Can't Let You Go (7 page)

I had no career, no direction, no love life, and now my beloved Valiant was going to be destroyed.

And I was out of peanut butter.

I loved the Valiant for a million reasons, but if I lost it, that was the end of my job plans.

I clutched my pillow to my chest and sat up as someone knocked at my door.

“Go away.”

Maxine bravely walked in. “How much longer is this pitiful display going to last?”

I reached for the remote and upped the volume. “I’ve only just started. I haven’t even moved on to the sleep days on end and cry uncontrollably portion yet.”

She plopped herself on my bed. “Let me know when that is. I’ll want to snap photos for my blog.”

“What are you all dressed up for?”

Maxine wore black cropped pants, shiny red flats, and a sweater that accentuated the curves she still had at whatever mysterious age she was. “It’s First Friday Festival. The whole town is going. You should join us.”

“Give me one reason I should.”

“Food trailers.”

If anything could tempt me, that would be it. On the first Friday of the month, the town gathered on the square. They showed a movie on a giant screen, food vendors sold all varieties of gourmet and deep-fried delights, and a local band sang deep into the night.

“You guys have a good time.”

Maxine sighed heavy enough for me to smell the spearmint of her gum. “Katie, this is ridiculous and totally unlike you. Quit your moping and get out of this room.”

“My life is crap.”

“Your hair is crap.”

I touched my frizzy strands.

“Look, I know things are bad. And we should’ve told you about the Valiant, but you had your London issues, and then we didn’t know how wackadoodle you’d be when you woke up from getting brained by the luggage.”

“How can that company just tear down parts of this town like it means nothing?”

“There’s another town hall meeting Tuesday night. Maybe the mayor will see reason. Thrifty offered everyone a payout, but nobody’s taking it. You know James isn’t going to go down without a fight.” She gave me a loud, smacky kiss on my cheek. “Now get up and go with us.”

“Another time.” After all, I was back in town to stay.

“Fine. Have it your way.” She leapt from the bed and all but skipped out. “Oh, I almost forgot.” Maxine pulled the door halfway closed. “That handsome Charlie fellow is downstairs.”

What? “Tell him I’m not here.”

“He’ll be up in five minutes. Fix that hair. Oh, and one more teensy, tiny thing.”

I jumped up from my bed, scrambling for a bra. “What?”

“That New York director called the house. Said your friend gave him the number.”

“He called here? Did he leave a message?”

“Um, sorta.”

I looked under my bed, my hands patting around for anything that felt small and padded. “What does that mean?”

“I talked to him myself. I might’ve told him you were interested in the audition.”

My hands stilled. “Why would you do that?”

“Because you need to get back on the horse. So you fell off. So what?”

“Because the horse kicked me between the eyeballs. I’m not getting back on.”

“Well, you have an audition next Thursday at two. I can drive you myself.”

“You haven’t been behind the wheel since you took out a chicken truck nearly a decade ago. And you sure aren’t driving across country. I’m not going to any audition.”

“You’re clearly angry and irrational right now. I’ll just leave you to your grouchiness before this turns ugly and you’re sobbing for my forgiveness.”

Maxine got one look at my menacing face and backed herself out of my bedroom.

I took the world’s fastest shower, fueled by anger and some twisted desire for Charlie not to see me at my absolute worst. But what did it matter?

My hair wrapped in a towel, I stepped out of the bathroom, and just as promised, there was Charlie. He sat on my bed like he had a right to be there, a right to my throne of self-pity.

There was something toe-curling about the way his eyes slowly traveled the length of me, from the tops of my bare feet to my face.

“I’ve called you for three days,” he finally said.

“Sometimes concussions make you forget things like voicemail.”

“What about texts? You ignoring those too?”

“I’ve been very busy.” I pulled the pink fuzzy towel from my head and let my hair fall in waves across my shoulders. My hair was naturally strawberry blonde, and Ian had preferred my stylist to highlight out any traces of red. The day after our breakup, I’d shown up for the performance with hair as fiery red as my temper. The color had calmed down some, but apparently I had not.

I leaned against the bathroom doorway, sort of regretting my lack of thought to my clothing choice. The gray tank top and running shorts had been within quick reach, and surely it was better than the pizza-stained t-shirt that said, “
Get out of my spotlight
.”

“So this is your room.” Charlie walked to my desk and looked at some of the framed black and white photos hanging on the wall. Pictures of me in various productions, snapshots of family vacations, a few of me and my best friend Frances acting silly and wild before the adult cares of bills, bad relationships, and taking wrong turns in the roadmap of life.

He moved on to inspect my bulletin board of old play bills. “Your parents would never let me up here in high school.”

“The life of a preacher’s kid. Plus James probably knew you couldn’t be trusted.”

His white teeth flashed with his quick grin. “He would’ve been right about that.”

“I’m surprised they let you up even now.”

“I think they’re desperate.” Charlie smiled over his shoulder. “Said you were in a pretty bad way.”

I resumed my seat on the bed, curling my legs beneath me. “What are you doing here, Charlie?”

He crossed the room and stood before me, his storm cloud eyes searching mine. “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.”

“You need to get out of this house.”

“I will.”

“Preferably before dry rot sets in.”

“I’m not molding in here. I’m eating and bathing.” Mostly eating.

“Come out with me tonight.”

“That’s a really bad idea.”

He lifted an empty jar of Skippy from the floor. “And this lockdown’s a good one?”

“Maybe I just need some thinking time.”

“It’s a nice evening. Stars will be out soon.”

“So will the humidity and mosquitoes.”

Charlie’s hand traced the edge of the bandage on my forehead. “Right now you’re running from more things than you’re running toward.” He leaned close, so close I could feel his breath brush my cheek. His lips hovered near my ear. “Meet me downstairs in five minutes.”

“I don’t want to,” I whispered.

“Go out with me tonight, Katie Parker.”

I expected to see that flash of heat and mischief in his eyes. And, oh, it was there. But so was something else.

Just like the day we met in the airport, there was something faintly lurking in his gaze. Something troubled, heavy.

Like I wasn’t the only one swimming in the depths.

“Charlie?”

“Yes?”

“You’re gonna buy me a funnel cake.”

*

The town square
was a Hallmark movie come to life. As the sun slipped away, the good folks of In Between came out, happy to be done with the work week and ready for a little celebrating. In the very center of downtown was a grassy park, decorated with various botanical and floral landscaping courtesy of the In Between Garden Club. Food trailers and vendors circled the area like modern day wagons, and to the east was a flatbed trailer brought in once a month that served as a stage for the featured band. Tonight it was Denny Vinson and the Doo-Wops, a group of middle-aged men who wore black leather jackets and slicked-back hair and sang songs from the Fifties.

As I walked down the sidewalk next to Charlie, I said hello to a dozen people I knew. While we exchanged greetings, I moved on before they asked the questions I knew they wanted to know. Like how long was I in town? How was London? What play was I in now?

“All right, Parker,” Charlie said, a blanket under his arm. “Let’s see if we can put a smile on that face.” He stopped at a trailer painted like the American flag and got us two cheeseburger meals and drinks.

“I wanted dessert first.”

He stuck a French fry in my mouth. “Later. Come on.” Charlie’s hand reached for mine, and he led me to an empty spot at the edge of the lawn. “Best seat in the house. Within earshot of the band, but far away from the crowd.” He smoothed the blanket over the ground and gestured for me to sit.

“Do you always keep a blanket in your car?”

He handed me a burger. “Just one of the tools in my arsenal of charm.”

“I think I’m all through with charm.”

“Now that is too bad. I was just about to turn mine on.” He took a drink of his iced tea. “This Ian guy really did a number on you, didn’t he?”

I dug in my brown paper bag, knowing at the bottom were hand cut, homemade fries. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“I’m a good listener.”

“You didn’t used to be.”

He propped up a knee and rested his arm on it. “People change.”

I smiled. “So you’re saying you’re more sensitive now.”

“I’m ready to watch Lifetime movies and discuss our feelings any time.”

I laughed for the first time in days. “And why this change? What’s your life been like the last few years?”

He dipped a fry in ketchup. “Now it’s mostly work. It’s pretty much all I do.”

“Just like your dad.” His father had been the bank president for years, not even stopping when, like Millie, he’d had a bout with cancer.

“
Nothing
like my father.” The warmth left Charlie’s tone, and he looked out into the swarm of people. “And I recall being your crying shoulder a time or two.”

“Your dad’s a good man. He’s helped this community a lot.”

His dark head slowly nodded. “He was never home when I was growing up. At the end of the day, work was more important. Getting ahead. Money. Those were the things that really mattered.”

“I think the older we get, the more we’ll see traces of our parents in us.” And wasn’t that just a frightening thought.

“James and Millie are amazing people,” Charlie said. Had I noticed how close he was sitting? His leg touched mine on the blanket; his skin heated against mine. “It can’t be a bad thing to hear yourself sound like them.”

“I mean my bio-mom. Lately when I look in the mirror. . . I see her.”

“She’s a part of you, a big part of your history.”

“I don’t want to be like her.”

“You’re not.”

“Oh, yeah? My mom had horrible judgment in friends, boyfriends, bosses, drug dealers. When I saw Ian for who he really was, I realized I was no better at picking a good man than she was.”

“Maybe he was just really good at being someone else.”

“But how do you know?” I pushed my food aside. “How do you really know if someone is honest, genuine, the person they project to the world?”

Charlie’s serious eyes held mine. “It’s a chance you take.”

“It’s not worth it.”

“Isn’t it?”

“How could I not know he was a loser? That he was lying to me?”

“He was cheating on you?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “There was definitely another woman. And then when I broke it off, he put me on two weeks paid leave. He gave my understudy the role.” I swiped at a rogue tear. “They were right. The things they had said about me, had whispered behind my back. They were right all along.”

Charlie reached out and brushed another tear from my cheek. “Who?”

“Some of the cast. All along there had been murmurings that I only had the role because I was dating Ian. That I wasn’t talented enough or experienced nearly enough to get the lead.” My voice quivered. “How could I have been so stupid?”

“Katie, you’re crazy talented. I’m sure you had the role because—”

“Because I was snogging the director?”

Charlie stilled. “Are pants worn in this snogging?”

“All those people were right. I don’t have the talent for London or Broadway.”

His hand ran up my arm, gently rubbing, as if trying to ease the dark right out of me. “That’s what all of this is about, isn’t it? You’re back because you think your acting career was a lie?”

“It was.”

“Your jerk boyfriend was a lie, but your gift on the stage is something you can’t just throw away. Katie, I don’t even like plays. I like baseball, football, soccer. Guy stuff where people win or lose, get hurt, yell at the ref. But when you’re in a play, I can’t look away. You’re. . .amazing.”

His words spun around me, pulling me in like a trance. I wanted to believe him. But what did I know? My truth-meter was so broken these days.

“You can’t give up on your dream. Or the Valiant.”

“Both seem pretty hopeless.”

“It’s not like you to just pack it up and walk away. The Katie Parker I know is a fiery force to be reckoned with. She’d never just quit.”

“The things they said about me.” I shut my eyes against the memory, their whispered voices so fresh in my mind. “And then Ian took me out of the play. He just confirmed what they said.”