Incidental Happenstance (42 page)

            “Well, I’ll let you get to it. I’ve got a lot to do myself. It’s my first day in.”

            “I know that,” she said with a wink. “I’ve been lookin’ for you every day for the past week. You’re usually in sooner than this.”

            “I just got home yesterday,” she confessed, “and I have to admit, after the summer I had, I’m having a hard time getting my head on straight.”

            “I can believe that,” she replied, “but I know you, and you’ll be back on your game by the time those little ones come traipsin’ through the door.”

            Tia left her to her work and went to continue her own. Throughout the day, just about everyone stopped in to hear about her summer in Europe and her new love. One thing about Lilly, she knew how to dish the gossip. Tia enjoyed telling the story over and over, and no one seemed to suspect that she was holding anything back. She shared the picture of Dylan, which she’d tacked to her own bulletin board, with everyone who came in, and they were all thrilled for her. She wanted to put up one of her pictures of Dylan without the disguise as well; everyone would know she’d ‘met’ him from Lilly’s. She worried though that someone might see the resemblance if she had them too close together, so she tucked one in her desk drawer, where she could see it any time she wanted.

 She did get some work done, but not nearly as much as she’d hoped to before meeting her parents for a late lunch. They were thrilled to see each other, of course, but she felt guilty sharing her edited photo album with them, the one that contained only pictures of Dylan in disguise. It was even more depressing that she couldn’t share the majority of her experiences, including Dylan singing her song,
Worlds Collide
, her singing on stage at Wembley, and even smaller events like their hot air balloon ride over Stockholm.

            She ran into her front door exactly at 3:00. When the phone rang, she answered it before it finished its first ring.

            “Oh Dylan, it’s so good to hear your voice!” she said softly.

            “How are you, my beautiful girl?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

            “I’m better now, that I’m talking to you,” she said, and added, “I miss you something awful.”

            “Me too,” he whispered. “I can’t believe it was just yesterday that I saw you. It feels like months already.”

            “I was back at work today,” she said. “Talk about a mood breaker. I couldn’t get my mind focused on anything—part of me still thinks I’m in Europe.”

            “I sure wish you were,” he replied.

            They chatted easily for the next hour and they both tried to keep the conversation light and cheerful. They’d gotten matching calendars in Florence and were crossing off the days together, counting down to their reunion. Dylan teased that he’d get to cross off two once he got home—they were nearly a full day ahead there. When it was time to say goodbye Tia felt the emptiness settle in on her, but somehow she managed not to cry until after she hung up the phone.

            Tia forced herself into autopilot to get through the next few days, which were spent in a flurry of putting up bulletin boards, preparing lessons, creating name tags, passing out books, doing inventory, attending meetings, and preparing for the start of a new school year. It kept her busy, which was a blessing. At first, she brought her InHap discs and played them while she was working, but she soon found that she couldn’t focus on her work when Dylan’s voice was all around her.  She switched over to internet radio which helped some, but when an InHap song came on she’d stop instantly, reveling in the sound of his voice; her mind conjuring up images from the tour.

            On the nights when there weren’t InHap shows, she’d run out at one or two o’clock and rush home to wait for a call from Dylan. He had another week in Europe, and then he’d be going to spend some time with his parents in Australia where the time difference between them would jump from seven to seventeen hours, making it even more difficult to stay in touch. They talked or video chatted for hours, the distance between them shrinking with the contact. Sometimes, they’d watch the same movie together on speaker phone, talking and sharing like they were on a date.

            When Dylan wasn’t available she’d go out with one of the girls from school, hang out at
Paddy’s
, or meet up with Lexi after work. She completely avoided the country club and a possible run in with Jace, but so far she hadn’t heard anything from him, so she hoped that he’d gotten the message that she was in love and no longer available; not that she hadn’t made it incredibly clear that she was never going to be available to him regardless. It was the nights that were hardest, though, when she was alone with her thoughts. She spent much of the time at her computer, putting together pictures and videos from her summer, creating a documentary of their time together, using Dylan’s music as a background. It would be gift for him at Christmas, she thought, and was a gift to her now. At least it made the empty hours pass by.

***

            Dylan woke up, grabbed some coffee, and wandered into his mother’s studio where she was taking advantage of the early morning light streaming in through the huge windows. It was a sunset landscape she was painting—a replica of a picture Dylan had sent her from Italy. He recognized the scene as soon as he saw her canvas, and remembered Tia sitting beside him as he captured the explosive colors of dusk with his camera. His thoughts drifted to her and he picked up his guitar and began strumming the opening chords of
Worlds Collide
.  His mother was deeply engrossed in her work, but she turned to him and smiled warmly, indicating with a finger that she’d be ready for a break soon.

            His arrival the night before had been a flurry of activity; aunts, uncles, cousins and friends filled the house to welcome him home and it had been a great evening. It had been more than a year since he’d been back—recording and touring had been constant, and the distance was too great to travel for short periods of time. He usually liked to spend a month, but he had less than a week here now before he shot south to New Zealand for the movie. Spending time alone with his mother in her studio was therapy for him and he relaxed into the song, knowing he couldn’t set a more perfect mood for what she was painting.

            “That’s something new, isn’t it?” she asked. “It sounds polished.”

            “It’s pretty complete, I think,” he answered.

            She put down her brush and wiped her smeared hands on her stained work pants. “You seem pretty complete, too, Dyl,” she smiled. She stood and pulled her boy into an embrace. “It’s so good to have you home,” she whispered.

            “I’m glad to be home,” he said, “I just wish it could be a longer stay.”

            “But you’ll be here for Christmas, and I couldn’t be happier about that.” She curled herself into the huge wicker chair alongside Dylan’s and smiled at him. “Now,” she said. “Tell me about this girl who’s got my baby’s head and heart all tangled up.”

            Dylan smiled back at her and leaned his guitar against the wall, settling in himself. He’d always loved having heart-to-heart talks with her in here—it was such a warm and inviting space, and his mother was completely at ease in it.

            “She’s the one, Mum,” he said simply, his grin widening. “There’s nothing tangled about it. I’m bringing her here for Christmas, and I can’t wait for you to meet her. I just know you’re going to love her too.”

            She reached out her hand and he wrapped his own around it. “I can see it all over your face,” she said. “You told me on the phone, but I couldn’t be sure until I saw it in your eyes.” He smiled at her again, and she saw the sparks there. “And there it is. My baby’s in love! I’m so happy for you Dyl—it’s the one thing you’ve been missing in your life; I know.”  She squeezed his hand. “And if you love her, I’m sure we will too.”

            “I know you will. She’s just an amazing person in every way. Come on,” he said, pulling her up from the chair. “It’s easier to show you. I’ve got about a thousand pictures and videos to share with you—you’ll see exactly why I fell for her.”

            Penelope was sitting in a lounge chair outside his trailer when he arrived at the enormous camp the studio had set up for the cast and crew. It looked like a small town, and Dylan tried to take it all in as a crew member drove him to his new accommodations in a golf cart. “Well, look who decided to show up,” she smiled, extending her hand. “Nice to see you again, Dylan.”

            He was a bit surprised at her casual greeting after the way she’d acted when he last saw her, and hoped it was a positive sign. “And you as well,” he replied formally, shaking her hand.

            “I’ve been here a couple days already, so I can show youlayout,” she said.

“Is there a map or something?” he joked. “This place is huge! I don’t even think I could find my way back to where I came in.”

Penelope giggled. “Well, it’s not actually as crazy as it seems,” she said. “The Village is set up kind of like a wagon wheel, and each spoke is assigned to a different group. Like, one spoke is for the camera people, one for producers and directors, one for lighting and set design—you get the idea. Our spoke has twelve units, and the best view,” she swept her arm across the expanse of empty field that ran in front of their accommodations. Dylan could see the line of another spoke, but it was a fair distance away. “Your trailer is right here, the one next door is for your assistant, mine is the next, then my assistant, then Bruce Dinsmore and his assistant, Sadie Cochran and hers, Trent Savage and his, then wardrobe and make-up.” She pointed down the line of little boxes.

            “There’s kind of a common area in the middle of the wheel,” she continued, “everyone’s just calling it ‘The Hub,’ and there’s a little store there with some basic staples like bottled water, bread, milk, eggs, pop, canned stuff—that sort of thing. We’re a half-hour drive from town, so it’ll come in real handy. There’re some people from the store who’ll be going into town regularly, so if you bring them your lists, they’ll pick things up for you. There’s a bonfire pit and some barbeque grills there, too, and people are already starting to hang out there in the evenings, so it’s best to do your shopping in the morning.”

            “OK, well thanks,” he said, stepping inside his trailer and looking around the little box that would be his home for the next several months. He turned back to Penelope, who’d kicked off her shoes and taken a seat on his sofa. He couldn’t believe that she thought it would be OK to just get comfortable in his space after the encounter they’d had in spring, and he didn’t intend to allow it to happen. “I don’t mean to be rude,” he said, “but I’ve had a long day, so I’m just going to…” his voice trailed off and he motioned with his hand toward the door, indicating that she take her leave.

            She jumped up off the couch. “Oh, OK, I didn’t mean to intrude or anything…” she started out the door, then turned back. “Dylan? There’s just one thing before I go,” she said softly. “Let’s get this out in the open right away because I don’t want it always hanging between us. I really want to apologize for our first meeting. It was wrong of me to…”

            “Forget about it,” he said curtly. “Ancient history.” He was going to have to work with this woman for the next few months; at times in smothering proximity; and he needed to keep things civil. He was already dreading the love scenes they’d have to film, but it would be even worse if there was hostility between them.

            “No, I can’t,” she replied. “Please just let me have my say, and then we can put it all behind us.”

            “Fine.” He wandered around the tiny trailer—luxurious by general trailer standards, but a little box, just the same. His bags had already arrived and he unzipped his duffle, pulling out a picture of him and Tia in Paris that he placed on a little shelf alongside the love seat that made up the main area of the trailer. He put a picture of his parents next to it, and continued unpacking, waiting for her to say what she needed to say.

            Penelope glared at the picture over Dylan’s shoulder and took a deep breath before continuing, gritting her teeth. “That night in Chicago I was totally out of line about a lot of things, and I’m terribly embarrassed by my behavior. I was so excited about getting the part and then even more excited when I found out I’d be working with you. I’ve followed your career, both of them, actually, and have a lot of respect for you being able to juggle them both without going crazy.” She laughed, “I have a hard enough time just dealing with the Hollywood drama.” She waited for a response, but all he gave her was a little grunt that indicated he still might be listening as he continued to unpack.

            She wanted to force him to look at her—she’d worked really hard to plaster just the right look of apology on her face, but she was forced to try and convey it with her voice. “There’s no excuse for the way I acted, but I’d just come off a really rough couple months; a box office nightmare and a bad breakup; and, well, you know how it is. People think they know me because of the roles I play. For you, they think they know even more because of your music. They think you are your songs, and well, I guess I was a little guilty of it as well. I started listening to your music—I’d heard it before of course, and have all your CDs—but the more I listened, the more I thought we could be connected.”