Ashley rested her shoulder against the pew so she was facing him. For a few seconds she watched the rehearsal, but she shook her head. “No. No kids in the play.” She smiled at him, making sure to keep her voice low. “I paint sets for CKT.”
He was finding his way back to stable ground, gaining his composure. “Katy tells me you’re very talented.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “World-renowned famous artist.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” She laughed and looked at him a little longer. “My work does well locally and in New York.”
“And definitely here.”
They whispered for a few more minutes, agreeing that the orphanage scenes were coming together beautifully.
He couldn’t tell from her tone whether she suspected who he really was or not. He figured not, since most people wouldn’t play along with his false identity.
Once he’d taken a flight home from London and sat in coach, just so he could blend in better. A woman in front of him turned around to ask him for the in-flight media guide, and she stopped midsentence. “Did anyone ever tell you that you look just like Dayne Matthews?”
He’d given her a polite smile and handed her the magazine. “Thanks.” He nodded. “I get that a lot.”
“But . . . well . . .” The woman looked awkward, twisted all the way around in her seat. “You’re not him, right?”
“Right.” He laughed and pointed toward first class. “If I were Dayne Matthews, wouldn’t I be sitting up there?”
The trick had worked, but only sort of. At the end of the eight-hour flight, the woman was still casting strange looks at him. By the time they got off the plane, she was whispering to the woman next to her, and it was clear that neither of them believed he was anyone other than the Hollywood actor.
But here, with Ashley, he didn’t sense that. She seemed content to think he was David Marshall, Katy’s friend, come to watch a rehearsal.
“I love watching Katy work.” Ashley faced forward, but she leaned close enough for him to hear her. “She’s brilliant with these kids.”
“She is.” He could barely focus on what Ashley was saying. The whole time he kept wanting to stand up and shout the truth: You’re my sister, Ashley. Come here and hug me.
But he couldn’t, not now or ever. As long as the paparazzi were intent on taking bites out of his private life, chewing them up and spitting them out for all the world to see, he could never involve the Baxters in his life. But who would’ve ever thought he’d have this chance—a time to sit beside his sister and talk to her? And what if his parents had been able to keep him? This beautiful young woman would’ve been one of his closest friends, someone he’d have a lifetime of memories with.
She stood and shook his hand again. “Good to meet you. Any friend of Katy’s is a friend of everyone here.” She smiled at him. “I’m glad you could be here.”
Around the room the kids were moving away from the stage for a break and scattering into the audience. Dayne couldn’t remember anything she’d just said. He blinked.
“My committee’s meeting.” Ashley motioned to the front of the room. “We have to figure out how to make a grand staircase fit into an orphanage.” Her laughter was familiar, and Dayne figured out why. It sounded vaguely like his own. Ashley waved to him as she headed down the aisle. “Nice talking to you.”
“You too.” He sat back, dazed, and watched her walk away. How was he going to return to Hollywood and leave everything he’d found here in Bloomington in only one day?
Katy pulled away from the group and came up another aisle. In a move that was discreet but clearly planned, she skittered along the back of the church and approached him. She didn’t look too worried about whether anyone would see her talking to him. “I think you’re right. The disguise works.” She took the place where Ashley had been sitting. “Anyone figure it out yet?”
“No.” He looked to the left side of the church. Ashley was sitting with a group of women, using her hands to describe something to them. He looked back at Katy, and he stopped himself from reaching for her hand. “I met Ashley.”
“I saw that.” Her eyes danced, telling him that she was still thinking about their day together, just like he was. “What’d you tell her?”
“I said I was David Marshall. One of your friends.”
Katy laughed. “I don’t know, Dayne. Ashley’s a pretty smart girl.”
He heard something in Katy’s tone and lowered his chin, catching her at eye level. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I told her about last summer.” Katy tilted her head. “I think you’re right, though. She doesn’t look like she figured out who you are.”
“Yeah, she would’ve said something.” He let himself get lost in Katy’s eyes for a minute. “You’re great with the kids.”
“Really?” Her expression lit up.
“I can’t wait to see it opening night.”
With that, reality colored her eyes, and her face fell a little. “You’ll be back home. You know that.”
“Maybe not.” He reached out and brushed her fingers with his. “Maybe I’ll go into hiding and stay for the next few months. One way or another I’ll be here opening night. I promise.”
Katy drew a long breath, and in it Dayne thought he could read her thoughts. How great it would be if he really could run away and hide out in Bloomington. Even until the show opened. But she said nothing. Instead she stood and smiled at him. “I’m glad you came today.”
“Me too.”
“I have to get back to the kids, and when we’re done I have a meeting.”
He wasn’t willing to let her go that easily. His eyes searched hers and kept her from leaving. “What about tomorrow?”
“Rehearsal ten to two.” She frowned.
“Okay, so how about I meet you at your house? You jog, right?”
“Sometimes.” She giggled. “I tell myself I’m supposed to.”
“Let’s take a jog before practice. You pick the distance.”
She hesitated, and her look told him how impossible it was for her to resist him. She took a few steps back and gave him the slightest nod. “Call me.”
“I will.” He sat back and felt the victory. One more day. Fate would give them one more day to live outside the scrutiny of the ravenous press.
The rehearsal went on, but Dayne couldn’t leave. Even if Katy wasn’t able to talk to him again for the rest of the night, he would stay. Watching her was like watching a movie he couldn’t pull himself away from. She stayed in his mind and made him wonder how he was ever going to get along without her.
When he did look away, his eyes would find Ashley Baxter Blake. He was glancing at her when the members of her committee bowed their heads in what looked like a group prayer. Dayne felt the slightest irritation. His adoptive parents and Elizabeth Baxter and Katy Hart. Now his birth sister Ashley. Had all of them found some sort of direction in following Jesus Christ? And what about Kabbalah? Why were none of them interested in reaching the upper world?
Dayne let the thought pass.
As Ashley stood and separated from the group, she smiled at him. Then she made her way around the pews and over to him. “Hey.” She clutched a bag in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. “Rehearsal’s almost over, and Katy’s staying for another hour. I don’t live far from here . . . would you mind giving me a ride?”
Panic danced around him again. Could he give his sister a ride home without begging her for the chance to come inside and meet her husband, her family? He felt the ache welling inside him, but he had no choice. None at all. He grinned at her. “Sure.” He looked at his watch. “I was just leaving.”
He rose and cast one last look at Katy. She was working with a group of kids, talking to them, nodding, and shifting her attention from one to another. He walked out without her noticing him.
As he and Ashley left the church, she talked about the direction they’d decided for the sets. “The stairs work.” She kept up with him as they crossed the p
arking lot. “We’ll keep them onstage, and they’ll give us a way to showcase the orphans during their songs.
“Right.” He opened the car door for her and noticed something he hadn’t before. His hands were shaking. Come on, Matthews; pull out your acting skills. She can’t figure it out. “Sounds great,” he said as he got in the car.
They were halfway to her house, with her giving him directions, when Ashley stopped talking about sets and asked, “Where are you from, anyway?”
He hadn’t expected the question. It took him a few heartbeats to recover. “Out of town.” Yeah, that was it. “Indianapolis.”
“So—” she studied him—“how’d you meet Katy?”
“Well . . .” He laughed, but he was buying time. “It’s a long story.”
Ashley looked straight ahead and motioned to the next street. “Turn left here.”
He did as she asked. If he was going to survive the conversation, he had to take the lead. “How long have you lived here? in Bloomington?”
“All my life.” She let her head fall back against the headrest. “I spent a little time in Paris, but otherwise, I’ve been right here.”
“Are you married?” Dayne knew that she was. The private investigator had found out that much—he had five siblings, and the last of them to marry was Ashley. Her wedding took place the previous summer, just before his visit to Bloomington.
“I am.” She angled herself so she could see him better. “We have a little boy, Cole. He’s the love of our lives.”
The ache grew. “You’re lucky.” He refused the emotions that surged in his heart. “Family is important.”
She was quiet for a minute, telling him to take another left and then a right. When they finally pulled up in front of her modest house, she seemed in no hurry to get out. She folded her hands in her lap and sized him up. “Dayne . . . I know who you are.”
He wasn’t sure what to do next. Should he pretend he hadn’t heard her? tell her he had places to go and that he couldn’t talk? Looking at her was like seeing a part of himself in the mirror. She looked like Luke, and Luke looked like him. But he hadn’t thought it would be so obvious to her.
Maybe John Baxter had told all the kids the truth—that they had an older brother and that he might come looking for them someday. Or maybe she’d spotted him last year at the hospital, after all. Maybe Elizabeth had told them about meeting him. In that moment the last thing on his mind was the fact that he was a Hollywood movie star. He was Ashley Baxter Blake’s brother, and she knew it just the same as he did.
In that case . . . in that case he was about to become part of the Baxter family whether it was the smart thing or not. He shook his head, his eyes wide, unblinking. “What . . . what do you mean?”
She smiled and patted his hand. “I know you’re Dayne Matthews.”
Just like that the moment changed. He realized he’d been holding his breath, and now he exhaled, consumed by relief and regret in equal amounts. She was waiting for him to say something, so he chuckled and gave her a slight nod. “Katy told you, didn’t she?”
“She told me about last summer.” Ashley watched him. “When I saw you back there, I knew. I read the papers. I know you’re supposed to be in town next week.”
“So . . .” He lifted his hands and let them drop again. Who cared if she knew he was Dayne Matthews? He had thought she meant the other part, the fact that he was her brother. If she didn’t know that . . . then, well, maybe she never would. He grinned, but he felt empty, defeated. “Thanks for not saying anything back there.”
“No problem.” Ashley hesitated. “I guess things will be different for you next week when the filming begins.”
“A lot different.” Inside, a part of him screamed to tell her the truth. I’m your brother, Ashley. We have the same parents! But he squashed his feelings and smiled. “That’s why tonight was so special.”
“I won’t say anything.” She smiled at him again, opened the car door, and climbed out. She ducked to look through the window. “Thanks for the ride, Dayne. It was nice meeting you.”
“Nice meeting you too . . .” His last words were still dying on his lips as she turned and walked up the sidewalk and through the front door of the house where she and her husband lived with the little boy they loved. Cole, right? Wasn’t that his name? The boy would be his nephew, a child Dayne would never meet, never know.
His eyes blurred. The film crew would arrive in Bloomington on Monday, and after that he wouldn’t have another moment like this, another chance to sit beside his sister and tell her the truth about who he was. If he couldn’t do it now, if he wouldn’t do it now, then he never would. He had promised himself he’d do everything in his power to keep the Baxters out of the limelight, but now . . . letting Ashley walk inside without telling her . . . it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
He looked at her house as he pulled away. He couldn’t help but think of something sad, something that made the ache inside him worse than ever. The time he’d just shared with his sister might be the only time he’d ever share with her. As long as they both lived.
In fact, it was possible he’d never see her again.
And that was the saddest thing of all.
Rain was in the forecast again, but the morning was clear and cool. John Baxter had picked up Elaine Denning at six o’clock this morning for a second trip to the farmers’ market. He had enjoyed the squash and tomatoes, for sure. But he still had some left. If he was honest with himself, his reason for agreeing to go this time was less about the vegetables than it was about spending time with a friend. And Elaine was turning into an important friend with every passing day.
They’d talked on the phone several times this week, working past the formalities and shallow conversations to a place of talking about their children and their loneliness. “Sometimes,” Elaine had told him last night, “I can’t believe God took my husband from me. I almost want to be mad at Him.”
“I know.” John had closed his eyes, not wanting to admit the truth about the matter. “My kids all think I’m strong, that I’m a rock living here by myself, able to carry on in every area that once belonged to Elizabeth. But most of the time I feel like lying down and never getting up, as if when God took her, He cut my legs out from under me.”
Conversations like that one had worked a closeness between them. John had enough alone time to examine his feelings, and what he felt for Elaine was nothing more than companionship. Elaine was his friend. Neither of them was looking for love to replace what they’d had with their spouse. He could live the rest of his days looking, and he’d never find what he had shared with Elizabeth.
Still, the kids were grown and busy with their families. Having a friend was a good thing, and today he felt fresh and alive as he walked beside Elaine down the aisles of the market. Even so, something bothered him. Over and over, Elaine had commented on his honesty, how rare it was to find a man of his integrity. And each time she said that, he wanted to tell her she was wrong.
He was hiding the fact that he had six children. Hiding it from his family and his coworkers and now from her. The more time that passed, the more John thought about it, and today he was determined. It was time to tell someone, and Elaine was the closest friend he had outside of his relationships with his kids.
They bought coffee and a few baskets of blueberries and sat at a picnic table a little ways from the chaos of the market. John breathed in the morning air and smiled at her. “I still need my squash and tomatoes.”
“You do.” She picked at the blueberries and popped a few in her mouth. Then she waggled her finger at him. “They’re good for you. Everyone should come here Saturday morning.”
Something about her comment made him sad. It was what Elizabeth would’ve said. Fresh fruit, vegetables—they were the stuff she always tried to feed him and the kids as they were raising their family. It had only been in the past year that he’d gotten away from buying fresh foods. Frozen dinners and fast f
ood were easier than cooking for himself.
He took a sip of his coffee and smiled at her. “I felt healthier this past week than I have in months.”
“Good.” She took a few more berries and chewed them slowly. “I’m glad the week’s over. I couldn’t stand another sad story about CKT in the papers.”
“It was hard. Ashley went to the funeral. She said it was a celebration, but still it was one of the hardest days she’s had.” He leaned on the picnic table and watched a family passing by. The four children tugged on their parents, running ahead and skipping with glee over the prospect of being out at the marketplace. He narrowed his eyes, and for a moment the family was his, he and Elizabeth and their five kids. . . .
Only he didn’t have five kids, did he?
“Elaine—” he switched his attention to her—“I have to tell you something. Something I’ve wanted to say for a few days now.”
Her expression changed. “If it’s about this . . . about being with me, then I understand.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you to feel funny about coming out with me like this or—”
“Elaine.” He leaned closer, hoping that his eyes were as tender as his voice. “I’m enjoying my time with you. That’s not what I want to talk about.”
“Oh.” She laughed, and her cheeks grew a shade redder. “I just . . . well, I don’t want you to feel awkward.”
“I need friends. You do too.” He sat up straighter. “Nothing awkward about that.”
“Okay, good.” She stirred her coffee. “What did you want to talk about?”
He exhaled, amazed at himself. All those years and he and Elizabeth never told anyone, not even Pastor Mark. But now, he wanted someone to know. He wanted Elaine to hear the story. He couldn’t have her thinking that he was a man of integrity, telling the truth all the time, if he couldn’t be straight about this. But there was more to it than that. He wanted her opinion, her feedback. Because Elizabeth’s letters still sat on the top shelf of his closet, and he still wondered about what to tell the kids.