Page 34 of Every Star that Shines

“Thank you. I appreciate your vote of confidence.”

“You’ve always had it.”

Warning bells started ringing in Delanie’s head. She had to get out of this conversation before it started wandering into territory she had been avoiding for a decade.

“I better go. Mom and Dad’s room is right next door.”

“Right. Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

Delanie hung up the phone and looked back out the window. The aurora had twisted and stretched, nearly blocking out the brilliant smear of the Milky Way, but she could still see the North Star shining sure and strong, just as it always had. Steady as the seasons, and the sunrise.

And Caleb’s belief in her.

She flopped on her bed, staring at the rectangular spot on the ceiling that was a little less dusty than the rest, precisely the same size as a poster. She had come to Peace Crossing hoping to hide from her problems, but they had all seemed to follow her here.

“Maybe the problem is me,” she muttered to herself.

No one argued with her, which she had expected. After all, that was what she’d been afraid of all along.

Then Caleb’s words about jumping to conclusions about Nathan Tait came back to her.

Is that what I did with him too?

She wrapped her finger in a long strand of her hair, and her heart started pounding against her ribs. She was almost more afraid that she had misread the situation between them all those years ago than that she hadn’t.

Because if she had been wrong about Caleb Toews, that didn’t just mean that she had been unjustifiably angry at him for a decade.

It meant that there was no reason she couldn’t let her heart wander back into love with him. Which was the most terrifying prospect of all.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Friday found Caleb once more playing carpenter backstage at the Mackenzie Playhouse. One long wall of the vaulted rectangular workroom was crowded with locked-up racks of costumes, set pieces, and props from previous productions. Opposite that chaos hung the heavy black curtain that separated this area from the back of the stage.

Caleb and Noel had pulled their workbenches into the open space between, which happened to be the prime route for anyone coming from stage right to get over to the green room—the small room just offstage where actors did quick changes between scenes—or the stairs that led to the basement and back entrance at the far end. Of course, that’s why they were both here again on a Friday night, while there were no rehearsals going on. It made it easier to work—and it’s not like either of us has a social life to speak of, Caleb thought sardonically. Emma had gone to Monica’s that afternoon, so his schedule for the weekend was free and clear, except for this and Sunday’s rehearsal. Oh, and driving the grain truck for his dad tomorrow.

The plywood backdrop that would eventually represent Geppetto’s workshop lay on the scarred wooden floor next to Caleb’s worktable like an oversized piece of sketch paper. Samantha Crawford had already painted on a window and some tools that looked like they were hanging from the wall, but she said she would paint the workbench once the whole thing was put together. Caleb was glad he was only responsible for the woodworking—unlike his daughter, drawing was definitely not his strong suit. Nor Monica’s. He wasn’t sure where Emma had gotten that talent from.

Caleb carefully lined up the angle-cut end of a two-by-two brace with the mark he’d made on the bottom of the plywood rectangle that would be Geppetto’s workbench. With his other hand, he jammed the end of his screw into the pilot hole he’d drilled in the brace, then lined up his screw gun. In seconds, the screw shank disappeared with the satisfying squeal of metal turning against wood.

At a separate table a short distance away, Noel measured pieces for the prop bars that would be used to “control” the marionettes of Rocco the Professor during his number—the ones played by live actors, not the wooden puppets that would share the stage with them as background props. With his height, Noel had to stoop a lot more than Caleb did, but his strong dark brown hands measured the one-by-ones with quick, sure movements, ticking off lengths with a carpenter’s pencil. Whenever he didn’t need the pencil for a minute, he tucked it behind his ear.

Caleb grabbed the second brace. As he lined it up, he caught sight of the time on his wristwatch—a very nice brushed stainless steel analogue one with an elastic link band his parents had given him when he had gotten his journeyman electrician certificate. Gonna last forever, if I have anything to say about it, his father had muttered. His father might be a spendthrift, but he believed in paying more for good quality when it would mean spending less in the long run.

Caleb frowned at his watch. It’s already nine o’clock? With no windows in the hall, it was hard to mark the passage of time. He glanced at Noel.

“I thought you said Derrick was coming to help tonight.”

Noel looked up from his measuring and shrugged. “He texted he’d be late. Maybe something happened to keep him at that house reno he was working on.”

Noel and his younger brother, Derrick, had started up Butler Bros. Construction several years ago, and the fledgling business often required them to work long hours. Seeing how much effort it took to get a business off the ground, Caleb was grateful for his steady job at Martens Electric. Other than being sent out on the odd weekend emergency call, his hours were remarkably stable, which worked out well when it came to Emma or when his dad needed a hand around the farm.

“What, you mean Derrick didn’t ditch us for some hot date? I’m shocked, I tell you. Shocked,” Caleb said dryly. “Doesn’t he know he’s missing out on Peace Crossing’s thriving night life?”

Noel chuckled. “What, is that wack-a-doo hypnotist back in town? Or did you mean drinks and watching hockey at the Trading Post?” He shook his head. “Can’t remember the last time he went out and did that.”

Caleb shook his head and adjusted his screw gun against the next screw. “Jeepers, he’s a worse workaholic than you. You Butler boys, all work and no play.”

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