All the Stars in the Heavens (59 page)

Loretta and Tom's attenuated divorce settlement was nearing an end. She had longed for her freedom and looked forward to making her own decisions again. The process of divorcing Tom Lewis was illuminating
for Loretta. If she had it to do over again, she never would have become Tom's business partner. She had seen it so many times in Hollywood. A star would turn over her financial interests to a husband who was a successful businessman in his own right, and hope that he would take as good care of her business as he had of his own before entering into a marriage with her. But for some reason, it never worked out that way in show business. Show business, it turned out, engaged more than goods, services, and the manufacturing and distribution of products, it also peddled egos, and those, it turns out, are priceless.

“Your lawyer sent the last of the divorce papers for you to sign.”

“I'll take care of it.”

“You tried to make it work.”

“I suppose I could have tried harder. Tom is still making me feel like I can't do anything right.”

“It wasn't to be.”

“This leaves me time to take care of Mama, to give her the attention she deserves.”

“You could be happily married and still look out for your mother.”

“That's true. The children are on their own now. It's funny, Alda, nobody ever told me motherhood was temporary. You think you have years and years with them, but the truth is, you don't. Had I known that, I might have handled things differently. I would have done everything differently with Judy. She really suffered.”

“She was loved. That saved her. It saves all of us.”

“But it can't make up for what she missed. I will carry that always. Alda, I have always wanted to ask you something. Why didn't you and Luca ever adopt a child.”

“I lost a baby boy, and then another, and by the time I learned to move with my grief, the years of motherhood were over for me. It's just the way it went. I remembered the parents at Saint Elizabeth's, their joy when the baby was placed in their arms, and somehow I knew that joy would never be mine. I would have other kinds of happiness and plenty of it. We all get some, we have to be satisfied with our portion.”

“That's the key, isn't it? To be grateful,” Loretta said.

“I guess so.”

“You've been a good friend to me, Alda.”

“I had hoped to. You've been everything to me. Boss. Sister. Friend. Confidante.” Alda patted Loretta's hand.

“What did I ever do?”

“You were my maid of honor. You were my witness on the happiest day of my life.”

“And on my wedding day, you told me to run for the hills,” Loretta joked. “I should have listened.”

A petite lady around forty years old stood under the portico. “Miss Young?”

“May I help you?” Alda asked.

“I'm Susie Tracy.”

Loretta sat up. “Spencer and Louise's daughter?”

“Their one and only.”

“I'm going to make a tray for us,” Alda said, rising slowly from her chaise.

“Please don't—I can't stay.”

Loretta winked at Alda, who went to make tea anyway.

“I have something for you, Miss Young.” Susie handed Loretta an envelope.

“What is this?” Loretta opened the letter and remembered. She recognized the handwriting: it was her own. The drafts of the letter came flooding back to her, along with the feelings she'd had at the time. She had been so madly in love with Spencer Tracy, and it was high drama—swings of desire and despair, craving something they couldn't have, wishing they had met at a different time, under different circumstances, all the puffery of young love and dreams.

“My mother said there were two women in my father's life. One was her, and the other was you.”

“Your father was a remarkable man.”

“Mom was always grateful that you sent the priest to see him when he was dying. She wasn't Catholic, and even though she went to church with him, she didn't think of it.”

“Your father believed in a good confession.”

She nodded. “He did. But you thought to send the priest. And I wanted to thank you for that.”

“Your mother was the most important woman in your father's
life. I saw a lot of marriages come and go in Hollywood, including my own, but your parents were the real deal.”

Susie's eyes stung with tears. “I read so much junk about my parents. I remember one article said they had an arrangement.”

“Every marriage is an arrangement. It's a construct of two lives, and the two people in it have to work it out. No matter what you hear about your parents, you cling to what you knew about them, and that's the truth. All the rest of it is chatter.”

“Thank you for that.”

“I know people have said things about your dad and me, and we were good friends. Every woman that met him adored him, but none rivaled your mother. That's why they stayed married. They were devoted to you and John completely.”

“I know that.”

“You hold on to what you know. Don't let anyone tell you who your parents were. You know your family. You know who you are. This is a town that thrives on made-up stories—if we aren't telling them, we're filming them. Don't take any of it too seriously.”

“I won't.” Susie gave Loretta a kiss on the cheek. By the time Alda had made it outside with the tea, Susie had left.

“What was that all about?” Alda asked.

Loretta handed her the letter.

“What do you think, Alda?”

“Never put anything in writing.”

Loretta chuckled. Alda remembered the drafts of the letter, and how she had burned them. She hadn't worked in Hollywood much more than a week, and she had already learned how to torch evidence.

“Nobody thinks about the children,” Alda said. “I know they're matinee idols, but they're real and they have lives, and their children have feelings.”

“We trade all that in when we become famous. It's what I love the most about being retired. I don't have to think how my actions that day will affect my audience or my ability to do my work. It's a ridiculous burden.”

“That brought you a great life.”

“No question. But was I any happier than you were with Luca in that house in the valley? I don't think so.”

“Do you think Mr. Tracy was happy?”

“He had a wanderlust. Not physically, not as a traveler, but in his heart. He wanted to see and know everything he could. He had a worldview from that Irish heart.”

“And Katharine Hepburn?”

“She took care of him. And I don't know if any other woman would have put up with his drinking. I'm afraid she got the worst of him.”

“Do you ever think about Mr. Gable?”

“I pray the last decade of the rosary for him every night. When I was a girl, I prayed to find true love with that last decade, and now I pray for his soul.”

“What was it about him?”

“Oh, if I knew that, I'd have a movie studio or we would have been together. He was the one that got away, though if he were here right now, he'd tell you I pushed him. I guess I always knew he was a man you couldn't own, and in my way, I kept myself separate from him because I knew if I ever had him, I wouldn't be able to make him stay. That would have been a fate worse than never having him at all. I had his baby, and I couldn't keep him. I know he loved me, but he didn't know
how
to love me. And that's the difference between a love that lasts and all the rest.”

Loretta tucked a pillow behind her mother's head on the sofa. Just as it had been in the beginning, when Sally and Polly married and Georgiana was out of the house and husbands had left her life, Loretta and Gladys were back together again, the two of them, living happily in one house, decorated by Mrs. Belzer herself.

“Mama, I don't want to talk about your estate.”

“We must. I'm ninety-two years old,” Gladys said. “How long am I going to last?”

“You're still working.”

“What's your point?”

“You're not going anywhere.”

“You don't know that.”

“No, but you're in good shape.”

“Here.” Gladys handed her an envelope “This is everything we own.”

Loretta looked through the real estate portfolio. Gladys still owned the house on Rindge Street where Judy was born. “Mama, this is the story of our lives . . . in houses.”

“I feel like a movie. Let's run a print tonight.”

No matter how many times Loretta tried to explain VHS tapes, Gladys still called movies that they watched at home “prints.”

“What do you want to watch?”

“Something with Myrna.”

“
Thin Man
?”

“No, I just watched all of them. They're good but something else.”

“
Test Pilot
?”

“I watched that one too. That's a favorite. Has your old beau Spencer Tracy in it.”

“He was a good one. But a lost lamb.”

“The good ones always are.” Gladys nodded.

“How about
Too Hot to Handle
? Mama, that's got Gable.”

“And Myrna.”

“We can watch something else.” Gladys still worried that Loretta was sad about Clark Gable.

“Nope. We're watching Gable and Loy.”

Loretta curled up on the sofa next to her mother. They watched the black-and-white film as Gable performed daring stunts in an airplane, Myrna, practical and wise on the ground, pointing out his flaws, all in all a good story.

Soon Gladys was fast asleep. Loretta flipped through her address book and dialed New York.

“Myrna? It's Loretta.”

“What's doing, sis?”

“We just watched
Too Hot to Handle
. Mama and me. Well, I watched. Mama slept.”

“Did it hold up?”

“They should put your nose on Mount Rushmore.”

“I think they have. Lincoln has my nose.”

“Retroussé? Don't think so. Mama's asleep, or she'd say hello.”

“How is she?”

“She's ninety-two and kicking. Went through her real estate portfolio. She still owns the land on our first boarding house.”

“Why didn't Gladys Belzer pull me aside and tell me to buy something?”

“You had those husbands handling your money.”

“Every time you get a divorce, you cut your money in two. And I had four divorces. Do the math. I'm sitting here drinking half a cup of coffee.”

Loretta laughed. “I was always afraid we'd be in the poorhouse.”

“And look at you. I have to work, and you're a lady of leisure.”

“But you're a better actress. Nobody misses me.”

“Did you hear about our dear Niv? He's in a bad way. Can hardly speak. He has ALS.”

“Where is he?”

“In Switzerland. With that wife. A ladies' man always ends up with a mean wife. She's dreadful, Loretta.”

“Niv was my best friend. I could tell him anything. And I told him everything. He deserved an angel.”

“He could keep a secret,” Myrna said. “You know, he told me something once about you. Said when Judy was born, he sent Clark a telegram.”

“That was Niv?” Loretta was astonished. “Of course it was. I should have known.”

“Yep. He spent a lot of time trying to get you and Clark back together.”

Loretta hung up the phone. She draped an afghan over her mother and tucked a pillow under her neck.

Loretta popped the cartridge out of the VHS. She looked on the shelf and found
The
Call of the Wild
. She put the movie in the recorder and hit play.

Alda came through and watched the front roller as she stood behind the sofa.

“Come and watch.”

“Thanks, but not tonight. I'm going to bed.”

“I'll put Mama in bed when the movie's over.”

Alda had sold the house she and Luca shared in the valley. At
Loretta's insistence, she had moved in with Gladys and Loretta. As Alda climbed the steps, she remembered the first time she met Loretta. That was so long ago, before she met Luca, and before she lost their baby. This wasn't the old age that Alda had planned for herself. She was sixty-three years old, and she was back where she started. She believed Luca would have approved. After all, Loretta, Judy, and Gladys were family. Alda could hear the overture of
The Call of the Wild
as she closed the door to her bedroom.

Loretta stretched her legs out in front of her as Gable filled the screen, hat cocked on his head, holster and belt, a natty tie and a scruff of day-old beard. She leaned back on the sofa and watched as the man she once loved dazzled and delighted with his confident swagger and his down-home charm. She liked the scenes best before she entered the picture. Loretta knew how the story went once she was onscreen, and for the first few minutes, she could rewrite what might have been. When Gable found her in the snow, she could feel the cold. When he held her, it was never long enough, never tightly enough, never enough.