Page 76 of Every Star that Shines

He gripped the edge of the plastic cup holders at the front of the armrests and stared straight ahead. He could do this.

When Delanie reached the stage, she spoke for several minutes about Molly and her influence on her own and many others’ careers, speaking eloquently about her gratitude that she knew her not only as Molly Davis, but also as her Nan. The words washed over Caleb like waves, barely audible over the blood rushing through his ears. Then something she said broke through the heat and noise that pounded through him.

“As talented as my Nan was, for many years, all I saw when I looked at her was the potential of what she could have been if she hadn’t chosen to come to Peace Crossing and have a family. Even though, I must admit, part of me has always been pretty grateful she did.” Delanie laughed, and so did the audience.

Caleb drew a deep breath. Why was she talking about this here, now, in front of all the parents and kids?

“While I was helping my family clear out Nan’s house,” Delanie continued, “I found a scrapbook of Molly’s accomplishments on the stage from before she married my Pops. She got to play some pretty impressive roles—Maria from The Sound of Music. Anna Leanowens from The King and I. Sergeant Sarah Brown in Guys and Dolls. She even played Joan of Arc once. Can you picture my sweet little Nan as a fierce warrior woman leading the French to victory?”

Polite laughter rippled through the crowd.

“But that was only one scrapbook of dozens.” Delanie glanced around to take in the attentive faces of the kids watching her from the stage. “Nan was proud of the career she’d had before she married my grandfather. But that was nothing compared to how she felt about her work here in this community. She had over a dozen scrapbooks of the productions she’d been a part of in this very theatre, including cast photos and names. I even found a few with a young Murray Jones,” she said to the man.

He chuckled and nodded good-naturedly.

Delanie looked back at the audience. “I never understood why that would be important enough to her that she didn’t seem to miss the career she could have had. Not until this year. Not until I did it myself.”

Caleb swallowed, a flicker of hope lighting in his chest. Had Delanie rethought what she had told him a few days ago in Kamloops?

Now Delanie broke the cardinal rule of actors and turned her back to the audience, speaking directly to the kids. She kept the microphone to her mouth so all could hear. “Directing the play this year has been the pinnacle of my career so far. And I hope it will only be the first of many productions I get to direct here. Someday, I hope to have my own collection of cast photos filled with each one of you as you grow. You,” she pointed at one of the younger kids, who giggled, “and you, and you, and each one of you, have blessed me more than you’ll ever know. You kids are all stars. And I’m so glad I got to see you shine.”

Emma burst from her place at the front of the line and raced over to Delanie, throwing her arms around her waist. The mic picked up Emma saying, “I knew you’d come back.”

Delanie smiled, wrapping her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “How could I miss this?” she whispered, though Caleb somehow heard it loud and clear over his rushing pulse.

The rest of the kids streamed forward and wrapped Delanie in a huge group hug, at least ten kids deep on each side, while the audience whistled and cheered. Caleb watched it all, clapping uncertainly, emotion still clogging his throat. What had Delanie meant? Had she decided to stay in Peace Crossing? Was she giving up on her career on the screen after all?

As much as one part of him selfishly hoped she had done both of those things—that all of this was because she had changed her mind—another part of him balked. How could she make that choice for him?

And how could he let her?

Suddenly, he had a little more compassion for what she must have wrestled with the other night in her hotel room.

Murray wedged his way into the outer edge of the dispersing knot of children and took the mic from Delanie’s extended arm, giving a booming laugh as he brought it back to his mouth. “That was even better than I expected.”

He waited for the last of the kids to release a rather flushed-looking Delanie, then took a plaque from Amber and held it before him. “Before I present this, I want to commend Delanie Fletcher for how she has picked up her grandmother’s torch. Thanks to her and her efforts, along with the kids of this year’s production and some very generous donors both near and far, not only does Mackenzie Playhouse now have a brand-new sound board, but we will finally be able to replace the wiring that has been such a bother for many years now.”

At this, the crowd went wild with applause. Delanie stood there, her face flushing red as a tomato as she beamed around at the crowd, looking embarrassed. Despite his uncertainty about where he and Delanie stood, Caleb joined in whole-heartedly, his heart bursting with pride at what Delanie had done for this community, his daughter, and for him, in only two short months.

When the noise subsided, Murray turned to Delanie. “Now, Ms. Fletcher, it is with great delight that I present you with this plaque, which we will be affixing to the front of the stage. Henceforth, the stage where we stand will be known as the Molly Davis Memorial Stage.”

Delanie smiled widely. “On behalf of Molly Davis’s family, I accept.”

She took the proffered plaque, but whatever she said next was drowned out in uproarious applause.

Murray waved and jogged back down the stairs to his seat. Amber took the mic from Delanie and thanked and dismissed the audience. The house lights came up, and the kids started milling their way offstage to go get changed. Across the heads flowing in opposite directions, though, Delanie met Caleb’s eye, her gaze holding the same uncertainty he felt, pulling him toward her with the gravity of a collapsing star. He glanced at the people flowing toward him from the front of the hall in frustration.

Then, he started climbing over the backs of the seats, to a shocked exclamation from his mother and some encouraging hoots from Desmond.

Darn propriety. He needed to talk to that woman.

Right.

Now.

By the time he had moved forward several rows, the left aisle had cleared. Delanie had made her way to the steps at the front of the stage and was hurrying carefully down them in her heels. He pushed his way past the last stragglers in the aisle and ran forward, meeting Delanie at the bottom of the steps and grasping her hands. Some of the musicians, who were putting away their instruments, looked their way and smirked.

“Back here,” she said, jerking her chin toward the side doors that led both backstage and to an emergency exit.

---