|
PARADISE ROAD
By
Connie Keenan
© copyright March 2007, Connie Keenan
Cover art by Eliza Black, © May 2007
ISBN 978-1-60394-035-1
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
“You look very familiar. Have we met somewhere before?”
Kylie Donovan tensed slightly at the question. That was a conditioned response for sure, considering how many countless times the question had been posed to her. Even now, so far from Hollywood and the role that had launched her to childhood stardom, that question often came up. It didn’t help that, every now and then, an out-and-out mean-spirited remark would follow. Reminding herself that this was a new day, or as the cliché went, the first day of the rest of her life, she regained her composure enough to offer a heartfelt smile.
“I don’t believe I’ve had that pleasure,” she said.
The clerk behind the store counter had to be in her early fifties, by Kylie’s guess. A petite woman, slender build, hair streaked here and there with gray. Her face, still pretty, beamed with a pleasant smile.
“Well, maybe I haven’t had the pleasure, either!” the woman said with genuine friendliness. “I’m Mae Clayton.”
“Hello, Mae. I’m Kylie Donovan.”
That was the clincher. Then again, maybe not. That was the story of Kylie’s life--people remembered her face, but not always her name.
“Kylie Donovan. Hmmm. Seems to me I’ve heard that name before.” The clerk began ringing up Kylie’s order of fresh fruit and vegetables, a package of corn meal, and AA batteries. On the counter, to the side, was a small display with boxes of fruit-shaped marzipan candies, prompting Kylie to add a box to her order on impulse. “You’re new in town, though, aren’t you?”
“Yep. I’ve visited before, but now I’m here to stay.”
“Have family in town? Nearby?”
“No.” After a moment, at the risk of revealing too much about herself, she added, “It’s interesting, but I found this place by accident. Long time ago, back in the Dark Ages, when I was about eighteen.”
Mae laughed. “Honey, it couldn’t have been that long ago. You’re still a baby. Oh--those just came in fresh from the farm. Beautiful, aren’t they?”
Kylie realized she was referring to the tomatoes she had been inspecting. Their casual conversation had relaxed her. She understood that Mae Clayton probably wouldn’t connect her twenty-ish face with that of the little girl she’d played on TV years ago, the one who’d been known to millions of the shows’ fans as little Melissa. That seemed now like it had happened a century ago.
Maybe it would dawn on Mae later, but not necessarily now.
“Sold,” Kylie said, adding two fat tomatoes to the other items on the counter. They were firm, ripe, the perfect shade of luxurious red. She decided she’d have one tonight as a favorite side dish of hers for dinner, sliced up in thin slices and roasted with a light coating of olive oil and a dusting of herbs.
“How did you ‘accidentally’ find Berrentine Cove?” Mae asked. “With a town this small, you must have used a microscope.”
“Actually, I was visiting a friend who lived here in Virginia. You know, the interesting thing is I don’t recall the name of the town, and I haven’t seen her in years. But I took the train from New York--I was living on campus there--and somehow I got off at the wrong stop.”
“Let me guess! That wrong stop was Berrentine Cove?”
“Fortunately for me, yes. Once I got here, I figured I’d have a look around, not let it be a total waste of a trip. I came back not long after that, and I don’t know what it was, but I never wanted to leave. I never believed in love at first sight until then. Always thought it would happen with a man, though--not a town.”
Again Mae laughed, even more heartily. She packed the last of Kylie’s order in a paper bag.
“That’ll be seventeen ninety-five,” she said. “And you’re a young woman. There’s lots of time for love at first sight with a man, too. Of course, with the town, you’ll never have a spat with it over the lawn getting mowed.”
Kylie chuckled as she accepted her change. “That’s true. I’m not in a hurry for my Prince Charming to come along, though. It’d be nice, but I’m just concentrating on getting my life in order here in my new home.”
“You’re a smart lady, Miss Kylie. Where do you live?”
“About five minutes from here, on Paradise Road.”
“Good, that’s close. I hope we’ll be seeing you in here more often.”
“Oh, you sell marzipan. I guarantee you’ll see me in here at least once a week.”
Kylie exchanged waves with Mae Clayton on her way out of the farmer’s market. Heading to her metallic green Ford Explorer, she was greeted by a brisk early autumn breeze that carried the refreshing scent of mountain air. She could see the Appalachians in the distance, their silhouetted forms slicing into the blue, cloudless sky.
Ah, that exchange was painless enough.
Not only had Mae failed to recognize her, but she had gotten the opportunity to be herself, just Kylie Donovan, with no ghost of Melissa Colton to contend with. At times she didn’t mind; mostly, though, she welcomed the chance to live in the moment, to be a person instead of a memory from some total stranger’s childhood.
It was a short drive from town to the road that led to home, her new home. Just the day before she’d found another way, a shortcut, a more scenic route that afforded her a view of the lake and the rustic cabins that dotted the land around it.
She was coasting, in absolutely no hurry, all the more reason that the siren screeching loudly from the police car behind her caught her by surprise.
“Me? You can’t be chasing me,” Kylie mumbled.
A glance in the rear-view mirror told her otherwise. No other cars were on Paradise Road, just her lonely little gas-guzzler. Through the windshield she could see the cop behind the wheel, a female officer. Smirking, she gestured for Kylie to pull over.
Sighing, Kylie obliged. Welcome to Berrentine Cove! She was getting a summons? For what? She hadn’t traveled far enough from town to have done something worth a ticket. Whatever her offence, it wasn’t exactly the homecoming she would have preferred.
“Problem, Officer?” Kylie asked through the open window.
“License, insurance, and registration.” The cop sniffed and bent forward at her lithe waist to peer at her through the window. Her eyes were hidden behind ultra dark sunglasses, and a shock of tight, strawberry-blonde curls peeked out from under her cap. She was trying to appear tough as concrete, but it was hard to look menacing when a good, stiff breeze could blow her away. “Please.”
“Sure.” Kylie moved swiftly, fishing for the documents in her purse and glove compartment. “Um ... what did I do wrong?”
Patiently she waited for an answer. The cop looked to be about twenty-three or so, a couple of years younger than Kylie. She inspected the documents, taking her time, whistling a tune.
Kylie squinted up at her, curiously. If she wasn’t mistaken, the notes together sounded suspiciously like Madonna’s old hit, “Material Girl.”
“You know that’s a twenty-five mile an hour zone back there?” The cop’s tone was terse.
“Yes, I do. I--um--believe I was going the speed limit, Officer.”
“No, ma’am. Wrong-o!” Again the cop bent down. Kylie caught the name on her badge: E. TORRANCE. “FYI! I clocked you at twenty-seven MPH.”
“Oh.” Kylie nodded. Officer Torrance had actually said “MPH,” not “miles per hour.”
She did the math in her head. Berrentine Cove, small town. Small town cop didn’t recognize Kylie’s SUV, perhaps taking her for someone other than a local who knew the local laws and needed some straightening out. In any event, she was respectful.
“I--I guess if you clocked me at that, then I must be at fault,” she conceded.
“Kylie Donovan. Hmmph.” Officer Torrance tapped a thin finger against her chin. “Kylie Donovan. You wouldn’t happen to be the same Kylie Donovan that played that annoying, cloying little chick on that old TV show--what was it called again? The one with the chubby dad?”
Kylie’s stomach sank. Could you just give me the ticket already? she wanted to shout.
Yet she couldn’t do that, especially once she realized there was an audience looking on. Right behind the cop, several feet away but close enough for a front-row view, was a quartet of men unloading sheetrock and other materials from a truck. One of the crew in particular had looked from the cop to Kylie, doing a double take. Through his sunglasses he fixed her with a stare.
“Daddy’s Home,” Kylie answered. “Yes. I’m that Kylie Donovan.”
“No kiddin’!” the cop exclaimed. “Well, what do you know? Kylie Donovan. That character you played, Melissa, what a Goody Two-Shoes. Anyway, imagine this! We got a real celebrity, right here in Berrentine Cove. Oh, wait till I tell the guys down at the station that I just busted my first former child star. Cool!”
Chagrined, Kylie forced a smile. That cop couldn’t have been more than five feet tall and a hundred pounds sopping wet, but for a little thing she sure had a mouth on her.
All four of the men, hearing the commotion, stopped fully in their tracks and turned to watch. The one with the sunglasses slowly removed them and looked straight at her. She wondered if he’d heard the part about the show. Great. Embarrassed, Kylie felt heat rushing to her face.
“I’m not a TV star,” she said softly.
“No. Not anymore.” There was a hint in Officer Torrance’s voice, ever so subtle, of cattiness.
“Never was.” Kylie set her jaw firmly, then added, “Shaun Walker was the star. I was just one of the actresses who played his kids.”
If she had thought it couldn’t get any worse, it suddenly did. Officer Torrance commanded, “Would you step out of the car, please, Ms. Donovan?”
“Step out of the--why?”
“Why? Because I said so. That’s why. That a problem, Ms. Diva?”
For a moment, Kylie froze, her hands locked on the steering wheel. The words she wanted to say, a rebuttal to being called a diva, something she’d never been, burned on her tongue, but she kept them to herself. Whatever was going on, it was better not to argue, even if the rigid expression on the cop’s face had made her flinch.
“Not a problem at all,” she said.
Thank heaven for small miracles, she mused, noting that the men who had been looking on had discreetly turned away, tending to their own business. Now she could see they were following the orders of the worker with the sunglasses--probably one of the bosses--and bringing the materials into what looked like a large home.
Home, or better said, a mansion, a mansion that looked to be dilapidated and in much need of repair. She guessed they were renovating it. The one with the shades, his sandy brown hair tousled by the wind, cast one more glance over his shoulder at her, a long, lingering glance. His brow creased with a disapproving frown that was decidedly directed at the cop.
Kylie hid a grateful smile behind her hand. She could have been wrong, but she took the man’s reaction as a sign that he empathized with her.
“Wow! You’re all grown up, huh?” Office Torrance declared. “You used to be so tiny on that show, too.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said you were so tiny back then. You’re all grown up now, though, hopefully law-abiding, too.”
Kylie didn’t know whether to laugh or be insulted. Was that a slam about her weight? She wasn’t the spindly little girl or the young teen in size four clothing who’d grown up on that sitcom, but she wasn’t overweight, either.
And of course she’d grown up. Was she expected to remain a kid forever? She towered over the cop at five-feet-five and wore a size ten. She was shaped like a real woman, not a Hollywood waif.
Then again, most people were bigger than the pint-sized Officer Torrance.
“I used to watch that show ... sometimes,” the cop admitted, “when nothing else was on. I always thought it was kinda, I don’t know, hokey.”
Kylie half expected to be cuffed and helped into the squad car. She could imagine, with a mild case of dizziness coming on, the humiliation of seeing her mug shot on the cover of The National Enquirer with the caption reading, FORMER CHILD STAR CHARGED WITH GOING TWO MPH OVER THE LIMIT--AND BEING HOKEY.
“You probably liked the cool shows, right?” she asked the cop sweetly. “Like--I don’t know--whatever was cool back then--”
“Well, Daddy’s Home was anything but cool.” Amused by her own retort, Officer Torrance handed the documentation back to her victim. “I’m gonna let you go this time, but drive carefully from now on. No more speeding.”
“But I wasn’t--all right. Thank you, Officer.”
Hokey. Daddy’s Home was anything but cool.
Kylie tried not to slam the door to the glove compartment in her frustration. There had been nothing innocent about those remarks. Spoken with a sly smile, they had been intended to be hurtful. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d been born from envy. It certainly couldn’t have been the first time, although most women who as girls had envied Kylie or the other young actresses had grown up themselves and gotten over it. In any case, the insults had stung.
“Excuse me, Miss. I couldn’t help but overhear. Are you really Kylie Donovan? The one from Daddy’s Home?”
Wonderful! Now she had to contend with Mr. Fixit. Was the end of that day even in sight by now? All this, and she was so, so close to home, to closing the door behind herself and hiding herself inside her new house. Had she only been going more than two miles over the speed limit, she might have already been on Paradise Road, pulling safely into her driveway, having missed that whole vexing episode with Officer Torrance.
She turned in the driver’s seat and saw him bending his over-six-foot frame down to look in through her window. He was a few years older than she, somewhere in his early thirties. Good-looking, too, with the hunky build of a man who was no stranger to carpentry. Not that she was in the mood to admire a ruggedly attractive man right at that moment.
“I’m afraid so,” she replied.
“You are Kylie Donovan? Wow.” He grinned then nodded at the cop. In the rear view mirror Kylie could see that the cop was getting into the car and getting ready to take off. “I see Charlie’s Angel--well, in Ellen Torrance’s case, that’d be Charlie’s devil--got to you, too.”
“Too? You mean that charming woman has struck before?”
He laughed. It was a great laugh, warm and masculine. “Yes, that ‘charming’ woman has struck before. She got me last week for going three miles over the speed limit.”
“Now that’s reckless. I was only going two miles faster.”
“She didn’t let me slide, though. I got that ticket.”
“Well, who told you to be such a menace on the road?” Normally, Kylie wouldn’t have been so casual with someone she didn’t know, but the teasing eased her nerves.
And luckily, the construction foreman had a sense of humor. Laughing, he shook his head. “Unbelievable, huh? Ah, well. I guess she figures she’s doing her job. Cops have a tough job.”
Kylie smiled. She could have agreed with that statement with no problem, had she not been put through the wringer by the critical Officer Torrance. She was more enchanted at that moment by the man’s gentle manner, that voice that put her at ease, with its timbre and depth.
Not to mention he’s reeeeeeeeeeeeally cute. I sorta noticed, not that I have time for that.
“But anyway,” he said, shifting on his feet awkwardly. “I won’t keep you. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Not really. But the tomatoes I bought earlier are going to turn into butter if I don’t get them home soon.”
Sauce, you dummy! Kylie scolded herself. Tomatoes turn into sauce, not butter.
Her insides were what were melting into butter, with those eyes of his claiming hers in another of those stop-your-heart looks. She was the celeb--well, supposedly, anyway--and he was the fan. So why was she the one with the jitters?
“Right.” Mr. Fixit cleared his throat. “I’ll let you go. One more thing, uh ... I just wanted to say you were great on that show. So were the other two kids. The guy who played your dad, Shaun Walker--he was terrific. Don’t see him much anymore.”
Kylie had started the car and felt the engine humming through the gentle vibration of the steering wheel in her hands. Either that or it was that little shake going through her, a jitteriness that hadn’t been there before that rugged man had approached her.
“I know. And that’s a shame. Shaun’s a very talented man.” There was more to that story; nothing tawdry, just health issues. Or as someone once said, life had gotten in the way for Shaun. Yet for the sake of protecting her old friend’s privacy, she left it at that. “And he was a kind man, too, a sweetheart.”
“Yeah? Well ... I always thought he was the kind of dad everybody should have. The kind of dad I would’ve liked to have, anyway. Oh, you’re way too busy for this.” He paused, gave her window edge a light slap. “Anywho, I can’t tell you how much I ... I really loved your show as a kid.”
Those words, especially after that humiliating episode with the beat cop, went straight to Kylie’s heart.
“So did I,” she murmured with a smile. “Much appreciated. Thank you.”
“I’m ... uh ... it’s been great to meet you, Ms. Donovan.”
He looked like he wanted to say more, perhaps even introduce himself. Instead he minded his manners, and pushed away gently from her car. Kylie waved to him, free then to drive the last couple of blocks to her new home.
There she was in Berrentine Cove, Virginia. She would’ve thought that would have been far enough from Los Angeles, far enough from her old life, from the past, from her charmed childhood, from the disappointments and broken dreams that had followed.
She should have known that she could drive to the ends of the earth, and still people would remember her as Shaun Walker’s youngest daughter on Daddy’s Home, the sensitive and sometimes mischievous Melissa Colton.
Which was why she wasn’t letting the man in charge of renovating that old mansion, however appealing she’d found him with those big, gorgeous green eyes of his, and those ripples filling his shirt sleeves earned from hard physical work, take up much of her attention.
After all, as a kid he might have known Melissa. The whole world seemed to know and love Melissa Colton.
It was only Kylie Donovan who had been invisible. Kylie Donovan, finally finding her way out of a beloved but fictional character’s shadow, smiled as she drove into the driveway of her new home and her new life there on Paradise Road.
|
