Chapter 10 #2
They both broke into laughter simultaneously.
When their laughter faded, he said, “Okay. Application.”
He glanced at his notes. “God often prepares the solution before the problem appears. Esther was positioned before the crisis arose. You see this pattern throughout Scripture. Can you think of another example?”
“Joseph,” she said immediately. “He was sold into slavery in Egypt so that he was in a position later to help his family.”
“Good. Any others?”
She smiled faintly. “Aaron Cortelli casting Esther around the same time I decided to walk away from secular television and step into Christian film.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth at the unexpected answer.
Their plates were cleared away, and for a moment neither spoke. The restaurant around them hummed softly with conversation and clinking glasses, but their corner had settled into something quieter.
He rested back in his chair. “What made you leave when you did?”
“You mean mid-season?”
He nodded.
Camille traced her finger lightly along the rim of her water glass before answering.
“I felt convicted for a little while before I actually left,” she admitted. “The content kept bothering me. At first I ignored it because I told myself it was just acting. That it wasn’t personal. But eventually I couldn’t reconcile it anymore.”
She gave a soft breath of humorless laughter.
“And honestly, by the time I finally left, there were several things pushing me toward the exit.”
He listened quietly.
She hesitated only briefly before continuing on her own.
“You’ve probably already heard the rumors about Simon Halden.”
Aaron’s expression remained calm. “I’ve heard things.”
“They’re true,” she said plainly. “We were involved. I ended it.”
There was embarrassment in her eyes, but also relief—as though saying it aloud cost her something and freed her at the same time.
“The relationship became… unhealthy,” she said carefully. “And once things ended, I realized how much of myself I’d lost trying to manage him, the show, all of it.”
Aaron didn’t interrupt.
“The conviction about the show was real,” she continued. “But if I’m honest, even if the scripts had suddenly become wholesome overnight, I still would’ve left. I wanted completely out of that world. Out of everything connected to him.”
A shadow crossed her face then, subtle but unmistakable.
She looked down at the table for a moment before speaking again, more quietly this time.
“The problem is that leaving didn’t actually end anything.”
His brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”
She swallowed. “He won’t let go.”
The words came out steadier than the emotion behind them.
“You know about the lawsuit,” she said. “But that’s only part of it. He calls me constantly. Messages me from random numbers. If I block one, another appears. Sometimes the messages disappear afterward, which somehow makes it worse because it makes me feel crazy.”
Aaron’s expression hardened.
“He’s shown up at my house before. And now he’s started going through my parents.”
Emotion caught in her throat.
“My father came by today,” she admitted softly. “Simon sent a message through him.”
Understanding flickered across Aaron’s face.
“That’s why you seemed distracted earlier.”
She nodded, blinking quickly as tears gathered in her eyes.
He leaned forward instinctively, concern overtaking everything else.
“Camille, this is harassment.”
“I know.” Her voice trembled. “But he’s careful. Too careful. There’s never enough proof. Different phones. Deleted messages. Everything indirect enough that I sound dramatic trying to explain it.”
“You do not sound dramatic.”
The firmness in his voice made her finally look at him.
He reached for her hands slowly this time, giving her room to pull away if she wanted.
She didn’t.
His fingers closed gently around hers, grounding rather than possessive.
For a moment he said nothing at all.
Then quietly, almost reverently, he prayed.
Not theatrically. Not as performance.
Just steady words woven with Scripture—asking for God’s protection, wisdom, peace, and nearness.
By the time he finished, tears had slipped silently down her cheeks.
Neither of them moved immediately.
Finally, he exhaled softly. “I’m sorry you’ve been carrying this alone.”
Camille shook her head faintly. “I think I’ve spent so long trying to minimize it that I stopped being honest with myself about how much it’s affecting me.”
Reluctantly, he loosened his hold on her hands, though his gaze never left hers.
She stared down at the tablecloth for a moment before asking quietly, “How do you forgive someone and still protect yourself?”
Aaron was silent briefly before answering.
“I think forgiveness and wisdom usually have to walk together,” he said gently. “God never asks you to pretend evil isn’t evil.”
“I wasn’t only talking about Simon. I was thinking about my father too.”
“Oh.”
She smiled faintly.
At that moment the waiter asked if they would like dessert.
~*~*~*~
Aaron took a look at the menu, “I think I’ll have a bite of that blueberry pie,” he said handing the menu back to the man.
“And you, ma’am?”
Camille returned the menu. “Just a cup of coffee. Black. No sugar.”
Aaron raised an eyebrow. “What? No sugar? Are you having an off night?”
She looked baffle. “What do you mean?”
“The last time at Frank’s diner. You ate like a horse, vanilla shake and apple pie, the works.”
She laughed in spite of yourself. “I don’t eat like that routinely, Aaron. That only happens when I’m nervous.”
“So you were nervous that night?”
She smiled sheepishly. “Yeah.”
“You didn’t seem nervous to me. In fact, you were rather sassy as I recall.”
“It was all an act. I’m an actress remember,” she teased.
“But why would you be nervous?”
She played with the edge of the tablecloth. “I thought you were going to fire me,” she muttered.
“You what?”
She cleared her throat and spoke up. “I thought you were going to fire me.”
“Yeah. You did say something about that but I didn’t think you were serious.”
“Be honest it crossed your mind though, didn’t it?”
“Well, to begin I really had no authority to fire you. I could recommend to the studio but it wasn’t my call. Secondly, I dismissed making that recommendation because it would come at a cost.”
“Financially?”
“Yes since we would have to start over with a whole new actress and I didn’t want such a failure on my record and also there would be a cost emotionally.
I invested heavily in this project. In fact, it was my idea.
I really wanted to see it through. It had started out so well.
You were like a dream to direct in those early days before you went rogue. ”
She looked at him in mock outrage. “I went rogue did I?”
“You stopped listening to me and went off on a frolic of your own,” he said with a teasing smile. “I wondered where my obedient little Camille had gone.”
She wagged a finger in his face. “You are on very thin ice here, Mister. You’d better choose your next words carefully.”
He caught her finger and brought it to his face. She tried to pull away, but he held fast—then gentler.
“I’m not letting go until you tell me what changed.”
Her gaze turned serious. The contact suddenly felt intimate—charged.
“I’ll tell you,” she said softly.
Their elbows rested on the table now. Hands entwined. His thumb brushed her finger—absently, tenderly. “Go on,” he said.
“I ran into Simon during my break in filming. It seems that he had gotten hold of some early screenings of the film and he told me that my Esther was nothing like Queen Aradia. He told me that Aradia had been bold and captivating and that my Esther was muted and submissive. I dismissed him but he had planted a seed of doubt and I kept replaying his words for days. Eventually I began to think that maybe he had a point. I felt maybe I could do more with Esther. Make her stand out more…” she looked down and shook her head in regret.
“Did it ever occur to you that he was being cunning and vindictive because you had left his show?” Aaron asked. “The last thing he would want was for you to be confident and happy in your decision.”
“Looking back I see that now. I see that I was foolish and gullible to listen to him. I realized that it was my own pride at play.”
At this point both their elbows were on the table and they were holding hands. Aaron was still softly caressing and Camille wondered if he was even aware of what he was doing. It felt so natural.
“I’m really glad you came to your senses.
For your information, Esther is not muted.
No one who has seen the screening thinks that.
My father told me that he thinks you are perfect for Esther.
Even when you were being a little rebel he defended you, suggested that I should give you a little more creative control. ”
She gasped, “You never told me this.”
“Well, I didn’t agree with him about giving you any control. But I’ve now come to see it his way. So I guess I’ll have to eat a little humble pie.”
She threw back her head and laughed. At that moment the waiter showed up with their dessert and coffee.
They released hands and Camille watched Aaron as he took a bite of his dessert. “How’s your blueberry pie?” she asked after a sip of coffee.
“A lot better than that humble pie.”
She laughed.
He smiled. “Can I tempt you to have a bite.”
She smiled. “It’s not good to tempt people.”
He chuckled and continued eating as she watched him in admiration. He was such a thrilling man. So handsome and yet so down to earth and playful as well as honorable. He was unlike any man she had ever known.
Her father was playful too, but also deceitful. Simon had been sharp, charming but manipulative and cunning beneath it all
Aaron was... different. And that difference made him dangerous.
She knew that she was in serious danger of falling for him but she almost didn’t care anymore.
Her gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to his wedding ring.
No. She should care.
For all his warmth, for all the ease between them, Aaron didn’t seem ready to move on. Not really. Not in the way that mattered.
And she wasn’t the kind of woman who chased a man.
But she also wasn’t sure she had the patience to sit quietly and wait for one to decide, in his own time, that he was ready.
The thought pressed on her, slow and heavy, until it settled into something like weariness.
She didn’t seem to have much luck when it came to love.
First, she had fallen for a man who was married to a woman he claimed not to love—but was not prepared to leave.
And now—
Now she was falling for a man whose wife was gone… and who still, somehow, refused to let her go.
She continued to sip her coffee in silence, only responded to Aaron in one word sentences or sounds like ‘hmm.’ Soon he was at the last few bites of his pie and she signaled for the waiter and asked him to bring them the check.
Aaron glanced at her and then his watch. “Wow. Is it that late already? Where does the time go?”
She gave him a half smile.
He finished up his pie and then wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Will I see you at church tomorrow?” he asked.
She considered. Then smiled—gentle, unreadable.
“I don’t see any reason why not.”