Stars Over Sunset Boulevard (23 page)

“Do you love him? Are you going to say yes?” Bert asked.

Violet couldn't see what Audrey was doing as she contemplated her response, but several seconds passed before she answered. “What does it matter if I love him or not? He loves me. He's good to me. He wants me to go far in my career, and he has the money and the connections to make it happen. There's a lot of comfort in that. Maybe for me, that's what love is. It's being with someone who makes me feel safe and cherished and wanted.”

“Maybe that's what love is for all of us,” Bert said after a few moments of silence.

It got very quiet then. Violet knew if she so much as moved a toe they'd hear her, so she stood glued to the wall while she pondered if love really was what Bert and Audrey said it was.

She was not ready to hear what Bert said next.

“Are you sure about letting us keep and raise your daughter?”

Violet didn't hear what Audrey said in response because there was suddenly a terrible roaring in her ears as she imagined her responding with,
Yes, I'm having second thoughts, now that you mention it
. But Audrey must have said something like,
But I have nothing to offer Lainey
, because Bert said she had what every mother has to offer her child: herself.

The earth seemed to have tilted off its axis. Violet felt for the wall behind her to steady herself. Then after a few seconds of no words at all between them, Audrey spoke.

“I can tell how much you and Violet love Lainey. I know it would break your hearts not to have her.”

“That's exactly why I am asking you if you are, because surely your heart is breaking, too.”

Violet had to stop this conversation from continuing. She came forward as if she'd just emerged from the bedroom, and rubbed her eyes as if she hadn't heard a word they'd said.

Audrey was sitting on the sofa with her legs tucked up underneath her and her blankets all askew. Bert, who had pulled Delores's armchair close to the couch, was sitting in it, and he had Lainey over his shoulder as he gently rubbed her back to burp her.

Violet's heart was pounding in her chest but she forced herself to sound relaxed and sweetly cordial. “Bert, you are so thoughtful to get up with Lainey, but you didn't need to feed her here in the living room, where Audrey is trying to sleep.”

“I actually hadn't been asleep yet, Vi,” Audrey said. “Bert was being as quiet as a mouse in the kitchen, getting her a bottle, and I told him he could bring the baby into the living room while he fed her. I didn't mind.”

The room became quiet again. Bert finally got out of the chair with a sleeping baby over his shoulder. “We should all get to sleep so Santa will come, I guess. Good night, Audrey.”

“Good night.”

Violet blew Audrey a kiss as Bert took Lainey back to the nursery. Audrey clicked off the light.

March 1943

A
breeze toyed with the edges of Lainey's blanket as Violet sat with her daughter on the grass and waited for the mailman to arrive. Bert's letters usually came on Saturdays, and she was eager for news of where he might be posted. His division was gearing up for some kind of movement. He didn't know where or when, but it was imminent.

Lainey, on her back with a rattle in her tight little fist, was making happy gurgling noises, pleased with herself that she could produce such sounds. Violet tickled her child on her cheek and Lainey smiled and uttered a monosyllabic response of delight.

It was not quite warm enough to be sitting outside and Violet had to keep replacing the little crocheted shawl over Lainey's legs, as her daughter kept kicking it off. But she had to get away from Delores and her constant commentary on how terrible the war was and how much she
wished Bert would come home and how tired she was all the time and how Violet wasn't seeing to her needs like she used to and how much she missed her new grandson.

Their relationship had been tense since her mother-in-law's return from her visit to San Francisco to see Bert's sister's new baby. Delores's health had continued to decline, and she required more help from Violet than she had when Bert had first left for the Army. What with helping Delores in and out of bed and in the bathroom, making all her meals, and doing her laundry, Violet felt as if she had two children to care for. While it was a joy to care for Lainey, jumping through hoops for Delores was wearing Violet out. Plus, Delores's constant reminders that her new grandson was three hundred terrible miles away were just plain annoying.

“But you've got Lainey right here!” Violet had said earlier that day, when Delores had again remarked how frustrating it was that baby Owen was so far from her.

“Well, yes. Yes, that's true,” Delores had said, looking down at Lainey lying on a flannel blanket on the living room floor while Violet folded laundry on the sofa.

Violet had stopped smoothing out the clean diaper on her lap. She could tell by the look on her mother-in-law's face that Delores considered Owen to be different from Lainey. Owen was biologically a part of her, an extension of her own life. The new baby also had her beloved dead husband's blood coursing through his infant veins. Lainey did not.

Sweet Lainey was easy to feel affection for, but she wasn't like Owen.

The sheepish look on Delores's face had made it appear as if she'd read Violet's thoughts.

“I just don't like it that I don't get to see him as often as I get to see Lainey,” Delores had said.

Then go live with Charlene,
Violet had wanted to say.

Again it seemed as though Delores had heard Violet's unspoken words.

“Maybe I should go back up for an extended stay.” Delores's brow had crinkled in consternation, revealing that she had already been thinking about a return trip to San Francisco.

“I am sure Charlene and Howard would like that.”

“They've prepared a room for me so that I don't have to rush back if I don't want to.”

Violet had folded the clean diaper and pressed it across her lap, hoping that Delores was saying what Violet thought she was saying. That maybe she was thinking of returning to San Francisco to stay. “How very nice of them.”

“Charlene's a nurse, you know,” Delores continued, more to herself than Violet, as though lecturing herself on good reasons to leave her beloved home and move up north.

“Yes,” Violet said.

Delores had inhaled heavily as she looked about the parts of the house visible to her from her armchair. Violet could tell Delores was picturing herself saying good-bye to the home she had shared with Bert's father, and not just for a week or two, but for good.

“I never thought I'd leave this house.” Delores's eyes had glistened with ready tears.

“Every memory you made here you can take with you,” Violet had replied, willing herself to sound compassionate and not relieved at the thought that Delores might cease to be her responsibility.

“That's true,” Delores had said softly as a tear had slipped down her cheek. Violet pretended not to notice.

Now, as Violet sat outside on the blanket with Lainey,
she found herself thinking how she might redecorate the kitchen when it was finally hers. When the mailman arrived, Violet jumped to her feet to receive the little collection of envelopes he had for her.

But there was no letter from Bert that day.

Instead there was a note from Audrey. Violet opened the envelope, thinking perhaps Audrey was at last announcing her engagement to Glen Wainwright. She would have to not let on that she'd overheard in that terrible conversation between Bert and Audrey that Wainwright might propose. But that wasn't what the note was about. It was about coming to visit. Audrey wouldn't be starting rehearsals for her next play until the third week of April. She wanted to know if she could come up to Santa Barbara and spend the weekend after next with them, if it wasn't too much trouble.

Maybe we could get a sitter for Lainey and the three of us could go see
No Time for Love
with Claudette Colbert,
Audrey wrote.
And, oh! I found the cutest little striped pinafore for Lainey. With a matching hat.

Was that all right? Could she come?

Violet crumpled the piece of paper and Lainey cooed happily at the sound. From the living room, Delores called out that she needed to use the toilet.

Violet scooped up her daughter and the blanket and headed inside, the note a wad of paper in her fist.

She set Lainey down in her crib before attending to Delores's needs.

As she helped her mother-in-law get situated on the toilet, she knew she could not continue to live this way. She didn't want to wipe Delores's rear end anymore and endure her many complaints. She didn't want to pretend to be happy about Audrey's frequent intrusions. She didn't want to sleep alone any longer in the bed she'd shared with Bert.
She wanted to go home. If she could get Delores safely settled with Charlene and Howard in San Francisco, she could take the train—at last—to Montgomery. There she and Lainey could bask in the love and care of her parents while Bert was away fighting.

She left Delores to give her a few minutes of privacy on the commode. As Violet stood just outside the bathroom, she looked at the crumpled letter in her hand. She hadn't seen her parents for two years and they had never met their granddaughter. When the war was over and Bert returned to them, it would be much easier to get to New York from Montgomery to meet the people Bert wanted to meet at the Audubon Society. Daddy had banking friends in Manhattan. Surely one of them knew someone who knew someone who could help Bert get his foot in the Audubon door. Whatever schooling Bert needed to finish, he could finish back home in Alabama, over in Auburn, maybe. If they stayed with Mama and Daddy after the war, Bert wouldn't have to worry about making a living and providing a home; he could just concentrate on finishing his biology degree. And then the three of them could travel to wherever he wanted to go to photograph his birds. South America or Canada or some island in the Pacific. It would be a great adventure.
Their
great adventure.

But for now, she needed to get out of this house. She wanted to go home. She wanted her mother.

Violet shoved Audrey's letter into her pants pocket as Delores called out that she was finished. A minute or so later, Violet was helping Delores make her way back to the living room.

“Want me to make the call to Charlene, Delores? I'm
happy to do it for you.” Violet said as the two of them walked slowly down the hall.

“Yes,” Delores said, leaning heavily on Violet. “I do. I'm just not happy here anymore.”

Violet patted her mother-in-law's arm.

“Leave it to me, Delores. I'll take care of everything.”

April 1943

T
he top was down on Glen's Cadillac Series 62 as Audrey zipped up the coastal highway with one hand on the wheel and the other holding a cigarette. The ends of the gauzy white scarf around her head frolicked behind her as if dancing on the wind. The midmorning sun was warm on her face, even though the sea air was still chilly from the last remnants of morning fog.

On the seat next to her were presents for the baby: darling dresses she hadn't been able to resist, a stuffed giraffe, and a silver cup with Lainey's initials engraved across it. For the first time in her life Audrey had more money than she knew what to do with. The play she had been cast in would pay a modest salary, but it was Glen's insistent generosity that allowed her to buy whatever she wanted. He didn't seem to care that Audrey doted on Lainey from afar; he actually encouraged her wild spending on the baby.

It made her happy. And Glen loved seeing Audrey happy.

In the past few months he had bought her jewels and furs, dined and danced with her at expensive restaurants and clubs, and taken her sailing on his yacht because that level of attention also made her happy. And he had seen to it that she had at last signed on with a respected agent, and he was already planning a lavish opening night party for when the curtain on the new play was raised. She had a fairly decent role in the new show, and Glen was convinced she was on the cusp of a stellar acting career. He had already told her he was going to see to it that it did happen, just as soon as the war was over and people could go back to having fun and enjoying life instead of killing one another.

Not only that, but Glen wanted to marry her because he wanted to spend the rest of his life finding ways to make her happy.

Glen had proposed on Valentine's Day, after presenting Audrey with a four-carat diamond. She hadn't been completely surprised, and yet she had still trembled at the thought of making such a huge shift. Marrying Glen would surely change how often she could see Lainey. She would not be able to drop everything and hop in a car to go see the child whenever she wanted if she was married. Glen was sympathetic to a point when it came to Lainey. He'd told Audrey he thought she'd done the right thing by hiding her pregnancy and secretly giving up the baby. Her image in Hollywood was being reinvented, and a child out of wedlock would not have been received well by the public. Glen would say she needed to be careful about how much time and attention she lavished on her best friend's little girl, lest anyone begin to have doubts about whose child Lainey really was.

More than anything else, it was this gnawing thought that had kept her from saying yes to Glen. He didn't love
Lainey; he had no familial bond with her. He was a widower with two grown children of his own and a new grandson. Audrey could not imagine her life apart from Lainey now, even if it meant turning Glen down. When she had been unable to answer him, he had told her to take all the time she needed, as though he was confident she would ultimately say yes. He offered a life of ease and riches and devotion. He loved her—of that she was certain. And yet she still hadn't been able to tell Glen that she would marry him. Not with Lainey seemingly hanging in the balance.

A few minutes later she was pulling up to Bert and Violet's house, and her heart was pounding with anticipation. Though she had sent little gifts and toys in the mail to Lainey over the past couple months, Audrey hadn't actually seen her since late January, when she'd come up on a Sunday afternoon for an impromptu visit.

She grabbed the gifts off the seat next to her and walked briskly up the path to the front door. Three months was a long time in an infant's first year; Lainey had probably changed so much. Audrey knocked lightly on the door, mindful that the baby could be asleep, and then opened it.

“Yoo-hoo!” she said softly as she poked her head inside. “It's me, Audrey.” She stepped inside.

The living room was different. At first Audrey wasn't quite sure in what way. There was less of everything somehow. Fewer photographs in frames, fewer pictures on the wall. The afghan over the couch was gone. Delores's favorite chair was also missing.

A wave of shock roiled across her as she instantly assumed the worst: Delores had died.

She set her packages down with a sense of sadness. And then she heard a door closing and quiet footsteps
approaching from down the hall. Violet walked into the room and laid a finger to her lips. She looked serene.

“Lainey just went down for her nap,” Violet murmured.

“What's happened? Is Delores is all right?”

“Delores is fine. She is with Charlene and Howard. In San Francisco.” Violet closed the distance and put her arms around Audrey, but her embrace seemed loose. Violet was not quite herself. Something was amiss.

“Oh,” Audrey said as they separated. She nodded toward the empty space where the armchair had been. “She took her chair?”

“She took everything that was important to her,” Violet said, her tone odd. “She is living with them now. Charlene is a nurse. She is better able to help Delores with her medical needs.”

“Oh, I see. My goodness. So it's just you and Lainey here, then?”

Violet smiled a half grin. “Yes.”

“Are you all right with that? Does Bert know?”

Violet cocked her head. “Does Bert know what? That his mother wanted to be closer to her new grandson? Of course. He thinks it's a great idea, especially with Charlene being a nurse and all. Want some coffee?”

Everything was off. Violet was off. The mood inside the house was off. Something still wasn't right.

“Sure. Can I just peek at Lainey first? I've missed her so much.” Audrey took a step toward the hallway and Violet reached out to stop her.

“It will be better for her if you let her sleep. She wakes up so easily now and she needs her nap. It's too hard on her when she misses it. Let's have some coffee first. There's . . . there's something I need to tell you.”

Audrey sensed a different kind of quaking in her heart
and soul. Something was about to change. Tendrils of fear curled about her as she followed Violet into the kitchen. Violet took out two cups and their saucers and poured coffee that she had obviously already made for this purpose. Audrey pulled out a chair and sat down. The china cups made little rattling noises as Violet brought them to the table.

“Want any cream?” Violet asked.

What I want is for you to tell me what's going on.
Audrey shook her head. “No, thanks.”

Violet sat down, too. She put her hands around her cup, as if using its heat to power her words. Her gaze was on the steam rising from it. “Lainey and I are going home to Alabama.”

The tendrils of fear thickened. “For a visit?”

“Until the war is over. Maybe longer. We're going to be renting out this house.”

“Are you telling me Bert wants to live in Alabama after the war, with his mother so ill?” Audrey's voice sounded childlike in her ears.

“Delores may not live to see the end of the war. And Bert has dreams for his life that my parents can help him with. He wants to travel the world and photograph birds. Maybe you didn't know that about him.”

Hot tears instantly pooled in Audrey's eyes. An ache she hadn't felt since leaving the hospital after having Lainey swelled up within her. She blinked away the tears and tamped down the dread. “You don't want to be alone here with Bert gone. I get that. Come back with me to Hollywood, Violet. The bungalow's plenty big for two women and a baby. It would be just like old times, only better. We can—”

Violet looked up at her “Audrey.”

“What?”

“I want to go home. I want my mother. I want my family. I'm tired of having to do everything by myself.”

The tears trickled down Audrey's cheeks, warm and rapid. She had to think of a way to keep Violet and Lainey in California. Had to.

Glen. She could marry Glen.

Glen had a mansion in Beverly Hills with eight bedrooms and a guest suite. Surely he would do his part for the war effort by letting an Army wife and infant daughter come live with them. He'd get to know Lainey that way. He might even begin to love her a little.

“Wait, Violet. Listen. Glen has asked me to marry him. He has this amazing house that is as big as a castle. You would want for nothing there. You and Lainey could have one whole wing all to yourselves. You'd feel like a princess, and he'd give Lainey everything she needed. You could—”

“Audrey, you're not listening to me. I want to be with my family.”

“But that's just it. You would be with family. You are like a sister to me. And Lainey? I'm her auntie Audrey.” She had to make Violet understand. “You're like family to me, Vi!” she exclaimed.

“But I'm
not
your family, Audrey!” Violet shouted. “I'm not your sister. And Lainey is not your niece!”

“But you and Bert and Lainey are all I have!” Audrey reached across the table for Violet, bumping her cup and sending coffee sloshing out of it.

Violet backed away from her. “We are
not
all you have! You have a family! You have one and you walked away from it!”

Audrey sat back now, too. Stunned. “How can you say that?”

Violet's exasperation seemed to melt into a lesser form
of anger. “Because it's true! You have a father and two half brothers and a stepmother and an uncle and aunt, and cousins, too, probably. You have a family. You have one, Audrey. You walked away from it. That's no one's fault but yours.”

A cry erupted from the nursery. Their shouting had awakened Lainey.

Violet stood and left the kitchen. Audrey sat numb and stricken in the chair. When Violet returned, Lainey was cuddled against Violet, her angelic face buried in the crook of Violet's neck, fully comforted in the arms of her mother. The image seared itself into Audrey's heart.

“Look, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just—,” Violet said as she retook her seat.

“No. You're right. Bert is yours. Lainey is yours. They are your family. Not mine.”

Seconds of silence hovered between them. It was inevitable, this tearing. Audrey knew that now. She had pulled herself away from Lainey before and then had made the mistake of sewing the rip back together.

“I'm sorry I woke her,” Audrey murmured, fresh tears spilling from her eyes.

Violet gently patted Lainey's back. “She'll be all right.”

The two friends sat in silence as the baby in Violet's arms fell back asleep.

“When do you leave?” Audrey asked, steeling her heart for the answer.

“On Friday.”

Audrey let the knowledge settle over her. “May I write to you?”

“Of course. And I will write to you.”

“And may I . . . may I send her things? Just from time to time?”

Violet hesitated a second. “From time to time.”

Audrey wiped her eyes with a napkin.

“You've spilled your coffee,” Violet said.

Audrey looked down at the splash of coffee on the table. “I did.”

“Here.” Violet stood and offered the sleeping child to her. “You hold Lainey while I make a fresh pot. And I'll cut some cake for us. It's the one I used to make at the bungalow that you liked so much. With the sugared pecans.”

Audrey set down the tearstained napkin and took the baby carefully, so that her engagement ring would not scrape the child's delicate skin.

•   •   •

Audrey stayed only one night in Santa Barbara, not two.

Sleep eluded her hour after hour as she lay in Delores's old bed, and Audrey decided what she would do after Violet and Lainey left.

After saying a tearful good-bye the next day, she got into Glen's Cadillac and headed north, not south.

She arrived at her father's farm a bit before three. Leon Kluge was bent over a tractor in the nearest shed when her car came up the gravel road. He looked up, shielded his eyes against the sun, and stared at the vehicle that he did not recognize. Audrey parked in front of the house, got out, and walked slowly toward him, her soul feeling as raw and exposed as a newborn child.

Her father wiped his hands on his dungarees as he stepped away from the tractor, an anxious look on his face. He stopped just at the opening of the shed and waited for her to come to him.

When she was a few feet away, she stopped, too.

“Hi, Dad.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Audrey. You . . . you drove all the way up from Los Angeles?”

She nodded.

“Everything all right?”

“Maybe,” she said, blinking back tears that she could not name.

He continued to stare, so unsure of what to do or say. She saw in his eyes the fear that she knew all too well. His fear had masqueraded as bitterness, indignation, anguish, and resentment. But it was fear, plain and simple. He was just like her. He was afraid of not being wanted just like she was. Her mother hadn't been happy here and had made herself ill because of it. Her mother hadn't been happy with the life he'd made for her.

She had stopped wanting him.

“Why are you are here?” he finally asked.

“I'm getting married, Dad.”

He waited.

“I'd really like you to walk me down the aisle and give me away.”

He looked away, first at his shoes and then at the horizon of budding fruit trees that stretched endlessly in every direction. When he returned his gaze to her, his eyes were shimmering. “If that's really what you want.”

“I think it's what I've always wanted. I just didn't know it.”

He averted his eyes again and she knew it would be slow, this reconnecting of unraveled threads between them. Slow was good. Everything else that had happened that weekend had happened too fast. Much too fast.

“If it's not during harvest,” he said, his gaze on the trees, not on her.

“Of course.”