Page 52 of Every Star that Shines

She clutched his arm through his coat as they made their way to the door through swirling snow. There wasn’t any ice on the ground yet, but he didn’t think she was leaning on him because of treacherous conditions. And he liked being the one she wanted to lean on when she was upset.

After they unlocked the door and went inside, he led the way into the main auditorium and turned on the lights, then climbed the steps to the stage and turned on a rack of floodlights. The stage was empty save the painted backdrop hanging from the scaffolding above that displayed the Act One background of an Italian village street. Delanie came to stand next to him and wove her fingers between his as she surveyed the piece.

“Samantha’s done a great job with the painting, hasn’t she?”

“Yeah. I hear Ainsley has been helping her.”

“Like mother, like daughter.”

“Indeed.”

They stood there in silence, and Caleb wondered if Delanie was thinking about her own mother, and how much alike the two of them were, or weren’t. For his part, Caleb could see the same stubborn determination in both women . . . but he doubted Cheryl had ever exercised hers in pursuit of anything riskier than her eccentric fashion choices. Not like Delanie, who only saw mountains as hills she hadn’t climbed yet.

Delanie pulled away and walked to the centre of the stage. “Do you remember our first kiss?”

Caleb’s heart stuttered. “How could I forget?” It had been Grade Eleven, and he’d already had a crush on Delanie from afar for at least a year. “I could hardly believe my luck when I got cast as Harold Hill in The Music Man. But when you got cast as Marian?” He shook his head. “You know, I was able to play glib-tongued Harold just fine, but I never did have his knack with words in real life.”

She grinned. “Your lips communicated pretty well without them.”

Caleb chuckled as he remembered how he had snuck their first kiss while hiding in plain sight. In one scene, they were supposed to kiss, which actually meant they would lean close together while he shielded their faces from the audience by holding up his straw hat. One night during rehearsal, frustrated that he had been unable to tell Delanie how he felt about her, he’d given her a quick peck on the lips behind the hat.

“I believe you were standing right about here.” He guided her a few steps over from where she was. “And I was here.” He positioned himself in front of her and placed his hands on her hips.

She tilted her head to look up at him, draping her arms around his neck. “This seems about right.”

He lowered his mouth to hers for a kiss decidedly longer than the first one they had shared.

When they broke the kiss, she grinned. “Little did you know all those times when we sang ’Til There Was You during rehearsals, you had stolen my heart for real.” She moved her arms to encircle his waist beneath his open jacket, then leaned her head against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around her, the wool of her red pea coat soft against his skin. Quietly, he started singing and swaying with the music. “There were bells on the hill, but, um, something, something, ringing . . .”

She chuckled, and he fumbled through the next line, her sweet voice joining in on the title hook of ’Til There Was You. Since he had forgotten most of the lyrics, he switched to humming, and they swayed back and forth on the stage for several minutes. As they reached the last bars, he heard her sniffle. She pulled back, her face contorted in pain and remorse.

“Not my dancing’s fault, I hope,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. He was rewarded by a smile breaking through her tears, and she shook her head, wiping her face and ducking away from him. He stepped toward her and lifted her chin so she would look at him. “Your mom’s wrong, you know.”

She studied him, then pulled away, wrapping her arms around herself. “That’s the problem. She’s right. Everything she said to me, I’ve been thinking for weeks. What am I doing with my life, Caleb?”

She went over to the front of the stage and sat down, her legs dangling over the edge. Caleb joined her, looking out at the dimly lit auditorium and the rows upon rows of folded red theatre seats.

“You know what Mom’s reaction was when I told her I wanted to go to acting school?” Delanie didn’t wait for him to reply before continuing. “She tried to get me to become a teacher first so I would have something to fall back on.”

Caleb snorted. “My dad wasn’t exactly fired up about me becoming a screenwriter either.”

Looking back on it now, though, he wasn’t sure how much of that had been his own dream, and how much had been Delanie’s. He loved Peace Crossing. He would be quite content to live there until he died, if circumstances permitted. She had been the one who couldn’t wait to escape, as she had put it.

“But at least he never tried to stop you. It’s not like he got sick on purpose.” Delanie sighed. “Ever since I was a little girl, long before I was Marian the Librarian, all I ever wanted was this.” She gestured around the empty hall. “To be on the stage and bring people joy through the stories I helped tell. I thought by now, I’d have won an Oscar at least.”

She gave him a wry grin, and he chuckled.

“But things haven’t quite worked out the way I planned,” she continued. “Maybe it’s time I grow up, like Mom said.”

“You know, maybe you’re right.”

Her gaze snapped to his and she blinked. “Pardon?”

“You do need to act like a grown-up.”

As her brow furrowed, he quickly explained. “One of the things Monica and I have agreed on as co-parents to Emma is that we will encourage her to develop whatever she shows an interest in. But sometimes that means she needs to commit to things, like a full year of voice lessons at a time, and she doesn’t get to quit just because it gets hard or she’s not progressing as quickly as she wants. Because when she grows up, we want her to know that she can accomplish anything she sets her mind to, as long as she doesn’t give up. That’s what grown-ups do. They keep going, even when things are tough.”

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