Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
“A unty Win!”
“Darling girl.” Her aunt opened her arms and embraced Ainsley.
Ainsley rested there for a moment. Her aunt was getting older, more frail. She could feel her bones. Cancer was so cruel. “I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you too.” Her aunt pulled back, drew a finger down Ainsley’s cheek. “How are you?”
“Good. Better for seeing you.”
“Hmm. What’s this I hear about a mystery man? Have you finally found yourself a nice young man?”
“He’s nice, but we’re just friends.” Even if his kiss last night still seemed seared onto her cheek.
“That’s not what I’ve been hearing. And that’s not what that blush is saying.”
Ainsley blew out a breath. “I don’t know what you’ve been hearing, but it’s gotten a little complicated.”
“Well, I hope you can tell me all about it tonight over dinner.”
Ainsley nodded. “I’d love that.” She checked her shoulder. Yep, the rest of the crew were now off the ferry, and Gwen and Jason were looking at her. “I’d better go.” She kissed her aunt’s weathered cheek. “See you tonight.”
“Looking forward to it,” her aunt called.
Ainsley hurried to join the others, then, seeing her aunt was still watching, blew her a kiss.
There were some advantages to being the established name associated with the Christmas mysteries project. One of those was having the chance to catch a seaplane to the island, rather than board the public ferry like the others. Another was the chance to stay with her aunt, instead of with the rest of the crew at the hired accommodation. Of course, it helped that her aunt’s cottage was literally a five-minute walk away from where they were filming and where the others were staying. But the fact she had time and space to spend with her aunt away from the movie helped her feel like maybe she could find some firm footing again.
But first she’d have to get through today’s schedule.
Aunty Winifred’s cottage was on the point beyond Capernwray Harbour. Her aunt had moved here many years ago, and seen the changes as more mainlanders moved to the island to escape the busyness of modern city life. Aunty Win had started painting, and a gallery on Vancouver Island sold her paintings. Ainsley had offered to post about her aunt’s works on Instagram, but Aunty Win had said no, not wanting to be bothered by the fuss of people demanding custom works or dropping by unannounced simply to talk to one of Ainsley’s relatives. Which was fair. Her parents had had to move after their location had become known. The photographers outside Ainsley’s apartment proved that finding respite was not always easy. So she didn’t blame Aunty Win for wanting her privacy.
“You’ve painted so many more than the last time I was here.”
“These are some of the ones I’ve had in storage. I figured it was time to take a look at them and see what I can sell.”
“Really? I didn’t think you wanted to sell them.”
“There’s no point in keeping things that are just going to become a problem for whoever has to clean out my house.”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you heard of Swedish death cleaning?”
“Death cleaning?”
“It’s about thinking about the next generation and making sure they don’t have to deal with all of my junk and stuff when I’m gone.”
“Next generation” meant Ainsley and Mack. Aunty Win had never had children. But… “Gone? I can’t believe you’re talking like that.”
“I can’t put it off forever.”
Oh, but how she wished they could. Ainsley swallowed, pressed a kiss to her aunt’s cheek. “Have you talked to Mack about whether he wants anything?”
“I figured you could take photos, then let him know and if there’s anything he particularly wants, he can either come out and see me himself or maybe you can take it with you.”
Oh. “Okay.” She’d flown out on the seaplane with Gwen and Jason, but she could probably pack some things in her bags. “I don’t know that I like where you’re going with this talk about death.”
“Where I’m going is heaven one day. You know that.”
“But I’m not ready for you to go there just yet.” And definitely not ready for her aunt to die before Ainsley had settled the house and all that it meant. And it would mean a lot to her aunt and to her mom.
“Ah, but Ainsley, we don’t always get what we want in this world, do we?”
That was true.
“Now, tell me more about this handsome man that I’ve seen you kissing.”
“You mean Zac?”
“Is he the hockey one?”
“We haven’t been kissing. We hugged a few times, but that’s it.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.”
She cringed. “I’m not a floozy.”
“I’m not suggesting you are.”
“I’m just trying to figure out how to do this.”
“He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”
“It’s not as simple as that.”
She went on to share a little more about the reality of her relationship with Zac.
Her aunt winced. “I’m not sure that’s the godly way to go about things.”
The longer it went on, the more she was inclined to agree. “Well, it’s working for him, and for me, so—”
“Is it? Is it really?” Her aunt’s expression softened. “Come on, Ainsley. I’ve known you since you were a little girl. You don’t need to pretend with me.”
She sighed. “It’s not been easy. He’s so much more than just a jock.” Caring, compassionate, patient, smart. “I thought I could compartmentalize this, but it’s getting really hard.”
“You like him.”
“Of course I do. But just because I like him doesn’t mean there can be a future there.”
“Why not?”
Because all the men she’d known—apart from Benson—had proved false, one way or another, Aunty Win’s husband key among them. But saying that felt too difficult. So she shrugged instead. “I guess I find it really hard to trust a man. All of them have let me down.”
“Ah, now that’s the real issue, isn’t it?”
That. And after Baden used her, she’d soon realized guys wanted to take advantage of her, so she needed to play the game better than they did. That’s what her counselor had said Ainsley did, anyway. But some things were best left in the past, best to not focus on, especially if a girl had other more interesting things demanding her time.
Her aunt nodded, as if she recognized Ainsley’s reluctance to share more. “So, how about your TV show? How is that going?”
It was funny how Zac had a similar ability to her aunt in pulling out the truth.
“I just don’t know. Like, I’m so grateful to be employed and to have a job, but I still have these questions about whether this is what I want my career to look like.” She shared a little bit about what Diana had said yesterday. “See, that reminded me that there is a place for real stories, even if they’re wrapped up a little more tightly in pink bows. It doesn’t make them wrong.”
“Absolutely not.”
“But I don’t know that this is what I want to do forever.”
“And that’s fair enough. Although I do think you could play Abigail in As The Heart Draws forever. Let me clarify that: I think the producers of that show would be happy for you to play Abigail forever.”
Ugh. She couldn’t imagine that. Yes, she could imagine the producers wanting her to play that role for as long as it suited them, but it didn’t suit her anymore.
“Call me crazy, but I’m just concerned about what this means for people who only ever see me in these kinds of romantic movies. Like, is it feeding a wrong idea about what romance and love means?”
Her aunt’s upturned lips held wryness. “Ainsley, you can’t determine what other people watch. That’s on them. And you’re right, if people feed themselves a certain kind of fantasy all the time, then that can fuel unrealistic expectations. But again, that’s not your responsibility.”
She might be nearly thirty, but she felt like a little girl as she asked, “What is?”
“Your responsibility is to do what you feel God is wanting you to do.”
She nodded, lowered her gaze to the farmhouse kitchen table Aunty Win used for everything from baking to painting to eating at. “I’m trying to follow His lead. But I can’t help but also feel ungrateful to even be talking like this. I know that Mom and Dad sacrificed so much, and they’ve supported me so much. So to turn my back on what I’ve achieved feels like a slap in the face.”
“You just said the key word. They supported you. They still support you, Ainsley. And, it might not be my place to say, but I feel like they’ve had concerns over some of the control your agent has had over you.”
“Rosie’s done her best for me.”
“But is it the best for you? What do you feel like God is saying?”
That sounded like something Zac had said a couple of weeks ago.
“I’m not sure.”
“Then I’ll be praying that God makes His plans plain.”
Now that definitely sounded like something that Zac had prayed for her about. “Thank you.”
“And you know, sometimes you won’t get an answer in a storm or a bolt of lightning. Sometimes it comes as a whisper. And sometimes it’s like a heart inclination that shifts gently, like a shoe that used to fit that no longer does. You’re not going to be playing Abigail forever.”
“But is the time right to pull the pin?”
“What would you do instead?”
“That’s just it. I hardly know. I just sense that I need to do something more. Something more real.”
“Something like…?”
Why did Aunty Win keep doing that, like she and Zac had rehearsed this and were reading from the same script? “Something like a movie about people smuggling, or the effects of domestic violence.”
Her aunt’s face shadowed. “I see.”
“Not your story, of course,” she added quickly. “But I feel guilty that the White Night event, which was supposed to be about putting a spotlight on domestic violence and supporting those in that situation, resulted in all these stupid articles about me and Zac and Jason. I wish there was a way I could make up for that.”
“By killing off Abigail in your most famous role?”
“Not kill her off necessarily. But maybe do something else as well.”
“I thought that was what the Christmas mysteries show was about.”
“It is, but it’s also kind of the same. It’s not that different really. Just contemporary and set here and not on a ranch.”
“Your Hallmark movies are contemporary, and set in small towns.”
“But it’s still much the same vibe, just a bit safe and harmless, and, I don’t know, not very realistic.”
Her aunt nodded. “I can see what you mean, but doing these different types of shows is a way of gently guiding your fans to expect more than one type of character or storyline from you.”
That was a different way of looking at things. “I always appreciate your perspective.”
“It helps to have someone who knows the industry, and who remembers how hard it can be to catch a break. If you walk away from Abigail, then you’re walking away from a lot more than just a role.”
“I guess that’s part of the thing though. I’m conscious that I am a role model, and I wonder what it’s saying to young viewers if they see a Christian woman who is constantly needing to find love.”
“Don’t you need love?”
“Well, yes. But that’s different.”
“How?”
“I have found love.”
“With this Zac man?”
“No, with God.”
“I see.”
It sounded like Aunty Win didn’t. Not really. “No, I mean I feel rock certainty of God’s love in my life. I’m not chasing it. And that’s part of why I’m happy to keep this thing with Zac strictly platonic.”
“Is he happy to keep it strictly platonic?”
“Yes.” Why did people keep asking her that?
At her aunt’s dubious look, she rushed to get the conversation back on track.
“I guess I’m just aware that there are people who look at me, who look at what I do, at the characters I portray, and I feel like sometimes they’re a little one-dimensional, and I want something that feels a little more real.”
“Like domestic violence?”
“It doesn’t have to be that real, but I don’t want to be constrained into that never being a possibility. I just feel like there are so many real things that stay unseen because we live in this bubble of wanting everything nice and easy and sweet. I know I’ve contributed to that. I feel like such a fake even saying this, as I’m fully aware that I’ve benefited from perpetuating this bubble of sweetness. I just feel this draw inside me to do something different. Something that really has meaning. Do you know what I mean?”
Her aunt nodded, her gaze shifting to her paintings collected in the corner. “Do you know why I started painting flowers?”
“Why?”
“Because it was therapy after what my father did to my mother and what happened to me. I found great solace in painting pictures of sweet things.”
“I don’t mean to disparage people’s need for escape. Maybe it’s just that I’m so much in the middle of it all the time that I don’t see much else.”
“Then maybe that’s what you need to do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Get out of your bubble, for a little while at least, and get your hands dirty with some real things. See if that’s something you really can do before making such a drastic decision as quitting a show that basically revolves around you.”
Ainsley felt wisdom there. Peace settled in her heart. “Thank you.”
“And I’ll be praying that God opens the right doors. With your career, and with your Mister Right.”
* * *
It had been a while since he’d brought a girlfriend to the Christmas hockey fundraiser. Two years in fact. And now Ainsley was here, by his side, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of ease to have her here again.
Chris and Diana might have their doubts, but since he and Ainsley had shared some meals with them, and met their kids who all seemed to instantly love her, and everyone realized how normal she was, those initial questions seemed to have calmed. Which was just as well, because Ainsley by his side felt right. Like they matched, or something. There weren’t many women he’d dated whom he hadn’t had to prop up, one way or another. Some with constant compliments, some financially. Ainsley’s independence and focus on her career made her all the more appealing. She didn’t need him—except as a fake boyfriend, apparently—but she chose him. Even if that wasn’t quite real.
They posed in front of a Christmas tree, and Drew took their photo then sent it to Zac. Zac shared it with Ainsley, and she smiled. “Want to make this our official pic?”
“You want to post it on Instagram?”
“Rosie said it’s probably time.”
Rosie? Oh, Ainsley’s publicist or agent or whatever she was. His heart dipped. That’s right. This was still about selling them as a couple, even if the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to make this genuine.
“What do you want to say?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Happy to follow your lead.”
“What about saying ‘Guess who’s officially taken’? Or ‘You belong with me’? Or ‘A true love story never ends’?”
“I’m not feeling we can really say that last one,” he mumbled.
“Oh, you’re right.” Her brow furrowed. “What about ‘Our love story is just beginning’? Or ‘Miracles really do happen’?”
“We could do those two. That last one is true, anyway.”
“Okay then.”
She tapped on her screen, and he did the same, then on a three, two, one, countdown, finally posted it for all the world to see.
“Whew.” She exhaled. “I’m glad that’s done.” She smiled up at him.
He swallowed. She still had the power to steal his breath, even though she’d dressed a little less glam tonight, and he got the distinct impression that despite the high heels she would much rather be wearing her Converse.
Diana caught her attention and Ainsley moved to speak with some of the others. He couldn’t look away even if he tried. She might be a star, but she was also like the moon, holding a gentle radiance that kept him fascinated.
Ainsley caught his gaze, smiled at him. His heart tugged to join them, so his feet obeyed.
They were chatting about the White Night fundraiser, and he overheard Ainsley talk about feeling guilty about how the focus of the coverage had been about her, and not the subject matter.
He tugged her closer. “You know I never meant for any of that to happen.”
“I know. It’s an unfortunate effect. So I’d like to do something to make up for it.”
“Like what?” Diana asked. “Make a movie?”
“That would take too long. Something that’s a lot easier.”
“What about donating money to a women’s refuge?”
“I do that already.”
She did?
“I guess I’m just wanting something that will touch my heart a little bit more than just my bank balance.”
“You mean you want to meet with women who have been affected by this issue?”
“I don’t know if they’d want to meet with me, or how to go about doing any of that in a sensitive way that actually puts a spotlight on the right thing and not just Ainsley Beckett Ainsley Becketting.”
He smiled. He liked this self-deprecation she showed.
Diana studied Ainsley. “Are you serious about wanting to help women?”
“I wouldn’t be saying this unless I was.”
Diana nodded. “Then maybe you should join me and my pastor’s wife for our final visit this year to a local women’s place next week.”
“What is it?”
“Here we go,” Chris muttered.
“Uh-uh. Don’t you go doing that,” Diana said, not looking at her husband. “You said you understood, and I’m taking you at your word.”
“But you can’t take Ainsley there. She’ll be recognized.”
“And if she is, well, is that such a bad thing? Those poor women will feel seen by someone who is seen.”
“But they might think that she’s there for a role.”
“Please.” Diana rolled her eyes. “Can you see Abigail at a strip joint?”
“A what?” Zac asked.
Diana smiled at Ainsley, whose mouth had fallen open. “If you really want to connect with broken women, then I invite you to join me and Pastor Glenda for our monthly visit to the local strip joint.”
Zac coughed. “Are you serious?”
“You better tell him what you do there, hon, before he starts getting wild ideas.”
“Hey—”
“It’s okay, Zac. It’s part of our ministry to the community,” Diana said. “All we do is take baskets of nice toiletries and things to the ladies, and we take a meal, and we pray for anyone who wants it.”
“Are you for real?” Ainsley asked.
He turned to her, unable to read her expression. Diana and Chris also seemed unsure.
“That sounds amazing!” Ainsley said.
That sounded like trouble, Zac thought. Then he laughed.
“What?”
“Logan accused me of not being a real man because I didn’t go to strip joints.” He glanced at Chris. “And yet here your wife is doing exactly that.”
Chris nodded. “She’s a good one.”
Amen. And so was Ainsley.