Stars Collide (6 page)

A couple of the kids took Scott’s actions as a cue and flew to the set to begin performances of their own. Candy burst into a rousing rendition of “Memories” from
Cats
, and little Joey began an interesting—albeit loud—tap routine. Maddy took Ethan by the hand and they began to dance in silly circles, soon growing dizzy. A few of the others began pounding along with makeshift drumsticks, and one boy even started a funny, nonsensical rap.

Before long, Scott and Grandma had incorporated the kids into their dance, and within minutes they all formed a conga line around the set.

Tia watched all of this with a look of—what was that, horror?—on her face. Well, until Scott extended a hand and asked her to join the line. She looked at me, eyes wide, and I shrugged.

“If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em,” I called out.

And with that, we both jumped in line.

7

Real People

On Saturday morning, Scott took me for a drive to Laguna Beach. As we headed south on the Pacific Coast Highway, I leaned my head back against the seat and listened to the worship music coming through his amazing stereo system. Nothing soothed the soul like great worship tunes.

A slight tilt of the head and I caught a glimpse of the Pacific to my right. Who could ask for more? God surely knew what he was doing when he created those fabulous waters, and merging them with songs of praise only made the whole experience more spectacular.

Scott interrupted my moment of reverie. “Want to stop for food first, then take it to the beach?”

“Sure.” I turned to him with a smile, my heart still filled with thoughts of worship. “What did you have in mind?”

He grinned. “Johnny Rockets okay?”

“Are you kidding? It’s one of my favorites. I love their chocolate shakes.”

“So that’s how you keep your slim, trim figure.” He waggled his brows at me and I laughed.

“I won’t be slim and trim much longer if I eat at Johnny Rockets, but a little won’t hurt, right?” I gave him a wink and he reached to squeeze my hand.

“Right.”

After locating a place to park—never easy near the PCH, especially in Laguna—we made our way to Johnny Rockets. The tiny room was crowded, as always, but I loved the ambience. The ’50s decor really made you feel like you’d stepped back in time, and the individual jukeboxes at each table offered that extra oomph.

After ordering a couple of burgers and shakes to go, we walked across the traffic-heavy PCH to the most gorgeous stretch of white sand on the planet. Well, close. I’d loved this area of Laguna for as long as I could remember. And with the tourist season in full force, we were surrounded on every side. Usually I worried about being spotted or harassed in some way—and I knew Scott did too—but today we just ignored that possibility. Between the baseball caps and sunglasses we’d both donned, we could pass for ordinary beachgoers. Hoped so, anyway.

As soon as we reached the beach, I pulled off my sandals and carried them in my left hand. My right held the chocolate shake I’d ordered.

I caught a whiff of that familiar scent of coconut suntan oil. Mmm. A lingering breath escaped, and I paused to wriggle my feet deep into the white sand. “I love the feel of the sand between my toes.”

“See, that’s the difference between growing up in Arkansas and growing up in California,” Scott said. “The only thing between my toes back home came courtesy of the critters we kept in the barn at night.”

My laugh that erupted morphed into an ungirlish snort, and a couple of people glanced my way. I ducked my head and kept walking, trying to blend into the crowd. I took a sip of my chocolate shake, savoring its creamy goodness. Could this day possibly get any better?

“What about that spot right there?” He pointed to a space off to our left with more sand than people, and I readily agreed.

After settling down onto the warm sand, I breathed in the salty air. Closing my eyes briefly, I listened to the sound of the waves as they moved in ribbons over the sand, changing its texture. My thoughts sailed away once again as the majesty of the water meeting the shore held me in its grasp.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” I said after a few moments of reflection. “It’s been ages since I’ve been to the beach.”

“You’re welcome. I live to please.” He grinned. “Next time we’ll go to Dana Point. I’ve got a boat docked there.”

“A boat?”

“Well, a yacht.” He shrugged. “But don’t be too impressed. It’s a small one.”

“Small or not, that’s pretty impressive.” I leaned back, wo
n
dering what it would be like to board his yacht. We would sail off into the sunset, just the two of us.

After a few moments of pondering, I closed my eyes, the waves now playing in my ears like an unexpected symphony. “There’s nothing like the Pacific,” I said at last.

Scott chuckled. “You’ve apparently never been to Mud Creek.”

“Mud Creek?” My eyes popped open. “Where’s that?”

“Half a mile from my parents’ place in Alma, Arkansas. Just off of Little Frog Bayou.”

I withheld any comments, thinking he might be teasing me.

“We’ve always called it Mud Creek because it’s more mud than water,” Scott explained. “But what it lacks in charm, it more than makes up for in mosquitoes. Oh, and the biting catfish. They’re entertaining.”

“Biting catfish?” Now he’d hooked me. Pun intended.

Scott gave me a knowing look. “Yeah. Don’t let folks tell you a catfish’s bark is worse than its bite. I happen to know the opposite is true. Don’t ask for details.”

I was dying to know more—about biting catfish, about his life before L.A.—but didn’t ask. We’d have time for that later. As I turned my gaze back to the waters of the Pacific, I did think of one quick comeback. “At least it wasn’t a shark.”

“Try telling that to a nine-year-old boy in swim trunks.” He reached in the bag and pulled out the cheeseburgers, passing one my way.

I opened it up and peeked at it, my nose wrinkling. “Ugh, no way. Ketchup.”

“Wrong burger.”

We swapped, and I opened the one with mustard and pickles and offered up a sigh. “Perfect. Just like I like it.”

“Everything today is just like I like it,” Scott said.

As he flashed a boyish grin, I realized we weren’t talking about cheeseburgers anymore. It felt good to have him say such sweet things. A girl could get used to this.

“Everything is just like I like it too,” I whispered in response.

We settled into an easy silence, chomping away on our burgers. Felt good to let the quietness cradle us. Well, quietness in theory. Just yards away, tempestuous waves crashed against the shoreline, children squealed in high-pitched voices, mothers called out marching orders, and vendors hawked their wares. Other than that, this place was sheer bliss. So was the burger, actually. It had been a while since I’d allowed myself the calories of a sloppy cheeseburger. Yum.

I’d nearly finished mine when Scott broke the silence. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.” He pushed the burger’s wrapper back into the sack.

I squinted and put my hand up to block the burst of sunlight as I turned his way. “What’s that?”

He reached for my wrapper and stuck it into the bag along with his, then wadded the whole thing up into a ball. “My brother and his fiancée work with a Christian organization in Ensenada, just a few hours south of Tijuana. They oversee an orphanage there.”

“Wow. That’s admirable.”

“Yes, I’m very proud of him.” Scott paused, and for a moment I read something else in his expression. I couldn’t tell what, exactly.

I took another sip of my chocolate shake, wondering why he paused. “You okay?” I asked finally.

“Yeah.” He snapped to attention. “Anyway, the home is in need of renovating and Bryan is trying to raise the money to do it. I’ve already pledged a certain amount but would like to get others interested too, so I thought maybe we could do a talent show, using some of the kids from the cast. Maybe people could pay to get in, or just make donations or something. What do you think?”

“I think you’re amazing for thinking of this. It’s brilliant. I’m sure the parents will be thrilled. They love watching their kids perform. Maybe they’ll even invite their friends and family members.”

“I’m counting on that.”

“It’s great that you want to help your brother,” I said. “And it gives the rest of us a way to contribute too.”

His expression shifted to one of concern. “Oh, trust me . . . if you saw the pictures of the children from that orphanage, you’d be even more excited.”

To our right, a little boy let out a whoop, and seconds later a beach ball came flying through the air. It whacked Scott on the side of the head. Instead of getting upset, he laughed and tossed it back, hollering, “Here you go!”

The boy grabbed it and waved, then went back to playing.

As I observed all of this, I thought about what a good person Scott Murphy was, inside and out. What you saw was what you got with him. And I liked what I saw. A lot.

“I’d be glad to help with the fund-raiser,” I said, coming back to the matter at hand. “Have you thought about a date? And a venue?”

“Yes, I’ve already talked to my pastor. Our church has a huge fellowship hall with a decent-sized stage at one end. They’re going to let us use it at no cost. They’ll even provide snacks.”

“So we just have to come up with the various acts then get the word out?”

“Exactly. And as for the date, I think we’ll need a few weeks to pull it off.”

“True. Sounds like fun, though. Maybe we could act out a scene.”

He laughed. “We do that every day, Kat. Aren’t you tired of acting?”

“Maybe something completely different . . . like a parody of
Stars Collide
, or maybe . . .” I snapped my fingers. “Something totally random. Like Shakespeare. Or Jane Austen. We could do a
Saturday Night Live
take on it, though. Something really wacky.”

He rolled his eyes and I laughed.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I’ll give it some thought. And I’m sure we’ll come up with a ton of others who want to participate, including your grandmother. You know she’ll want to get in on the act.”

“Oh, no doubt.” I nodded, thinking about how she would react to this news. “We’ll have her reprise something from one of her old movies. I can see it now. She’ll need a love interest, though. Someone her own age, preferably.”

“Let’s pair her up with Rex.” Scott gave me a knowing look. “I’ve seen the way they look at each other.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “It’s so funny you should say that. I thought I was the only one who’d noticed the chemistry between the two of them.”

He shook his head. “You’re definitely not the only one. I think they’re both smitten.”

I paused, wondering who else might have caught on. “I think there’s more to it than that,” I said at last. “Rex told me that he actually knew Grandma back in the ’50s.”

“Interesting. Wonder what the story is there.”

“Yeah. Me too.” I paused, looking back over the ocean. There were so many mysteries in life. My grandmother was one of them. She was a treasure chest of stories, some obvious, some hidden. I’d made it my goal to read every one while I still had her with me.

Scott moved closer, putting his arm over my shoulders. I cradled close to him, still holding tight to my chocolate shake.

“Hollywood is filled with drama. Some of it on the set, some off.” He grinned. “Your grandmother is quite a character.”

“No kidding. You’re not going to believe what she said to me the other day.”

“What’s that?”

“She said, ‘Let’s take a dip in the cement pond, Elly May.’ ” A chuckle escaped. “I guess she’d been watching
The Beverly Hillbillies
on TV or something. Still, I do worry about her fading memory. She can remember things from years ago, but not what she saw five minutes ago. That alarms me.”

“I don’t blame you for being nervous,” Scott said. “But maybe some of her eccentricities are just that—eccentricities. I mean, did you ever think about that? Maybe that Elly May line was supposed to be funny and you just read too much into it.”

“Probably. She even had Elly May bathing suits for us to wear.”

“Some people have a bizarre sense of humor. Your grandmother is a hoot.” He paused. “So . . . speaking of fun-loving people, my parents are coming to town for a hardware convention.”

“Hardware convention?” I couldn’t help the chuckle that followed. “Should I bring my tool belt?”

“You own a tool belt?” He grinned. “Seriously, if you did go, you would be stunned at what a big deal it is. People are coming from all over the world to look at the latest, greatest inventions.”

“You mean like power tools and stuff?”

“And stuff.” A laugh followed. “And my dad’s the king of power tools, so this is right up his alley. He’ll probably get some great ideas for things to sell in his store. That’s the idea, to generate interest in new products. To convince people they can’t live without all of the tools they’ve lived without up till now. That sort of thing.”

“He sounds great. And your mom’s coming too?”

“Yep. They’re making a real vacation out of it. Mom wants to spend as much time as she can with my brother and me. And I’d like to factor you into that mix, Kat.” He gave me a serious look and my heart fluttered.

“O-oh?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “I know we haven’t been seeing each other very long, but my parents don’t make it out to L.A. very often, and I was hoping . . .”

“Hoping . . . ?”

“I want you to meet them, Kat.” His expression grew more serious. “They’re going to love you, and vice versa. And just for the record, I hope you and I will go on seeing each other for a long time to come, so I want this to be the first of many family get-togethers.”

Suddenly I could hardly wait to meet his parents. “I’d like that. Very much.”

“Me too.” He gave me a wink that set my thoughts twirling.

“And I want you to bring your grandmother too,” he said. “I think my mother would love her. They’re as different as oil and vinegar, but I have a feeling they’ll get along great.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “You know how risky that is, right?”

“I know. But I’m willing to take the risk.”

Wow. He really did care about me. After a pause, I posed a question that had been on my mind. “So, your brother is coming from Mexico?”

“He is. And he’s bringing his fiancée, Julia, to meet my parents for the first time. Should be an exciting week.” Scott paused and for a moment seemed to drift away in his thoughts.

I reeled him back in with, “Everything okay?”

“Just thinking about my brother.”

“What about him?”

“For one thing, Bryan is younger than me. Only twenty-four. But he’s got a great head on his shoulders. I’m so impressed with the life he’s lived. And the work he’s done. He’s making a real difference in the world. I’m just . . .” Scott raked his fingers through his hair, a look of disappointment on his face.

“You’re doing great things, Scott,” I said. “You love God. You’re using the gifts he’s given you. And the way you reach out to the kids on the set is so awesome. I think you’ve just started to scratch the surface of all the great things you’re going to do.”