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He pushed the heavy air out of his lungs. “Why should I believe anything you have to say?”
Something flashed in those unique blue eyes. He wasn’t exactly sure what, but suddenly felt a heavy burden stir deep within his chest. A familiar burden that felt too close to the sense of responsibility he’d felt almost his entire life.
“Because I’m telling the truth,” she said quietly. “I don’t want anything else from you. Just Joe’s whereabouts.”
Anger and frustration raced through him. He’d spent the last two years cleaning up messes his brother had left behind—wasn’t even half done—but wasn’t about to get pulled into another one of Joe’s problems. Not if he could help it. “I’d need proof.”
She tilted her head downward and looked over the rim of her glasses as she dug in her purse. “I have Vera and Joe’s wedding picture and marriage license, and I was there when Grace was born.”
He bit back a curse and told himself not to jump to conclusions. A wedding picture and marriage license. That would be proof all right. Or damaging evidence, depending on which way he wanted to look at this. Deep down, he knew she could be telling the truth. Women were drawn to Joe, and he to them. He’d almost married one or two in the past. Actually, three or four, until they’d figured out Joe wasn’t being faithful. That’s what had gotten him blackballed. Infidelity. That time it had been on the woman’s part, and her husband, another actor, hadn’t liked it in the least. Nor had the people they worked for.
“Would you like to see them?” she asked.
Frustration ate at his insides. He couldn’t have another scandal right now. This film meant too much. He’d worked so hard to get back to this point. The cusp of success. Self-made success.
He straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back, telling himself not to get too caught up in this until he knew the truth. The entire truth. He had a film to make. One that would put Star’s Studio at the top of the charts. In theaters across the nation. He was so close, and had worked too hard keeping his reputation clean despite his brother’s shenanigans.
She was still standing near the sofa, with an envelope in her hand. He walked in that direction, but only as far as his desk, hating the fact that he was putting off the moment when she might just offer the proof of what she was saying. “What’s your name?”
There was a moment of hesitation in her eyes, on her face, but then with a soft sigh, she said, “Helen. Helen Hathaway.”
He leaned against his desk. “Well, Miss Hathaway...” He paused as another thought struck. “It is Miss, isn’t it? Or are you married?” He knew of more than one woman who’d left a husband behind to come to Hollywood. One had told him she’d left five children behind and needed an acting job in order to send money back home in order to feed them. The sad thing was, he’d known she’d been telling the truth.
“No. I mean yes. It’s Miss, I’m not married.”
Her stammering displayed her nervousness, so did her stance. It looked as if she was about to jump out of her shoes, or run for the door.
He nodded and then finished what he’d been about to say earlier. “The last I heard about Joe is that he’s in Florida.”
“Florida?” She turned and stared at the couch, at the baby sleeping there.
“Yes, Florida.”
“Oh, dear.”
He shot across the room as all color left her face. Not sure what to do, because she hadn’t fainted, but was swaying slightly, he asked, “Do you need to sit down?”
She nodded.
He took her arm, guided her a couple of steps backward and onto the opposite end of the couch from where the baby was sleeping.
Despair filled her eyes as she said, “Florida is so far away.”
It was, but he wasn’t concerned about that. “Do you need a drink of water?”
She shook her head. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”
She didn’t look fine to him. Not so much as a hint of color had returned to her cheeks. Something inside him, an instinct of sorts, said it wasn’t Florida that had sapped the life out of her.
“I’m going to get you that glass of water,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
Chapter Three (#u4c1940d0-e788-500c-b59f-831a38d6b87f)
Jack kept one eye on her until he was at the doorway, then he hurried down the hallway to get a glass of water.
Secrecy was just one of the games played in Hollywood. It was played by almost everyone, and was also the one that no one wanted to get caught playing. For the most part, he’d never played that game himself. Hadn’t needed to.
He did recognize it though, and there was more to Helen Hathaway than she was letting on.
He could make some phone calls, see if he could locate Joe and question him about the woman’s accusations. But that was unnecessary. Would be futile, too. If Joe had married someone, and cared about her, or the baby, he wouldn’t need to be searched out.
On the other hand, if it wasn’t true, if this Helen Hathaway was looking for something else, Joe might know what that might be.
Jack clamped his back teeth together. He’d put nearly everything he had into this movie. Others had put up a good amount of money, too—not the Broadbents, real investors, and he was determined that not a hint of Joe’s name would be tied to this movie. Los Angeles was a big town and the movie industry was growing daily. In many ways. Good and bad. Corruption had already burrowed its way deep inside and studios were walking a fine line.
The powers that be who’d put themselves in charge of the industry wanted all of America to believe Hollywood was the pinnacle of this nation. Where dreams came true, streets were lined with gold, and beds made of rose petals.
It was all baloney. The billboards who put themselves in charge had more skeletons in their closets than those they were blackballing—like his brother. But that was the way it was, and would remain, until a few legitimate studios rose high enough to knock the big five off their pedestals.
And it would happen. Others were getting wise to the way the big companies had taken over theaters. Buying them up across the nation and monopolizing the movies that could be shown in “their” theaters. Only their movies. For every big hit, they forced the theaters to show dozens of their low-budget movies, controlling the payouts other films could make.
That was all about to turn around. Which is precisely what he was counting on happening. His new film could be the one that really changed things. It was a good script. With solid actors and a story line that would drive people into the theaters by the droves—theaters that would have the right to show whatever movies they chose. It was all lined up. If he made it with this film, finally he’d have secured his place in the movie industry. Finally he’d have the security he’d wanted for more years than he could count. And he’d have done it his way.
If nothing went astray.
An abandoned baby could cause that to happen. Cause trouble he couldn’t afford.
He got the water and headed back to his office.
She was still sitting on the couch, but now had one hand on the baby.
There was something about her that struck him deep inside. Had since he’d seen her unique blue eyes, and her nervousness made him curious to know exactly what she wanted, what she was hiding.
She glanced up and, as he’d seen her do several times, tilted her chin downward to look over the top of the glasses. Why would a woman wear a pair of glasses that she couldn’t see through? The glasses didn’t take away from her beauty, but they did disguise it slightly. So did her clothes. They were loose fitting and drab. Almost as if she didn’t want to stand out in any way. Here, in Hollywood, her getup did the exact opposite—they made her stand out like a sore thumb.
He carried the water across the room. “Feel better?”
“Yes, thank you.” The smile she offered was forced and she barely took a drink of the water before handing him back the glass.
He set the glass on a nearby table.
“Here.” She held up the envelope.
Jack took it, folded back the flap and pulled out a picture. It certainly was Joe smiling back at the camera. The woman beside him was surprising. There was nothing vibrant about her. She was cute, but, well, average. A dime a dozen. Certainly not the type that Joe had been drawn to his entire life.
And certainly not the woman sitting on the couch, either.
Jack tucked the picture back in the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a marriage license. The signature at the bottom was one he knew. Joe had spent hours practicing flamboyant ways to sign his name and had perfected one that he’d used for the last ten-plus years. Ever since both of them had played roles in the traveling shows their parents had forced them to perform in across the nation. Joe had loved it. He hadn’t.
Jack put the paper back in the envelope with the picture. “What proof do you have that the baby is this woman’s?”
Her glasses had slid down her nose, allowing her to gaze over the top of the rims without dipping her chin. “I was there when Grace was born.”
“So, you are friends with her?”
“I was. As I said, Vera died three weeks ago.” She glanced at the baby for a second, then back at him with a tenderness in her eyes. “That was her name Vera. Vera McCarney.”
He gave a slight nod of respect. It wasn’t his job to judge this woman, or the woman Joe had obviously married, but in the end, he was the jury, the only member, who would have to decide what to do about the situation at hand. In order to do that, he needed all the information he could get. “Had the two of you been longtime friends?”
Once again, she glanced at the baby before answering. “No. I met her a short time before Gracie was born.”
There was tenderness in her eyes and sadness. Refusing to let what he saw affect him, he walked over to his desk and set the envelope down. “Where?”
“In Chicago.”
“But you never met Joe?”
She shook her head.
He pointed to the envelope on his desk. “This may say that my brother married a woman named Vera Baker last year in Chicago, but it in no way provides any proof that that baby is either Vera’s or Joe’s.”
“I was there when she was born.”
“You’ve said that, but I still have doubts that she is my niece. The burden has been put upon you to provide me with the information that might lessen that doubt. Do you have any other information that can do that?”
Her shoulders rolled back as the deep breath she took filled her lungs. She held the air in. He waited, half expecting her to pop like the rubber balloons they used for props.
She didn’t pop. As the air slowly seeped out of her, her shoulders dropped. “Vera wrote to Joe, and this is where she sent the letters.”
That, he could prove wrong. He crossed the room, to the closet where he kept the gunnysack. Upon opening the door, he picked up the sack and then carried it to the couch. “This bag,” he said while setting it on the floor by her feet, “is full of letters to Joe at this address.”
Her eyes grew as wide as her glasses. “Oh, my.”
She could be shocked by the mail, or by the fact he too had proof. Proof she was lying. He opened the sack and pulled out a handful of letters. “You’re welcome to sift through them, find one from Vera.” He dropped the envelopes back in the bag. “If you truly believe there is one in here.”
“I do,” she said firmly. “I know there is more than one. I mailed several for Vera.”
A shiver tickled his spine at the possibility that she was telling the truth. The entire truth. Then what was she hiding? It had to do with Chicago. A veil had clouded her eyes, and she’d grown stoic both times she mentioned the town’s name. He contemplated that for a moment before asking. “Why didn’t Vera mail them herself?”
“She was too weak. Carrying Grace and then giving birth wore her down to skin and bones. She never recovered.” She was digging in the bag, pulling letter after letter out, and setting them aside after a quick glance. “She just kept getting weaker and weaker.”
He didn’t know this woman. For all he knew, she could have kidnapped that baby from someone. His stomach clenched, letting him know that no part of him believed that she was a kidnapper. Not even in the hidden corners of his subconscious. She was hiding something though. Those glasses were proof of that. They were a disguise, he just didn’t know for what. Flustered, he grabbed a handful of envelopes and sifted through them, looking at the return addresses. “Vera, you say?”
She nodded. “Vera McCarney.”
Before long, they were both sitting on the floor, with the bag between them, sifting through the stack of mail.
“Found another one,” she said, tossing an envelope toward at least a dozen other letters with the return address hosting Vera’s name.
His skepticism had disappeared after the first letter. Now he had more questions. What was he going to do about it? If he could locate Joe—and that was a big if—he knew his brother. Responsibility was foreign to Joe. Stardom could be to blame, or maybe life in general, the way they’d been raised, traveling from town to town.
Jack withheld the heavy sigh building inside him. He’d like to think differently, but highly doubted even a baby would make Joe change his ways. A child would never fit in Joe’s lifestyle.
A hard knot formed in Jack’s stomach. A baby wouldn’t fit in his life, either. Not even a niece. Not right now. He’d invested every spare cent in this movie. It had potential. The potential to put Star’s Studio in the running to be one of the top players. Doing so would take all of his efforts. All of his time.
He looked at the envelope in his hand for some time before setting it aside. It had been the last one. The bag was empty, and two piles sat before them, a large one, and a smaller one. Letters from Vera.
Helen sifted through those and picked one up. “I wrote this one,” she said. “Vera was too weak. It was the day before she died. I wrote exactly what she wanted me to. That I would bring Grace here, to this address. To Joe.”
He took the envelope but didn’t open it. Couldn’t. It wasn’t addressed to him. So that’s how it would remain. Unopened. The less he knew, the better off he was. Even in this situation.
As far as the mail went.
“How did you meet Vera?” He set the letter aside. “I’m assuming it was after she married Joe?”
“Yes.” Her gaze went to the baby.
“Where did you meet her?”
“In the alley behind the grocery store where I worked.”
At some point, she’d removed her glasses and he clearly saw the tears welling in her eyes. She blinked and twisted to discreetly wipe at them with one finger.
A part of him didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to think his brother would have left a woman destitute, but it certainly appeared that way. “What was she doing in the alley?”
“Looking for food.” She looked him straight in the eye, was utterly serious. “She was penniless. Had been kicked out of the place she’d been staying. She was so ill. Coughing.” She shook her head but didn’t attempt to hide the tears forming again. “I took her to my apartment. She was so weak she could barely walk up the steps. She got better. A little, in the weeks that followed, but then...”
Compassion filled him and he reached over, took ahold of her hand and squeezed it gently. “You did what you could.” He looked at the baby. Grace. His niece. “Most likely saved Grace’s life.”
She nodded and then removed her hand from beneath his and started filling the bag with the letters not from Vera. “Grace is a good baby. Has been from the moment she was born.”
Heaviness filled his lungs, his heart, at the idea of a woman searching for food.
If anyone knew what it was like to do that, search for food, to be hungry, it was them. Him and Joe. Nothing during the past ten years had chased away the feelings he’d known as a child. Of being hungry. So hungry the pain had been strong enough to make him cry. As he got older, those same pains made him angry. So angry he swore he’d never become an actor. Never traverse the countryside in a dilapidated wagon singing and doing comedy acts for pennies that never totaled enough to feed them for more than a week at best.
Yet, here he was. In the same business he’d always been in. Times had changed though. And he wasn’t acting. Never would act again. Joe had been the actor and had loved it. He’d found work as soon as they’d arrived in Los Angeles.
“Can you contact your brother. Tell him Grace is here?”
Jack didn’t look her way. Couldn’t right now. She wouldn’t like his answer. He didn’t like it, either.
He let out the air that had grown stagnant inside his lungs. “You’ve taken care of Grace since she was born?” He already knew the answer, but was trying to figure out his next steps. Steps that were completely foreign to him.
“Yes.”
“And paid to bring her here?”
“Yes.”
