It’s everything. If we’re going to have anything real, I believe in full disclosure between us. Do you? Is that something that matters to you?”
She raised an eyebrow. “I’m the one who asked you about your past, remember?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to hate me—or at least not want to be with me.” Will breathed deeply. “But you keep asking, even though you don’t know what you’re asking. You need to know the truth before we get any more involved.” He released her hands.
Ellie longed to make this easier for him. To reach out and touch his cheek. Her life hadn’t been a fairy tale, either, and she didn’t delight in the thought of pouring it all out to him—especially the chapter on Seth Young. But everybody had a past. They weren’t all pretty, and that
was life. She wanted to tell him that whatever it was, it would be okay. But something in her held back. Could there be something—anything—that would make her not want to be with Will Howard?
He looked at her, then closed his eyes for a moment, as though straining to hear a half-forgotten voice. When he began, his words came out in a steady flow—barely above a whisper.
“As a kid growing up in Chicago, I didn’t have a whole lot. We lived in a blue-collar neighborhood, and it was a decent place, but because of a scholarship I went to a private school. I was the poorest kid there. I was in classes with children of senators, city leaders, doctors, university professors. I saw what all of the other kids had, and it made me jealous. I was ashamed to have friends from school over to my house. My parents were nobodies. I decided—really young—that when I grew up, I was going to be rich and, if possible, famous.”
Ellie could relate to the famous part, though for different reasons.
“I was lucky to get a scholarship to Columbia, and I worked full-time too. Then I got a fellowship for UCLA, and the internship with Spielberg. That was unbelievable. My dreams were within my grasp—the money and the fame. The life I thought I wanted.”
Will cleared his throat. “While I was working on the Pollock movie, I met a model named Lynette. It was a bad deal from the start. I hadn’t dated much—didn’t have time—but I fell hard for her. She fit the lifestyle and was pretty caught up with me too. We lived together—when I was in town—the whole year I worked on the movie and after it released and got so much attention.”
Ellie felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She winced as she remembered the girl in the pictures on the Internet, elegantly dressed, posing beside Will on the red carpet. Her insides burned, but she nodded for him to continue.
“The night of the Oscars, after I didn’t win, I didn’t feel like going out. We were invited to a lot of high-profile parties; I think Lynette was disappointed. She liked all of that—we both did back then. But she wouldn’t go without me.”
Love Finds You in Branson, Missouri Page 9