Carousel Nights (22 page)

“You heard,” she said.

Mel nodded. He ran his hand down the length of the wall and checked the electrical outlet near the eye-level light switch.

“What are you doing?” June asked.

“Just checking things.” It was baloney. He was stalling and avoiding eye contact. Avoiding the inevitability of June's departure. Something she had never lied about.

So why did it feel like a betrayal?

“I'm sorry I'll miss Ross's party,” June said quietly. “Both of them.”

“That's all right. He's used to having just me and his grandparents.”

He wanted to add that the boy's own mother had missed his last three birthdays. Ross had experience being chosen last by the women in his life. But never by his dad. Ross was Mel's first priority. Always. And that was why this summer whatever-it-was with June had to end. Now.

“I didn't have a choice on audition times,” June said. She followed him along the wall and stood too close.

Mel risked eye contact and saw tears glisten in her eyes, even in the dim light of the backstage area. He hated seeing June's tears. Wanted to kiss them away. But he was already in too deep. She was leaving. She'd have to dry her own tears in the big city and she might as well start now.

“Speaking of time,” he said, “Megan's waiting to find out if it's okay to run this show.”

“I don't care about the show right now,” June said, her voice trembling.

“Yes, you do. It's always about the show with you.”

June drew in a sharp breath and flushed. “That's rotten. You're being rotten.” Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. “I never promised you anything. I told you from the start—”

“I know. You're not staying past summer.” Mel flipped the light switch off and on. He looked at the overhead lights for no reason except to change his focus.

He stalked back to the electrical panel. Megan was no longer sitting on the chair, and he didn't care how much of their conversation she might have overheard.

“Would you listen to me?” June asked, following him.

“Why?” Mel said, turning to her, arms crossed over his chest. “So you can tell me how great the city is, how that's where you have to go to pursue your big dream?” He swallowed, anger making his chest tight. “I've heard all that before.”

The color drained from June's face. She stared at him for five seconds. Ten seconds.

He'd gone too far.

“Are you kidding me,” she said, her voice low like the rumbling of a distant train. “Are you actually comparing me to your ex-wife?”

He swallowed again. “That's not what I said.”

June advanced on him and put one finger on his chest. “It's what you meant. How dare you. How dare you make me feel guilty for doing something I've always said I would? Always wanted. I'm
not
your ex-wife walking out on you. Walking out on
our
son.” She took her finger off his chest and pointed it at him. “If you can't tell the difference, maybe it's a good thing I'm leaving.”

“I looked it up,” Mel blurted out. “The end of
Pippin
.”

June's expression turned from fury to confusion.

“You never finished telling me what the main character found out in the end. That he searched the world and discovered what he really wanted was right at home where he started.”

Mel waited for June to say something. He watched her swallow. Bite her lip.

“But I guess that's not everyone's idea of a happy ending,” Mel said, his voice flat with defeat.

He had been a fool for thinking it was.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

J
UNE
STOOD
ALONE
on the stage. The director of
White Christmas
waited in the first row of seats and June's agent sat several rows back, watching.

“Sing ‘Count Your Blessings,'” the director said. “And then we'll have you sing ‘Sisters' with the girls who got called back for the main part.”

The sound technician turned on the music and June counted, waiting out the introduction. It was a piece she knew by heart.

Last night, as she lay awake in the apartment she shared with Cassie, she thought about her blessings. She opened her eyes and watched the city lights dapple her bedroom ceiling. She closed her eyes and saw the lights of Starlight Point. Her sister's blond hair as she walked down the midway in the sunshine. Her brother's hopeful expression as he watched the front gates open. Even her mother with her dog sleeping in the wagon.

Starlight Point used to seem like a curse instead of a blessing, but this summer had reinvented June's opinion of her childhood home and family livelihood.

When she'd closed her eyes and counted her blessings last night, she also saw the faces of Ross and the other children as they danced with happy disregard for style and rules. Who knew teaching children to dance could be so much fun? She thought about Ross's birthday party that was probably going on right at that moment. She hoped they would dance. At least a conga line.

Most of all, when she counted her blessings she saw Mel's smile. His blue uniform. Disheveled hair. Eyes, hands, lips.

Long ago, a music coach had told her to think of someone she loved and sing to that person. Sing as if the song were only for that person's ears.

As June auditioned for the part of a lifetime, she smiled and let images of Mel roll through her mind like a film reel. He could be as angry and unreasonable as he wanted, but she knew why he'd reacted as he did when the reality of her leaving hit him.

He was in love with her. There was no other reason. It wasn't about his ex-wife. It wasn't even about this show. It was about love.

She poured all her love for Mel into her audition song, hoping for one of two things. It would burn clean through and leave nothing, or it would light her way.

When June finished singing and dancing to the satisfaction of the director and his staff, her agent signaled for her to meet him backstage.

“I think you'll get it,” he whispered. Harold Summit had been June's agent for three years and she'd never seen him so excited. “You should stay in New York, to be here when they deliver the news.”

“You can call me with the news,” she said. “Like I told you, I'm staying back home until rehearsals start, assuming I get the part.”

“If you get this lead, you may need to come back a week or two before the rest of the cast.”

June kissed her agent on the cheek. “Thank you for everything you've done for me.”

Harold frowned. “Plenty more to do,” he said.

June smiled. “I have no plans to slow down. Call me when you get an answer, and we'll talk about the future.”

* * *

M
EL
COULDN
'
T
BELIEVE
his son was six years old. He remembered the hot July day Ross was born and put into his arms for the first time.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Virginia asked. She handed him a lighter. “Or we could let your son play with fire. Kids love that, and it's his birthday.”

Mel grabbed the lighter. “I've got this.”

Augusta had delivered the large sheet cake just in time for the party and she stood by wearing a pink apron, ready to cut and serve. Jack, dressed in a business suit and Starlight Point name tag, leaned against one wall. Mel couldn't tell if his friend's eyes were on his relatively new wife or the cake. Either way, Ross would be happy Uncle Jack was there.

Mel leaned over his son and lit all six candles. “Make a wish,” he said. “But it can't be a puppy.”

Ross's shoulders fell and he frowned. “Kitten?”

Mel ruffled his son's hair. “How about something without fur?”

“A fish!”

“Now that,” Mel said, “is a wish that might come true.”

Mel remembered Ross's birthday wish two years ago. At a nice dinner at his grandparents' house, Ross wished aloud for his mother to come home. Mel swore he could hear his own heart breaking for his son. At least that hadn't happened again last year. The poor kid had given up false hope at a tender, young age.

A shadow blurred in the door and Mel glanced up. Of course he knew June wasn't coming to the party. She was probably wowing some director in New York City right now. Starlight Point wasn't enough for her.
He wasn't enough for her.

Maybe he should take a lesson from Ross about false hope. Especially after the way he'd left things with June.

Virginia led the group singing an off-key but enthusiastic “Happy Birthday.” Augusta and Jack joined in, and Evie slid through the door just in time for the final notes. She held a wrapped gift with a large red bow.

The Hamiltons were practically family and they were all there for his son's party. Except one.

“This is from June,” Evie said. She handed the gift to Mel. “I don't know if you want Ross to open it now or later.”

Mel took the package. Judging from the shape and size, it was a book of some kind.
Probably an atlas of all the places you can go that aren't here.

“She wanted to be here,” Evie said quietly, so only Mel could hear. There were at least a dozen kids helping Ross make a dent in the cake and ice cream. They wore party hats and kicked balloons around the floor as they dodged streamers hanging from the ceiling. Mel made a mental note to stop by later and help clean up. The day-care teachers already put in long days, and he preferred to stay on their good side.

He turned to Evie. “If she wanted to be here, she'd be here.”

“Not fair,” Evie said, shaking her head.

Mel shrugged.

Evie elbowed him. “I remember my sixth birthday. You and Jack threw water balloons at my girlfriends and wrecked my princess party.”

Mel grinned. “You were just mad that I got your new cash register wet.”

“Best birthday present I ever got. The drawer rang every time you opened it.”

“You still have it, don't you?” Mel asked.

Evie laughed. “It still rings.”

Virginia stuck around to play with the kids, but Jack, Augusta and Evie left. Mel tucked June's gift under his arm and debated if and when to have Ross open it.

He watched Ross play board games with the other kids, helped supervise a conga line down the long hallway and back, and was ready to call it quits on the party. He needed to get back to work for a few hours. He had plans to take Ross for his favorite drive-through food in their new pickup truck on the way home. Ketchup was going to get on the seat sooner or later anyway.

“Is that present for me?” Ross asked as he reached up to straighten his party hat. He pointed at the gift tucked under Mel's arm.

No choice now.

“It is.” Mel decided to test the waters. “It's from June.”

“Cool,” Ross said. “I wish she could've come to my party. I kept hoping.” He held out his hands. “Can I open it even if she's not here?”

Mel handed his son the gift and waited while he carefully peeled the bow and tape off the paper.

“Is it a book?” Mel asked.

Ross nodded and studied the unwrapped present. “I get it,” he said. “It's a book to teach you how to play the piano.” He handed the book to his dad. Mel flipped it open.

Ross sighed. “It would be more fun if she taught me. But the book is nice, too. I can mail her a thank-you card.”

This is exactly what I was afraid of when I let us both get too close to a shooting star.
“Look,” Mel said, holding the page open so his son could see it. He wanted the sad look on Ross's face to disappear. “It's ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.'”

“I already know that one,” Ross said, a small smile returning. “I can skip right to song number two.”

“You'll be terrific.” Mel closed the book. “I'll pick you up in a few hours and we'll get those chicken fingers you like.”

Ross headed for the games and treats and Mel looked at the book in his hands. What did June mean by getting his son a piano workbook? If she didn't plan to stick around and teach Ross, it was a lousy substitute.

* * *

“S
EE
WHAT
I
MEAN
?”
one of the summer workers said, pointing at the marquee of the Midway Theater. From above, the black-topped marquee was a solid mass of white bird poop. “It doesn't look very nice and people always point and giggle. It's gross.”

June was on the platform of the cable cars, where guests boarded for a trip above the skyline of Starlight Point.

Her phone rang and she answered it. “I got your message. What do you mean you need a day to think about it?” June's agent practically yelled into the phone.

June sighed and held up one finger, indicating to the summer employee that she needed a moment. She walked to the edge of the platform. “I mean I need a day, Harold,” she said into her phone. “I just got back last night and haven't even unpacked.”

“Why did you fly all the way here for callbacks if you weren't darn sure you wanted it? I heard you sing at the audition. Saw you dance. It was like you were inspired. It sure seemed to me like you wanted that part like you wanted your next breath.”

“I did. Do. It's complicated,” June said. “I'll call you tomorrow. I promise.”

She clicked off and turned back to the problem at hand. Birds were crapping on her marquee and it seemed to be her problem to solve.
She was a long way from Broadway
.

June laughed. She was never going to change the birds' minds, but there was always another way.
I wonder if the painters have time to paint the top of the marquee bird-poop white?

* * *

S
OMETHING
WASN
'
T
RIGHT
. Jack had called at half past seven and asked Mel to meet him and Evie at their office. Jack said he wanted Mel's help getting to the bottom of a box of doughnuts, but Mel didn't believe it for a minute. His best friend never voluntarily shared doughnuts.

He heard Jack and Evie arguing as he took the steps two at a time.

“She's being a fool,” Evie said.

“So? It's her life.”

Mel stepped into Jack's office. “Your wife divorcing you already, Jack?” Mel asked.

Jack glared at him.

Evie swished her lips to one side and narrowed her eyes.

“You look just like your mother when you do that,” Mel said.

“Why did we call him?” Evie asked, looking at her brother.

“You're the one who wanted to. I wanted to mind my own business.”

Mel dreaded asking what was going on, but a cool breeze down the back of his neck told him it was about June. And him.

Evie faced him, arms crossed. “June's planning to call her agent this morning and turn down the part she's wanted for a long time.”

“She got the part she went back for?” Mel asked.

“You didn't know that?”

“No. I haven't talked to June in almost four days.”

“See?” Jack asked. “Mel had nothing to do with it.”

Evie rolled her eyes.

“I tried talking to her, but she says her mind's made up. For some reason,” Evie said, turning her stare on Mel, “June is suddenly giving up a dream part on Broadway and planning to stay home permanently.”

June was giving up Broadway and staying home? Mel felt like someone hooked a vacuum hose to his chest and sucked out all the air.

“She hogs the bathroom counter with all her junk,” Evie continued, her lips curving into a small smile. “Who could blame me for wanting her to go back to New York?” She sat behind her desk. “Plus it's her lifelong dream, blah, blah, blah.”

Mel didn't move. Jack and Evie had called him here to tell him he had a chance with June. But that chance meant she was giving up the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Did she already make the call?” he asked.

Evie glanced at the clock. “Her agent isn't in the office until eight. June's backstage at the Midway Theater fussing with something before the shows get started.”

The clock read 7:55.