Star (31 page)

They were going to bury Grandma Minerva on the ranch, near her father and Jared. She had died in her sleep, and Boyd said he heard her mom was real upset, but Crystal hardened her heart and thanked him for letting her know, but said she wasn’t coming.

“Thanks for telling me though.” Another chapter closed. Another one gone. The only family she had left were Becky and her mother, and they were dead to her now. “How’s Hiroko?”

“She’s back on her feet again. But … it’s been kind of rough on her … You know …” She had been mourning the baby she had lost, and for two months now, nothing had consoled her. And this time the doctor had told her there could be no more children. There would be only Jane … little Jane Keiko … the baby Crystal had delivered with Boyd. Her godchild.

“Why don’t you come down to see me here?” She didn’t tell him she had seen Spencer. It was their secret.

“We might sometime.” And then, hesitantly, “You know Tom is gone, don’t you? He left for Korea two weeks ago. I think your sister’s real upset. At least that’s what my sister tells me. I think she’s damn lucky to be rid of the bastard.” He couldn’t restrain himself and Crystal’s eyes were cold as she listened. She hated all of them now, all of them except Boyd and Hiroko and Jane. Her life had gone far past them.

“Who’s running the ranch?”

“Your mom and Becky, I guess. They’ve got enough ranch hands to manage okay, unless they all get drafted.” It was going to be like the war again, or so it seemed. It
seemed so cruel after only five years respite. But at least Boyd wasn’t going anywhere. She was glad for Hiroko that they had refused him. “You okay, Crystal?”

“I’m fine. Just hanging around down here, singing my heart out.” There had been a lot more than that, but she didn’t want to tell anyone, not even the Websters. “Why don’t you think about coming down?”

“We’ll try. And Crystal … I’m really sorry about your grandma.” She had almost forgotten that that was why he had called her, and so had he, but old man Petersen was signaling to him to get back to work, and he had to get off the phone quickly.

“Thanks, Boyd. Give Hiroko and Jane my love. And let me know if you’re coming down to San Francisco.”

“We will.” He hung up and she sat staring into space in Mrs. Castagna’s hallway.

“Something wrong?” She appeared like a ghost whenever she heard what she thought was an interesting phone call.

Crystal turned to her with a sigh. “My grandmother died.”

“That’s too bad. Was she very old?” Mrs. Castagna looked sorry for her. She was so alone, and so young and pretty and decent.

“Almost eighty, I think.” But she had looked a hundred, and she had never seen her granddaughter again, but Crystal wouldn’t let herself think of it now. It was too late for that. Grandma Minerva was gone. And she had enough to worry about, with Spencer in Korea.

“You goin’ home to the funeral?” She was curious about everything.

Crystal shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“You on bad terms with your family, ain’t you?” There was never a phone call, never a letter, except from some people called Webster, and she never went anywhere either,
except in the last few weeks with the boy she’d hidden in her bedroom. But Mrs. Castagna had pretended not to know it because she liked her.

“I told you, my parents are dead.” Mrs. Castagna nodded, she had never quite believed her. But Crystal’s eyes gave away nothing as the old woman looked at her. She was even older than Minerva had been, but she was full of life, and had no intention of dying for a long time.

“How’s your friend?” For an instant, Crystal didn’t answer. She knew she had to mean Spencer, and she looked noncommittal as she started back up the stairs to her bedroom.

“He’s fine.”

“He go somewhere?”

She stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at her with a look of sorrow in her eyes that said it all. “Yes. To Korea.”

The old woman nodded, and went back to the kitchen, to look out her window. She had wondered about him. She knew he was staying upstairs, but Crystal had been alone for so long that she’d let them be, which was very unusual for her. Crystal hadn’t given her any trouble in over a year, and he looked like a nice man. It was just too bad she was sleeping with him, but a girl like that, with no parents, no one to look after her, it wasn’t surprising. And he was the only man she’d ever seen Crystal with. He looked like a good man, a decent person. It was too bad he’d gone to the war. She hoped, as Crystal did, that he’d survive it. And upstairs, in her room, Crystal lay down on the narrow bed she’d shared with him, and cried, praying that she’d see him again, that he’d live, and come home to her, maybe this time forever.

The next six months seemed endless to them all, Crystal as she sang in the restaurant night after night, Elizabeth at school, and Spencer in Korea. He wrote to them both as often as he could, but sometimes he felt crazy when he mailed the letters. What if he’d made a mistake, if he’d gotten the two letters confused, if he’d used Elizabeth’s address and Crystal’s name, and his wife still got the letter? He was so tired sometimes that it was entirely possible, but in point of fact, he made no mistakes. He just worried about it a lot. And he tortured himself constantly about making a decision.

He told Crystal how he felt, how he longed for her, and how much he loved her. But he made no promises about after the war. He hadn’t figured out yet what to do about Elizabeth, or whether or not he really wanted to divorce her. He knew how much he loved Crystal and he also knew he had to give one of them up, he couldn’t go on like this forever. But he owed Elizabeth something too. He had started something with her, and it wasn’t her
fault he didn’t love her. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. But it certainly complicated things, and for the moment, he was too busy just surviving the war to make a real decision. He knew it had to wait till he got home, and in the meantime, he wrote to Elizabeth about what he saw, the costumes, the monuments, the customs, the people. He knew she’d be fascinated by it, along with the political implications. And it wasn’t that Crystal was less aware of things, it was only that their sphere of interests was different, and his need for Crystal’s heart was far greater. Elizabeth wrote to him about how tired of school she was, an old song he’d heard before, and about her parents’ dinner parties during vacations. She’d been to stay with Ian and Sarah several times in New York, but they were helping to start a new hunt in Connecticut, and now they were spending all their weekends in Kentucky, buying Sarah new horses. And more than once, Elizabeth mentioned how glad she was that she hadn’t gotten pregnant, it was just the opposite of what Crystal had hoped, but with the situation so confused, Spencer was relieved that neither of them was pregnant.

The letters from Elizabeth were more like newsletters from back home. The ones from Crystal fed his soul and kept him going.

Elizabeth graduated in June, and her parents were there of course. She had invited Spencer’s parents too, and she sounded immensely pleased with herself that it was all over. He got the letter when he was in Pusan, feeling as though he would die from the humidity and the heat, helping his men to negotiate their way through the narrow pathways between rice paddies. It was a bitter fight, and more than once, he felt they didn’t belong there. He knew he and Elizabeth would have some real battles over it once he got home, if they were still married. It was an odd thought as he wrote to her, particularly
since she didn’t know what he was thinking, or what had happened with Crystal before he left San Francisco.

And that summer, when Elizabeth went to the lake, as she always did, Crystal finally decided to go back to the valley. She had thought about it for a long time, and with Tom Parker gone, she decided to brave it. All she had to face now were her own painful memories of her father and Jared. And it was odd being there and not going to the ranch, but she had no desire to see her mother or Becky.

She stayed with the Websters for a few days and it felt good being back, as she lazed in the sun and inhaled the perfume of the valley. She even forced herself to drive past the ranch, and it looked overgrown and deserted. All the ranch hands had finally been drafted, and she’d heard from Boyd that her mother was using Mexicans to come in daily and tend the vineyards and the corn. She and Becky had finally sold off the last of the cattle. And it was Spencer who wrote to her later on and told her that Tom had been killed trying to recapture Seoul, and as Crystal read it, she felt a pang of guilt to realize she was glad. She would never forgive him for killing her brother. She wondered how Becky had taken the news, and if she would stay on the ranch with her three children and her mother. It had occurred to her too, that they might even sell it. She hated the thought but there was nothing she could do about it anymore. It was someone else’s life now, not hers. Sometimes it was hard to believe she had ever lived there.

At Christmas, Boyd and Hiroko came down finally to hear her sing. They looked happy and well. They had left Jane at home with old Mr. Petersen’s wife, who was eager to have her. She was three and a half years old, and looked more than ever like Hiroko, from the pictures they showed her. But above all, they were impressed by
how well Crystal looked. She had grown even slimmer, which accented her remarkable figure. And she had been learning new tricks from going to movies. Her favorites were
An American in Paris
and
Born Yesterday
, and Pearl was still coaching her from time to time in voice and dance. But by then she had far surpassed her friend’s knowledge.

Boyd and Hiroko were amazed by the power of her voice when they heard her. Crystal had turned Harry’s nightclub into a gold mine. He was even bragging about her to friends, and it came as no surprise to him when two agents from L.A. came to the restaurant and gave Crystal their card and asked her to call them. They invited her to look them up if she ever came to Hollywood, and suggested that she should come down sometime for a screen test. It was late February by then, and Crystal was beside herself with excitement as she showed Pearl the card, but she still didn’t feel ready for Hollywood yet. And secretly, she wanted to wait for Spencer where he’d left her. She wrote to him about the agents in her next letter, which he got a month later, in March, as he sat near the 38th Parallel.

He wondered if she would go to Hollywood to look them up. Part of him wanted her to, and another part of him wanted her to wait to begin her life until he got back from Korea. He knew it wasn’t fair, but now that he was so far away, he was afraid to lose her. She was young and beautiful and she had a right to a full life. But he was desperately afraid now that she’d find a life without him. But there was less danger of that than he knew. All she cared about was Spencer, as she waited.

She heard from him less frequently now, but she knew from him that conditions had grown worse, and the constant attempts at a truce were failing, with new deaths and countless disappointments every time. Spencer
sounded depressed when he wrote to tell her about it. Like everyone else, he wanted the war to end, but it seemed to go on forever. And Crystal was startled too, when he told her that Elizabeth had met him in Tokyo for R and R. He almost made her sound like a casual acquaintance, but Crystal was passionately jealous just thinking of it. Why couldn’t she go to Tokyo too? He had been gone for so long, as she waited devotedly for him, living at Mrs. Castagna’s and singing at Harry’s. There was no other man in her life. She didn’t want anyone. Only Spencer. And no man she ever met ever measured up to him. She was twenty-one and beautiful beyond words, and she loved him more than anything. His only flaw was that he was married. Her friend Pearl tried to encourage her to find someone else, to no avail. Crystal wasn’t interested, and she had plenty of offers. The men who came to Harry’s to hear her sing went wild over her, and she was constantly being invited out, but she never went. She was faithful to Spencer.

She seemed to get more beautiful each year, and by that summer, Harry thought she had never looked better. There was a luminous quality about her as she sang that made the whole room go quiet. And there was a gentleness and a sweetness about her that made her more beautiful still. Harry was curious, too, about why there was no man in her life, and he wondered sometimes if there was someone she was seeing quietly, but Crystal never talked about her love life, and Harry never asked her.

In Washington, Elizabeth had gone to work, assisting with the House Committee on Un-American Activities investigations. She was deeply committed to her work, and she had a prestigious job. They were single-handedly changing the course of several lives in Hollywood, and in May, Elizabeth was particularly enraged by the testimony
of the well-known playwright Lillian Hellman. She refused to testify on the grounds that although she might not be a Communist herself, her testimony might affect the lives of the people she worked with and liked. Elizabeth had long talks with her father about it at night, and she wrote about all of it in letters to Spencer, explaining to him about what she was doing, and how she felt about McCarthy. He stayed off the subject when he answered her, and inquired about her health and her parents, but not her job. He hated everything she was doing. She knew he disapproved of it, but she had to do what she believed in, and she liked the job. And she wouldn’t have given it up for anything, except if Spencer came home and went back to work on Wall Street. But she was intending to talk him into moving to Washington anyway. And in the fall of 1952, she decided to give up his apartment for good. She bought a house on N Street in Georgetown from the money from her trust fund, and put most of Spencer’s belongings in brown boxes. It was a pretty brick house, and it suited her perfectly. It was near Wisconsin Avenue’s better shops, and she bought antiques with her mother when she had time, and that winter there were photographs of the house in
Look
magazine, which she sent to Spencer. And as he looked at the article, it struck him that none of the photographs included anything of his. He wondered what she had done with all his belongings. And suddenly he felt as if he had no home to go to when the war was over. He didn’t even know where they lived, he couldn’t visualize it, except for the photographs in the magazine. And it all looked so sterile and perfect. He couldn’t even imagine making love to her in the fussy little bedroom where she’d posed. And seeing it only made him lonelier for Crystal, and her room at Mrs. Castagna’s, which only made him feel crazy again about what he was going to do when the war was
over. Did he have an obligation to Liz? Or to himself, to do what he really wanted?