Pages of Promise (19 page)
“Amen!” Owen’s voice boomed, and loud cries of “Hallelujah” and “Amen” went around the room.
After the closing prayer, the congregation began to file by to shake hands with and hug those at the front and to encourage them.
Laurel did not go to shake hands with Richard. She slipped outside and stood beside Tom. “What does it all mean?” she asked.
“Well, for one thing, we’ll be losing one of our members at the Vine.”
“He’ll be leaving?”
“I think so.” Seeing the alarm in her face, he added gently, “That would be sad for you, wouldn’t it, if Richard left?”
“We’re very good friends. Johnny loves him so much.”
Henderson almost said, “Johnny’s not the only one, is he?” but he held his peace. He put his hand on Laurel’s shoulder. “Any man that gives his life to God can’t go wrong, or any woman either. It’s something you ought to think about, Laurel.”
Late that afternoon when the sun was falling rapidly toward the jagged hills in the west, Laurel saw Richard leave the house and walk down toward the creek he seemed to love so much. She turned to another of the young women, saying, “Mary, will you watch Johnny?”
“Sure. Come on, Johnny. Let’s make some cookies.”
Taking off her apron, Laurel hurried out of the house, then across the yard and down the path that led to the woods. She had been troubled ever since the service that morning. She found Richard staring into the stream. “Richard,” she called softly. “I–I want to talk to you.”
Richard turned and smiled at her. “Sure. Come on. Let’s sit on the log.” He moved down the stream to where a large hickory tree had fallen, and the two sat down. “You’re upset? What’s wrong?”
Laurel had come to the Vine filled with fears and apprehensions about the future. For her it had been a haven, a place of safety. “Are you going to leave, Richard?”
She was wearing a simple cotton dress and a pair of low-heeled white shoes, well-worn and scuffed. Her hair always seemed beautiful to him, rich and thick, slightly curled as it blew in the May breeze, and her eyes—he could never describe their color. Sometimes they seemed violet, but now they looked dark blue, and he saw fear in them. Her vulnerability and sweetness and goodness had drawn his attention from the first time he saw her. “I think I will leave, but you mustn’t worry about it, Laurel,” he said, wanting to make that look of fear disappear.
She turned her head away from him. Her voice was muffled when she said, “I’ll miss you, and so will Johnny.”
“You mustn’t feel bad. I may not leave for a long time.” He began to tell her how he had grown up in a Christian home and had always lived a fairly moral life, even in the marines. Then he tried to explain how God had come to him that morning. “I don’t know how to put it to you, Laurel, but God is real. Jesus is real, and I’m going to follow him. I’ve got a good example in Uncle Owen. Sometimes it’s hard being a minister, but I want to do it.”
She turned to face him, and he saw tears in her eyes. “When you first came here you asked me about Johnny’s father. I felt too ashamed to tell you. And as we’ve grown closer, I was afraid I’d shock you and that I’d lose you. But I feel like I have to tell you the truth. His father was in the service, like you. I’d never had a boyfriend, and he’d never had a girlfriend. He was shy, and so was I. We were very young, and we knew that he would be leaving, and he was all I had, Richard. All I’d ever had, and,” a flush came to her face, and she bit her full under lip, “we–we did wrong.” She dropped her head then, and her hair curtained her face. She did not speak for a long time, but her shoulders began to shake. Then she lifted her eyes, and there was tragedy in them. “He went away to an army camp in Louisiana, and he was going to send for me and we were going to be married, but he died, in a training accident. He never even knew that he was a father.” She put her hands over her face. “My parents threw me out when they found out.”
Richard did feel shocked. He’d never considered that Johnny might be illegitimate. But he also cared deeply for this young woman and wanted to comfort her. He put his arm around her and drew her close. Her hair smelled sweet. He let her cry for a while simply because he didn’t know what to say. “I know it’s hard, but God will take care of you and Johnny just like he’s going to take care of me.”
Some inflection in his voice told her it was as she’d feared. He hadn’t said, “God will take care of
us.
” Laurel looked up, her eyes dewy and her lips trembling, but she stopped crying.
Richard leaned over, kissed her forehead, pulled a handkerchief out, and wiped the tears from her face. “We’re in God’s hands. All we have to do is be obedient, and we’ll be all right.”
She knew it had changed between them. Suddenly he was treating her like a sister, not like a woman he was in love with.
They sat silent until the sun dropped behind the low-lying hills, then they rose and made their way back. In the growing darkness, Laurel felt cold and alone but no longer fearful. And the two passed out of the woods and walked toward the house.
W
hat are you saying, Max?”
“I’m saying that you may want to just step aside.”
“Leave the picture?”
“We’ve only shot a few scenes with you. It wouldn’t be hard to shoot around them til we get another actress.”
“You’re firing me?” Mona felt like her heart had stopped.
“Nothing like that,” Danenberg said, spreading his hands wide. “It’s up to you. I’m willing to go on, but you’re going to have to do better than you have.”
This can’t be real,
she thought.
I feel like I’m saying lines.
Max said, “Well, what do you say?”
Mona was miserably aware that she had failed to convey the performance he wanted. “I just can’t seem to get into this picture,” she said.
“Look, Mona. You’re a good actress, but sometimes in this business, roles just don’t fit. This may be one of those times.”
“Can you give me a day or two to think about it, Max?”
“Sure. You go home, or go for a walk. Whatever you decide, sweetheart, I’ll stay with you. But you’ve got to come through for me.”
“Thanks, Max. I’ll give you my answer soon.”
Since it was a costume picture, it took some time for Mona to remove her makeup and change. She had just finished putting on her street clothes when a knock came at her door. “Come in,” she said.
A head bobbed inside, and Ted Franklin said, “Miss Stuart, there’s a fellow at the front gate asking to see you.”
“Who is it?”
“Says his name is Tom Henderson. You want to see him?”
“Tell him to wait. I’ll be right there.” Mona was wearing a peach-colored dress with a full skirt, heavy pleats, and large side pockets. She put on a maroon bolero jacket, fastened a soft, wide belt, then after a few passes at her hair, grabbed her bag and left the dressing room.
As she passed through the busy activities of the sets, she wondered what Tom could be doing in Los Angeles. Every day she thought of him, and every night.
Maybe that’s why the
picture isn’t going well. I’m too distracted.
It had puzzled and frustrated and angered her that she could not get the tall man out of her mind. She was accustomed to the admiration of men, but Henderson had certainly not overwhelmed her in this respect. She thought,
Perhaps it’s just my strange form of
pride that keeps bringing him to mind.
As she walked toward the gate, she saw him lounging outside wearing the familiar faded jeans and white T-shirt and a bill cap pushed back on his head. She was disgusted to find herself having to conceal her eagerness and embarrassed at the memory of how she had parted from him. She slowed her walk, took a deep breath, and exhaled, and as she stepped through the gates, she said as coolly as she could, “Hello, Tom.”
“Hi, Mona. You’re looking fine. Have you gotten over your hissy fit?” His grin was wide, and there was in his sleepy-looking, blue-gray eyes admiration, she felt sure.
She decided to ignore his question. “What are you doing in Los Angeles?”
“Oh, I have a chore to do. Thought I’d drop by, and we could go somewhere and talk a little bit.”
“Well, I’m free for the rest of today.”
“Are you hungry?”
It was only a little past four, and Mona had little appetite. But she really was glad to see him, and she wanted to talk, so she said, “Yes, you can tell me all about Richard, and about the others at the Vine. Where do you want to eat?”
“I’ve already found just the place. Come on.”
Mona expected him to call a taxi, but he said, “It’s only about fifteen blocks from here.”
“Fifteen blocks?”
“It’ll do you good. All this fresh air and sunshine. Think about how many people come to Los Angeles just for that. Come on,” he urged.
Mona felt his hand on her arm, and he shortened his stride so she could keep up with him. As they walked along under the sunny skies, he said, “I suppose you heard about Richard’s decision.”
“What decision?”
“He’s going to be a preacher.”
“A preacher?” Mona missed a step, but he caught her.
He grinned at her and said, “I think it’s a good idea. Nobody around like Owen Stuart, and one day he’ll have to quit. Nice to know another Stuart will be in there preaching the gospel.”
For the rest of the hike—as Mona felt it to be—she questioned Henderson about the details, especially asking about Laurel.
“I’ll tell you about it after we eat. There’s the place.”
Mona looked up to see a building with a tile roof line, large windows, red-and-white horizontal tile, and two yellow arches running from the back to the front of the building. “Is this it?” she asked.
“Yes, this is McDonald’s. They make the best hamburgers you ever tasted. I tried one on my way to the studio just to see what it’s like. Come on in.”
Amused by his choice of a restaurant but knowing he had little money, Mona accompanied him inside.
Five minutes later the pair were seated in a booth, and Henderson said, “They make the best french fries you ever tasted.”
Mona found that she was hungry after all and pitched into her meal. She listened enthusiastically as he described what was happening at the Vine, and she said wistfully, “I bet it’s beautiful there now.”
“Yes, it always is in those hills. I was down at the creek the other day and found myself wishing you were there with me.”
Mona managed to keep her mouth from dropping open in surprise. “Did you really, Tom?”
“Why, of course; I thought you’d know that!”
And just how would I have known that?
she thought, but said nothing. They talked for a long time, and it was growing late. “I’ve got to be alone for a while, Tom. I’ve got a decision to make.”
“That’s hard work sometimes.”
She said, “I want to tell you about it. It’s too busy here. Come on to my place?”
Forty-five minutes later they arrived at Mona’s apartment. Tom looked around and said, “Nice place.” He saw her bookshelf, walked over, and studied the titles. “Have you read all these?”
“Well, I’ve read all of some of them and none of some of them and part of some of them.” Mona smiled.
“Did you ever read any of them twice?”
“Oh, yes! My favorites.”
“Who was it that said, ‘An illiterate man is one who reads a book only once’?” He saw a book lying on the table and went over to pick it up. He ruffled through it and said, “What about this one,
Bride of Quietness.
Is it a oncer?”
“Oh, it’s a great book, Tom! Have you read it?”
“Yes.”
“What did you think of it?”
“Oh, it has its faults.”
“Don’t be like that,” Mona said. “What did you really think of it?” Then without waiting, she said, “I thought it was one of the finest novels I’ve ever read. Adam wants to do a movie of it, but nobody can find the author.”
“I don’t like movies made from books. I don’t know a single one that was better than the book itself.”
“This one could at least be as good. Adam and Aunt Lylah want to do it.” She hesitated and said, “I think they’d give me a chance at the starring role.”
This caught Henderson’s attention. He studied her carefully and said, “You wouldn’t be a bad choice. You’re a lot like Helen in the book.”
Startled, Mona said, “You don’t really think that?”
“Once my dad told about a fellow who brought a young woman home that he had just married, and she was really homely. His dad got him alone and said, ‘Son, she’s not very pretty.’ And the son said, ‘Well, beauty’s only skin deep.’” Henderson’s eyes crinkled and humor came to his eyes. “The old man said, ‘Let’s skin ’er!’”
Mona laughed uncomfortably. “You’re crazy, Tom. What is that story supposed to mean?”
Henderson grew very serious. “I think deep down you’re like the heroine of this book, so deep down that it’s hard to recognize, but it’s there. Good and sweet and honest, everything a woman ought to be.”
“Do you really think that, Tom?”
He shrugged and said, “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t, but—I’d have to skin you to get at it.”
Mona felt hurt by what he’d said in such a matter-of-fact manner, but he obviously didn’t see that she might be.
“Now, what’s the problem? What’s the decision you can’t make?” he asked.
She put the hurt feelings away, and she told him about the film, about how unhappy she was with it. When he inquired into the nature of it, he said, “No wonder you don’t like it. That’s not a good woman you’re portraying. The film, to me, doesn’t seem to have anything that would help people.”
They talked for two more hours, and finally Tom stood up to leave and said, “We all have to make our own choices. Richard’s made his, and I think he’s made a good one. I’m no preacher, but maybe you ought to listen to Richard and your Uncle Owen. Well, it’s late, and I better say good night.”
“Where are you staying? Give me your phone number. Can you have lunch with my brother Stephen and me tomorrow? He’s in town on business.”
Henderson hesitated, and at first she thought he meant to refuse, but he said, “I’m at a little fleabag called the Majestic.” He grinned broadly. “It’s not very majestic, I might say. It’s over on Twenty-eighth Street. I guess it’s in the phone book. I’m in room 211.”
