Stardust (The Starlight Trilogy #3) (15 page)

Her mother shut the icebox and presented a small smile. “Of course.”

Her father shook his head. “Before she goes upstairs, I want to know what’s going on and whether the authorities in Los Angeles need to be notified of any wrongdoing.”

Mrs. Bates hushed him. “Not now, John.”

“No daughter of mine is going to be treated poorly. Marie, look at me.”

Using all of her might, Beth met her father’s stern gaze.

“I know you’re upset, but you need to tell me what happened immediately. You’re frail. Unkempt. This is not the young woman I saw at Christmas.” The lines in his forehead tunneled deeper, aging him beyond his years. “I never should’ve let you move to Los Angeles. I should’ve made you stay here, where I could’ve kept an eye on you.”

Beth exhaled a shaky breath. Just when she thought she could manage an explanation, her grief won out. “Please let me lie down. I promise we’ll resume this discussion later.”

Her father exchanged worried glances with her mother. “All right. I’ll fetch your luggage and bring it to your room.”

Beth nodded, thankful for the reprieve, and made her way to the staircase. The floorboards creaked as she walked down the second floor corridor to her old bedroom, bypassing her parents’ bedroom and the sole bathroom in the house.

The door to her room was open. Everything looked untouched since the day she departed. The quilt her mother had made for her was draped at the foot of her bed how she always liked it, and the tattered stuffed teddy bear from her youth was perched atop her pillow.

Beth sat on the bed and looked at her father tentatively. He stood in the doorway with her suitcase at his feet.

“Your mother and I…” Fondness softened his features, displaying warmth and welcome. “We’re glad you’re home.”

Beth clutched her teddy bear. “I’m glad to be here. I love you both very much.”

Her father nodded and left, pulling the door closed.

Beth settled underneath the covers, enveloped by their freshly laundered scent. Sparrows chirped outside her window amongst budding trees and a gentle breeze. She placed her teddy bear aside and closed her eyes, listening to their merry tune.

My, how far she’d come in such a short amount of time, and at such a young age. In Hollywood, she was thrust into a world where she had to grow up quickly, but in fact, she was only nineteen years old. It was ironic, wasn’t it? She had left Clarkson to find herself, and her journey led her back here.

Before she moved to L.A., Beth envied those with the ability to take flight and travel to new and exciting places whenever they pleased. Granted the opportunity to spread her own wings, she’d learned that reaching even the greatest heights left something to be desired, and the allure of descending back to Earth was as enchanting as soaring up to the sky. It was inevitable. Everything needed to come down sometime.

Beth awoke to sunlight streaming in through her window—a rarity in Clarkson, but welcome after living in shadow since Aidan left. According to her bedside clock, she had slept for over twelve hours. No wonder she felt so well rested.

She stood from the bed and winced. Her reflection in the vanity mirror contradicted how she felt. Her wrinkled dress hung from a body that was thinner than normal. Tangled, matted hair framed bloodshot eyes. Aidan had sported a similar look on Halloween. If he could see her now, he wouldn’t have abandoned her. She was certain.

Tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t give in to her sorrow. She bathed, dressed, and by the time she joined her parents in the kitchen, she felt much more confident in explaining what happened while keeping her composure.

“Good morning, Mama. Good morning, Papa.”

Her father looked up from his newspaper and studied her with an inquisitive concern that made her regret leaving him to stew overnight about what might be wrong. The sense of security she was accustomed to in her youth enveloped her, infiltrating the holes in her heart. She was loved here. For the first time since her return, she felt whole.

“Good morning, Marie.”

“Hello, sweetie.” Mrs. Bates set her teacup on the table. Always the most patient and altruistic member of their family, she smiled with carefree ease and provided no insight into the concern that surely had kept her up most of the night. She was an active member of the Clarkson Women’s Social Club and often volunteered in the community, especially helping those in need, but nothing took precedent over protecting the well-being of her husband and child. “What would you like for breakfast?”

Although Beth’s appetite was still diminished, her parents’ expectant expressions made it impossible for her to admit it. “Do we have oatmeal?”

Her mother stood. “Absolutely. Have a seat and I’ll make some for you.”

Beth sat across from her father. He folded his newspaper and put it away, offering his undivided attention. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

“Papa, I want you and Mama to know I’m all right.” Beth phrased her next words carefully. If she shared too many details, her father would never allow her to leave the house, never mind Clarkson. “There was an issue at work. Nothing you need to worry about. Just a disagreement with Mr. Mertz.
Golden Gloves
was shut down and my studio contract was terminated.”

“Was Aidan the cause of this disagreement with your boss?” Her father’s nostrils flared. “And where is he now that you have no job? No way of supporting yourself?”

“Aidan isn’t to blame. Mr. Mertz and I…we didn’t see eye to eye on something. Aidan tried to rectify the situation, and this resulted in the termination of our film and my employment at the studio. As for Aidan’s whereabouts—well, he’s giving me some space.”

Her father leaned back in his chair, though his shoulders never lost their tension. “During my visit to Los Angeles, I spoke to Aidan about his lack of respect toward authority. I knew his attitude would get him in trouble one day. I just didn’t think he would bring you down, too, given how strongly he said he felt toward you. Are you certain he didn’t tell you to argue with Mr. Mertz? You don’t need to protect him, Marie. I’m your father. I deserve to know the truth.”

“No, Papa. Aidan tried to help me after the fact. If anything, he taught me to stand up for myself. The whole experience has been harrowing, but I’m a stronger woman because of it. My fragile appearance may project otherwise, but that’s only because everything happened recently. I will get through it. I know I will.”

“Are you moving back to Oregon? It’s not too late to attend Teachers College in Portland.”

Beth sighed. Abandoning acting was a painful but likely choice. “Right now, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I need time to process everything before I make a decision.”

Her mother placed a glass of apple juice and a bowl of oatmeal drizzled in honey on the table. “Here you are, dear. Enjoy.”

Beth smiled. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Bates reclaimed her chair. “I’m going to the market this morning. You’re more than welcome to accompany me.”

“I’d love to.” Beth picked up her spoon and dug into her oatmeal.

Thankfully, her father seemed satisfied with her answers—for now. He resumed reading the newspaper while her mother drank a fresh cup of tea.

After Beth finished her breakfast, she returned to her bedroom to prepare for shopping. She met her mother in the foyer and they walked to the station wagon together.

“Mama, how have you been?”

Her mother backed out of the driveway. “Oh, you know, nothing changes much around here. I’ve been well. But I’m a lot better now that you’re home.”

“I appreciate you telling me that.” Beth looked to her lap. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You could never be a burden. You’re our daughter. We love you, and you always have a home with us.” Unspoken inquiries lingered between them. It wasn’t until they turned onto the main road in the direction of downtown that her mother lifted the veil. “Marie, what really happened between you and Aidan? I know it’s not customary for a daughter to speak with her father about such things, but you can speak to me.”

“Aidan broke up with me.” Beth’s shoulders sagged. “Not because he wanted to, though. I think he blames himself for what happened at the studio, even though it wasn’t his fault. So after he confronted Mr. Mertz on my behalf, he left, believing it was best for me. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“I’m so sorry, Marie.” Her mother parked at their destination and pulled her in for a hug.

Beth closed her eyes and breathed deeply, easing the ache in her chest. There was nothing like her mother’s scent. Prell, wildflowers, a hint of vanilla. It was the scent of her childhood, of afterschool baking, weekend adventures in the park, and cozy bedtime stories.

“Don’t give up on your relationship, sweetie. From what I gathered during my trip to Los Angeles, Aidan is very taken with you. With a love as strong as yours, the bonds don’t sever easily. Perhaps after some time apart, some reflection, you two will reunite.”

“I want that more than anything. I suppose I’ll just have to be patient.” Beth exited the station wagon and joined her mother in front of the market.

The sky had clouded over. It was a typical Sunday morning in Clarkson. Women socialized and shopped while men smoked and shared casual conversations on the sidewalks. Beth blinked back tears and held her head high. A leisurely day occupied by quality time with her mother was exactly what she needed to get her mind off Aidan’s absence. In particular, she couldn’t sulk and give the townspeople a reason to question the motive behind her return.

“Barbara!” Mrs. Foster waved at Mrs. Bates on her scuttle across the road. In her late seventies, the baker’s wife had a few more wrinkles than Beth remembered and a plumper figure that nearly filled in the loose skin she used to have hanging from her jowls.

“Lorraine.” Mrs. Bates added a nod to her greeting. “It’s lovely to see you. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” Mrs. Foster gestured to the garment bag draped over her arm. “I’m dropping off a dress for dry-cleaning and then popping in to see Mrs. Marthery. We started a knitting group this winter, you know. Presently, we’re making sweaters to donate to the church’s Easter clothing drive. You should help us if you have time. We could use the extra hands. Anyhow, what brings you to town this morning?”

“My daughter and I are going to the market.”

Mrs. Foster’s gaze landed on Beth for the first time since her approach. “Marie, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I didn’t recognize you.” Her lips curled, distorting her welcoming grin into a grimace. “You’ve been living in Los Angeles, correct?”

Beth’s polite smile masked her wariness. Mrs. Foster was Clarkson’s own Hilda Hooper. It was best to be on guard around her. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mrs. Foster’s grimace deepened to a scowl. “I saw your film,
Sparkling Meadow
, under encouragement of some fellow Clarkson residents—you know, to support our local talent. The kiss in the barn between your character and that young man—two unwed individuals—really pushed my moral limits. Why on earth would you participate in such debauchery, and for the entire world to see?”

Beth gulped, though she should’ve expected Mrs. Foster’s criticism, given the woman’s staunch Christian beliefs. “Well, I—”

“Hollywood is a wicked, wicked place.” Mrs. Foster wagged her finger in Beth’s face. “It was only a matter of time before those movie folks forced you into compromising your good character. I’m just glad you changed your name professionally, so there’s a chance you haven’t ruined Clarkson’s impeccable reputation.”

“I was only acting.” Beth’s retort remained civil. However, her frown revealed her irritation. “And the kiss was filmed tastefully.”

Mrs. Foster huffed. “Just the fact you agreed to display affection onscreen appalls me. Many young girls watched that film, including my granddaughter. I hate to think they now believe it’s acceptable to sneak off with a young man, unsupervised. You should have invited your gentleman friend to dinner with you and your parents or attended a church service with him instead.”

Beth’s annoyance yielded to amusement, but she suppressed her giggle out of courtesy. Mrs. Foster had over seven decades of religious teachings ingrained into her. There was no way to convince her that her views were old fashioned, nor did Beth have a right to devalue her opinions on the subject.

“When I return to Los Angeles, I’ll be sure to let the studio know your concerns.”

“Good. Meanwhile, you should stop in to see Reverend Redmond during your stay and repent. There’s still hope for you yet.” Mrs. Foster turned back to Mrs. Bates. “Barbara, it’s nice to see you. I hope your Christian influence expels the sins from your daughter’s soul and helps her see the light. I also suggest you educate Marie on the importance of asking God for guidance before she makes decisions that could ultimately damn her to Hell.”

Mrs. Bates’ lips twitched, indicating she held back laughter, too. “Yes, Lorraine. I will.”

“Excellent. Good-bye!” With a hearty wave, Mrs. Foster took off down the street.

Beth cast a tentative glance at her mother. “My performance in
Sparkling Meadow
didn’t shame you and Papa, did it? Mrs. Foster is radical in her opinions, but many of the older population in town share the same views.”

Her mother’s smile calmed her fears. “You’ve never brought shame upon our family. I’m proud of your performance and you should be, too.”

“That means a lot to me, Mama. Thank you.” Beth linked arms with her and they entered the market.

While they shopped, many townsfolk greeted them. Beth was asked about Los Angeles and various movie stars, and if she didn’t have nice things to say, she fibbed so she wouldn’t crush their excitement. As for her personal experiences, she kept her responses vague. It was still difficult to discuss Hollywood and the studio without getting upset.

Although Beth was grateful she was still welcome in Clarkson, she couldn’t identify with many of the housewives she spoke to, even those close to her in age. While she discussed her film projects and purchasing her own house, the women discussed their children, their duties to their husbands, and what meals they were preparing for dinner with enthusiasm she didn’t share. There wasn’t anything wrong with their interests, and she certainly didn’t think she was better than them. They merely reminded her of why she had left Clarkson in the first place.