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“I thought that’s what you wanted to do.”
“Yeah, it was. But lately I’ve been aware of my tendency to make assumptions—jump to conclusions. I’ve been wrong about a lot of things, including you. I’ve…I’m not sure how great my judgment is.” Tears filled her eyes; they were impossible to hide when Will was this close.
He reached over, gently wiping a tear away with his thumb. “Last night you told me that the screenplay was wrong. That the movie didn’t know what it was talking about.” His voice was soft and low.
I did? Man, I really did have verbal diarrhea. “Yeah, ” she said cautiously.
“I think you’re wrong.”
“But aren’t you Mr. Cynical?”
“Yeah, I was. But you’re not.”
Elizabeth’s head was fuzzy, making it impossible to think clearly. What did he mean?
“The world needs doctors like you.”
It was nice that someone had faith in her, however misplaced. “Thanks.”
“And you may not realize it, but you’ve already made an impact.”
She managed a smile. He was very kind.
“Here,” Will said, “let me show you.” He held out his phone so she could see the screen and she recognized the picture as his mentee. “Garrett learned some sound design and mixing on the set, and now he’s an intern at Paramount. Tony says he’s quick, cooperative, and has a good ear.”
“That’s great. Good for Garrett!”
“But it wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t insisted on the program and then bugged me to take a student.”
She shrugged. “I was just a small piece of—”
He flipped to another picture: an African American woman in Goth makeup who seemed vaguely familiar. “This is LaShana. Her mentor was Emily in the costume department. She convinced LaShana to go back to high school and get her degree.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Another picture. A Hispanic boy with a pink boa around his neck. “This is Paco. Stan, the gaffer, has practically adopted him. Paco’s been to his house five times for dinner, and Stan took him sailing on Sunday. And these aren’t the only success stories.”
“I’m glad the program had such—”
“It’s not the program!” he said rather forcefully. “Or not just the program. It’s you. You did this. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t insisted on this program. Plus, the True Colors shelter got more than $50,000 in donations. They’re going to be able to house more kids now.”
“There were a lot of other people who helped. Like Ricky—”
“Sure, other people helped, but you made it happen. You made a difference in all those lives.”
Tears threatened yet again, but they weren’t unhappy tears. What is it about this man that makes me want to cry? She waved to the phone. “How do you even know all this? Why do you have these pictures?”
Was he blushing? “I got all this stuff from Ricky because I’m hoping to duplicate the program. We could do it on the sets for other movies. It would benefit other homeless kids, and frankly, it would be good for the studios, too. I thought I could donate some seed money to get it started.”
“Wow…that would be awesome.”
“If you hadn’t guilted me into being a mentor, this wouldn’t have happened. You made me see the world through your eyes.” He was talking quickly now and with great animation. “And it’s been good. Yeah, it’s been really good for me. I don’t want to slide back into Hollywood superficiality—which would be all too easy to do. I need you. I need you to help keep me from that.”
She laughed. “Whew! No pressure or anything. Just an easy little job: protect you from Hollywood. Be responsible for your moral well-being. That’s all.”
He laughed, too, but then reached out and stroked the side of her face, the touch erasing all other thoughts from her mind. “But I want to help you, too. You’re still so sad. What can I do?”
She huffed out a laugh. “I wish I could forget everything—Lydia, my family, all of it—at least for a while.”
