Acting Up (2 page)

It wasn't a well-known fact in Hollywood, but Sydney James was a Christian. Over the years, Syd had shared her faith on many occasions, but while Addison admired it, she wasn't sure she bought the whole religion thing. A supreme being who was in charge of her destiny? An all-powerful God who was supposedly good and yet allowed terrible things to happen? No, she'd learned early on that the only person she could truly count on was herself. She'd make her own destiny, thank you very much.

Syd couldn't let the whole argument go, though. “I will say, I think God has wonderful plans in store for you in the future.”

“Well, I hope so, because the plan right now stinks. What I need is an escape.”

“Escape?”

“A place to hide from the press. Let the news die down. In a few months, my shocking behavior will be forgotten, and I can come back and resurrect my career. Besides, Hollywood likes nothing better than a comeback story.”

“Not a bad idea. A change of scenery would do you good.”

Addison finished leafing through the pile. The last envelope had familiar handwriting. She ripped the seal open.

“What?” Sydney asked.

“A letter from my aunt.”

“Aunt?”

“Great-aunt. On my mother's side. I lived with her for a year when I was a teenager.”

She scanned the letter. Aunt Ruth had auctioned off one of her quilts at the church bazaar. The widowed minister had a new girlfriend, which had caused quite an uproar.

“
Addison.”

Sydney's imperious tone brought Addison's head up. “What?”

“How come I've known you for eight years, and I don't know you have an aunt? Or that you lived with her?”

“It's not a time I like to talk about, I guess. It was right after my dad died, and my whole life was a mess. Sometimes I think it all happened to someone else. Although in a way it did. I wasn't Addison Covington then.”

“Right,” Sydney said with a wicked sound of glee. “You were still Alice Jones.”

“Uh, uh, uh,” she said, swirling a finger in the air. “We have a rule, my friend. You don't call me Alice Jones, and I don't call you
Francis Didmeyer
.”

Sydney clutched her chest and groaned at the reference. “Sorry, but now I understand so much.”

“About what?”

“About you. Your father dies and your mother ships you off to a relative in a strange town—”

“I didn't get
shipped off
,” Addison said, knowing she sounded defensive. “She just couldn't handle my dad's death.”

Sydney held up her hand in surrender. “Okay, okay. I'm only saying a trauma like you experienced can have a lasting effect on a young girl.”

Addison let out a deep sigh and squeezed the ache between her eyes. “Sorry. Didn't mean to snap at you.”

“Where does your aunt live?” Sydney asked, obviously pulling back from sensitive questions.

“A tiny town in Georgia called Covington Falls. Think Savannah on a much, much smaller scale.”

Syd grinned. “Covington? As in Addison Covington?”

“I stole the name, yes,” Addison admitted. Then all traces of amusement disappeared as she read the rest of the letter.

“Is something wrong?” Sydney asked.

“Aunt Ruth fell and broke her hip. She'll be laid up for a few months.”

Sydney gave a mew of sympathy. “The same thing happened to my grandmother. The recovery can be difficult. My mother had to stay with her for weeks.”

Addison gazed at the letter as the answer to her dilemma struck like a lightning bolt. “Syd, you're a genius.”

“I am?” Sydney asked, green eyes widening in surprise.

“Yes, it's perfect.”

Now they narrowed. “You're thinking of going there yourself, aren't you?”

“Why not?” Addison said, rising to pace the small trailer. “I need to leave town for a while anyway, and no one would think to look for me there. You'd be hard pressed to find Covington Falls on a map. This will give me a chance to figure out how to get my career back on track. I can help my aunt, too.”

“Are you sure you can handle a total lifestyle change? Small towns don't seem like your thing anymore. Caring for an elderly aunt won't be easy either.”

“I can handle Aunt Ruth,” Addison said, straightening her shoulders. “I need to do this, and she needs me.”

Sydney studied her face for a beat and then gave a reluctant smile. “I can tell you're determined. I just hope you know what you're getting into.”

“It's only a few months,” Addison said. “What could happen?”

“Principal Thomas, I demand you do something.”

Ethan Thomas stopped, hand on the door of his SUV. Great. Mrs. Turney… again. If he'd only left a few minutes earlier. If not for a clogged toilet in the boys' bathroom, he would've already been on his way to pick up his sons. Which wasn't surprising. There seemed to be a series of clogged toilets disrupting his life lately… or maybe not just lately.

Ethan could pretend he hadn't heard the dictatorial voice. Simply jump in his car and escape. But as principal of Covington Falls High, he had a duty to stay and face the music.

Duty could be a real pain in the...

Fixing a smile on his face, he turned. A tall, middle-aged woman stood a few feet away, and she was definitely suited up for battle. Blond hair slicked back in some kind of elegant knot, perfectly matched sweater set, pearl necklace, and a perpetual scowl.

“Mrs. Turney,” he said.

Ethan knew every one of his students' parents. It was his business to know. However, some parents stood out from the crowd more than others. Mrs. Turney claimed top honors.

“What can I do for you?” he asked, as if he didn't already know. After countless phone calls and a face-to-face ambush – two counting today – there could be no doubt as to what she wanted.

“I understand you still haven't found anyone to direct the spring musical,” she said, crossing her arms and regarding him as a queen might when deciding if her poor subject should be beheaded.

“We're working on it.”

“You've known your drama teacher will be in China sorting out the adoption of her baby for several weeks. I don't understand what's taking so long.”

“We're looking for a replacement, but these things take time,” Ethan said, willing himself to remain calm.

He loved his job for the most part. Loved the kids and the sense of making a difference in their lives. Then there were these days. Raw-sewage-backing-up-into-your-life kind of days. He'd been trying to shovel the mess over the spring musical ever since Mrs. Vanderlin had made her announcement.

“We're running out of time,” Mrs. Turney said. “This is my Lisa's senior year. There must be a show. Her future depends on it.”

He opened the door. “Don't worry. There will be a show.”

“Need I remind you how important the spring musical is to our community?” Mrs. Turney asked. “If you're not going to take this issue seriously, I will have no choice but to go to the school board.”

If he had a dollar for every time a parent threatened to go over his head, he'd be a rich man. They rarely carried through. Generally, because he did take care of most problems. Being the star quarterback who'd taken Covington Falls High to the state championship and won didn't hurt either.

Championships tended to give a guy hero-status for life, and if he occasionally used such a status for the greater good who could blame him?

“If you must,” he said. “However, I assure you I am well aware of Covington Falls' history regarding the spring musical and I will find someone, even if I have to direct the show myself.”

Mrs. Turney allowed a small, satisfied smile. “Good. I knew you wouldn't let your students down.”

“I won't, Mrs. Turney. They are my number one priority.”

“Of course.” She patted his arm. “You know I hate confrontations and causing trouble for you.”

Ethan almost laughed. Who was she kidding? Confrontations and causing trouble for him seemed to be Mrs. Turney's number one priority.

“Especially after everything you've been through these last couple years,” Mrs. Turney said. “I've made allowances because I realize you've been under such tremendous strain.”

Sympathy wrapped in a poisoned arrow. His fists clenched, and he practically bit his lip to keep from showing any reaction.

“I also realize you would never do anything to jeopardize a student's future,” Mrs. Turney continued. “Not when your own dreams of a football career were so cruelly shattered before they could be realized.”

Ethan decided he preferred a confrontation over Mrs. Turney's version of an apology. Being reminded of all the clogged toilets in his past did nothing to improve his state of mind.

He nodded, unable to come up with a credible response to such a statement. “If you'll excuse me, I'm late to pick up my sons.”

Her eyes clouded. “Of course… those poor sweet boys. You go take care of them now, but don't forget your duty to the school. We must find a director.”

“I won't,” he said, almost vaulting into his car.

He pulled away fast enough to leave skid marks. Once out on the street, he called his mother.

“Hello, sweetheart,” she said. “Let me guess. You're running late.” Ethan could hear the smile in her voice.

“I hate doing this to you all the time,” he said.

“Well, if not for the twins, I wouldn't have an excuse to skip the ladies' prayer meeting.”

He winced. “Mom… I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to miss—”

“Are you kidding?” she said, laughter coming through the phone again. “Do you think I have any inclination to sit there and listen to the latest complaints about their husbands? Makes me want to stand up and yell at them that the alternative — not having a husband to complain about — is devastating.”

“I understand,” Ethan said. There were days he'd give everything if it meant one more day of having Jenny's stockings hanging in the bathtub. Or her almost OCD-like organizational tendencies in the pantry. His dad had died of a heart attack a few months before Jenny's sudden death. He knew his mom felt the same sense of crippling loss. The certainty that nothing would ever be right in the world again. Ethan gripped the steering wheel hard enough to leave marks on his fingers.

“I know you do,” his mother responded softly.

“We're getting to be pathetic. Maybe it's time we started dating again,” he said, throwing the idea out there as if to test the waters of his own mind. See if he drowned or rose to top.

“Oh, honey…” His mother breathed.

An invisible hand clawed up his chest to latch onto his throat. “I know. Me too.”

Another long pause. Then he took a deep breath. “I'll be there in a few minutes.”

“Okay. See you soon.”

The call ended and the quiet seemed to fill up the car. If Jenny were here, she'd be talking a mile a minute. Telling him every detail of her classes. Which students were doing poorly, which seemed on the brink of trouble, which ones thrilled her by getting the lesson. They could discuss the boys. She would have a surefire way of getting them to eat anything labeled a vegetable. They could pray together when one of the twins suddenly developed a raging fever. They could read Bible stories and teach them about Noah and King David and Jesus himself.

Except Jenny wasn't here anymore, and he was trying to be mother and father… and so often failing miserably at both.

God… I miss my wife. I still don't understand why you had to take her. I don't understand why Jason and Carson will never know what an incredible mother they had. I know there was a reason. I just don't see it. You have to help me. I don't know what to do to fill this emptiness.

His hands flexed as he stared out at the empty road ahead of him. Empty like his life. Sometimes he wondered if it wouldn't be easier to miss a turn and drive right off the road. Then the pain might end… finally… and he could be with Jenny again.

Out of the corner of his eye, a light caught his attention. Ethan glanced down to see the gas warning gauge had come on. Nothing like the mundane to remind him the world continued to spin. These bouts of self-pity had to stop. He shook himself, trying to clear his mind of such destructive thoughts.

Maybe the warning light was a message from on high, signaling Ethan needed to get his act together.

In any case, he'd be another few minutes late picking up the boys. The
Gas Up
was up ahead. He turned on his signal and pulled up to the pump.

Addison escaped her Malibu beach house in the dead of night, like a criminal trying to skip bail. In the comfort of her sleek, black sports car, she reached her destination three days later. As the road curved, a sparkling lake came into view. Rice Lake, named after one of the founding families of the town. Beyond the small copse of trees to her left was the waterfall that had given the town its name, Covington Falls, which were named after the
other
founding family. She'd taken the top down on the convertible, and Addison imagined she could hear the water rushing over the rocks, though the falls weren't big enough to be heard over the purring of the engine.