Love Finds You in Victory Heights, Washington (40 page)

“You heard him. Out you go.”

Buddy, Bonnie’s little guy, zoomed up to her with baseball mitt in his hand. “Can we play, Mom? The kid from next door’s been teaching me to throw a spit ball.”

Bonnie’s back was to the front door so she didn’t see Lana Turner enter through just in time to hear the boy’s comment. Eyes sparkling with electricity, the striking actress strutted into the living room. Her heels clacked on the wood floor, and her navy dress’s shoulder pads funneled the eye toward her slim waist. She threw Rosalie a smile.

Bonnie’s forehead furrowed as her gaze remained on her son. “A spit ball?” She twisted her lips skeptically, then patted her son’s mop of hair. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I think baseball would be a great way to spend the afternoon.”

Miss Turner turned to talk to the director as Birdie pranced down the stairs. She sidled up to Bonnie and clapped. “Did you say baseball? Fun! Count me in.”

Both women caught sight of Miss Turner at the same moment. Their lips, upturned with baseball excitement a moment before, wilted into gawking circles.

“Miss, um, Miss, um, Miss, um,” Bonnie rambled, and then Birdie giggled and giggled, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. She may never have stopped if the director hadn’t blown a fuse.

“No!” He shook his fist, and his scraggly hair trembled. “We can’t have screaming kids in the backyard.” He whipped his head toward Rosalie. “Didn’t I tell you we needed a quiet house?” His red nose grew crimson.

Rosalie winced at Birdie, Bonnie, and Buddy apologetically, then squatted next to the boy. “I’m so sorry. Maybe you can play baseball tomorrow.”

“Aw, sassafras.” He snapped his fingers.

“I’m real sorry, pal.” She stretched out her hand. “You and I’ll toss the ball around, okay?”

He slapped her hand. “Okay. I can always go worm hunting. You know, if you break one in half, then you have two!” He formed a two with his fingers and grinned.

Rosalie cringed as he scrambled out the back door.

The girls and kids gone, Mr. Heacock then banished Rosalie and Miss Turner to the kitchen where they’d use the breakfast table as a makeup station.

Before Birdie had obeyed the director’s orders to skedaddle, she’d brewed a pitcher of iced tea for the visitors. “But it’s mostly for you, sweets,” she’d said. “You’re nervous about the filming, but God is with you.” Grateful for her friend, Rosalie lifted a bouquet of freshly cut white daisies from the table—also gifted from Birdie—and moved them to the counter.

After pouring two tall glasses of iced tea, she placed them both on the table and sat down next to Miss Turner. Slouching into the chair, weariness settled over her. The lingering September heat, broken only by a slight breeze coming in through the open window, sapped her even more. As Mrs. Lee tickled her face with a blush brush, Rosalie’s weary eyelids sagged. She would’ve fallen asleep if Miss Turner hadn’t chattered.

Rosalie’s guess that seeing Miss Turner would feel like greeting an old friend was right. After trying to soothe the loopy Bonnie and Birdie, Miss Turner had hugged Rosalie with a “hi de ho” and a big smile.

Gazing at the mirror set up on the table, Rosalie sighed. “There I am again,” she said as the two makeup artists set up their trays of colors. “Miss Turner, I don’t know how you actresses ever get used to spending so much time in front of a mirror.”

“Sister, you’re one in a million.” Miss Turner patted Rosalie’s arm with her candy-apple-red fingertips. “There’s nothing actresses like to do more than look in a mirror.” She laughed. “And please, call me Lana for heaven’s sake. I’m not that old.”

Rosalie smiled. “Of course not. I just—”

Lana closed her eyes as her gal, another Asian lady who seemed to know Mrs. Lee, puffed powder over her face. “So, whatever happened to that fella you were so furious with that day? I thought for sure you two were a match.”

Rosalie gulped a drink. “Would you like some more tea?”

The puffing completed, Lana’s eyes squinted toward Rosalie. “You didn’t answer my question. Trying to divert me with cold beverages, are you?” Lana tilted her head toward Rosalie, her long brown hair cascading over her shoulders, her perfect blue eyes waiting.

Mrs. Lee indicated that Rosalie close her eyes. While the sweet woman skillfully applied eyeshadow, liner, and mascara, Rosalie unwound the events of her and Kenny’s relationship. She left out as much about her feelings as she could, afraid tears would pour out like they had every night since Kenny had left.

“And so you can see why I had to end it,” she finished.

Lana’s girl finished painting the actress’s face. “You like?” she asked.

Stunning before a drop of makeup was applied, now Lana’s face glowed with even more starlike beauty. Rosalie glanced at her own image. Sad in comparison, but at least she wasn’t a complete wallflower. “My eyes look pretty good, don’t they?”

“As my pal Humphrey would say, ‘Gorgeous, sweetheart.’”

The makeup artists switched hats and now moved to work on Rosalie’s and Lana’s hair. Mrs. Lee grabbed a strand, pulled it high, then backcombed it all the way down.

Lana tapped a finger to her lips. “Hmm, from what you said, this Kenny sounds like a stand-up guy, and he was definitely a hunk of a heartbreak.” Her expertly plucked eyebrows arched. “Ah, that must be it. Was he a big-time operator? Fresh with the ladies?”

“No, of course not. He was wonderful. I just couldn’t handle him being a reporter.”

“But he treated you good?”

“I suppose, I mean, the first thing I noticed about him was what a good listener he is—well, that’s actually the second thing. First, that boy could really cut a rug.”

“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

Rosalie snickered.
Ah, what a relief to laugh
. “He had me jumpin’ jive, sister.”

Lana clapped excitedly, then gazed at Rosalie in the mirror. “But I suppose dancing’s not everything. Was he too strict, want a woman to stay in her place?”

Rosalie shook her head. “He treated me like a lady—opened doors, carried my bag, stood when I entered a room.” Rosalie’s butterflies returned for the first time since Kenny left as she remembered his kindness to her. “He said I was pretty.” Warmth rose to her neck. “He was definitely a gentleman, but he never kept me from speaking my mind. Rather, he encouraged me to delve deeper into my views, all the while respecting my opinions.”

“Wow.” Lana’s eyebrows crinkled together as if formulating a question. “So you broke up with him because—”

Peeping out the back door window, Rosalie spied the swing where Kenny freely forgave her. “And Lana,” Rosalie continued, delaying Lana’s question, “the best part was that he accepted me with all my flaws. Even forgave me for being horrible to him at first. You saw how angry I was.”

“You were! Like a snorting bull.”

Rosalie cringed. “I know, but he let that go. He prayed for me, and when I told him about all the ugly junk from my past, he said he only cared about who I am today.” She folded and unfolded her hands, the loss of Kenny renewing its pensiveness on her.
He really is a remarkable man. Why did I break it off?

“So what happened?” Lana repeated Rosalie’s unspoken question.

The ladies were done with their hair, and now Rosalie and Lana waited alone in the kitchen. Outside the open window, two hummingbirds flittered about the flower boxes overflowing with color. Rosalie cupped her iced tea glass.

“He stopped coming around.”

Lana leaned forward. “Really? But he seemed so interested. Did he just get bored or something?”

“I don’t think so. Maybe. His work got really busy. He’s a”—Rosalie picked at her thumbnail—“reporter. He was gone all the time.”

“Not a reporter!” Lana gaped at her, confused. “But I bet the creep probably didn’t call you either, huh.”

“We talked every night, but—”

“Still, if you told him you needed him to come around more, and he didn’t—”

Rosalie’s heart, which had been draped in depressing fog for the past month, fluttered, just a smidgen. “I didn’t actually tell him it bothered me. In fact, I kind of told him I didn’t mind.” A grin was working its way up toward her waiting lips.
Maybe we could’ve worked it out.
Could they get back together? Rosalie had been so sure she couldn’t handle his job—not because of Kenny, but because of her own challenging past—maybe.
Just maybe I was wrong.

“Okay, ladies!” The lackey entered, his voice much louder than it needed to be. “We’re ready for you.”

Lana flashed a scowl. “Well, I’m not ready. Just tell Stanley Heacock he’s going to have to wait.”

The lackey scampered off like a scared puppy.

Lana twisted her lips to the side. “Being a world-class movie star comes in handy sometimes.” She snickered, then shifted to Rosalie and grasped her hands. “So, Miss Rosie the Riveter, tell me if I’m understanding you.”

Rosalie’s heart thumped harder.

“This handsome reporter treated you like a lady, yet let you speak your mind?”

Rosalie nodded.

“When he did something that bothered you, you never talked to him about it. Just dumped him like a yesterday’s trash?”

An ill realization clamped Rosalie’s gut. “Yeah, I suppose I did.”

“And even though he forgave you for being a royal pain in the derrière, you didn’t even try to forgive him?”

Rosalie stood and moved to a drawer. She tugged it open and pulled out an envelope, then sat back down. “He gave me this.” She ripped open the envelope and removed the bracelet with Kenny’s three charms.

Rosalie felt the charms on the bracelet, one by one, letting them dangle between her fingers. The K, to give her words. The praying hands—
is he still praying for me
? Rosalie’s eyes pinched closed. Her palm pressed against her forehead.
Oh, Lord, I know he is. How could I have been so foolish?

She eyed the simple silver heart, then felt its smooth surface beneath the pad of her thumb. She held it up for Lana to see.

“He gave you his heart.” Lana spoke softly, awe-filled. “Girl, that boy loves you, and if I were you, I wouldn’t let go of him if my life depended on it. In fact, I’m in between husbands at the moment. Give me his number, and I’ll call him up.” She winked, then leaned back and folded her arms.

“There’s a story behind this heart, but Kenny was so busy he never explained it to me.” Her lips tightened. “But I knew what it meant. I just chose to fixate on a broken promise. Rather than giving grace, I condemned him. Despite everything—”

“Well, sister, there’s only one more reason that you’d give up a fella like that. You must not love him. All that other stuff doesn’t make sense.” Her lips pushed forward, and her eyes glinted. “So you have to ask yourself, do you love him?”

A joy she hadn’t felt in a month welled inside Rosalie’s chest, and a broad smile moved across her face. She looked Lana right in the eyes. “Well, of course I love him.”

“Honey!” Lana slapped Rosalie’s thigh. “Then you’ve got to tell him.”

“I know.” Rosalie stood up, then sat back down again. “I have to! I mean, I must.” She grabbed Lana into a tight embrace. “Thank you for helping me see it. I’m going to tell him.” She released the suffocated actress, her heart speeding like the
Kalakala
through Puget Sound. “But, Lana, what can I do? He’s not here.” She stood up again, unable to sit still. “Do I have his phone number? No, of course not. I can’t call overseas.”

“Applesauce, girl. Calm down and think. Where is he?”

“He’s in Hawaii right now. A girl who lives here—her uncle is Kenny’s boss—is always telling me where he is. He was on Saipan, but now he’s in Hawaii for some reason.”

“That’s where the press wait to be told where they can go next.”

Rosalie slumped back down in the chair, her excitement zapped by the realization that she’d have to wait. “He won’t be home for another month, my friend says. Oh, Lana, how can I possibly wait that long?”

Lana’s eyebrows twitched up, and a sly gleam shone in her eyes. “Girl.” She stood and grabbed Rosalie’s shoulders. “I’ve got the best idea! I’m leaving for a USO tour to Hong Kong on Wednesday. Our plane stops in Hawaii, sister. Why don’t you come with me?” She clapped, and giggles poured out.

Rosalie gasped out loud. “Really? But I couldn’t impose.”

“No imposition. I’ll just tell them that Hawaii needs a Rosie the Riveter too.”

Swirling thoughts and feelings shimmied through Rosalie’s mind. “Yes, of course, I’d love to come.” Suddenly a speck of doubt seeped in. “But what if he doesn’t love me anymore? I broke his heart.”

Lana smiled gently. “Well, sis, you’ll never know unless you tell him. Now c’mon, we’ve got a commercial to film and then you need to start packing for Hawaii.”

“So you stay, Mr. Davenport?” Akamu’s broad shoulders shifted toward the bed where the suitcase lay open. “Do you want me to put away your suitcase?”

“Sure, thanks.” Kenny opened his desk drawer to grab a pen and his eyes fell on Rosalie’s photograph.

Akamu walked toward the bed. “That your girl you were talking about?”

Kenny took in Rosalie’s eyes, the silhouette of her face. “Yeah.” He pushed the longing away.
At some point, I have to get over this
.