Christmas in Bethel

Chapter Four

My author is charming with people, in the plural and singular. I think it’s a rare gift, to be the same person behind the curtain that you are on stage.

Beth Stilton’s Diary

The ride to the event was pleasant. Lee, Carlie, Natalie, and I rode in the back of a stretch limo, the kind with a lighted bar on one side and a long bench seat on the other.

Lee and I sat together and shared a tiramisu while Carlie and Natalie sat in the front of the compartment facing us. For most of the ride Carlie was on her phone confirming media for Lee’s next tour stops. Natalie read the new book, occasionally looking up at us.

After finishing our dessert, Lee laid himself out along the vertical bench and, to my surprise, fell asleep. For a moment Carlie and I just looked at each other. Then she said, “Tours are exhausting.”

“I can imagine.”

“Being up for his readers takes a toll. To them it’s one experience that they’ll go back and post on social media. To him, it’s one of thousands. They forget that.”

“Does he…” I stopped.

Her eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” I said. I was going to ask if he often singled out women to spend time with him, then realized how bad that sounded.

Lee slept until we were about ten minutes out. He sat up and rubbed his face with his hands. Without him asking, Carlie handed him an energy drink.

“Thank you,” he said. He opened the drink, then said to me, “Sorry to leave you. I needed a rest before I went back into the lion’s den.”

“I don’t know how you keep up this pace.”

“That’s what the energy drinks are for.”

“Someday your heart will explode.”

“I can only hope,” he said.

The limo stopped in front of a redbrick building where we were met by several university officials.

“I’m Vance Smith, and this is my wife, Veronica.”

“Mr. Smith is the president of the Franklin and Marshall Alumni Association,” Carlie said.

“Glad to meet you both,” Lee said.

Carlie handed Lee a copy of his book, which he presented to Mrs. Smith.

“Thank you. Would you sign it?”

“I already did.”

“My friends will be green with envy,” she said.

“Green friends are good to have,” he said.

“You’ve got a great turnout,” Mr. Smith said to Lee. “The auditorium holds almost a thousand people, and every seat is filled. And we still have a line of hundreds outside the building. We’re setting up screens in two of the other halls. They’ll be able to watch the televised event.”

“Is that them over there?”

“Yes. Some have been waiting for hours.”

Lee walked over to the long line of people. It was obvious when they recognized him because the excitement in the line was palpable. He moved down the line shaking hands and taking pictures with fans, working the crowd like a politician on Election Day.

“Does he always greet his fans like that?” I asked Carlie.

She nodded. “Always.”

After he had walked the line, we went inside the building. There was a row of reserved seats near the front of the auditorium. I sat between Carlie and Mrs. Smith.

Mr. Smith stood and introduced Lee, who emerged from the side of the auditorium to loud applause. He shook hands with Mr. Smith, then gripped the lectern.

I noticed that he glanced down at me before he began. I don’t know what it was, but I felt a flush of warmth come over me.

“It’s a pleasure to be with you here tonight,” he began. “Books are a powerful thing. Every revolution began with a book.”

He spoke to a captivated audience for about forty-five minutes, then turned the time over for questions and answers. There were microphones in both lanes of the auditorium, and lines quickly formed behind them. I couldn’t help but notice how charming he was with the public.

“He knows his readers,” I said.

“He loves his readers,” Carlie said.

They closed the event at 9:00. People hurried to the stage for autographs, but the handlers pulled Lee out the back door to where the car was waiting. Carlie, Natalie, and I joined him around the side.

“You were exceptional tonight,” Carlie said to him. “As usual.”

“Thank you,” Lee said. He asked me, “What did you think?”

“I think exceptional’s a good word.”

“Natalie?”

“Exceptional. Brilliant. Extraordinary, I could get a thesaurus if you like.”

“Now you’re just pandering to my need for validation.”

“That’s exactly what I was doing,” Natalie said, nodding.

“Not me,” Carlie said. “I meant it.”

“That’s totally pandering,” Lee said. “What about you, Beth? Pandering?”

“Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.” I furrowed my brow. “But they did like you…”

He grinned. “Let me know.” Then he said, “It’s time for Worst Question.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

Carlie looked at me with a droll smile. “It’s a game we play after speaking events.”

“All right,” Lee said. “My personal candidate for worst question was ‘Briefs or boxers?’?”

“I thought that was pretty tactless,” I said.

“Stunningly inappropriate,” Carlie said.

Natalie said, “Runner-up, I’d say it was the woman who asked why you weren’t married and then added that she was single.”

“We get that every time,” Carlie said. “Usually more than once, just stated differently.” She turned to Lee. “That and ‘Can I have your phone number?’?”

“People really ask that?” I asked.

“Always. And there’s ‘How much money do you make?’?”

I turned to Lee. “How do you answer that?”

“I usually just say, ‘too much.’?”

“That’s a good answer,” Natalie said.

“Vague answers are always best,” Carlie said. “Though it’s not like they couldn’t look it up. It’s out there. Publishers Weekly is always posting big advances.”

“I don’t really think the marriage question was odd,” I said. “I think a lot of people wonder that. You’re handsome, smart, rich, and famous.”

“The marriage thing isn’t about him,” Carlie said shortly. “It’s them.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant by that.

I said, “I think the worst question was that woman who asked if you would help her write her book. And I liked your answer: ‘If I did, it wouldn’t be your book.’?”

Carlie said, “The crowd liked that answer. She didn’t.”

Natalie said, “How about that emotional woman who asked how you knew that she needed to hear those words?”

The car was silent for a moment, then I said, “I thought that was sweet.”

Lee glanced at me. Then he said, “So did I.”

Natalie looked embarrassed. That ended the game. We rode a little more before Lee put his mouth to my ear and asked if I would like to lay my head on his shoulder.

I surprised myself by replying, “Yes.” I lay back and closed my eyes. Then he put an arm around me. It felt beautiful. The ambient sounds of the car and traffic dissolved into pink noise as I disappeared in his sphere. I wanted to stay there forever.

Forever wasn’t long enough. I could tell when the car left the expressway, the sound of the blinker juxtapositioned with the sound of his heartbeat. I knew we were getting close to the restaurant, and I felt heaviness seeping into my chest. It had been so long since I’d been held or hugged by anyone. I snuggled more into him.

I opened my eyes as the limo pulled into a mostly empty parking lot. “That’s my car over there,” I said, pointing at my Volkswagen.

“Carlie,” Lee said, “tell him it’s the Volkswagen.”

She knocked on the window that separated us from the driver and pointed at my car. “The Volkswagen.”

The driver stopped the limo in front of my car and opened the door for me. I looked at Lee, but felt awkward saying my goodbye in front of Natalie and Carlie.

Before I could say anything, he said, “I’ll get out with you.”

“We’ve got an early morning remote,” Carlie said as he moved toward the door.

Lee didn’t respond. He climbed out of the car first and helped me out, then shut the door behind us. “I’ll walk you to your car,” he said. “Make sure there’s not a rapist in your back seat.”

“That was random.”

“Just keeping you safe.”

We stopped in front of my car, just a couple feet separating us.

“I had a really a wonderful evening,” I said. “Unexpected, but wonderful.”

“The best times usually are.”

“They’ll never believe me at book club.”

“Probably not.”

“May I ask you a candidate for worst question?”

He smiled. “Of course.”

“Why me? There are a million women out there who are younger and prettier and madly in love with you. Why did you ask me out?”

“Why not you?”

“I just told you.”

“Yeah, the younger and prettier thing.” He shook his head. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Younger isn’t subjective.”

“Its relevance is.” After a minute he asked, “Worst question candidate for you. You said you always wanted to meet me. Was it what you expected?”

I smiled. “It was better than I possibly could have imagined. It was a beautiful fiction.”

“Fiction,” he said softly. “Is that what this is?”

“Maybe. I don’t really know what this is. It’s not my usual storyline.”

He seemed to be lost in his thoughts when he said, “Is there anything I could do to make the story better?”

I swallowed, gathering my courage. “The protagonist could kiss the girl good night.”

He just looked at me.

I suddenly felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

He stepped forward and pressed his lips to mine. After he stepped back, we both were quiet. My eyes began to water, and I looked down. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, Beth. I had a wonderful night. The best in a very long time.” Then he said, “Would it be okay if I called you again?”

I was still looking down, trying to avoid eye contact, but I nodded.

He breathed out slowly. “I better go. Let me see you safe in your car…”

“That’s right,” I said. “The rapist.” I looked up at him and we kissed again. Then I unlocked my car and got in. I rolled the window down. “No rapists.”

“Good night, Beth,” he said.

“Good night, Lee. J.D.”

“Lee,” he said. He looked at me for a moment more, then slowly turned and walked back to the limo. I started my car but didn’t back out. I just sat there. I felt like I’d just walked through a dream. Had it been? Had my dream author really kissed me?

The limo was already gone when I realized that I’d left my book behind. I’d been excited to give Pauline the book and to impress the Babes. It would have been nice to be the impresser instead of the impressed, for once.

As I drove home, I honestly had no idea what to think of the evening. I wondered if he would really ever call. I wondered if I was really falling in love with someone I’d never see again.