He noticed a small concession stand set up just a few feet from the car. Some men were roasting hot dogs over an open pit fire.
“Jesus, the only thing missing is Jimmy Stewart.” He drew his head back in and raised the window. “Go on, take me to the hotel.”
The limousine turned around and reentered Main Street. “You don’t see towns like this much anymore,” the driver said, casting a nervous glance into the rearview mirror.
They pulled up alongside a huge Victorian house that sat on a corner lot, its roof covered in drifts of snow. A white picket fence cut the large lot into a pretty, bite-sized piece. Next to the open gate was an etched wooden sign that read WELCOME TO OUR COUNTRY HAUS.
Julian stepped out of the car. His breath clouded in front of his face. Christ, it was cold. He sure hoped Teresa had packed him a coat. He pulled his Ray-Bans out of his shirt pocket and put them on. “Bring the bags in,” he said, already moving, his tennis shoes crunching through the hard crust of snow.
The door swung open before he even reached the porch. A gray-haired, heavyset woman in a floral dress and plaid apron stood in the doorway. “It is you! The girls and I didn’t dare hope. In a town like this …” She dissolved into giggles.
At mention of “the girls,” he pictured a herd of wildebeests, all dressed in flowered cotton. Even though he was tired, he flashed her The Smile. It never hurt to schmooze the fans. “Hello, darlin’.”
She clapped her hands together; a little cloud of flour wafted upward. “Darling—ooh eee. Wait till I tell Gertrude. I made you shortbread, just in case. I read in the Enquirer that it’s your favorite.”
“You’re an angel straight from heaven,” he said, though in truth, he couldn’t remember what in the hell shortbread was. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’ve had a long trip and I’m tired as hell. I’d sure appreciate it if you’d show me to my room.”
“Of course.” She scuttled around like a dung beetle and hopped up the narrow staircase. Julian could hear the driver, banging up behind them with his garment bag.
On the second floor, the woman waddled to the end of the hallway and opened a door, revealing a big, airy bedroom that exceeded the weight limit on ruffles. Laura Ashley on LSD couldn’t find use for that many ruffles.
“It’s the honeymoon suite,” she said, beaming. She offered her pudgy hand. “I’m Elizabeth, by the way, but you can call me Lizbet.”
“Liz … bet. What a charming name.” He poked his head into the room and frowned. “I’m sorry, Lizbet, but where’s my bathroom?”
“Down the hall. Third door on the left.”
He turned slowly to face her. “You’re saying I have to share a bathroom with other people?”
“Ordinarily that would be true, but ski season hasn’t started yet. You’re our only guest. So, really, it’s like a private bathroom.”
“Except that I need to pack a lunch to get to it.”
She puffed up. “Well, really—”
“I’m sorry. That was just a joke. The room is fine. Give my driver a room, too, would you? Preferably on another floor. Then I’ll buy up all the rest. I’d like to have the place to myself.”
“Of course.” She flushed prettily and bobbed her head. Backing away from him, she smiled until the last possible moment, when she turned and disappeared.
He sat down on the end of the bed. The springs squeaked and moaned beneath his weight. “Unpack my bags, will you?” he said to the driver, flopping back on the bed.
A minor emergency kept Liam in the office until almost five o’clock. By the time he closed up the building and headed for the hospital, it was completely dark. As he stepped out into the night, he heard the high-pitched, faraway sounds of children laughing. They were skating tonight.
He got into his car and drove through the deserted town. In the hospital, he went to the small corner office that he shared with Tom Granato, a general practitioner from Deming.
He knew the instant that Julian True arrived. A flurry of sounds came through the door, footsteps sped up, whispers turned up in volume. He waited for his intercom to buzz.
Instead, Sarah appeared at the door, opening it without even a knock. Her face was flushed a bright pink, and she was grinning. “Dr. Campbell, there’s a man here to see—”
“Julian True.”
She sucked in a surprised breath. “How did you know?”
“Magic.”
“He says he’s here to see Mikaela.”
“Send him in.”
Sarah bobbed a quick nod and disappeared.
And so it began. Liam tried to steady his nerves. He had taken such care with himself this morning. Put on his best black pants and the blue flannel shirt Mike had given him for Christmas last year, but now he saw the pointlessness in it all. The white coat he wore would deflect only the measliest blow.
The door opened.
Liam turned.
The man standing in the open doorway smiled—just that—and Liam felt ill. The photographs didn’t do Julian justice; no lens could capture the magnetic power of that face.
“I’m Julian True,” he said unnecessarily, and Liam could tell that he enjoyed acting as if there were people on this planet who didn’t know who he was.
Liam rose slowly to his feet. He pulled the glasses from his face—as if that would help—and tucked them in the pocket of his lab coat. “Hello, Julian. I’m glad you could come. I’m Liam Campbell. I wanted—”
“Can I see her now?”
Liam sighed. He didn’t know why he’d wanted to put it off; it wasn’t as if Julian was going to leave. Still, the thought of bringing them together made him feel sick. “Follow me.”
He led Julian down the hallway toward Mikaela’s room. Slowly he opened the door.
Julian pushed past him and went to the bed. He stared down at Mikaela for a long time. “What happened?”
“She fell off a horse and hit her head on a fence post.”
“How long has she been like this?”
“A little more than a month.”
Julian brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “Heya, Kayla. It’s Jules.” Then he looked up. “Can she hear me?”
Liam stared down at Mikaela. “That’s why you’re here.”
“What do I do?”
Liam felt like Grandpa Walton giving advice to Robert Redford about how to talk to a woman. “Just talk to her, Julian.” His voice fell to a whisper. “She sometimes responds to … memories … stories from the past.”
“And my name. She responded to my name, right?”
It took an incredible effort to answer. “Yes.”
Julian dragged a chair over to the bed and sat down. “Leave us alone for a while, will you, Doc? Heya, Kayla. It’s me. Jules.”
She didn’t respond.
Liam let out a shaky breath. He realized he’d been afraid she would simply wake up, just like that, when she heard Julian’s voice.
Julian took her hand in his. “Kayla, honey?”
Liam couldn’t stand the sight of Julian touching her, so he turned and walked out of the room. In the hall, he leaned back against the wall.
It wasn’t until almost a full minute had passed that he realized what he’d done … or hadn’t done.
He hadn’t told Julian that he was Mike’s husband.
Julian had never been any good at writing his own lines.
He thought about ringing the nurse to bring him something decent to sit on, and bagged the idea. He wasn’t a complete idiot; he knew he was just fishing for something to think about, something except the woman lying before him.
She looked beautiful, like a sleeping princess. He half expected her to sit up, smiling, and say, Hey, Jules, what took you so long?
At the imagined sound of her voice, the years fell away. Julian hadn’t thought about her in ages, but now, looking at her, he could recall clearly how it had felt to love her … and to be loved by her. Of all the women he’d known in his life, she alone had given him a safe
harbor, a place that felt like home.
He closed his eyes; memories floated to the surface. “Remember the beginning, Kay? The first time I kissed you, I thought I’d die. Not in the ‘I thought I’d die’ way of teenagers, but in a truly frightening way. My heart was beating so fast, I couldn’t breathe, and I thought, This is it, I’m going to die.
“You tasted like rainwater—did you know that?
“I fell so far in love with you it felt like I was drowning. Remember the first time we made love? We were out in some orchard, lying on a wool blanket. I had sent my assistant all the way to Yakima for a bottle of Dom Perignon. I wanted to be the first man to show you what starlight tasted like. I didn’t know I’d be your first lover, too.
“When you tasted the champagne, you laughed. You tucked your hands beneath your head and stared up at the sky and asked me to tell you about myself.
“I tried to tell you the prefab story that Val had invented, but you said, ‘The time we have is precious. I don’t want to end up knowing nothing about you except what’s in the Enquirer. I want to know that I touched you.’ ”
He tried to remember how they’d fallen out of love. It had been so deep, that well of their shared emotion, how had they drifted to the surface? Yet even as he wondered, he knew.
She’d wanted him to grow up. It sounded absurdly simple, but if he looked hard at the truth, that was the core of it. She had wanted him to make sacrifices for their family. But he’d been twenty-three years old. Barely ready to be a husband, completely unprepared to be a father. All he’d wanted was fun … and so he’d drawn back, taken the careless path he knew so well, the road lined with women whose names could never be remembered and parties that never died.
It felt as if a door had opened. Beyond it, he saw a glimpse into himself, past the golden boy, past the star, all the way back to the lonely boy he’d once been. In all the years between then and now, he’d never really loved anyone. This woman, Kayla, had been the closest. His love for her had been the best of him, and he’d turned his back on it.
He stared down at her face, studying the lovely half-moon curl of her black eyelashes, the pale puffiness of her lips. What could he say that would matter to this woman whom he knew so well and yet didn’t really know at all, this woman whose heart he’d broken with the ease of a child smashing an out-of-favor toy?
Tears seared his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t cried in years. Except when they paid him to, of course.
“You’d love this, Kay. Me, crying.” He leaned toward her, resting his chin on the cold silver bed rail. “Remember our first fight? It was at one of Val’s parties, after some screening. He told me he had a part for me—a little picture called Platoon. I said, ‘Who the hell cares about that war?’ and you hit me—right in front of everyone. You told me to quit being such a damned star and try acting.”
It had started there—the end that was all wrapped up in the beginning—and he’d been too selfish to notice. “You always asked so much of me, Kayla,” he said softly, shaking his head. “I never had that kind of talent … Why didn’t you realize that?”
He gazed down at her, noticing for the first time the plain gold band on the ring finger on her left hand.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “You’re married?”
Chapter Fifteen
Liam drove through Last Bend. The town glittered like a diamond tiara set on white velvet. Behind it, a background of jagged blue peaks leaned toward the starlit sky.
He parked in front of the Country Haus Bed and Breakfast. In a silence broken only by the hushed moan of the car’s heater, he took a minute to collect his thoughts.
The last thing in the world he wanted to do right now was talk to Julian True, but he had no choice. When he looked up again, Julian was standing beside the car. The idiot was wearing a black T-shirt and jeans. He had to be freezing.
Liam reached over and unlocked the door. Julian slid into the seat and leaned back. “Jesus H. Christ, it’s cold out there.” Smiling, he turned to Liam. “I’m glad you called. The thought of spending the evening in that bathroom-less room, watching one of three speckled television channels, was more than I could bear. What do you say we get a drink?”
Offhand, Liam could think of at least thirty-two hundred things he’d rather do. “Sure.” He started the car again and drove through town. Liam couldn’t think of anything to say and Julian didn’t bother to speak.
Liam parked in front of Lou’s Bowl-O-Rama and got out of the car. “Follow me.”
Lou’s Bowl-O-Rama was pre-dinner-hour quiet. No one was using any of the four bowling lanes. As always, the place smelled of burnt grease and cigarette smoke. The owner, Lou Padinsky, stood behind the counter, wiping it down with a soggy gray rag. When he saw Liam, he flashed a grin that made the cigarette in his mouth droop. Ashes fluttered to the countertop and were quickly wiped away.
“Howdy, Doc.”
Liam nodded. “Get us a couple o’ beers, willya, Lou?”
“Sure thing, Doc.” Lou slapped the rag across his shoulder and turned toward the beer taps.
Liam led Julian to a red Naugahyde settee at the back of the bowling alley.
As they sat down across from each other, Liam was glad they’d come here. First off, the lighting was poor, and God knew he didn’t need to see the younger man’s face in good light. Second, there wouldn’t be a bunch of look-e-loos wandering through the place and getting all hot and bothered about a genuine movie star in Last Bend. He hoped that Julian felt out of place in a joint like this, but truthfully, Liam figured that a man like Julian never felt out of place.
Liam knew it was childish, but he needed an edge, even one as feeble as poor lighting.
Liam stared at the younger man, remembering all the things he’d learned about him. The Internet was great for that sort of thing. He knew, for example, that Kayla True had “disappeared” one day. He’d learned, too, that Julian and Mike had been blessed in the beginning, a genuine Hollywood superstar couple, but something—some reports said drugs, some said other women, some said aliens—had tarnished their star. And that the four-times-married Julian True was one of the highest-paid actors in the world.
Lou waddled toward the table and set down two schooners. Beer sloshed over the glass rims.
Julian flashed the man a bright smile. “Thanks.”
Lou started to answer, then stopped. “Hey, you look like that guy …”
Julian’s smile was so bright, Liam wanted to reach for a pair of sunglasses. “Uh-huh.”
“Julian True. You hear that a lot?”
“All the time.”
Lou elbowed the actor. “Should help with the chicks, huh?” Then he turned to Liam. “And how’s that beautiful wife of yours?”
“She’s okay. Thanks, Lou.”
Lou nodded and headed back toward the lunch counter, humming Up against the wall, you rednecked mother, as he went.
Liam took a sip of beer.
Julian leaned back, sliding his arms across the top of the settee. Liam had the impression of a golden lion stretching in the sun. “I didn’t expect … her to be so …” He didn’t finish.
“She’s better than she was.”
“Jesus.” Julian’s eyes narrowed. He was looking at Liam for the first time.
“Earlier this week, she blinked.”
“A blink, that’s good, huh?”
“It’s better than nothing.”
“Well, it was awful damned good of you to call me. We sure as hell don’t have doctors like you at Cedars-Sinai—well, maybe Liz and Michael do, but not the rest of us.”
“I’m her husband.”
“You?”
Liam refused to let the tone upset him. “We’ve been married for ten years. I’m sure you noticed the wedding ring …”
Julian rolled his eyes. “Fuck me.”
Liam wouldn’t touch that line with a ten-foot pole.
Julian’s hand shot in the air. “Hey, Lou. Bring me a pack
of Marlboros, willya?”
Lou grinned and grabbed a pack. Hurrying over to the table, he dropped them in front of Julian, with a book of matches. “It’s nice to see a smoker in Last Bend. We’re dying out.”
“Nice imagery, Lou. Thanks.” Julian opened the pack, extracted a cigarette, and lit it up. Smoke swirled across his face, but through the cloud, Liam could see those blue eyes studying him. Julian reached for his beer and took a long drink, then set it back down between them. “You must really love her. To call me, I mean.”
“I do,” Liam said quietly.
Julian leaned back again. “This place reminds me of that dump of a diner where Kayla used to work.”
“Really?”
He smiled. “God, she was beautiful. And those good Christian folks in Sunville treated her like trash.”
“She said she never fit in.”
“Who the hell would want to? That town was a case of pinkeye on God’s eyeball. But it hurt her, you know. She was so scared of ending up like her mom. Kay would have done anything to belong somewhere.”
“You mean, like marry you?”
Julian didn’t smile this time. “Or you. I can see why she came to this town. She probably needed someone like you, after … me.”
Liam couldn’t stop the question; it burned on his tongue, left a bitter taste. “What happened between you two?”
Julian sighed. “You know how it is. We were in love … and then we weren’t. Hell, I was twenty-three years old. I didn’t know who I wanted to be, but I knew it wasn’t Mr. Cleaver.” He looked away, took another long drag on the cigarette, then exhaled. “I wouldn’t even try. When she left, she said she’d wait for me to come get her. Forever—that’s how long she said she’d wait.”
Liam wished he couldn’t see it so clearly. He sipped on his beer, studying Julian over the frosted rim. “What about your daughter? Why didn’t you ever contact her?”
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