The Memoir of Johnny Devine (21 page)

“
Say, what about these
paper coasters, Johnny?” Fred said. “I have two that haven’t been
used—”

“
Oh, we don’t mind if
you’ve used it, do we, Helen?”

Helen stared at John and
froze again, her mouth now a fully formed
O
.

Eliza wasn’t sure Helen was even breathing,
which was slightly alarming, because the woman already looked like
she was about to have a stroke.

John took the pen and
coasters Fred offered. “
To
Helen
,” he said, adding his name. He
turned to the other woman. “And to …?”

“
Lucille, like Lucille
Ball. You know, like
I Love
Lucy
?” She giggled and covered her
mouth.

John signed the coaster and handed the
autographs to the ladies with a polite smile.

Lucille clasped her friend’s arm and nearly
crumpled at the knees.

Eliza could just picture them both fainting
right there on John’s steak, and hoped like mad that they
wouldn’t.

Fred thanked the ladies and wished them a
pleasant day.

John retained his smile as the women
collected themselves and teetered back toward their table,
squealing like teenyboppers.

Fred wiped his chin and
pushed his plate aside. “Well, on
that
note,” he said
brightly
, “shall
we get to work?”

“
It’s your dime, Fred,”
John said. “I’m all ears.”

“
No,
Clark
Gable
is all ears.” Fred chuckled. “
Johnny
Devine
is all charm. And I don’t care what
you say, you’ve still got it.”

John studied the older
man, his face laboring the way it did when he was carefully
choosing his words. “Thanks, Fred. But that ‘charm’ is one of the
things I’d rather forget.” He folded his napkin and pressed it
firmly onto the table. “One of many. And I hope you
do
care about what I
have to say, because that’s about all I have left.”

A solemn quiet blanketed the table.

Eliza felt completely out of place—no, worse
than that—an eavesdropper.

With a frown at his folded hands, Fred said,
“You’re right, Johnny. I was only … you’re right. My
apologies.”

John shook his head. “Please, there’s no
need for that. You know how much I value your opinion. You
understand better than anyone what this book means to me, and I
know you’re taking a huge risk with my story. I admire your faith
and courage. And I’m honored that you believe in me.”

Eliza tore her gaze from John and studied
the spiced apple and mint garnish on her plate, trying to break the
magnetic pull of John’s presence. The pure grace of his words
warmed her, tugged at her heart with a painfully firm grip.

“
Thank you,” Fred said,
tone sobering. “John, I love what I’m seeing so far in the
manuscript. It’s magnificent work, and I look forward to seeing the
finished product, as I’m sure you both are. Now, one of the reasons
I’m here is because I’ve learned about an opportunity I think
you’ll want to consider. It’s up to you, of course. Your agent
tells me our book is drawing some big fish. It seems both Universal
and Paramount are nibbling at the movie rights.”

“
Movie
rights? Sure.” John puffed out a laugh. “You’ve got to be
kidding.”

“
Not at all. Think about
the possibilities, Johnny. We’d get first shot at the screenplay,
and you’ve already got a topnotch writer here with a peach of a
chance at the contract. And best of all, it’s unlimited exposure
for your book. I know how you feel about getting your story out.
And I’m behind you all the way. Do yourself a favor and think about
it.”

Eliza’s chest fluttered. If John agreed to
make his story into a movie, and if she were contracted to write
the screenplay, she and John could continue working together.

Fred turned to her. “I’m sorry. Of course, I
intended to ask you first, Mrs. Saunderson. What do you say about
writing the screenplay?”

“
I’d love to, yes. If John
is agreeable.”

“
Absolutely,” John said.
“I appreciate your support, Fred. Can I think about it?”

“
Certainly. Besides,
you’re on a book deadline now, in case you didn’t know.” Fred
winked at Eliza. “How’s it coming, by the way? Are we about ready
to fire up the presses?”

“
We’re in the home
stretch,” John said. “Thanks to a very talented writer who can take
my ramblings and make them sound interesting. We’re very
fortunate.” With a smile, he met Eliza’s gaze.

For some reason, she couldn’t breathe.

“
Didn’t I tell you when
you had to keep sacking those other typists that the Lord would
provide?” Fred turned to Eliza. “Now, Mrs. Saunderson, in case you
thought we dragged you down here only to listen to me jaw about
Johnny, I have a question for you
too.”

Eliza forced herself to give Fred her full
attention.

“
I hear you have a couple
of manuscripts that made the rounds at some of the other houses
without any takers. Do you have a proposal? If so, I’d be willing
to take a look.”

Stunned, Eliza gaped at Fred, then at
John.

John gave her a single go-ahead nod.

“
Well, yes, I do.” She
swallowed hard. “Are you … aware of the subject matter of my
work?”

Fred nodded. “I can’t promise anything, but
I’d like to believe we’re a forward-thinking house. What better
time to branch out and explore social issues in the light of God’s
plan for mankind? Personally, I love the idea of helping people
come together in unity and equal footing. Will you send what you
have?”

With a joy she could barely contain, Eliza
nodded. “Yes, I will. Thank you.” She turned to John with a smile
so wide it almost hurt.

He smiled in return, eyes shining. John
didn’t think her writing was a waste of time. He believed in
her.

It may have been her imagination, but a ray
of honey-colored light broke through the window and warmed her
clean through.

Hope
was
always just out of reach. Like a
shadow, I could see it but knew I could never touch it.

~
The Devine Truth: A Memoir

As John and Eliza waited outside the hotel
for their cabs, she heard someone speaking through a megaphone
nearby. She looked around to find the source. “Do you hear
that?”

John nodded. “Sounds like a rally. That’s
typical, this close to campus. Although that one doesn’t look too
promising.” He pointed across the hotel lawn. “Pretty thin
crowd.”

A woman stood on a bench in front of a
building, surrounded by about a dozen people, chanting something
about equal rights.

“
I’d like to hear what
she’s saying. Do you mind?”

“
I don’t mind,” he
said.

They walked north along the hotel drive.
Eliza started across Claremont Avenue, but John touched her
arm.

“
On second thought, I
wouldn’t go over there if I were you,” he said, voice
low.

Even through her jacket, her arm tingled
where he touched her. “Why not?”

John looked left, then right along the busy
street. “Like you, I support the message, but it’s not a good place
to be seen. Things are shaky right now, with the all the communist
scrutiny, and certain topics—such as equality for minorities—are
often marked as communist sympathies.”

Which Eliza knew all too well. She needed to
find out the truth about her parents before anyone else did. She
needed to protect her parents—as well as herself—from needless
suspicion. “So I’ve heard,” she said finally.

“
We should probably get
out of here,” he said, still looking around. “You never know who’s
watching. It’s just smart to be careful. These days it seems
they’ll charge anyone on the slightest suspicion—male or female.”
He shook his head. “How’s that for equality?”

Eliza tried to smile at the irony but
couldn’t. It was too unsettling.

Monday
morning, Eliza met Millie at the door with a smile. “I’m glad
to see you’re back, Millie. Are you feeling better now?”

“
Oh, I’m all right, Miz
Eliza.” She took Eliza’s coat and hat. “The good Lord just like to
remind me from time to time that I’m gettin’ old, that’s all.” She
carried Eliza’s things to the closet in the hall.

Eliza had told Millie several times that she
could care for her own effects, certain that the woman had better
things to do than to wait on another employee. But Millie refused,
saying Eliza had her job, and she had hers. Just wouldn’t be
right.

Now that the meeting with John’s editor was
past, Eliza faced a new dilemma. In light of what Fred Wharton had
said, she saw her work through new eyes. Perhaps she could explore
the idea of equality in light of God’s overall plan for
mankind—which, unfortunately, she knew nothing about. She needed to
talk to Millie about her views on race and gender equality. Her
faith and wisdom would lend a very important perspective to the
topic.

John met her in the
doorway,
a
book
in hand. “Ready?”

Eliza worked at her desk and took dictation
from John.

As he spoke, he paced the library, still
carrying the book.

Eliza spied the
title
Miracles
when he strolled close enough. Perhaps C. S. Lewis had
something in his writings about loved ones finding mercy in their
final hour and the possibility of seeing them again.

After lunch, John continued his dictation.
“The studios were still sending me scores of scripts. They either
didn’t know or didn’t care about the way I was living—showing up on
set late, fumbling more lines than I got right. I staggered back
and forth between the Roosevelt and the Biltmore, just to keep
everyone guessing. The more scripts they sent, the more I drank. I
could put down the better part of a fifth without batting an eye.
By some miracle, I kept everyone fooled.”

He frowned, studying the
book in his hands. “No. Perhaps the miracle wasn’t that people were
fooled—because I’m sure they weren’t—but that I had gotten away
with it for as long as I had. At the end of that year, Pearl Harbor
had been hit and everything changed. The studios weren’t buying my
sad act anymore. We were at war, and the government wanted to make
sure Hollywood was portraying Americans in the best, most patriotic
light. Things got a lot stricter on the sets. People were no longer
willing to turn a blind eye to a pathetic drunk who fouled up
entire scenes. Early in the filming of
The
Pride of the Yankees
, I was released from
my contract. In a word, fired.”

“
Oh no,” Eliza said. “You
must have been very disappointed.”

John heaved a sigh and leaned back in his
chair. “No. It’s crazy, but deep down, I was relieved. Besides, it
was for the best. Gary Cooper outdid himself as Lou Gehrig. Earned
himself an Oscar nomination.”

Eliza shivered as she wrote the lines. She
should have worn a cardigan. The ancient room was a little drafty,
and now that November was nearing an end, temperatures were
dropping.

“
You’re cold.” John
frowned. “I’ll have Duncan light a fire.”

“
Oh, thank you, but don’t
bother him, not if it’s just for me. I don’t want to drive everyone
else out.”

“
Not at all,” John said
with a chuckle. “Millie will be happy. She’s been complaining of
being cold all week.”

Eliza watched the old man light the fire.
When it was blazing well enough on its own, Eliza went to the
fireplace and rubbed her arms.

John returned to his seat, his back to the
fire.

“
If you don’t mind my
asking, I’ve been wondering about Duncan and Millie. How long have
they been working for you?”

John shook his head. “I don’t know. My
grandmother’s dying wish was to keep this house open. I only
learned of it in her will. This was her dream home, her fairytale
come true, I suppose. I don’t know why she insisted on keeping the
place in the family. But after getting to know Millie and Duncan, I
suspected my grandmother kept it going simply to provide for them.
Millie once told me that she and Duncan worked here through the
Depression, a time when many houses didn’t keep help.” He turned
his head slightly, perhaps so Eliza could better hear him. “I think
my grandparents felt responsible for Millie and Duncan and their
families.”