Star (53 page)

There was an honesty about her that appealed to him, an openness, a warmth, and a quiet courage born of the hard times she’d had. It was a rich addition to her beauty and it gave substance to her acting. And as usual, when he saw the rushes every day, he knew he’d been right. She was good. Very good. He offered her another film after that, and by Christmas, when she went home to Zeb, she had enough money to buy them all decent presents. She had to fly right back again, and she worked hard for him until March, but the second picture was good, and when it came out, the critics loved her. And the past was suddenly forgotten. She was their sweetheart again, only for the right reasons this time. She was a fine actress performing in fine films, made by one of Hollywood’s most prestigious producers. There was no sleaze, no pressure, no slimy deals, no underworld. The ghost of Ernie Salvatore had been laid to rest, and Crystal Wyatt had not only survived but triumphed.

Spencer saw her second film alone in Washington one night, and he was stunned to see her in films again. He hadn’t called her in months, and he had known nothing of her revived career. He only sat staring at the screen, feeling a dull ache in his heart as he watched her. And the next morning he tried to call her. But the phone at the ranch didn’t answer, and he had no idea how to find her in Hollywood. And there was no point calling anyway. She had made herself clear the last time he talked to
her. She didn’t want him to call her. His won life was full. He was now the senator’s most important aide, and he had decided not to run for Congress.

It was early 1959 by then, and Crystal was starting work on a new picture. She had her own apartment and for the first time she felt secure in her work. The studios all wanted her now, but she liked working independently for Brian Ford. It limited her a little bit, but she loved the quality of the films he made, and he had taught her a lot. And she was making plenty of money. He took her out to dinner now and then, and they were good friends, but he never wanted more from her than she cared to offer. She lived only for her child. She talked to Zeb on the phone every night, and lived to go home to him during the interludes between her pictures.

She was having dinner with Brian at Chasen’s one night when he turned to her, and smiled quietly. “Just exactly what is it that you run back to up north all the time?” He had assumed it was a man, because she never got involved with anyone, but she smiled and hesitated before answering. She knew she could trust him though, and feeling unusually expansive, she told him.

“My ranch, and my son. He lives there with old friends of mine while I’m working.” Brian Ford frowned as he glanced at her, and then lowered his voice when he spoke again.

“Crystal, were you ever married?” She shook her head, he hadn’t thought she was. “Don’t ever tell anyone that. Remember what they did to Ingrid Bergman. They’ll run you out of this town so fast, you won’t know what hit you.”

“I know.” She sighed. “That’s why I leave him there.” Murder they could tolerate, apparently, but not illegitimate children.

“How old is he?” He was curious now, about whose
child it was. Maybe that was why she had murdered Ernie, maybe it was something to do with the child. He never asked her about it, and he wouldn’t now, but the thought crossed his mind as she answered.

“He’s two and a half.” Ernie had been dead for three and a half years, and that told him what he wanted to know.

“He’s not Ernie’s then.”

“God, no!” She laughed. “I would have killed myself rather than have his child.”

He smiled too. “I can’t say I disagree with you. I always felt sorry about your getting involved with him. Someone should have killed him a long time before you did.”

“I didn’t kill him,” she spoke quietly, looking deep into his eyes. “But the only defense we had was to make it look like self-defense. There were no witnesses who saw me leave the house in Malibu, or get home. And the police said I had the motive and the opportunity. But we took the only road open to us at the time. And we won. I guess that’s all that matters now.” Except that people still thought she’d killed a man, and it still hurt that that was what they thought. In their eyes, she was a murderess. As she thought of it, she realized again that it was remarkable she was working at all. She looked up at him with a gentle smile, her eyes full of the respect she had for him. “Thank you for trusting me. You’ve taught me an awful lot.”

“Those things always work both ways.” And then he wondered about the man again. “Does the boy’s father live with you on the ranch?” He assumed that that was why she always went back right after a film, not only for the child, but for his father.

But she shook her head quietly. She had made her peace with it. She had been right to let him go. And it
always pleased her to hear that Spencer was doing well. He was gone from her life now but she had Zeb for the rest of her life. It was a special gift … her little gift from God. “His father left before he was born. He doesn’t know about his son.”

Brian looked at her long and hard, fresh respect growing for her. “You’ve had a hell of a hard time.” She smiled. Some things she regretted in her life, but never her baby. They talked about her new movie then, and he had other plans, and then he smiled easily as he paid the check. “We’re going to get you an Oscar one of these days.” But she wasn’t dying for that. She was a star again, a big one now. People recognized her everywhere, and people asked for autographs frequently when she went out. They even recognized her now when she went back to the ranch, but she kept a low profile there. She didn’t want anyone to discover Zeb and leak it to the press.

Brian took her out again several times after that, and when the film ended, he gave a huge party for the wrap. He asked a few friends to stay and Crystal found herself among them. As they all watched the sun come up there was a Mexican breakfast served to them on his patio, and he talked quietly to her about his sons. Both of them had died in the war, and his marriage had never recovered from it. Eventually he and his wife had divorced and she had gone back to New York. He told Crystal it had changed his life irreparably. He had no desire to marry again, and now she understood why, when she had once invited him to the ranch, he had declined. He knew about Zeb so she had nothing to hide from him, and she wasn’t involved with him, she had just wanted to show a kindness to a friend. But seeing her son would have hurt too much. He explained that he didn’t even like to be around children anymore, they reminded him too much of his
sons. They had both paid a high price for the lives they had, and yet it gave them both greater depth. It showed in the quality of the movies he made, and the way Crystal played her parts.

They talked for hours and after everyone left, he drove her home. She was going back to the ranch again in a few days. And she was planning to stay there for the summer months and start work on a film again in the fall. For the first time it was for another director. But he had encouraged her to do it, saying it would be good for her to change. And he had another project for her after that. It seemed as though the projects they would share stretched on for years. When they arrived at her apartment she invited him upstairs, but he said he was too tired after the long night. He drove away, but late that afternoon he called her. He wondered if she wanted to have dinner before she left town, and she was touched that he had called her.

They went to a restaurant in Glendale, and when they sat at a quiet table in the back, and as he looked at her quietly, Crystal thought his eyes looked sad. She wondered what was bothering him and was surprised when he took her hand in his own large one.

“I don’t know how to say this to you. I’ve thought about it for a long time, and somehow it sounds foolish now.” She wondered what was troubling him, as she held his hand, and smiled warmly at him. She was deeply fond of the man. He was fifty-seven years old, and she would turn twenty-eight that summer on the ranch, and she was touched that he valued her friendship. “I’d like to spend some time with you when you get back. It’s going to be strange watching you work for someone else this time. I’ll miss you.”

She laughed gently at him. “Of course I’ll spend some time with you. And I won’t be gone for long. Besides,
we’re starting work next January on your new film.” But he knew she didn’t understand what he was saying to her.

“I mean I’d like to go away with you for a few days.” She was startled as she looked up at him. He had never said anything like that to her before. “You’re the first woman I’ve really talked to in a long time.” He was still amazed he had told her about his sons. He had never told anyone about that in recent years. Much of his spare time he spent alone, gardening, reading quietly, going for long walks, working on new ideas, and reading scripts for future productions. In the midst of the chaos of Hollywood, he was a solid, peaceful, solitary man with brains and dignity and distinction.

“Would you like to come up to the ranch?” she invited him again, as she had a long time before. But this time she wondered what would happen. But he smiled at her and shook his head.

“That’s your private time. I don’t want to intrude on that. We can go somewhere when you get back.” And then what? Would they still be friends? She was faintly worried about that, but on the way back to her apartment he set her mind at rest. He wanted very little more from her than he had now. “I’m not saying I’m in love with you, Crystal. I’m not. I don’t think I ever could fall in love again. I’ve had all that. And my life is peaceful now,” he smiled at her as they drove through the night. “I don’t want children, marriage, obligations, lies. I want a friend I enjoy talking to, someone to be there now and then, but not all the time. I really don’t want more than that, and sometimes I think that even as young as you are, you want the same things. You want to work hard, do well, and go back to your ranch at the end of it. Am I right?” She nodded. He had read her well.

“Yes, you are. I’ve already had everything I wanted in life. A man I loved more than anything, success …
and now Zeb. That’s enough for me.” And she had paid for all of it with plenty of heartaches.

“No, it’s not enough. One day I’d like to see you with someone you cared about. But right now, selfishly,” he smiled, “I’d be pleased if you were content to spend a little time with an old man.” The idea of calling him that made her laugh. He looked twenty years younger than he was, or ten anyway. He took good care of himself. He played tennis, swam a lot, seldom stayed up late, and never caroused. She had never heard that he was involved with the latest starlet, or even more established movie stars. She suspected that he was just what he appeared to be, very successful, hardworking, and a hell of a nice man. “When are you coming back?”

“Right after Labor Day.” She was starting her new movie shortly after that, and he looked satisfied. He was willing to wait that long and he had no desire to visit her on the ranch in the valley.

He called her a few times that summer when she was gone, sent her some books he thought she’d like, and a wonderful new cowboy hat for her birthday. She turned twenty-eight that year and spent it with Boyd and Hiroko on the ranch. She thought of Brian from time to time, he was so different from the men she had known before. There was no passion, no fire, none of the aching love that she and Spencer had shared, none of the ugliness Ernie had brought into her life, no diamond bracelets, no furs. Only a cowboy hat, and good books, and occasional letters that made her laugh, about the Hollywood scene that never really changed, while pretending to almost every hour, every day. And when she got back to Los Angeles he was waiting for her, just as he had said before the summer. They went to Puerto Vallarta for a few days, and there were none of the disappearances, the mysteries, as when Ernie had gone there to do business with
“friends,” the friends that had probably murdered him and left her to take the blame and almost go to prison.

The new picture went well, and no one seemed to notice her new relationship. Her involvement with Brian Ford was as quiet as the man himself. She had discovered that he was remotely involved in politics, and gave large sums to the Democrats. He was especially fond of young Jack Kennedy who was running for president that year. And eventually, people began to understand her involvement with Brian. They never saw Crystal with anyone else. But in Hollywood Brian Ford was sacred. People didn’t gossip about him, didn’t pry into what he did, and standing in his shadow, the limelight on Crystal seemed to dim, and she liked that. She got more publicity than she needed anyway. Her career was red-hot, but now she was a respected actress. And in April Brian got his wish. Crystal had been thunderstruck by the nomination. And the night of the Academy Awards she sat breathless and staring in her seat as they opened the envelope and called her name. She couldn’t believe it. She had won the Academy Award for best actress. And it meant even more to her because it was one of Brian’s films. He squeezed her hand as they read her name, and she sat very still for a minute, afraid to move and afraid she had heard wrong. And then she stood up and walked down the aisle, with everyone applauding and the cameras trained on her. She couldn’t believe it was happening to her, and everything was a blur as she walked onto the stage and took the Oscar in her trembling hand, and looked out into the audience at where she knew Brian was seated.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said into the microphone, her voice as husky and musical as it had always been, “I never thought I’d be standing up here, doing this … where do I begin? What do I say? So many people to thank, people who have believed in me. Most important
of all, of course, Brian Ford, without whom I’d be picking grapes and corn in a valley far from here. But other people too … people who’ve believed in me for so long … a man named Harry who gave me a job singing when I was seventeen,” and as she said it, in the restaurant in San Francisco where they were watching her on TV, Harry began to cry openly, “… and a very special lady named Pearl, who taught me to dance, and came to Hollywood with me … and my father who told me to go out into the world and follow my dreams … and all the directors I’ve worked with who taught me what I know … my co-stars on this film … and Louis Brown, who introduced me to Brian Ford … I owe all of you everything.” She held up the Oscar with tears in her eyes. “I owe you this. And also my friends Boyd and Hiroko, who take care of what I love most,” and then she paused with a smile, as the tears ran down her cheeks, “and very special thanks to the person who has made me grow, who is everything to me … Zeb, whom I love most.” She smiled a special smile for him, knowing that he was probably watching. “Thank you all.” She saluted them then, and with the Oscar in her hand, went back to her seat as the audience applauded her. They knew how far she’d come, and much of what had happened to her. They knew about the trial, and they had forgiven her. They had accepted her, and given her their ultimate reward. And Brian put an arm around her as she got back to her seat. The tears were still rolling down her cheeks and he gave her a warm hug as she grinned triumphantly at him. “He’s a lucky little boy,” he whispered to her as the cameras continued to roll and then panned the crowd still applauding. Her fans were pleased, and the people who had heard her say their names were celebrating in their homes. Lou Brown was watching with friends and he was thrilled for her, and
Boyd and Hiroko were in shock as they toasted her with sake. Pearl hadn’t stopped crying since they’d first called Crystal’s name, and Harry was buying drinks for the house with champagne from the Napa Valley. And in Washington, Spencer had stayed home from a dinner party and was in bed with a bad cold. He had sat staring at her, thinking of how far she’d come, and how much he wished he had been there to share it with her. He had been a fool to let her go to go back to Washington alone, and he wondered sometimes if she had done it purposely. If she had wanted him to go back to Elizabeth and Washington just to further his career. It was the kind of thing she would have done, but it was too late to change any of it now. He was too deeply entrenched, too involved in politics, and there were other people in her life now. He had seen her hug the man she’d been sitting with. And he assumed of course that he was the much-loved Zeb she mentioned. He was a lucky man, Spencer knew, and he only hoped that he would be good to her. She had looked beautiful on the screen. But he knew another side of her, the side that had helped him achieve his dreams, the side that had shared all her secrets with him … the girl he had met when she was a child … the woman he’d gone back to the valley with. The woman he had loved more than life itself, and even now, after all this time, he still did. He thought about sending her a telegram, but he didn’t know where to send it, and just realizing that made him feel even sadder. He had lost her, she was gone, and she had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. He turned off the TV, and lay in bed for hours that night, thinking of Crystal.