Still Growing: An Autobiography (19 page)

Producer Mike Sullivan confirms Dan’s comments: “It was a guest star role; she wasn’t hired as a series regular. There was never any intention of the Mike character being married or in a permanent romantic relationship.”

Some people today question why
Growing Pains
ended or why the producers quit the show. Some say it was because I was difficult to work with due to my personal convictions. Again, Dan Guntzelman: “As important as Kirk’s struggles were to him, they were not the primary focus for me. Most successful sitcoms have a life of five, six or seven years, then the pressures to end it start to mount: Actors want to move on, the show gets top heavy. (How many executive producers does it take to screw in a light bulb? About 10 in the fifth year of a series.) A family sitcom has an even greater incentive. (Kids grow up and there goes the family.) Leaving
Growing Pains
was the logical thing to do. Also, selfishly, coming off a hit show made you ‘hot.’ It was the perfect time for me to get a new deal and try to ‘do it again.’ ”

On the set of the
Growing Pains
reunion movie, I approached the producers and said, “Hey, I wanna let you know . . . a lot of years have gone by. I’ve thought a lot about what happened during those years and I know that I could have handled those situations more graciously than I did when I was 17. We had a lot of great years together and I hope you can forgive me for any frustration I caused you.”

One producer replied, “We’re sorry. We probably didn’t handle it the best way, either. We really could have tried to help you out here instead of just hammering you every time you asked for something.”

I talked to the cast as well. As time gave us a better perspective, I think we all were able to look at the situation with more understanding. I’m glad we had that time of reunion and reconciliation.

We enjoyed shooting another reunion flick in 2004,
Growing Pains: Return of the Seavers
, which Joanna directed. The whole cast assembled to shoot a special feature for the
Growing Pains
DVD set, in which we enjoyed a marshmallow roast and a fun walk down Seaver memory lane, reminiscing about all the fun times we shared. We saw each other recently at
Alan’s ranch outside of Santa Barbara to celebrate his son’s birthday. And Jeremy occasionally comes over to our house to prepare some of his famous gourmet dinners for our family.

One fateful day, I decided to stop by the set of
Full House
to show the little sis some support. My sisters had always cheered on my career, and I wanted to show Candace some big brotherly love in return. Maybe I could give her a few pointers about comedy. (She’s gonna love reading that.)

That day, I’m sure Dave Coulier was nearby doing a celebrity impersonation. Maybe Bob Saget was telling an off-color joke. Perhaps one of the Olsen twins needed a diaper change.

All I remember was a willowy brunette with caramel-colored eyes and beautiful lips that framed her stunning smile. Her long hair fell around her face and barely swept her shoulders, and she had a gorgeous figure.

Chelsea Noble was guest-starring on
Full House
. She approached me and asked, “You’re Candace’s brother, right?”

It was strange, yet cool, to be referred to that way. For once, it wasn’t “Oh-my-gosh-it’s-Kirk-Cameron-can-you-sign-my-Trapper-Keeper?!” This was a mature, sophisticated woman a few years my senior.

She asked me to take a picture with her wheelchair-bound friend who was visiting from New York. I happily agreed, and talked with the girl in the wheelchair for a while.

Later that night, Mom remarked, “Do you remember that girl you met, Chelsea? If I could pick a girl for you to marry one day, it would be someone like her. As beautiful as she is, she’s even more beautiful on the inside.”

I loved Kirk’s mom, Barbara, just from knowing her briefly on the
Full House
set. She was easy to talk to—very different from the stereotypical “stage moms.”

Then when I met Kirk, I thought,
Wow, what a nice guy
. He sat and talked with my friend for a while. I could tell it made him happy to make her happy. I left thinking,
What a caring guy
.

A few weeks later, I was in the process of getting ready to move back to New York. My agent had suggested I go to an audition for
Growing Pains
. “You might make some money before you go back home.”

When I hesitated he added, “You never know . . .”

It was rush hour—and anyone who has ever driven in L.A. traffic knows that you really don’t want to be out there if you don’t have to. I almost didn’t go on the audition, but my agent had a point: I needed the job.

I walked into the audition room. The casting director took one look at me and said, “Are you sure you’re here for
this
role? You’re not the right type.”

Sure enough, the role was for a “character”—a larger-than-life, wisecracking secretary. Why was
I
called in for this?

Inside, I fumed.
I drove all that way, and for what?

The director shrugged and said, “Just read for it anyway since you’re here.”

That comment took the edge off the interview. I thought,
Ah, they’re just humoring me. Whatever
. I had never been so casual about a read. I kicked back and had fun reading the role.

When I got home I called my agent and told him it had been a big, fat waste of time—mine and theirs.

“Oh yeah,” he quipped, “you really blew it. They just called and offered you a different role—the role of Kate, a girl in Mike’s acting class. It’s coming up in a couple weeks. Congrats.”

When I showed up on the set of
Growing Pains
, it was really awkward stepping into the world of such an established cast. The director took me aside and said, “Okay, this is what we expect from guest stars.
We expect you to be here on time. The regular cast shows up a little later. That’s just the way it is. It’s your job to get in the groove of what we’ve got going here.”

When Kirk showed up, I was a bit surprised. I knew
of
Kirk Cameron, but I’d sort of forgotten what show he was on. I know that sounds implausible, considering how famous he was. But I really wasn’t a big TV watcher. I just remembered him as Candace’s sweet older brother.

When I saw Chelsea on the set, I immediately remembered she was the same girl I had met on
Full House
. How could I forget? I’d been overwhelmed by her beauty and her smile.

I approached Chelsea and without thinking gave her a kiss on both cheeks. Inside I cringed that I’d done the phony Hollywood
kiss-kiss
thing.
That wasn’t me! What am I doing?
It was the first of many uncharacteristic moves I’d make in trying to impress this girl.

From the start, I slipped into familiar awkward territory. Though we worked long hours together that week, I kept a reasonable, professional attitude and distance.

One day, sitting to the side of the set, Chelsea wore cowboy boots, jeans and a white cotton shirt. Though her hair was long and flowing, I could see a headset on her ears. Around her neck hung a necklace with a cross made of sapphires. As I looked at that cross I thought,
Could she be a Christian? No way. She’s too beautiful
. I thought girls were either beautiful or Christian—not both.

I walked up to her and asked what she was listening to.

I thought,
There’s no way this guy is going to know this band
. I was listening to a CD by the Christian rock group Petra.

To my astonishment, he said he knew them. And then he just kinda smiled and asked if I was a Christian.

Stunned, I said, “Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah.”

It was the weirdest moment. I just didn’t expect it. It was great to have that kind of connection with him—but then again, there are so many kinds of “Christians,” so I wasn’t really sure what that meant to him.

We got talking about music, our faith and our families. I just loved talking to her. I didn’t want it to end.

I had a thousand butterflies, but tried to keep my growing feelings hidden from this girl who seemed way out of my league. I figured that if she was available, Alan would probably make a move on her. He had a lot of luck with the ladies. Besides, Chelsea was a few years older than me and she probably thought of me as “just a kid.”

Thank God she didn’t.

Instead, Chelsea and I hit it off. We had so much in common, including a deep and growing love for God. We had fun on the stage, but always looked forward to the time behind the scenes when we could get to know each other better. It was a great two weeks.

But I figured that after the show, I’d never see her again.

After the second episode, the producers called me to the green room in a building across from the sound stage.
Had I done something wrong?

“You know, Chelsea,” a producer said, “we really like the chemistry between you and Kirk. We don’t see that very often and we’d like to explore it more. How would you feel about coming back for 13 more episodes?”

I was taken aback, flattered. The only thing holding me back was a job offer in New York. I had booked a dramatic TV pilot playing a law student. I really thought drama was the direction I needed to pursue, and the part in the pilot sounded like the perfect role for me. I also really missed my home state of New York and was dying to get back. I didn’t say any of that to the producers. I thanked them for the offer and promised to seriously think about it.

My agent, naturally, leaned toward me staying. Thirteen episodes would be a lot better financially for me than one pilot. Those come and go, and most never make it to air.

He said, “Chelsea, you haven’t done much comedy. Why don’t you just do the 13 episodes—it’ll look fantastic on your résumé.”

I agonized over the decision.

Eventually I agreed with my agent that it would be good to go back to
Growing Pains
and get this valuable experience.

It was one of the best decisions of my life.

Passion and fashion didn’t mix—at least, not in my case.

Remembering that Chelsea wore Levis and cowboy boots to the set on more than one occasion, I figured that must be a look she was into. So I tried to impress her by wearing a green cotton work shirt and boots I’d inherited from the film
Listen to Me
. Walking in those clunky heels, I looked like a teen ranger with a spur stuck in his boxers.

She didn’t seem to think anything of it.

I learned from our conversations that Chelsea liked skiing. The next day I wore a vest with ski tags and lift tickets pinned to the chest.

Everyone in the cast stared at me, dumbstruck.

“Hittin’ the slopes after work?”

“Hey, Kirk. You forgot your goggles.”

I shrugged. “Oh. It was a little nippy when I got up this morning. Thought I’d come prepared.”
It’s Los Angeles . . . and you’re indoors, dumbnut
, I thought to myself.

They knew something was up, but Chelsea didn’t know me well enough to catch on. She must have thought I was the type of guy who really enjoyed dressing in themes.

I eventually thought dressing
GQ
was the way to go. (Most guys go through a
GQ
stage. It usually follows the doused-in-aftershave stage.) I scoured the men’s couture magazine for the latest styles. The next day I showed up on set looking like the guy on the cover, wearing a white suit shirt, skinny tie, shorts and Birkenstocks. I was 50% Don Johnson,
40% golfer, 10% hippie. I didn’t pull off the look. It’s a wonder Chelsea even spoke to me.

I reached deep within and found my inner-Mike Seaver, finally working up the nerve to call her after work.

“Hey, how’s it goin’?” I asked. “Any chance you wanna join me and a couple friends for mud pie at Red Robin? We’re just planning on hangin’ out . . . I thought, maybe if you’re bored . . .”

When she said, “Sure!” I freaked. I frantically called every friend in my Rolodex because I’d made the whole thing up: There were no plans to have mud pie at Red Robin. And now that I needed there to be plans, no one I knew in Southern California could spare one hour for pie.

Chelsea was already on her way. I drove down to meet her, stewing. I had wanted a friendly, no-pressure situation, and now it would be just the two of us.

It was a cold night, and we sat outside on the patio wrapped in warm coats. (That ski jacket didn’t look so bad now.) I thought it was romantic, sharing a desert. (Yes, according to the “fun facts” in
BOP
magazine, I was a reported germaphobe. Didn’t matter with Chelsea. I wouldn’t so much as share a slice of pizza with the woman who had given me life, but this fascinating beauty was a completely different case.
Someone this beautiful doesn’t have germs
, I told myself.)

As we talked, I only wanted to kiss her. I admit it.