Authors: Perfect
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Surrounded by lavish bouquets of long-stemmed roses in every color of the rainbow, Julie cuddled her newborn son to her breast in her private room at Cedars–Sinai Medical Center, but for the first time since the birth of their son two days ago, her attention was not on the tiny, perfect infant that she and
Zack had created.
Until a few minutes ago, the nurses had been crowded into her room to watch the Academy Awards
with her, but they'd left to carry babies around to mothers, and Julie was secretly relieved to be alone.
The award for Best Actor in a Leading Role was coming up pretty soon, and although she was quite certain Zack was going to win it, she really didn't want an audience when the winner was announced.
"Look, Nicky!" she whispered, turning him slightly so he could see the television set, "There's your future
godfather and godmother, Mr. and Mrs. Farrell. And your daddy's right beside them, even though the camera didn't show him this time."
Nicholas Alexander Benedict, who'd stopped nursing a few minutes before, took immediate exception to being deprived of his mother's breast, so Julie settled him back into place and helped him find what he
was searching for, then she returned all her attention to the television set.
Zack's first movie after their marriage had not only broken box office records,
Last Interlude
had also garnered Academy Award nominations in a number of categories for the people who participated in it, and tonight it was cleaning up. Zack had won for Best Director, Sam Hudgins had won for Best Cinematography, and so had people involved in everything from visual effects to musical score.
Zack had wanted to stay here and watch the awards ceremony with her, and when Julie couldn't talk him out of it in any other way, she'd argued implacably that he should be there for the sake of the other
people who'd worked on
Interlude,
including the supporting cast who were also up for Oscars.
In reality, Julie felt this was his night to shine, and she was adamantly determined that neither she nor the
baby nor an act of God would interfere with that.
This morning, the advance copy of the book that Zack
had agreed to let her write to help raise support for women's literacy programs had finally arrived at the house. Although she was nervously eager to show it to him and get his opinion, she'd asked Sally to send it over, then made her promise not to show it to Zack or tell him it had arrived.
The nominees for Best Original Screenplay were being announced, and Julie anxiously bit her lip, then
she laughed softly as Peter Listerman's name was called out and he strode swiftly up to the stage to accept it for his work on
Interlude.
"Nicky, look,"
she whispered happily, "there's Pete and he won!
You should be very grateful to Pete," she teased.
"Thanks to him you have the only high chair on earth
that looks like a director's chair with your name across the back."
Pete was one of Julie's favorites. Part of it was because the studious-looking man had spent so much time at the house working with Zack on
Interlude
that she'd gotten to know him well, and part of it was because he seemed to be developing some sort of love—hate relationship with Debby Sue Cassidy,
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who'd quietly mentioned to Zack and him, while they were trying to figure out a better ending for the screenplay one day, that
she'd
thought of one. Pete's bland looks masked a fiery artistic temperament, and the only thing that had saved poor Debby Sue from his ire at her interference was that Zack instantly
liked her idea. Really liked it. He made Pete work on it with Debby's input, and it was
Interlude's
new, touching climax that had helped make the film such a hit.
Pete's acceptance speech went along the usual route until the very end, when he looked up at the camera and added, "…And I'd also like to thank Miss Debby Cassidy, whose contribution to my work was invaluable."
"Pete, you darling!" Julie cried, hugging Nicky tightly to her. Debby's unquenchable desire to learn coupled with her tireless efforts and Pete's reluctant admiration and demanding tutelage were working miracles.
A few minutes later, Julie felt her heartbeat quicken and her entire body tense as Robert Duvall and Meryl Streep walked out on stage and began to read the nominees for Best Actor in a Leading Role.
"Cross your fingers, sweetheart," Julie said. She kissed his tiny fist, then she wrapped it around her finger
and laid her forefinger over it for good luck.
"And the nominees are"—Robert Duvall looked up at the camera—"Kevin Costner, for
End of the
Rainbow."
"Tom Cruise, for
The Way Home,"
Meryl Streep said.
"Kurt Russell, for
Shot in the Night,"
Duvall added.
"Zachary Benedict, for
Last Interlude,"
Streep put in.
"Jack Nicholson, for
The Peacemaker,"
Duvall finished. He stretched his hand out for the envelope and
Julie felt a strange, inexplicable prickling begin at the back of her neck.
"And the Oscar goes to"—he looked at the slip in the envelope and broke into a broad grin—"Zachary Benedict! For
Last Interlude!"
Applause exploded and rose to a thundering crescendo as some of the attendees rose to their feet in a
standing ovation; the camera aimed at a tall, dark man in a tuxedo striding swiftly down the aisle toward
the stage, and Duvall leaned forward, and added,
"Accepting the award for Zack is Matthew Farrell…"
And Julie suddenly knew the reason for the strange prickling at the back of her neck…
Leaning against the pillows with a helpless smile, she said without looking toward the doorway,
"You're
here, aren't you?"
"How'd you guess," Zack's voice teased.
Turning her head, she watched him stroll forward with his tuxedo jacket slung negligently over his shoulder and hooked on his thumb, the gleaming gold Oscar he'd won for Best Director dangling from his
left hand.
"You're supposed to be there, accepting your award,"
Julie reminded him, but she wrapped her free arm tightly around his broad shoulders as he sat down beside her hip. "Congratulations, darling."
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Careful not to squash his sleeping son, Zack kissed his wife's mouth and then her cheek. "I'm exactly where I wanted to be at this moment," he whispered tenderly as he nuzzled her neck. "The only place I wanted to be."
She brushed her fingertips against his cheek. "Nicky and I are awfully proud of you," she said softly, and Zack felt the unaccustomed sting of tears behind his eyes as he looked at her shining face and his son cuddled at her breast, his tiny fist resting on a satin fold of her dressing gown. "He's falling asleep," he said, his voice husky with emotion. "Shall I put him in his crib?"
"You can try," Julie said, carefully handing the sleeping baby over to him.
After putting his son down, Zack kicked off his shiny tuxedo shoes and stretched out beside her on the
bed, pulling her tightly to his side. "Thank you for my son," he whispered, and because his emotions seemed perilously close to the surface tonight, he looked around for something to distract him. His gaze
fell on the book lying face down on the table beside the bed, and he seized on that. "What book are you reading?"
Not once during the writing of Julie's book or its steps through production had she been willing to discuss it with him. Zack was an exacting professional, and she'd been afraid that any criticism from him
would either crush or panic her. The time of reckoning was here, however, and she drew a nervous
breath. "It's my book—an early copy, fresh off the press. Sally sent it over to me this morning,"
"Why on earth didn't you tell me!" he said, reaching for it. "This is very exciting."
"Because this was Academy Awards day and I didn't want the book or anything else to detract from it, even for a minute."
Touched by her needless concern, Zack picked the book up, turning it over, and Julie watched with a mixture of anxiety and eagerness for his first reaction to the cover. "It's beautiful," he said decisively,
holding it out and studying the colorful roses in full bloom that were heavily embossed on a dusty pink marbled background.
"What do you think of the title?"
He smiled and said it aloud: "You named it
Perfect
."
She nodded.
"I like it," he said with a grin. "How did you happen to come up with the title?"
"That was the easiest part," she whispered, lifting her eyes to his. "It's our story, but the book is really all
about you."
Zack's smile faded and tenderness burst inside him.
He yanked her into his arms, burying his face in her hair and holding her. She had stood by him when the world branded him evil, wanted him when he had nothing to offer her, and taught him about forgiveness. She cheered for his triumphs, supported him when
he was right, and stubbornly opposed him when he was wrong. She reinvented his life for him and filled it
with purpose and meaning and laughter and love.
And then she gave him his son.
He remembered the words of the poem Debby Sue Cassidy had written for her:
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I used to be ashamed
And now I am proud
The world once was dark
And now it is bright.
I used to have dreams
But now I have hope.
Thanks to Julie.
"Don't cry, darling," Julie whispered, amazed by the dampness on the hard cheek that was pressed to hers. Curving her hand around his nape to hold him closer she teased shakily, "You haven't read my book yet. I may be a better writer than you think."
In the midst of one of the most achingly poignant moments of his life, Zack burst out laughing.