Throughout his career, actor John Paravati has stuck with what he told the gossip rags -- he's been in like, in lust, even in respect once or twice, but never love. All he's ever cared about is performing. If he's stuck now doing commercials for cruise lines, at least it's better than shilling adult diapers.<br><br>But Hollywood pretends, and John is a master. Because once upon a time, he loved two things more than anything -- his best friend Frank and the movie palace he used as sanctuary.<br><br>Over fifty years ago, John ran away from his hometown. Now, someone has restored the theater he left behind, and they want John at its relaunch. The memories still sting, but he agrees to attend, even though it means dealing with heartache. At seventy-seven, he's too old to hold onto the hurt. The question is, however, is he too old to start over once it's gone?

The Hearts of Yesteryear

His unshed tears burned. Whirling on his heel, John stumbled to the stairs, almost falling down them in his haste to get away.


“I didn’t sleep at all that night,” John said. “By nine thirty the next morning, I’d packed my bags, stuck my letter of resignation in The Crown’s mailbox, and emptied my bank account so I could be on the very first bus that left Shakersville. I never saw Frank Hanson again. Until today, anyway.”


He hadn’t looked at her during the entire story, but one glance now showed her rising to her feet and crossing the room to surprise him with a sudden hug. He stiffened at the familiarity, but her arms only tightened, her tear-damp cheek smudging against his neck.


“I’m so sorry, Mr. P,” she whispered.


Slowly, he returned the hug. “It was a long time ago.”


“Sometimes, we all need to run away.” She peeled back and offered a feeble smile. “Thank you for telling me.”


Chapter 21