Catch a Falling Star (16 page)

She stepped to the side and slung her purse over her shoulder closest to Ty. “I’d rather not.” She tried to keep her voice low.

“Okay.” He pulled her around to face him and kissed her. She’d forgotten how good he was at it.
Billy—

Justine pulled away. “Ty, stop.” If this was some sort of publicity stunt, she wasn’t going to fall for it. “All I want is lunch and to tell you it’s not going to work between us.”

“Fine,” he growled. “You’re making a big mistake.”

“I sure hope so.”

#             

“Son, your mother and I are worried about you,” Dad said.

Billy smiled at the webcam on his laptop. The screen showed his parents, who sat in the kitchen of their Colorado home. “I’m okay. Or, I will be.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing you can do to fix things between you and Justine?” Dad asked.

“Billy, we don’t believe everything we read in the news,” said Mom. “And I think you were awfully hard on her about that show. We saw a copy of it on YouTube. And we are so, so proud of you.” She beamed.

“Mom, you guys watched YouTube? I wonder who posted that video. It’s supposed to be a pilot episode.” The whole thing stung somewhat, still, but not nearly as bad as the first night. Maybe it was his pride that stung more than anything.

“Yes, YouTube. But that’s not why we wanted to talk to you this morning. We think that you really need to try to mend things with Justine. Maybe she won’t come back. But at least you two will be okay.”

Billy took a long sip of water. “No, I don’t think she’ll be coming back. Not to stay. Maybe to visit her mom, now that they’re getting along better. Which is an answer to prayer.”

“Son, do what you can on your side of things,” Dad said. “We hate seeing you go through this. After almost losing you. . .”

“I know. I know.” He thought about the cutout leather, partly crafted and tooled. Throwing the leather away would be a waste, as if he were throwing out something that he and Justine had shared.

“We’ll be praying for you, Billy.” Mom gave a slight wave at the computer. “I sure hope you can come for a visit soon.”

“I do too. Y’all take care of yourselves.”

“You too. Love you, Son.” His parents disconnected from their video call.

Billy thought carefully. They were right. Funny how right his parents became about things the older he got. He should do something to repair things between him and Justine, or at least have some sort of closure. Letter writing wasn’t his style. A phone call would be awkward.

There
was
, however, one thing he could do. He shut down the computer and headed for his workshop.

Billy looked at the finished pair of boots on the work table. Exquisite. The best ones he’d finished to date. True, Justine had started them. She didn’t do a half-bad job. The few flaws the boots had, when you looked closely enough, gave them character.

Working the leather had worked the last of Justine out of his system. Maybe not permanently, but enough so he could sleep nights. Was she sleeping well, with her reclaimed life out in Hollywood? Two weeks since she’d left, but who was counting?

He’d dropped the issue about blocking the episode of
Second Chances
. The local screening had helped Hopeful Acres, for which he was thankful. He was thankful for John Caraway, too. The man had wisdom. Looking back on his own attitude toward Justine during the screening, he knew he had a lot to apologize for, if it wasn’t too late.

But he’d said too much to Justine to tell her that with mere words.

He found the tissue paper, wrapping the boots carefully. He didn’t bother taking a picture of them for his portfolio. Another pair waited for his attention, and he’d add that to his website. Time to bring the boots to the shipping store. They were worth too much for them to be damaged or lost on their way to their destination.

With the last reminder of Justine on the truck seat beside him, Billy headed for town. After he shipped the boots, he'd grab lunch at The Pit. Maybe he’d go boat shopping. He and Jake were always talking about getting a boat, but with the football season in full swing, he’d seen Jake less and less.

A restlessness tickled him like an itch in the middle of his back that he couldn’t reach. It was the boots. Once they were gone, he’d be free of the feeling. Had to be.

It only took him twenty minutes at the Box ’N Ship store to get the boots packed, cushioned, and on their way to their new home. He almost waved at the box as the clerk carried it to the shipping room.

He drove until he reached The Pit. Once inside, he glanced around to see if any familiar faces sat at the tables. Maybe he wanted a to-go order anyway.

A young Asian woman scurried up to him. “You know Justine Campbell, you’re her boyfriend. You're the one that they made the TV show about.”

“I know her, but I’m not her boyfriend.”

“You’ve got to see this.” She waved a newspaper under his nose. “Justine’s in the paper with that other guy.”

He didn’t want to even look at the full-color photo, but the image blazed mere inches from his eyes. He took the paper from the woman.

Together Again At Pink’s
,
read the caption. Justine, toting a rolling carry-on at an airport and talking to none other than Tyler Drake. Justine being kissed by Tyler, outside Pink’s hot dog restaurant.

He shoved the paper back at the woman. He’d been a worse fool than before.

Justine looked out the window at the traffic passing by the Burbank offices of Baker Street Productions. Meeting in a conference room was almost as bad as sitting in a classroom. She found it hard to sit still. She stopped her knee from bouncing and tried to concentrate on the notes in front of her.

“What do you think of this story line, Justine?” Maureen asked, gesturing to the dry erase board.

“The story in Atlanta, about the autistic girl who sings?” Now that was a heartwarming tale. The child had been born to a mother with a severe seizure disorder, which was a miracle to begin with. She was eight and could sing like an angel. She’d recorded her own CD and wanted to be a teacher.

“No, I meant the one near Indianapolis. The homeless man who now owns three rental properties and helps other people get off the street and find jobs.” Maureen tapped the board.

“I think it’s a good story, too. Are we going to have a seasonal lineup?” Justine asked. Focus. Someone would write the script, but Maureen felt it was important for her to be in on the planning process for each episode. Not that she didn’t care, but so many meetings. . .

“That’s a good idea, but right now we’re just shooting six episodes—which is a gamble for the network and the sponsors,” said Maureen. “But if those go well, I can foresee an entire holiday series of shows in November and December.”

Justine nodded. Her stomach growled. A barbecue sandwich from The Pit sounded perfect. With Tamarind’s signature sauce, brisket cooked low and slow over hickory chips. Her mouth started to water. She imagined herself sitting on the porch at the Tuckers’ home, watching the sun go down and drinking sweet tea or Dr Pepper while Maddie rode her favorite horse and begged Justine to join her. Which would never happen, because she was terrified of the animal.

The silence made her look up. The entire team, included Maureen, stared at her.

“Are you all right, Justine?” Maureen’s eyebrows had flown up nearly to her hair line. “You were mumbling something about drinking sweet tea and riding horses?”

“Oh. Wow. I didn’t realize I’d said that out loud. Sorry.” But what could they expect, trapping the entire team in this conference room for three hours nonstop? Let her shoot a five-minute scene over and over for a few hours. That she could handle.

“Go ahead and take a break.”

“You got it.” Justine left the conference room and headed for the main reception area. Television was an entirely different breed than movies. She wasn’t sure how comfortable the transition was so far.

“Hey, Ms. Campbell.” Bev, the receptionist, looked up from her magazine. “Are you all done back there already?”

She shook her head. “No. Maureen sent me out for some air.”

They both looked at the front door as it opened. A deliveryman entered the office, carrying a large square box. “Morning, gang. Got a big one for you today.”

He headed straight for the reception desk and plunked the box on the corner then scanned the bar code.

“What in the world?” Bev signed the electronic pad. “Thanks, Jerry.”

“Have a good one.” The deliveryman nodded and left.

Justine stepped up to the box.

“Ms. Campbell, it’s for you,” Bev was saying.

The return address was from Tucker Boots in Starlight, Texas.

“I need some scissors.” Justine started tearing at the tape, trying to peel it from the brown cardboard. She broke a nail and winced but kept tearing.

“Hold on, you’re ruining your manicure.” Bev stood next to her and started slicing the tape with scissors.

Justine opened the box to find shredded newspaper as packing material. She pulled it away to find another box, a little smaller than the outer one.

An envelope was taped to this inner box. Justine opened the card and sucked the sore fingernail that she’d just torn.

These could never belong to anyone but you.

~Billy

Justine yanked on the white box, showering shredded newspaper on the floor. She fumbled with the lid but got it to come off. Her hands shook. With her pulse galloping away like one of the Tuckers’ quarterhorses, she ran her fingers over the pink leather boots.

The flowers covered the uppers, mostly in a pink design but a few smaller accents in aqua, yellow, and tiny green leaves. Her lips trembled in a smile. Billy had added his own touch to her feeble handiwork. The brown trim was just as she’d seen in the store. But no one else had boots like these. And no one else ever would.

She held one boot up to her nose, breathing in the scent of leather, and closed her eyes. Driving home in the rain from the airport in a thunderstorm, seeing Billy’s limestone workshop, stopping at the boot store, hearing Billy tell the story of the flooded homes under Belton Lake, praying under the starlit sky, welcoming the troops home, and Billy’s kiss.

It all rushed through her memory in a matter of seconds. Bev probably thought she’d gone bonkers, but as Justine hugged the boot to her chest and found tears on her cheeks, she realized she was thinking more clearly than she had in weeks.

Thank You.

Leaving Bev gaping at her, Justine strode back into the conference room, still clutching the boot.

“Excuse me, Maureen? Can I have a few minutes to talk to you?”

#             

The late September shadows slanted long. Despite the high temperatures, the angle of the setting sun told Billy that fall wasn’t too far away. He stood outside his workshop, locking it securely for the night.

He had season tickets to the Yellowjackets’ home games, which took up most Friday nights in September through at least November, and even later if they made the playoffs. Which Jake had assured him they would.

He’d had a long day, speaking to a Home Front group on Fort Hood. Imagine, him talking to groups of people. But when it came down to hope and healing, Billy found those subjects easy to speak about. With nonprofit status for Hopeful Acres in place, doors had opened for him. Tomorrow morning he’d be interviewed on the Armed Forces radio network. A group from Maryland was flying to Texas in October to see his building. He, in turn, was flying to California to see a similar ranch for soldiers there. They were more established, and he knew he had much to learn from them.

Amazing how easier life was when a guy forced his pride down where it belonged.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

Maddie:
R U coming? Hurry. Kickoff @ 7:30
.

He quickly typed a return message:
Leaving soon. Chill out.

A flash reflected off the workshop windows. Billy turned to see a dark blue taxi van with tinted glass making its way down the driveway to the main house. It stopped beside his pickup truck. He couldn’t make out who was inside.

The rear passenger door opened.

Two pink boots found their footing on the ground, one at a time.

#             

Justine steadied herself and paid the driver then turned to see Billy, frozen in place at his workshop door. She couldn’t read the expression on his face.

Without saying anything, she started for him, dropping her bag on the ground. He ran for her, picked her up, and swung her around. She threw her arms around his neck.

“Billy—”

“Hush.” He set her down and kissed her, first on the lips, then on the cheeks and forehead, then buried his face in her hair. When he moved and she saw his face, his eyes were wet.

“I’m back, I’m back. I’m never leaving again.” She had tears on her cheeks too. If he tried sending her away this time, she wouldn’t listen to him. “I don’t care if you don’t believe me. But when I got the boots, I remembered everything, even the bad parts—”

“I felt like an idiot after I sent them. Because I saw you in pictures with that Drake guy—”

“That was when I first got back. I haven’t seen him since. And that was all him. Please. Believe me. This is where I belong. With you. In Starlight.”

Billy’s voice was soft but strong. “I was hoping and praying that the boots would bring you back to me. I was going to call, so many times. But I didn’t know what I could say.”

“The boots said enough to get me to come back.” She wiggled her right foot, the pink leather peeking out from under her full denim skirt.

He pulled her close again. “I do have to say two things. First, I’m sorry. I was a pigheaded fool for not listening to you. That
Second Chances
episode has done a lot to help Hopeful Acres. Because even though the episode was about me, Hopeful Acres isn’t. But what about your job?”

“I still have it. I convinced Maureen that I can be here and still participate in developing episodes. I mean, the cost of living in L.A. is ridiculous, and I have a perfectly wonderful house here in Starlight, paid for. I can jet off to wherever I need to be and shoot episodes.” She giggled and wiped her eyes. “So, what was the second thing you had to say?”

Billy released her but kept hold of one of her hands. “Justine Campbell, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me, one day, when we’re both ready?”

“You’re my hero. And of course I’ll marry you someday.”

He nodded. “We still have some healing to do, and I know I'm not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I, Billy Tucker.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him then smiled. Life might not have worked out like she planned, but she’d take this divine plan any day.

“You’re my star, and you always will be,” Billy said. And then, he kissed her back.

THE END

Don't miss books two and three in the Lone Star Hearts series,
Counting on Starlight
and
The Sweetheart of Starlight
, coming soon!

Here's a sneak peek at book two,
Counting On Starlight
:

Chapter 1

I
n their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps. Proverbs 16:9

Liann Rivers gathered up the silk flag, saber, and wooden rifle then opened the door to the blast furnace outside the high school gymnasium. Late July in Texas never felt this hot when she visited Aunt Chin Mae and Uncle Bert way back when.

But, way back when she’d done more wading in the Lampasas River and cruising around Belton Lake on Uncle Bert’s boat than trudging across asphalt parking lots.

“See you on Monday morning,” she called over her shoulder. Four days. That’s all the time she had to listen to the CD in her purse and choreograph a routine for the Starlight High School marching band’s flag team.

She crossed the parking lot and squinted at the figures over at the football practice field. The Starlight Yellowjackets—varsity football hopefuls, the band director told her. Here she was, in football country. Ironic that the athletic department could afford a full staff working with the team, even though the Human Resources director had talked to her about the district’s budget cutbacks. She gritted her teeth. But she’d walked into the job here, eyes completely open. Almost.

Footsteps behind her on the asphalt made her turn around. It was Jessica, the band director, jogging in her direction and carrying a yellow lump of fabric.

“I forgot—here’s your Yellowjackets spirit shirt.” Jessica stopped and held up a shirt to Liann.

“My spirit shirt?” She could unfold it, but then she’d drop her equipment. She managed to pinch it between her fingers. Yellow was not her color.

“For Yellowjackets Spirit Day on Fridays.” Jessica nodded solemnly as she wiped her brow with the back of her hand. “Every Friday during football season, we wear our Yellowjackets shirts to support the team.”

Oh yes, the team. As if football players’ and coaches’ egos needed the support. Texas high school football was part of the religion in every town during the fall. Mere teachers didn’t qualify for the sacred distinction.

She put on a smile. “I’ll remember that. Thanks.”

Jessica smiled. “I’m glad you’re with us. It’s a blessing in disguise, really. The district was ready to pull the color guard program from band, but I couldn’t let them do that. I begged them to give us one more year. You were the perfect applicant for the job. I know you’ll be able to push the girls to a higher level, especially with your cheer and gymnastics experience.”

How could she respond to Jessica without revealing her swirling emotions? “I’m glad you think so. If anything, I’ve always been a fan of the underdog.”

“Well, we have a whole slew of them for you, then.” Jessica glanced toward the gymnasium. “Also the band could compete in UIL marching competitions without our color guard, but it’s not as visually dramatic or beautiful. So we’re counting on you. See you next week!” She turned and jogged back in the direction she came.

No pressure, of course. Liann shook her head and continued. She had people counting on her to make something beautiful and graceful out of a lost cause. They had no idea what had brought her here, none at all. She could relate to lost causes.