Take Two (6 page)

What about the parents? How helpless had they felt seeing the video, watching their kids pass out, watching them collapse
to the floor, desperately wanting a second chance to somehow be there, to call for an ambulance? How did any of them feel
now?

Suddenly the images in Keith’s mind changed, and he wasn’t seeing the shot glasses or the liquor bottles or the dying teenagers.

He was seeing his daughter, bright-eyed and innocent, telling a circle of jungle women about the love of Jesus Christ. And
he was seeing her as she was now — experimenting with drinking and guys and choices that went far outside the realms of her
up-bringing and faith.

That was it, really. The kids in the video were no different from Andi and every other young person. They faced temptations
that came at them from every side. Pornography and homosexuality, drinking and drugs, and anything goes. A disdain for faith,
and an overall hedonistic lure that had a way of changing even the most grounded kids. That’s where the power of film could
make a difference. The right movie could give a generation of young people a reason to stand firm, to believe again in the
rewards of living right and holding fast to God’s truth. That’s all Andi needed right now. It’s all any kids in this generation
needed.

A reason to stand.

Keith could hardly wait for morning.

K
ELLY
R
YAN SHUT THE BEDROOM DOOR
where her girls were finally napping and walked silently down the hallway of their small ranch house to the kitchen. The
girls had been up late last night, hoping for a call from their daddy.

A call that never came.

Two weeks remained before Thanksgiving, and again Chase and Keith were off in Los Angeles editing, working practically around
the clock to finish the movie before the festival deadlines.

Kelly entered the kitchen and grabbed a handful of M&Ms from a bowl on the counter. She popped a couple in her mouth, and
then a few more, so they’d last. Then she gave up and finished off the rest all at once.

Lately she’d been more overwhelmed than she wanted to admit. The M&Ms were proof. It was only two o’clock and she’d nearly
finished off half a bag. Between that, the overdue electric bill, and the laundry piled taller than Macy on the living room
sofa, rest was nowhere in sight.

Back in Indonesia, Kelly had eaten fish and vegetables, whole grains and beans, and little else. She’d been lean and full
of energy, ready to handle whatever crisis or task the day brought. But with Chase gone, she felt frustrated and forgotten.
Last night was like so many of those before it. She and the girls ate leftover macaroni and cheese and then stayed up waiting
for Chase’s call. When contact didn’t come, Kelly faced a barrage of questions.

“But why, Mommy?” Molly’s brow lowered. Not much slipped past her. “Doesn’t he have his cell phone?”

“Yes, baby.” Kelly had felt so weary she thought about crawling into bed next to her oldest daughter and forgetting the work
that waited for her in the kitchen. “I’m sure he wanted to call.”

Macy listened to every word, and the combination of the late night and the ache of missing her father finally caused her to
burst into tears.

“I want my Daaaaddy.”

“Okay, okay.” Kelly lifted the covers up over Molly and then moved to Macy and did the same. She sat on the edge of Macy’s
bed. “Let’s quiet down. Everything’s going to be all right.” She rubbed her hand over Macy’s back, comforting her. “Let’s
pray and ask God to help Daddy get his work done quickly.”

Kelly prayed out loud and sang songs about Jesus and God’s promises until both girls fell asleep. Then she trudged back to
the kitchen to a sink overflowing with dishes that hadn’t been washed since breakfast. The old house didn’t have a dishwasher,
so when every last dish and pan was scrubbed clean and dripping dry, Kelly found the Baskin Robbins Rocky Road in the garage
freezer and dished up a bowl. Companionship for a round of laundry and late-night infomercials. She didn’t cut the lights
in her bedroom until just before one a.m., setting herself up for another rushed morning with Molly and Macy scrambling into
her room and jumping on her bed sometime before eight.

Molly was four, and Macy two, and neither of them attended preschool. Kelly taught them letters and numbers and a few times
each week the three of them sat around their wobbly kitchen table and colored princess pictures or made crafts with bright
card stock and water paints. But the rushed morning changed everything about the hours that followed, and today was no exception.

Kelly moved into the living room and grabbed the first threadbare towel from the mountain of laundry. When Chase was here,
they’d have the girls in bed by eight-thirty and work on the laundry or bills together. Strange how in his absence the workload
seemed to quadruple.

A sigh slipped from deep inside her. “I’m sorry, Lord. I hate this. I should have a better attitude.”

If only she wasn’t so tired. Her days as a missionary had been equally hard, but in a different way. There was manual labor
— threshing wheat, grinding flour, baking with the village women, cleaning. She’d learned to sew and repair basic functional
household items and cook, and every night at dusk activity wound down. Sleep came easily in Indonesia, the way it rarely did
in San Jose — at least with Chase away.

She sighed and checked her reflection in the microwave hood above her gas stove. No shower, but she had at least brushed her
hair and put on a light foundation. She had to at least look decent with company coming over. Today was the second Thursday
of the month, which meant Laurie Weeks would be here any minute.

Laurie headed up the Monday-morning Bible study at San Jose Community Church. She had three kids, a constant stream of family
photos on her Facebook, and a love for the beach — same as Kelly. A few months back when Bible study let out, Laurie asked
if they could have lunch together. Over Caesar salads Laurie noted that Chase had been gone a lot. Kelly explained about the
movie, about the mission of her husband and Keith, and over the next hour the two became fast friends. Kelly was grateful.
She needed friends now more than ever.

Kelly grabbed another handful of M&Ms and slid them into her mouth. She hated this new habit, getting by on junk food. But
when she was running on empty, the candy helped. The trouble was she was gaining weight because of it, which meant that any
junk food in the house had to be hidden from Chase. The last thing she wanted was his scrutiny, him wondering why she wasn’t
eating right and taking note of her slightly bigger size. She wasn’t hungry, of course. She was overwhelmed. Treading water
in an endless sea of menial tasks and impossible debt, struggling to grab even a breath of air so she could keep at it one
more day.

But not Chase. He couldn’t see how she was drowning because his own happiness didn’t allow it. He came home from the editing
trips overflowing with excitement about the movie. What did he know about her life these days? The lawn mower was sputtering
along on its last leg, and the vacuum needed replacing. Most of the time, Kelly felt like just one more broken-down machine,
completely cut off from Chase’s work and his exciting movie life.

When he was home, Kelly had a dozen questions, but the one that rose to the surface most often lately was about the movie’s
theatrical release. She had believed from the beginning that if they actually finished the film, if they found enough investor
money to complete the project, then it would take only a matter of months before the picture hit the big screen. Especially
now that the guys had connected with glamorous Kendall Adams and her father. Because of them, money for their film projects
was much less of a concern.

But Keith and Chase had an attorney now — Dayne Matthews’ brother, Luke Baxter. Luke had read Chase and Keith’s contract and
warned them that a theatrical release wasn’t a guarantee — even with the right funding.

According to Luke, the contract with the studio was ironclad. Either the studio executives would view the final cut of the
movie and give the okay for a theatrical release, or they wouldn’t. The problem was this: even with the P&A budget covered,
the studio would face a financial risk by putting the film in theaters. Very simply, it was a risk the execs might not want
to take.

And if the film didn’t make it to theaters, the guys would likely not make back their money.

Kelly had been horrified when she first understood the situation Chase and Keith faced. She talked to Keith’s wife, Lisa,
and the two agreed they needed to pray. Without a theatrical release, Keith and Chase could face bankruptcy and a complete
loss of credibility as filmmakers. All their efforts could amount to little more than nothing.

Kelly filled the kettle with water, slipped it onto the front burner, and turned the flame up high. Laurie loved tea at their
twice-monthly get-togethers. It would be the healthiest thing Kelly had placed in her mouth since Chase left for LA four days
ago.

She leaned against the counter and stared at the dull linoleum floor.
Remember the fireflies
, she told herself.
Don’t forget about the fireflies.
Years ago when Chase learned fireflies really existed, he determined anything was possible. It was a mantra they lived by.
But Kelly was lonely and depressed. Money was tight, and there was no end in sight to the long days without her husband. She
still wanted to believe in his movie career, but week after week without him had sapped her of every bit of excitement and
enthusiasm.

“Stay positive,” Chase told her two days ago, the last time they talked. “God’s brought us this far. He’ll work out the details.”

Kelly wanted to believe him.

There was a light knock from the front room. She slid the bowl of M&Ms to the back edge of the counter and hurried to get
the door.

An unusual rain had hit San Jose that morning, and the storm was blowing hard outside. Laurie shook the water from her windbreaker
and stepped quickly inside. “It’s nasty out there.” She was breathless as Kelly shut the door behind them. “Feels like it
could snow.”

“Another ten degrees and it could.”

The water had begun to boil in the other room. Kelly led the two of them into the kitchen, where she poured the tea. Apple-cinnamon,
a reminder of the holidays right around the corner.

They sat at the table and Laurie caught her breath talking about her kids. Audrey wanted to take another mission trip, and
Lucas was switching his major at San Jose State. Sam had won senior honors on his football team, and life was good. Good and
fast and full.

A comfortable quiet filled in the spaces between them, and they sipped their tea, listening to the wind howl through the trees
outside.

Laurie put her cup down. “Chase is still in Santa Monica?”

“He is.” Kelly’s face fell before she could stop herself.

“That’s what I thought.” Something in Laurie’s eyes changed. “You look tired.”

Tears came from nowhere. Kelly blinked them back and studied the teabag in her cup.

Laurie waited, patient and kind as ever. “Wanna talk about it?” A sound more sob than laugh came from Kelly and she brought
her fingers to her lips. “It’s nothing, really. I mean … things are okay with us.”

“The movie?”

“I guess.” A teardrop fell onto the table. Kelly dabbed at it, and then at her eyes. “The guys might not get a theatrical
release for
The Last Letter
. If they don’t … the film could lose money, and … Well, the actors will think the movie was a mistake.” She found control
again. “It could be their last picture.”

Confusion clouded Laurie’s eyes. “I thought they got some kind of good news a while back.”

“They found funding, otherwise they wouldn’t have had the money to finish the film. But now their attorney is telling them
they’re in an unbreakable deal with the studio, and the studio is struggling like everyone else. The theatrical release of
an independent film is a risk, and so without a miracle, the movie will only release on DVD.”

The rain picked up and pounded a steady rhythm on the roof and windows of the Ryan’s three-bedroom ranch. Wind howled and
a tree outside bent almost to breaking. When the gust let up, Laurie took another drink of her tea. “Is that it, then? The
movie?”

Kelly didn’t have to ask what she meant. “It gets old, I guess. Chase gone all the time.” Frustration tightened her throat,
and she whispered her next words. “We’ve maxed out our credit cards and taken out loans. We’re living on barely anything.
All this … for what? How’s the culture affected if the movie never makes it to theaters?”

“Honestly?” Laurie set her cup down. Her eyes radiated kindness. “I’m more worried about you and Chase than the movie. When’s
the last time you went out?”

“Alone?” Kelly tried to remember. “I can’t remember.”

“Okay, how about this. I’ll take Molly and Macy one night this weekend so you and Chase can go to dinner.”

“Really?”

“Of course. My kids love your girls.” Laurie sat a little straighter, enthused about her idea. “We can play croquet out front.
Sam’s been into that lately. You and Chase pick a nice restaurant and take your time. Let’s make it Saturday, so he won’t
be drained from the drive back.”

Kelly didn’t want to admit they didn’t have enough money for dinner at a restaurant. Besides, she had no idea what she’d wear.
Most of her clothes were too tight to look good. But so what? Chase loved her, anyway. Maybe they could eat at home and take
a walk around the track at Mount Pleasant High School down the street. Just to get out together. The idea sounded better than
any of the weekends they’d had lately. Chase coming home tired, desperate for sleep, and spending his waking hours watching
football or on the phone with people connected to the movie.

“Saturday?”

“Saturday.” Laurie laughed, her smile easy. “Say yes.”

“Well …” Suddenly the idea sounded wonderful. “Okay.” She reached across the table and took hold of Laurie’s hands. “Thanks,
Laurie. We’d love it.”