All That Lies Within (39 page)

“I know. I could see that. It’s why I fought so hard for the changes.”

“You know I was listening to that entire exchange, right?”

“What exchange?”

“The one that very first day between you, George, and Cal. I was ready to jump up and rip Cal’s throat out.”

“You were, eh?”

“I really was. I was so proud of you for standing your ground.”

Rebecca shrugged. “Constance needed to be heard. I was her voice.”

“That’s what you were thinking?”

“It was.”

“Wow. Just, wow. After the way I treated you the night before—”

“We’re not going there, sweetheart. Let’s stay right here, in this moment, where I’m lying in bed naked and well loved by my gorgeous, indescribably talented fiancée, who is about to receive an honorary doctorate from my college. How proud am I?”

“You know, there’s something I never told you.”

“I’m guessing there are a lot of things you’ve never told me.”

Dara’s breath caught and a wave of guilt washed over her. She flashed back to a recent discussion with Carolyn.

“You can’t let her marry you and not tell her about the rest of who you are. You have to tell her you see and talk to dead people.”

“I will tell her. I promise.”

“When?”

“Not right now. When the time is right.”

 “You have a love child stashed somewhere?”

“What?” Dara shook herself from the reverie. “Very funny.” Dara swatted Rebecca lightly on the arm. “I’m serious.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“Many years ago, when I was a young, aspiring writer and just before my acting career took off, I applied to attend the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference.”

“You… What?!”

“I applied to Bread Loaf.”

“As Constance?”

“No.” Dara shook her head. “Constance didn’t exist back then. Dara Thomas applied.”

“You’re serious.”

“I am.”

“Did you go?”

“I would’ve, except they rejected me.”

“They…” Rebecca paused and cocked her head to the side. “I’m sorry. I could’ve sworn you said they rejected you.”

“That’s because they did.”

Rebecca sat straight up. “Middlebury College’s Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference rejected Constance Darrow’s application?”

“No.” Dara drew the word out. “They rejected Dara Thomas’s application.”

“Same writer. Same talent. Of all the moronic, idiotic… Oh, my God. Do they know they did it?”

“You mean is there a record of it?”

“Yes.”

Dara shrugged. “I have no idea what kind of record keeping they do on applications they turn down.” Dara could see Rebecca’s wheels spinning.

“What was your writing like back then? Do you remember what you sent them?”

“Why?”

“Please tell me you didn’t send them anything that eventually ended up being published under Constance’s name.”

“Oh.” Dara hadn’t considered that. If something like that ever came to light, either Dara would have to come out as Constance or be accused of plagiarism either as Constance or Dara. What a mess that would be.

“No. I was so distraught about being turned down that I was convinced my writing was horrible. I burned what I sent them in a ritual in my backyard. As far as I know, I never kept a copy of it.”

“Thank God,” Rebecca said.

“You know, when I received your very first letter, I remember saying out loud that I wouldn’t hold a grudge against you just because your school gave me the cold shoulder.”

“I’m very glad you didn’t hold me responsible. Especially since I wasn’t here at the time.” Rebecca kissed Dara’s forehead. “How ironic that now they want to give you an honorary degree. Guess you get the last laugh.”

“Guess I do, but I don’t think I’ll be telling them the story any time soon.”

“No. I’d recommend against that.” Rebecca glanced at the bedside clock. “And now we really do have to get going.”

“Last day of school, Professor.”

“Last day of school, and I get to spend my summer vacation with you.”

“Perfect. Care to shower with me?”

“Always. Very environmentally friendly and I hear this is that kind of campus.”

On the way to the bathroom and with her conversation with Carolyn still top of mind, Dara considered and discarded a half dozen opening lines to ease into the discussion about her childhood. Somehow, the time just didn’t seem right.
I’ll tell her soon; maybe over the summer when we don’t have any distractions.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

They were on time in the end, just barely. Rebecca marched in wearing her hood and robe with the other professors and Dara, having marched in at the front of the parade with the other degree recipients, got to watch. She sighed contentedly from her spot on the stage. She could see Rebecca beaming at her from the left side front row when she collected her hood and degree.
Thank God I didn’t trip.

After eight months together, she had to pinch herself every now and again to trust that this was real. To think that she found the one person in the world who saw her completely for herself… It was more than she believed she’d ever have and all that she knew she’d ever want.
I love you, Rebecca Minton. I can’t wait to marry you.

She can’t see you completely for yourself until you show her all of you.

Dara started as she heard her mother’s voice in her head. “Oh, my God. Not now, Mother,” she mumbled.

You can’t keep putting it off. She deserves to know.

Panic began to bloom in Dara’s chest.

“Are you coming?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The band is playing our song,” one of the other honorees said.

When Dara glanced around, she realized the recessional was about to start and she needed to parade out. When the recessional ended, she searched for Rebecca. Along the way, she signed many autographs for new graduates and their parents.

“I’m sorry. I need to go find someone,” she said, apologizing to the now rather large throng of autograph seekers.

“Looking for me?”

Dara turned to see Rebecca leaning against the tree to her right, watching her. “As a matter of fact, Professor, I was.”

“Walk this way. I promise to protect you from the mob.” Rebecca winked.

As they ambled across the verdant lawn, someone called out to them. “Dara! Rebecca! Wait.”

Dara pulled them up short. “I could swear that sounded like Carolyn.”

“Nah.” Rebecca urged them forward.

“Wait, damn it!”

“Definitely Carolyn,” Dara said. She pivoted in the direction of the voice. Indeed, it was her best friend.

“My God, I thought you’d never stop.” Carolyn put her hands on her knees, catching her breath.

“What in the world are you doing here?” Dara asked.

“It was easier to drive up here from New York than it was to fly to LA to see you tomorrow.”

“Why would you need to do either?” Rebecca asked reasonably. “Doesn’t your phone work?”

“Very funny. You can’t sign something over the phone.”

“Sign something?”

“What am I signing that’s important enough to make you drive almost six hours to bring it to me?” Dara asked.

“Never mind that,” Rebecca chimed in. “If you just drove up now you had to start at the crack of dawn. What’s going on?”

“Business is going on. Is there somewhere we can talk?”

Dara looked to Rebecca. “Sure. We can either go to my place, or I can treat you both to lunch at Mr. Up’s. If we hustle, we can beat the bulk of the graduation crowd.”

“This could be somewhat delicate.” Carolyn checked their surroundings. “I’m thinking your house might be best under the circumstances.”

“Okay. How about if I drive us? We can come back and get your car later.”

“Perfect.”

Rebecca pointed out the sights for Carolyn on the way to her place.

“It’s beautiful. Bucolic.”

“Peaceful,” Dara said. And it was. She enjoyed her visits here because it was so different from the hustle and bustle of LA.

“This is it.”

“It’s lovely,” Carolyn said, as she turned in a circle in the foyer.

“Thanks. It’s home.”

When they were situated inside the living room, Dara couldn’t wait anymore. “Why are you here? Don’t get me wrong. You know I love you to pieces. But what gives?”

“The studio gives,” Carolyn said. “A lot. As in money. As in the potential benefits here are astronomical.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the phone call I got from Randolph Curtain in what was the middle of the night for him last night and what was way too early this morning for me.”

Rebecca brought iced tea for all of them.

“He said the front end of the weekend box office was out of sight. So much so that he didn’t even want to wait for the full weekend numbers. He was satisfied that Friday’s take would only multiply on Saturday and today.”

“That’s fantastic,” Rebecca said. “Right?”

Dara laughed at her and kissed her on the cheek. “Right, Ms. Hollywood movie expert. Okay. So the numbers are good. We’ll all be rich thanks to my most excellent business manager who negotiated Dara and Constance incredibly generous contracts that included a piece of the box office take. Why does Randolph have ants in his pants?”

“He wants to option Constance’s latest book right away before anyone else jumps in.”

“He wants the rights to
Love Above All Else
?”

“Yes, and he wants it tied up today. He sent a contract he had his people draw up at one o’clock this morning.”

“Wow. That’s serious. The terms?”

“I’ll push for a bigger share of the box office this time, but otherwise it’ll be the same as
On the Wings of Angels
.”

“That’s awesome, isn’t it?” Rebecca asked. “I mean, you could pull off the same setup. Dara is the right age to play the lead, even though the character ages during the course of the story. They’ve got makeup for that and prosthetics, right?”

Dara sat very still.

“Say something,” Rebecca said.

“I’m thinking.”

“I can see that. Think faster.”

“Okay. Here’s what I think.” She sat forward. “Put two stipulations in Constance’s contract. If he really wants this book so badly, he’ll have to agree to them.”

Carolyn took out her iPad.

“Stipulation One—Dara Thomas plays Courtney.”

“Okay. You know that’s not done. The author doesn’t get to pick the actors.”

“She will this time. And Stipulation Two—Constance will only sell the rights if Rebecca Minton is the screenwriter.”

“What?” Rebecca and Carolyn exclaimed in unison.

“You heard me.” Dara knelt in front of Rebecca and took her hands. “What you did with
On the Wings of Angels
was genius. We saw what happened when I trusted the studio to hire the right screenwriter for the project. No one understands my characters and my stories better than you do. You truly are the preeminent Constance Darrow scholar.”

“But…”

“Constance dedicated the book to you. It would only be natural that she would want you to write the treatment. Especially knowing that you were brought in to doctor
On the Wings of Angels
.”

“How would she know that? I didn’t get a screen credit.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Carolyn jumped in. “She would’ve heard. I’m business manager to both of them. I would’ve told Constance.”

“There you go.” Dara closed her eyes, trying to organize what she wanted to say to Rebecca. “You’re my life—the one person who sees inside me and understands my heart and the context for my work. I can’t imagine trusting Constance’s words to anyone else. I won’t sign if you’re not part of the package.”

“It would give you the perfect cover to be spending a lot of time together again,” Carolyn added.

Rebecca bit her lip. “It would likely mean I’d have to give up my professorship. Once was a fluke they were willing to work with. Twice…”

Dara nodded sadly. “I understand. It’s a lot to ask you to give up your life here.” She started to get up and Rebecca held her in place.

“It’s not what I’m giving up that matters,” Rebecca said quietly. “It’s what I’d be walking into and the awesome responsibility of it. I’ve never written a screenplay. It’s one thing to fix something that already exists. It’s quite another to create something from scratch.”

“I believe in you, Rebecca. I trust you.”

“We could do it together. You could help me write it.”

Dara shook her head. “No. You don’t need me for this. I’ve seen you in action. You understood what to do with that script better than I did. You saw better solutions. Your writing was crisp and clear. Your dialogue was pitch perfect.

“I write novels. They ebb and flow and meander. A screenplay is a completely different genre and it requires a different mindset. I can’t bring a fresh mindset to something that exists within me in a fixed format. I need you.”

“What happens if I let you down? What happens if I write a flop?”

“You won’t.”

“I could ruin your career. I couldn’t live with myself.”

“I can’t live without you. My career comes in a distant second if I have to choose.”

The words were out before Dara could process their implication, but in her heart she knew that was the truth, and it felt freeing. “And if you want and you can get them to grant you a sabbatical for the year to make the movie, I would take a year off after the film and we could live here together while you teach. Who knows, maybe Constance could get another book written while gazing out at the mountains.”

“You can’t take a year off at the height of your career. I won’t have it,” Rebecca said. “When you win the Oscar for Celeste, and you will, you’re going to be in even more demand than you are now.”

“What did I tell you about saying that kind of stuff out loud?”

“Aha! So, you really are superstitious.”

Dara wagged a finger at her. That’s beside the point and don’t change the subject.”

“Carolyn? If you proposed these terms to the studio, do you think they would accept?” Rebecca asked.

“Given that Randolph thought it was important enough to bring his lawyer out in the middle of the night on a Saturday night to draft the contract, my professional opinion would be that he might go for it.”