“Yes.” His sigh rattled across the phone line. “I’m so sorry. Let’s celebrate it Sunday, after I get home.”
“She’s not two, Chase. She knows what day she turns five, and she’ll know you missed it.”
“What can I do?” His tone held an edge, as if he didn’t expect an argument. “I’d be there if I could, you know that. It’s not like —”
“What?”
“Come on, Kelly.” A softness crept back into his voice. “I hate this as much as you do. It’s a sacrifice we need to make.”
“We?” The week ahead loomed like a series of cloudy, gray afternoons without the slightest chance of sunshine. “Fine, Chase. Whatever you have to do.”
For a long while he didn’t say anything. She could hear the rush of wind and traffic in the background, and finally he groaned quietly. “I’m doing my best, baby. You gotta believe that.”
Molly and Macy were sitting in the living room, their arms around each other’s necks, glued to the TV. The three of them would get through the week, and Kelly would have to come out whole on the other end. What choice did she have? She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I believe you.”
“Okay, then.” He sounded relieved. “Let’s talk later tonight.”
The conversation ended, and Kelly felt the beginning of tears. How could she explain that she didn’t want to run their home by herself, that she was tired of being a single mom so much of the time. With all the great news about The Last Letter and Unlocked, there were still no guarantees. And every step of the way seemed to take Chase further from her, further from the simple missionary life they’d once shared.
God … are You there? Really? She sniffed and listened, but this time there was nothing. No response, no Bible verses to lend her wisdom or comfort or peace. Suddenly she felt like running — fast and far, somewhere away from the aging little house. She wanted to open up to Chase, but she wouldn’t think of telling him about her spiraling battle with discouragement. Depression, even. He wouldn’t want to come home at all. But that meant she had little to say. Not to him, and not to herself. She grabbed another fistful of M&Ms and downed them in a single motion. Then she walked to the back of the house, stared out the window, and cried. Not just because of the dark place she’d worked her way into.
But because she no longer knew how to find her way to the light.
KEITH WATCHED HIS FRIEND CLICK HIS cell phone shut and drop it back down on the console between the two seats. A ripple of alarm wrapped around his heart and tightened a little. “How’s she doing?” Keith was driving this first leg of the trip. He glanced at Chase, studying his frustration.
“Not happy.” Chase anchored his elbow on the window frame and let his head fall into his hands. “Sometimes I think she doesn’t understand. The time away’s hard on me too.”
For a while, neither of them said anything. Then Keith took a long breath and stared at the road straight ahead. “My dad used to tell me life was like an uncooked pizza crust.”
Chase gave him a side glance.
“Think about it.” Keith sat back in his seat, one hand on the wheel. There was no traffic, and this far out of San Jose the afternoon was blue skies and mid-seventies. He adjusted his sunglasses. “You get one ball of dough for life, and you spend your days rolling it out, making it go as far as it can possibly go.” He caught another look at Chase. “As you roll the dough, little cracks develop along the edges. Fix them right away, and there’s no problem. But let them go and they’ll rip right through the center of the crust.”
“That’s what your dad used to say?” Chase sounded tired.
“Smart man. Used to make homemade pizza for us once a week. Told the story just about every time.” Keith pictured his father, rolling out the crust and stopping every minute or so to fix the edges. “Cracks are like that in pizza and in life. Catch them early, or lose everything you worked for.”
Chase dropped his hands to his lap and narrowed his eyes. “Cracks.” He angled himself so he could see Keith better. “Like the one between Kelly and me?”
“Exactly.” Keith didn’t want to make the moment too dramatic. Chase had been struggling in his relationship with Kelly for a while now, and always they seemed to work things out. But if a crack was developing, now was the time to fix it. His expression grew more serious. “Whatever you have to do, Chase, whatever it is, take care of the crack. You and Kelly, your marriage, your family. It’s more important than the whole ball of dough. Know what I mean?”
Slowly, Chase nodded. He turned and looked out the side window and again there was quiet in the car. Keith was fine with the lack of conversation. Maybe God was giving Chase a picture in his mind: the pizza maker, rolling out the dough and stopping along the way to smooth out the cracks.
God, speak to him. Give him wisdom where Kelly is concerned. We’ve come too far to let this movie-making hurt things at home for either of us. Please, God.
I am with you, Son. I am the strong tower you can run to in troubled times. I am here.
The silent answer resonated in Keith’s heart, the way it often did. He didn’t care if Chase thought the analogy about the pizza crust a little hokey. It was a visual that worked, one that had stayed with Keith since his boyhood days. Keith wasn’t truly worried about Chase’s marriage. Not now. But that was the beauty of saying something early. Trouble had been splintering the edges for Chase and Kelly long enough. The time had come to do some mending, or watch something far worse develop.
A split that neither of them could repair.
Fourteen
CHASE HARDLY BREATHED DURING THE SCREENING. He could barely take in what was happening around him. He’d never been anywhere like Kendall’s house — a plush, expansive tri-level with entire walls of glass, built into the Hollywood Hills. And sitting with him around the room were people he’d once only read about. Kendall and her father, Ben; Stephanie Fitzgerald; and Brandon Paul. Even Luke Baxter had flown in for the week of meetings, confident he could help on a number of levels.
Kelly had asked Chase if he ever felt like his life had become surreal. He’d told her no, that he wasn’t overwhelmed by the glitz and glamour of everything happening around him. But here, every few seconds, Chase asked himself what in the world he was doing rubbing elbows with some of the most powerful people in the industry.
The Last Letter seemed to take twice as long to finish, and more than once Chase and Keith exchanged a look that said neither of them could wait for feedback from the people watching. Everything about their future with Unlocked hinged on the next few hours.
Chase tried to relax and enjoy the film, but it was impossible. God, it’s in Your hands. Let them love it, and give us success here. Please …
In response, Chase remembered one of his favorite Bible verses, something from Philippians chapter 4. “Present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
Yes, that was it. He needed to place all his questions and fears in the hands of Christ, so that the peace of God would rule over not only this moment but whatever other moments the night held. Success or not.
When the film finally ended, Chase noticed something he hadn’t before. Stephanie was crying. She wiped her fingers beneath her eyes and for a long while the group sat in the dark, watching the credits and saying nothing. Stephanie found a tissue from the coffee table and blew her nose. Then she turned to Chase and Keith and grinned bigger than anything she’d given at their first meeting. “That —” She motioned with her elbow toward the large screen, “— was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.” She stood and went to Keith first, and then to Chase, hugging each of them and practically lifting them off the ground. “That’s what I’m talking about! I knew you were the right guys. Everything I’d seen and read told me that — your skill and determination, your talent and your faith.” She stepped back and let out a loud victory cry. “Thank you, Jesus! We got nothing bu
t sunshine and clear skies ahead. Unlocked is going to be amazing!”
The others in the room chuckled at her excitement.
“Hey!” Stephanie spun around and pointed at Brandon. “Don’t laugh at me!” She was teasing him, enjoying the moment. “Tell me you didn’t get tears all backed up in those beautiful eyes of yours!”
“Okay, okay.” Brandon breathed in deeply through his nose. “You’re right. It was good.”
“I was crying like a baby.” Luke tossed his hands and grabbed a tissue.
The sight of their attorney acting as emotional as Stephanie made them laugh and added to the feeling of celebration. Chase listened to the exchange and prayed he wouldn’t wake up, prayed he was really hearing this sort of feedback and not lost in the middle of a dream. Keith popped him on the shoulder and grinned. It wasn’t a dream. The people gathered in Kendall’s screening room loved The Last Letter.
“It’s everything I knew it would be.” Kendall stood and flipped on a light. “What do you think, Dad?”
“Amazing.” He pulled himself to his feet and gave first Keith, then Chase a hearty handshake. “You’ve got my support. Like I said, I’ll fund the P&A for a theatrical release on this film, and I’m good for half the money on Unlocked.”
Chase couldn’t breathe. He pressed his leg against the sofa behind him so he wouldn’t fall to the floor. The P&A budget was five million dollars, and though Ben had hinted about footing the cost, this was an actual promise. Chase had the feeling he was going to whip out a legal document over chips and salsa later that night. Sure, they still needed to convince the studio executives that The Last Letter was worth the financial risk for a theatrical release. But with this sort of reaction, Chase suddenly wasn’t worried.
But more than that, Ben’s offer to fund half the Brandon Paul movie meant two things. First, they were ready to talk to a studio about the project. And second, they could retain creative control — since providing half the budget would give them that privilege.
Chase could hear people talking around him, but all he could think about was Kelly, how she’d doubted whether they could make movies at this level, at the Brandon Paul level. And how God had proved to all of them that they could.
They moved into the kitchen and then on to the formal dining room, where a housekeeper had set the table with a Mexican dinner. Once they were seated and the food served, Chase and Keith talked at length with the others. Luke Baxter was showing himself to be a skilled professional, an up-and-coming legend in entertainment law. He had already drawn up paperwork for the financials.
“I understand you’re available tomorrow also?” Ben took three taquitos from the closest platter. “We need something in writing to add to the investment money I’ve already put in for The Last Letter, and of course we need to spell out our deal with Brandon.”
“Absolutely.” Luke was quick to answer. “I’m in town all week.”
Brandon set his fork down. “My agent and attorney want to be in on that. I think we’re meeting Friday.” He scooped a blob of avocado dip onto his plate. “My agent’s going to want a polished screenplay before we commit to anything with a studio.”
So many pieces to the puzzle. Chase felt dizzy, and not the least bit hungry even as everyone around him dove into their meals. The conversation didn’t turn back to movies again until after dinner.
“Brandon.” Kendall was sitting on Chase’s other side. “Why don’t you tell the producers your story. The one most people don’t know.”
Chase was dying to know more about the kid. They were about to invest millions of dollars into the guy — that and their futures as filmmakers. He and Keith knew little about the actor, only what was common knowledge in the magazines. Brandon was twenty-two, but he could convincingly play a high school kid. He’d come onto the scene as part of an NTM series about a high school jock who was really the son of a European king. Prince Jake was the series, and it had blown away the expectations of NTM. Prince Jake’s image was on everything from pop cans to pizza boxes, T-shirts to bath towels. Brandon Paul could sing, dance, and act, and he was a teen heartthrob like the country hadn’t seen in three decades. The only black mark was Brandon’s younger sister, Paisley, who was also in show business but who had occasional drug trouble, according to the tabloids. But Chase had never found out more than that.
Brandon’s eyes revealed little emotion. He was comfortable with this story, but clearly he didn’t enjoy telling it. “My parents don’t agree with my acting career. They homeschooled us and hoped that my sister and I would attend Harvard, get doctorate degrees, and find a cure for cancer. I call and tell them how things are going, but they don’t watch my stuff, and they don’t take it seriously.” He gave a single shrug. “It is what it is.”
“Tell them about your sister.” Kendall’s tone was soft.
“Right.” He exhaled slowly. “We used to be very close. My parents didn’t approve of our acting, but at least we had each other. But that wasn’t enough for Paisley. She wanted my parents’ acceptance so badly.” He exhaled and stared at his lap for a long minute. When he looked up, the pain was there for all of them to see. “She’s a drug user. Heroin. She’ll surface for a few months, stay clean, and get a commercial or an extra role in a movie. But then she’s gone again. Living on the streets, sharing needles with strangers. She goes by a different last name. The press doesn’t know the half of it.”
Chase’s heart broke for the guy, and all he and his sister had lost because of their parents’ narrow-minded attitude.
Brandon squinted as if he could keep out some of the pain. “Funny how people think money’s the answer. I’ll never live long enough to spend mine, but it can’t help Paisley. Not until she wants the help. Every job, every day I’m on set, I feel like I’m living for both of us. Like I owe it to her.”
Chase thought for a moment. In some ways Brandon’s story reminded him of Dayne Matthews. A young guy without the support of his parents. The only difference was that Dayne’s adoptive parents had been killed when he was eighteen in a single-engine plane crash. Still, the two actors would have common ground. Brandon might really benefit from the strength and faith of someone like Dayne.
Kendall was explaining that Brandon wasn’t actually a Christian. “Not yet, anyway.” She patted Brandon’s hand. “I’m working on him.”
“I’m open. It’s just …” His eyes grew distant. “I’m not quite sure God believes in me. You know?”
There was a general sense of acknowledgment about how Brandon felt, and Keith admitted that he had been through a time like that during his final years of high school. “I’d been taught about God all my life, but those few years, I wasn’t sure what I believed.”
“Exactly.” Brandon gave a slow nod. “I guess you could say I’m searching.”
“For now.” Kendall’s smile toward Brandon was kind and full of warmth.
“Yes.” He chuckled. “For now.”
Keith took over the conversation, engaging both Brandon and Ben about the themes of Unlocked and how they would play out on the screen. But before the talk could get too serious, too focused, Ben stood and smiled at the group. “You know what we need?”
Chase had no idea.
“A good old-fashioned ping-pong tournament.” He grinned at Kendall. “My daughter’s just about unbeatable. And I find nothing gets the imagination going better than a few rounds of table tennis.”
They all laughed, and Chase and Keith joined the others on a walk out back and down a sidewalk to an outbuilding — this one holding two ping-pong tables and a half a dozen sofas anchored to the perimeter of the room. “It used to be a storage place for my father’s boats.” Kendall smiled as they went inside. “A few years ago we turned it into a ping-pong room.”
Chase had never seen anything like it. A dry-erase board hung on the wall near the closest table, and scribbled across it was a tally sheet of some kind. Kendall laughed again. “My dad’s pretty competitive. We keep track of the gam
es we play in a year.”
“Because one of these years I’m gonna beat her, by golly.” Ben searched a shelf near the entrance to the room and grabbed a red paddle. “This is my baby. I call it The Blade.”
Chase loved this. Who would’ve thought that movie people at this level would spend their evenings playing ping-pong?
Stephanie grabbed a paddle similar to Ben’s. “I’m not so bad myself.” She twirled the paddle in her hand and aimed it at Kendall. “Let’s see who’s queen of this palace.”
“We’ll sit out the first round.” Keith nodded at Chase and the two of them took the nearest sofa. “So we can size up the competition.”
That left Kendall and Stephanie on one table and Ben and Brandon on the other. Kendall seemed to go easy on Stephanie, and halfway through the game, the author was up by two points. But then it was like Kendall found another gear. She began using a spin-type serve and slamming the ball instead of returning it.
“Oooh, girlfriend’s got game.” Stephanie raised her hands and did a little victory dance on behalf of Kendall’s play. “I don’t mind losing to someone with skill, no, sir.”
On the other table, Ben was giving Brandon a fight. But youth had its advantage, and the game was leaning hard in Brandon’s favor. Chase liked Brandon’s style — all offense and risk. It was the way they’d been forced to play the game of movie-making.
But even still, he kept finding his attention turning to Kendall. She laughed as easily as she breathed, and besides being a skilled player she had an infectious confidence about her. As if she never really doubted the fact that she’d win the game, any more than she doubted the fact that the movies she wanted to make with Chase and Keith would be successful beyond their wildest dreams.
If only Kelly could be like that, Lord — confident and convinced. Believing in the work we have ahead of us.
As soon as the thought passed through his mind, Chase roped it back and chastised himself. He couldn’t compare Kendall and Kelly, not now or ever. Kendall had been born into the world of wealth and movies, so of course she was calmer about the risks ahead, more certain. Kelly knew only that they’d run up their credit cards and borrowed money they couldn’t afford to repay to help fund The Last Letter. She was alone with the girls too often, and she wasn’t happy about it. That much was obvious from the strain between them.