Page 74 of Every Star that Shines

Her voice broke. “I wanted to make it work between Dave and me. I wanted to support him. But my whole life is here, and so is Emma’s. My parents. My friends. All of Emma’s grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins. You. I know I told you I wasn’t marrying him for the baby, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized I actually was. And it didn’t make sense to give up everything we have here to move to Ontario, no matter how much I care about him. It made even less sense to expect that of you.”

She wiped her eyes, and Caleb noticed her engagement ring was missing.

“You broke up with Dave, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “And I know you’re with Delanie now, but I wanted to tell you something I should have said a long time ago—I’m so sorry for how things worked out between us. We had our rough patches, but I know you cared for me in your own way. I think I just had these unrealistic expectations of what love is, and what marriage is. But the people who get a marriage like that are pretty rare.” She laid a hand on his chest. “Dave’s a good guy. But he was never you.”

She looked up into his eyes, and she looked so vulnerable and sad, he felt pulled toward her and her rosebud lips, just as he had that night so long ago. But her eyes were blue instead of brown, and his heartbreak was too fresh, too raw. No matter how much he missed Delanie, this was one mistake he wouldn’t repeat.

When she lifted her chin toward him and leaned even closer, he stepped back, breaking contact.

“I’m so sorry that things didn’t work out with Dave. You know I’ll always be here to help you and Emma out, but you and me . . . I think that worked out for the best, don’t you?”

She drew herself up, but then her face softened and she nodded. “You’re probably right. And if anyone is going to have the kind of love they write stories about, it will be you and Delanie.” As she moved back toward the door, she paused and laid a hand on his arm. “I wish you both the best.”

She walked away, leaving Caleb staring at the swirling crystal-filled mist. The kind of love they write stories about, maybe. But that doesn’t mean the story has a happy ending.

He looked west toward the river, though all he could see was the fog fading to black. Somewhere far beyond the river was the woman he had hoped to have a happily ever after with. For three days, he’d been trying to resign himself to the fact that it was really over, but every time he thought about it, the hollow ache in his chest threatened to engulf him. At least there was now one less stone weighing him down—he wouldn’t have to move to Ontario. But he barely noticed its missing weight compared to the boulder that remained, the one threatening to bring him to his knees on the lawn at this very moment.

“No. Not right now.” He had a play to put on. For Emma. For the kids.

For Delanie.

Giving his head a shake to banish that last thought, he turned around to go back to the hall, trying to slow his broken heart.

Once the play was over, he could fall apart. Until then, he had work to do.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Delanie sat in the dark storage closet in the basement of Mackenzie Playhouse on a stack of molded plastic chairs and stared at the headline on her phone screen, her mouth dry. Nathan Tait eager to pick up the pieces after being cleared of all charges. Ex-wife Carmelina Gonzales to serve twelve months for battery and assault.

“I was wrong. We were all wrong,” she said to herself. All the anguish of the last two months, the not knowing if her career would survive, of questioning herself, of avoiding hate tweets and emails from her fans, and it had all been based on a lie—judgements made too quickly and a form of mob justice that had been much too harsh. But in the midst of the relief was a twinge of guilt—she could no longer deny that her voice, no matter how seemingly insignificant, had added to a crowd of accusers that had probably been just as hurtful to the superstar actor as the Twitter mob had been to her. Having been on the receiving side of the slings and arrows of public opinion, could she really excuse herself for how she may have contributed to Nathan’s problems?

The door of the storage closet rattled, and she sat up, startled. But it was only Amber, who quietly slipped in and then looked cautiously behind her through the door before closing it and turning to Delanie. Her auburn hair was pinned up, and she wore a long, flowing tunic and cropped buttoned cardigan over leggings and flat calf-high boots—casually elegant, but also comfortable. Huh. Even Amber is finally dressing to Peace Country standards.

“Are you ready?” Amber whispered. “The show’s about to start. I saw Caleb go sit down, so now’s the time.”

Delanie nodded and hopped off the stack of chairs, straightening her shimmery black tank top and black crepe dress slacks, and tugged on the hem of her silver taffeta blazer—a purchase she had made that afternoon at the local boutique clothing store. She wouldn’t usually get so dressed up for a play in Peace Crossing either, but tonight was special, for more reasons than one.

“Thanks for helping me with this,” she whispered.

Amber’s face lit up. “Are you kidding me? This is the most fun I’ve had in . . . well, it’s been a while.” She cracked open the door and peered through it to the wide hallway beyond. “Okay, the coast is clear. Follow me.”

Delanie tiptoed behind Amber out the basement walk-out doors, her chandelier earrings tickling her neck with every step, and waved at a few surprised kids standing at the edge of the hallway in full costume. She pressed her fingers to her lips, then crept outside and started scrambling up the snow-dusted hill of lawn that led to the main entrance around the corner, taking extra care in her heels.

Five minutes later, with Amber playing lookout the whole way, she had snuck her way into the narrow canteen off the upper foyer, just outside the main hall doors. On the brown Formica counter behind the closed pass-through window sat a row of sealed sandwich baggies of mixed candy next to a vase of single-stem roses, ready for intermission sales, but the parent volunteers who would be selling them were absent—Amber’s doing, no doubt. Delanie was suddenly very grateful for her choice of accomplice. Next to the ancient mustard-yellow fridge, a ladder led through a square hole in the ceiling that opened to the light and sound room above.

Amber closed the door behind her. “I asked Luc, and he said there’s no room in the sound booth with him and Darcy during the performance,” she whispered as quietly as she could. “But you can sneak up there to hide when they come down during intermission.” She raised a brow. “Are you sure you don’t want to just watch the show from backstage? I know there’s a chance someone will notice you, but—”

“No, I’ll be fine,” Delanie whispered back, smiling.

She had given up her seat next to Caleb so Desmond and Marie could sit there together, since Caleb was the one she was trying to surprise most. She hoped their presence didn’t tip him off—they had both promised to keep their lips sealed until the big reveal. And the last thing she needed was for Emma or one of the other kids to spill the beans during intermission.

“I’ll watch one of the other performances. Trust me, this will be worth the wait. And I brought a book.” She indicated her phone, on which she actually had dozens of books waiting to be read. If she could calm her nerves enough to focus on reading.

Amber smiled and nodded. “If you need anything, text.”

“You bet.” Delanie smiled brightly, and Amber stole through the doorway just as the audience in the hall beyond clapped uproariously.

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