It was fun to laugh and tease with Jacob and Maggie as the three of them worked on the front yard. Kate still had a hard time thinking of the house as hers, but there was a small part of her that had always thought of it as home, even though she’d only spent one week there as a child. Every time she and her mother were forced to leave one bad apartment to find the next, she had taken comfort in knowing that the charming house in Timber Falls was solid and unmovable.
“What other parts have you played on stage?” Jacob asked Kate as he raked the leaves into a pile near the walk.
Kate had found a rake in her garage and was raking another pile nearby. They hadn’t made as much progress as they probably could have, had they not spent so much time talking.
“I can’t even count all the plays I’ve been in,” Kate acknowledged. “I started when I was about Maggie’s age.”
“I’ve been in two plays.” Maggie perked up from where she was playing in a pile of leaves on the other side of the yard. “Robin Hood and Cinderella.”
“I was in both of those plays, too,” Kate told the little girl. “Several times, in fact.”
“What made you want to pursue the stage?” Jacob leaned on his rake. “It’s such a fascinating career choice.”
Kate continued to rake for a moment as she tried to articulate her answer. Usually, she gave a generic response to that question, but she felt safer talking to Jacob about her real reasons. “When I was little, it was a lot more fun to pretend I was someone other than Kate LeClair. There were no limitations to who I could be and what I could do if I was playing someone else on stage.”
Jacob was quiet for a moment as he nodded reflectively. “Do you find that’s still the case?”
She had never asked herself that question before, and found the answer surprised her. “No. Now that I’m an adult and, for the most part, I can control who I am and where I go, I don’t need the stage to escape.” She finished her corner of the yard and moved to the next section. “Now I act because it’s become so much a part of who I am I cannot imagine doing anything else.”
That is, until she came back to Timber Falls. For the first time in her life, she started to wonder what it would be like to stay in one home and raise a family.
Four cars turned down Third Street, one after the other, and came to a stop near the front curb.
A smile tilted Kate’s lips as four older women opened their doors in almost perfect unison and stepped out.
“It’s the church ladies,” Maggie said with a groan. “And it’s not even Sunday.”
Jacob turned to his daughter and frowned while he shook his head to silence her.
“Yoo-hoo!” Mrs. Caruthers called out as she waved. “Pastor, could you come and help us haul in supper?”
“Haul in supper?” Kate’s eyes grew wide.
“We’ve all brought you a little something for the meal,” Mrs. Topper said to Kate. “I made the bread, Mrs. Anderson made the tater-tot hot dish, Mrs. Caruthers made a salad and Mrs. Evans made the strawberry-pretzel dessert. But don’t you worry, you’ll get another meal tomorrow. I plan to bring you goulash, remember?”
“I couldn’t possibly eat all that food in one day,” Kate protested. “Please don’t feel obligated to make me another meal tomorrow.”
“We made enough for you, the boys, Pastor and Maggie.” Mrs. Caruthers opened her passenger door and pulled out a basket. “Now you can invite Pastor to stay for supper.”
The women giggled and smiled at one another, as if they had concocted a scheme—and perhaps they had.
“Now, where should we put this, dear?” Mrs. Anderson asked as she held a large basket.
Kate set her rake against the wheelbarrow and motioned for them to follow her. “In the kitchen.”
She led the way, all four ladies, as well as Jacob and Maggie, following close behind.
Even outside, she couldn’t deny that the food smelled amazing. She had never had tater-tot hot dish, and wasn’t even sure what it was, but if it tasted as good as it smelled, she’d love it.
Opening the door, she allowed everyone to enter her kitchen ahead of her. Dishes were still in the sink from breakfast and lunch, and dried macaroni and cheese was stuck to the boys’ high chairs. One of them had thrown their applesauce across the room, and it was still dripping down the wall.
Mortification engulfed her unexpectedly as the women stood around and surveyed the room.
“My, my,” Mrs. Evans said. “It looks like you’ve been...busy.”
Jacob set one of the baskets down on the table. “Kate has done an amazing job with the boys,” he said. “And did you know she volunteers to watch Maggie after school while Mrs. Meacham recovers?”
“Oh.” Mrs. Caruthers nodded. “How nice of you, Miss LeClair.”
Kate’s cheeks flushed hot and she quickly picked up the gallon of milk and shoved it into the fridge. “Thank you for the meal. It will free me up to get some cleaning done this evening.”
“Yes, well.” Mrs. Topper set down her basket and offered a smile. “That will be nice.”
“Have you two worked out the details for the hayride and bonfire?” Mrs. Caruthers asked suddenly.
Kate met Jacob’s gaze.
“We’ve been a little preoccupied,” Jacob supplied. “Kate had some vandalism on her property overnight.”
“Yes, we heard.” Mrs. Anderson clucked her tongue as she shook her head. “But surely you’ve had enough time to discuss the hayride.”
“What hayride, Daddy?” Maggie asked.
Jacob filled his chest with air and then let it out slowly. He was a patient man.
“There’s a hayride and bonfire at the Carsons’ farm this weekend.”
“May I go?”
“It’s only for adults, sweetheart.”
“Then you’ll take Kate?” Maggie asked.
Jacob didn’t answer immediately, and Kate wanted to spare him from the embarrassment. “I have the boys to look after—”
“It’s already been taken care of,” Mrs. Topper said in a singsong voice. “The four of us have volunteered to come here and watch the boys and Maggie.” She smiled demurely. “So you have no excuses.”
Jacob looked at Kate, something akin to empathy on his face. “Did you want to go to the hayride and bonfire, Kate?”
Kate had never been to one—and secretly, she had always wanted to go. There had been no opportunities for things like that when she was growing up. But she didn’t want to inconvenience Jacob, either.
“I can see it in her face,” Mrs. Evans said. “She wants to go.”
Smiling, and trying to hide the longing in her face, she nodded at Jacob. “I wouldn’t mind going.”
A smile lifted Jacob’s mouth and his eyes filled with pleasure.
“Then it’s settled.” Mrs. Evans clapped her hands. “Pastor, you’ll take Kate.”
Maggie clapped, too, and looked just as pleased as the older women.
“Well.” Mrs. Caruthers’s face glowed. “I think our work here is done. We should be off.”
The women left Kate’s kitchen just as quickly as they’d arrived.
Kate didn’t move as she faced Jacob, the quiet left in the church ladies’ wake almost deafening.
“I told you they wouldn’t let us alone until they had their way.” Jacob shook his head, the smile still on his face.
Laughter started to bubble up in Kate’s chest until it spilled over. “I’ve never experienced anything like them.”
“They mean well.” Jacob frowned. “I think.”
Maggie watched Jacob and Kate with a raised eyebrow.
“It would almost be easier to pretend we’re dating,” Kate said with more laughter. “They just might leave us alone then.”
Jacob’s face grew serious. “That’s actually a really good idea.”
Kate’s laughter quieted as she studied Jacob. “Do you think it would work?”
He shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.”
“Isn’t that a lie, Daddy?” Maggie crossed her arms and frowned.
“It’s more like acting,” Kate told the girl. “Just like being on a stage. We’ll play the part of a dating couple.”
Maggie continued to frown, but Kate could tell she was mulling over the idea.
“I’m game, if you are,” Jacob said slowly.
Kate shrugged, the laughter still making her feel carefree. “Let’s give it a shot.”
“Can we eat first?” Maggie asked impatiently. “I’m hungry.”
Kate and Jacob started to laugh again, and Kate couldn’t deny how good it felt.
If it was this easy and this much fun to hang out with Jacob and Maggie, Kate would have no trouble pretending to date the handsome pastor.
It was already dark by the time Jacob walked Maggie across the street to their home that evening. The air was cold and he could see his breath. His weather app had sent an alert that the first snow was expected overnight. They probably wouldn’t get more than a dusting, but he felt better about having Kate’s yard cleaned and ready for winter.
Behind him, several lights still glowed in Kate’s house, a remnant of their time together. After supper, they had played with the boys in the toy room and then helped Kate put them to bed.
Maggie yawned and reached for Jacob’s hand as they walked up the stairs to the large wraparound porch. Their footsteps tapped against the wood floor until they came to the welcome mat.
“It’s been a long day for you.” Jacob lifted his little girl into his arms as he opened their front door. She snuggled into him, resting her head on his shoulder.
“Thank you for all your help at Kate’s today,” he told her.
Maggie wrapped her arms around Jacob’s neck and sighed contentedly. “I like her.”
Jacob wasn’t about to start that conversation again.
He flipped on the foyer light, illuminating the dark oak staircase, the Victorian floral wallpaper and the antique furniture the church had furnished with the house. It had been move-in ready when he and Maggie came to Timber Falls, making him feel like he had stepped back in time. He’d been told the house had been built for the first pastor of Timber Falls Community Church and the man had been blessed with an enormous family. Original leaded windows, with stained glass embellishments, heavy light fixtures with intricate designs and thick oriental rugs with wear patterns graced the impeccable home. Even the sofa in the front parlor, and the dining room table just beyond, were original period pieces. He was almost afraid to let Maggie touch anything, so they spent most of their time in his study, which was the back parlor. There, he’d brought in his own couch, a flat-screen television and a rocking recliner. It was all the space the two of them needed.
“We’ll skip your bath tonight, since you’re so tired,” he said to his daughter. “You can take one in the morning before school.”
“Okay,” she said in a sleepy voice.
He walked her up the wide curving staircase to the long hallway on the second floor. The house had five bedrooms upstairs alone, with two more under the eaves in the attic, and one off the kitchen, which he assumed was the maid’s room at one point. His and Maggie’s rooms were at the front of the house, close to the top of the stairs.
Flipping on Maggie’s bedroom light, Jacob finally set his little girl on her own feet. “I’ll come back in when you’re in your pajamas and tuck you into bed.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She went to her armoire, since there was no closet in the room, and pulled open the bottom drawer where she kept her nightgowns.
Jacob went to his own bedroom and flipped on his light. The first thing that greeted him was the picture of Laura, which he kept on the fireplace mantel in the large room. It was the headshot she’d had taken right after college, just before they were married, when she had been accepted into medical school.
Her magnificent blue eyes shined, just like Maggie’s did, and her brown hair, which had a natural curl, was cut just above her shoulders. She had been so happy then, so carefree and full of the possibilities that awaited them.
Tossing his coat across the wingback chair, Jacob walked over to the picture and lifted it off the mantel. He and Laura had been together since their first day of college. They’d met at orientation, ending up beside each other in the large auditorium. They were married four years later, before she started medical school and he started his seminary program. Three years after that, when he’d finished his studies and been hired at his first church, they moved to a small town an hour away from her school. She agreed to the commute, though it wasn’t easy.
He’d loved his new job, but had immediately felt the pressure to start a family. The other pastor at the church had a wife and small children, and their ministry was done as a family unit. Jacob often felt alone with Laura working and going to school. They hardly saw each other and it started to affect their relationship. Jacob had made matters worse by pressuring Laura to start a family. He didn’t want to be an old father—and he felt it would be better for his church standing if they had children.
A year later, when Laura graduated from medical school, before starting her residency program, she had finally consented. It didn’t take them long to conceive Maggie.
Jacob sighed and sat on the wingback chair, shaking his head. Why had he been so selfish? Why couldn’t he have let the matter drop?
Within two months of learning about the baby, Laura was diagnosed with skin cancer. They removed the spot, but later discovered the cancer had spread. Because of her pregnancy, they were unable to treat her with radiation or chemotherapy. By the time Maggie was born, it was too late. They fought hard, but Laura died eighteen months later.
Jacob closed his eyes and asked God to forgive him for the hundredth time.
“Daddy?” Maggie called from the next room. “I’m ready!”
A smile tilted Jacob’s lips as he stood and replaced Laura’s picture. One of his mentors had once told Jacob that out of the ashes of the tragedy, God had provided Jacob with his beautiful daughter. If Laura hadn’t become pregnant when she did, then Jacob would not have Maggie. The little girl had been a healing balm to his soul and he thanked God for her every day.
His daughter, who had been almost asleep when they got home, was now sitting on her bed, wide-awake, with her favorite stuffed bunny in her arms.
“Daddy, can I see Kate sing on stage?”
He pulled her covers back and she climbed under them.
“She’s not acting right now.”
“I know.” She held Bunny up for Jacob to kiss, which he did. “I mean on YouTube.”
“YouTube?” He frowned and sat on the bed beside her, tucking the thick quilt in around her.
“She told me today that she’s on YouTube.” Maggie blinked expectantly at him.
“Do you know what YouTube is?”
“Nope. But can I watch it?”
Jacob smiled. “I suppose—but not tonight. It’s too late.”
“Okay.” Maggie scooted down until her head was on her pillow. “After my bath tomorrow.”
Nodding, Jacob ran his hand over Maggie’s forehead, removing some of the stray tendrils that slipped over her face. “Are you ready for our prayers?”
She nodded and pulled her hand out from under the covers to grab hold of his. It was small and delicate and he held it gently. She closed her eyes, a contented smile on her tiny lips.
Jacob admired her for a heartbeat, marveling that she looked more and more like Laura every day.
“Lord, we thank You for today,” he began. “We thank You for this warm home, full bellies and our good health. We thank You for our friends and family—”
“Especially Kate,” Maggie added quickly.
“And for our work.” Jacob didn’t skip a beat, used to his daughter interjecting her own prayers—something he’d always encouraged her to do. “We ask that You forgive us for our sins and help us to do better tomorrow—”
“Please forgive me for sticking my tongue out at Heather today.”
“We pray for protection, rest and the opportunity to bless those around us. In Your name, we pray. Amen.”
“Amen.” Maggie opened her eyes, but she didn’t let go of Jacob’s hand. “I’m happy you’re a pastor—even if we have church ladies.”
A smile tickled Jacob’s lips. “And why’s that?”
She blinked at him, as if the answer should be obvious. “Because then you and Jesus can be friends.”
“Jesus can be anyone’s friend, Mags. Not just a pastor’s. He’s your friend, too. Did you know that?”
Maggie shook her head.
“It’s true. You can talk to Him whenever you want. You don’t have to wait for me to talk to Him.”
“Really?”
Jacob nodded.
“Can He be Kate’s friend, too?”
“Of course He can.”
“Good!” She nuzzled into her pillow and closed her eyes, a yawn on her lips. “I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
Jacob walked to the door, loving the simplicity of his daughter’s heart. “Good night, Mags.”
“Good night, Daddy.”
He flipped off the light and closed the door. Standing in the dark hallway, he put his hands in his pockets and just stood for a moment. The wind picked up outside, rattling the old windows and putting a chill in the drafty house.
Just ahead of him, at the stairway window, the bare branches swayed in the wind and the first snowflakes brushed against the glass.
He walked down the hallway to the back stairs and flipped on the light to adjust the thermostat. It seemed like a waste to heat the whole house when it was just the two of them.
Almost immediately, the old radiators started to hiss and clink as the system began to work.
Maggie wouldn’t let the YouTube thing rest until Jacob showed it to her, and since their mornings were usually hectic already, he decided to go down the stairs to his office and search for Kate on the internet. At least then he’d have something to show Maggie in the morning.
The back stairs entered into the kitchen, so he flipped the light on in there and grabbed a glass of water before going through the swinging door and the narrow butler’s pantry. His office was next to the dining room, so he walked around the long oak table and flipped on the switch in the back parlor.
His laptop waited for him on the desk where he’d been working on his sermon series the night before. Tapping the power button, the screen turned on almost immediately.
Taking a seat, he rolled the chair up to the desk and clicked a browser icon. In the search bar, he typed Kate LeClair. Within seconds, dozens of links appeared on the screen. Interviews, performances, her website—and even a fan page. Jacob’s eyebrows rose as he read the links. He hadn’t expected to find so much.
Where did he begin? He could be here for hours.
A YouTube link was the third option, so he clicked it.
The caption read Kate LeClair at Detroit’s Magnificent Fox Theatre as Fantine in the Broadway Tour of Les Misérables.
There she stood in a long white gown, her dark blond hair in waves around her shoulders, on an empty stage with the spotlight on her. He hit Play and the orchestra music swelled as Kate began to sing “I Dreamed a Dream.”
He sat completely transfixed as she sang with intense passion and conviction rolling off her in waves. He’d never heard something so beautiful or so heartbreaking in all his life. Even though he knew Kate, he couldn’t help but picture her as the young Fantine she was portraying. Her performance was so believable there was a part of him that wondered if Kate could relate to the words she was singing. When the song came to an end, an immense applause erupted and the camera spanned over one of the largest theaters he’d ever seen. There had to be close to five thousand people clapping and cheering for her, many on their feet, though the show had not ended.
Jacob stared at the screen, shocked and speechless. He’d had no idea—and this was just one theater.
The side of the screen showed dozens of other performances by Kate, in several different shows. Instead of watching them, he went to Facebook and looked up her name. Her artist page popped up and his mouth slipped open when he saw forty-five thousand people followed her.
Forty-five thousand? That was four times the amount of people in Timber Falls.
Clicking Like, he scrolled down her page and saw the most recent post, dated four days ago when she was in Charleston. It was a live video, which had already been viewed over fifteen thousand times. It began to play.
“Sorry I haven’t shared my live video for this stop on the tour yet,” Kate spoke to the camera as it followed her around the back stage. “And since tonight is the last performance in Charleston, I thought I had better get to it!” She bumped into a crew member and giggled as she apologized. The man smiled at her and didn’t bother to glance at the camera. “The cast and crew are so used to my videos,” she teased, “they don’t even say hi anymore.”
The man in the video laughed and then waved at the camera. “Hi,” he said.
She squeezed his arm and shook her head. “Anything can happen in a live video—and I can’t edit out my clumsiness.” She continued onto the stage where the first scene was being set in place. “We’re here in the amazing North Charleston Performing Arts Center where the twenty-three-hundred-seat theatre is sold out for tonight’s performance.” The camera spanned the empty theater, the lights low. “Tomorrow we’re moving on to Memphis—”
“Kate!” A woman called out to Kate as she rushed onto the stage.
“It’s one of my producers,” Kate said when the camera landed back on her. “She’s probably coming to tell me I left one of my props on the wrong table.” Kate’s smile was wide and carefree.
“Kate, we’ve been trying to find you,” the producer said with concern in her voice, apparently not aware of the camera, either. “A social worker just called from Minnesota—your cousin has died.”
The camera was still on Kate. Her eyes filled with shock and she shook her head in confusion. “What?”
Then the video went dead.
Over two thousand comments filled the post under the video, everyone offering their condolences and asking if Kate was doing okay. Jacob scrolled past them, reading a few as he went. Everyone wanted to know when Kate would rejoin the tour.
She hadn’t yet responded.
Jacob leaned back in his chair. It creaked in protest as he crossed his arms and stared at the computer screen.
He’d had no idea. No clue that Kate LeClair was so famous or dearly loved by her fans.
He now had a better understanding of how difficult her decisions would be.