Kitabı oku: «Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep», sayfa 2
Maybe he should audition her. Even with black-and-white filming, those eyes would stand out. All of her would.
He had to shake his head to get his thinking straight. “You? You’re the woman who dropped a baby off at my studio?”
Shock covered her face as her mouth dropped open.
“A baby?”
“Yes,” Jack said in response to Julia’s question without taking his eyes off the other woman. “A baby.”
“I thought she was just one more wannabe actress, crying her eyes out over not getting an audition,” Julia said.
Anger flared inside him as the woman just stood there, looking at him like he was the oddest thing she’d ever seen. Ignoring Julia’s explanation, he said to the woman, “I have no idea who are you, but you must really think I’m a sap. Let me tell you, I’m not.” He took a step closer and continued in a low, raspy whisper, “I’ve met a lot of two-bit dames looking to make a name for themselves, but never have I had one sink so low as to accuse me of being a father in order to further their own ambitions.” He pointed a finger at the door. “That’s not my child. I know that and you know that, so hightail yourself across the street and collect your baby.”
She blinked several times. Then, shaking her head, whispered, “You aren’t Joe McCarney?”
“No, I’m not, I’m—” Realization hit like a bolt of lightning.
Damn it, Joe! Jack wanted to shout that, several times over. You’ve gone too far this time!
Chapter Two
Helen’s heart was so far into her throat, it was strangling her. Fighting through the pressure, she asked, “Who are you? Where’s Grace? Is she all right?”
“I’m Jack McCarney. And your baby, Grace, is across the street. At the studio.”
“You left her alone?” Helen untied the apron and pulled it off.
“She’s not alone. She’s with my secretary. The same one you left her with hours ago.”
Helen was fighting hard not to run across the street to get back to Grace. She’d fought it all afternoon. A part of her had kept telling herself to get as far away as possible, but the other part of her had refused, saying she had to stay long enough to make sure Grace was fine. From a distance.
At some point, while she’d been crying her eyes out, Julia had offered her a job of washing dishes to pay for room and board for a few days.
Julia assured that was common practice for her. That she often allowed girls needing a place to stay to reside with her in the small house behind the diner until they were able to acquire lodging elsewhere. Julia also hadn’t pried. She’d never once asked why she was here, crying her eyes out. And Helen had been too weak to say no, to refuse the offer of a job and accommodation, because it would mean that she’d be able to make sure that Grace would be okay. Would be cared for. Loved.
A shiver rippled Helen’s spine as the man before her ran a hand through his hair.
His blond hair.
“What did you say your name is?” she asked. He certainly wasn’t the man in the picture with Vera. That man, Joe McCarney, had black hair.
“Jack McCarney,” he answered.
A leering glare from his brown eyes settled on her so fully, so completely, her entire body quivered.
Oh, dear Lord, what had she done?
She was almost afraid to ask, but had to. “Are you related to Joe McCarney?”
“I’m his brother.”
“Joe McCarney is Grace’s father.” Hoping to justify what she’d done, she added, “All I had was the address across the street.”
“Jack—” Julia started.
“Joe isn’t any more that baby’s father than I am,” he barked.
The disapproval in Julia’s face sent another shiver racing over Helen. “Yes, he is,” she said. “I have proof.”
He scowled. “Proof? What sort of proof.”
“A—a marriage license and a wedding picture,” she answered. “They are in my purse. I should have left them with Grace, but forgot about them.”
“Forgot? How could you forget about your marriage license? Your wedding picture?”
Shaking all the way to her core, Helen didn’t have the wherewithal to point out his mistake. “Is Joe across the street?”
“No, Joe isn’t across the street.” He grabbed her arm. “But that’s where you’re going. To collect your baby.”
She considered refusing, but if Joe wasn’t there, she couldn’t leave Grace with this beast of a man.
“You’ll be without a dishwasher for a while, Julia,” he said while marching toward the door.
“Stop,” Helen said, digging her heels into the black-and-white-tiled floor. “I need to get my purse.”
“No, you don’t.”
She refused to move, even though he pulled on her arm. “Yes, I do.”
He let her go. “Fine. Get your purse.”
She hurried across the room, into the little backroom where she’d cried her eyes out most of the afternoon.
Julia was on her heels. “What were you thinking? Dropping a baby off at Jack’s door?”
“I thought it was Joe’s door. He’s Grace’s father. I promised her mother, Vera, on her deathbed that I would bring Grace to him.”
“So the baby isn’t yours?”
“No, she’s not mine. I wouldn’t drop my baby off with some stranger.” Guilt struck her hard and fast. She shouldn’t have dropped Grace off, either. Disgraced by her own actions, she dropped her head. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“It’ll be all right,” Julia said, rubbing her arm. “You can come back here. Our deal still stands, a job for room and board, for both you and the baby.”
Helen didn’t know what to say, other than, “Thank you.”
“Jack is Joe’s brother. The good son. He’s just upset right now. Joe was blackballed from Hollywood over two years ago, and Jack is still cleaning up the messes his brother left behind when he hightailed it out of the state.” Julia shook her head again. “Looks like Joe left him with another one.”
Helen’s heart dropped. “Joe isn’t even in California?”
“No, he left two years ago, and hasn’t been back.”
“Oh, dear.” Helen took off her glasses and wiped at her stinging eyes. Vera had never mentioned that Joe had a brother. She only ever talked about Joe, and how he was coming back. Coming back for her and the baby. Someday.
Perhaps she should have listened to Mr. Amery when he said going to California was a bad idea. That there was no telling what could happen to her and Grace, on the way or once they got here. He’d been kind to Helen after the deaths of her family, giving her a job at his grocery and renting out the apartment above the store to her, and though he’d been a bit begrudging at first, he had let Vera move in as well. Despite all, he’d been very good to both Vera and Grace upon the birth of the baby.
What would happen now? If Joe wasn’t in California, what would she do with Grace?
She had to go get her, that was a given.
“I’ll be back,” she told Julia while picking up her purse. “Thank you, again.”
Jack was still in the kitchen, pacing near the door. He stopped and stared at her as she left the back room.
“Are you ready now?”
“Yes.” In the three months since Grace had been born, they’d never been apart, and excitement at seeing the baby, holding her, increased the speed of Helen’s footsteps. “I’m ready.”
“Let’s go.” Jack pulled open the kitchen door and held it as she crossed over the threshold.
All eyes seemed to land on them, and followed her and Jack as he grasped her elbow and led her through the restaurant toward the door. It was more than uncomfortable, it was unnerving, and, as if she needed an extra reminder, it reinforced exactly why she’d brought Grace to California. She couldn’t be seen. She couldn’t be dragged back to the life she’d been running from ever since that awful night. Her parents and brother had died in the raid at the restaurant, but she hadn’t. She and Karen had run down the hallway, along with a crowd of others, and down to the basement where they raced through a maze of tunnels that had brought them outside in an alley, blocks away from the restaurant.
Her uncle hadn’t died either, and upon discovering that she was staying with Karen, had sent men to collect her. Despite Karen’s warnings that there was no escaping the family, Helen had run again. She hadn’t wanted that life before the raid, and certainly didn’t afterward. The violence had only grown after the raid that night. There were shoot-outs in all sections of the city, at all times of the day and night. So many that the newspapers, which she read every night after stocking shelves and scrubbing the floors at the grocery store, couldn’t keep up.
Thankfully, her uncle hadn’t found her, but it was only a matter of time. She knew that deep inside and that was the reason she’d brought Grace to California. She’d been saving every penny to eventually get away from Chicago, but Grace was the catalyst that made it even more necessary. She’d had to get the baby away from the dangers of being anywhere near her.
Her heart sank. She still had to do that.
She had no reason to believe that someone hadn’t recognized her or seen her as she’d left Chicago. The possibility of that was real. She’d learned a lot during the past two years and knew the Outfit had eyes and ears everywhere. They’d bought off most every police precinct in Chicago, and she knew it was pure luck that she hadn’t already been found and taken back to her uncle.
Karen had said there was only one way to get out of their family and that it included a grave.
The walk across that dining room, with all eyes on her, seemed like the longest one of her life. She had to let out a sigh once it ended, but stepping into the open air wasn’t any better. She’d felt safe enough on the train, had sat way in the back and kept her head down; but here, she was in the open. The wide open.
The traffic was minimal and it was hard for her not to run across the street.
When they arrived at the other side, the woman she’d handed Grace to earlier opened the door.
“The baby’s is sleeping,” she said. “I put her on the couch in your office.”
Helen’s heart skipped a beat. Grace hadn’t rolled over yet, but could at any time, and fall off the sofa.
“Thank you, Miss Hobbs.” Jack held the door for her to walk out. “Good night.”
“Good night,” the woman said, shooting out the door.
“Where is your office?” Helen asked. “I need to check on Grace.”
He pointed at a door across the room. Helen hurried in that direction and then down a long hallway to an open door on the left.
Relief filled her as she entered the room and saw Grace sleeping on the sofa. There was a blanket rolled up beside her, so if she had rolled over, she wouldn’t have fallen off. Helen walked closer and laid a hand on the baby. It felt so good to touch her again. To see her. Being parted from her had been horrific—more than she could have ever expected.
Jack was in the doorway, staring at her. Helen’s throat thickened. No matter how much she’d missed Grace today, how much she loved her, she still had to do the right thing. Find Joe McCarney.
“She’s sleeping.” Helen had no idea why she said that aloud.
“I see that,” he said.
She nodded and then closed her eyes, willing for whatever strength there was inside her to reveal itself.
* * *
Jack experienced a bout of anger like never before. Not at her. At Joe. If this was Joe’s baby... What? What could he do about it? He didn’t have a clue as to where his brother might be.
He didn’t even know this woman’s name. Wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But, beneath her drab clothing, he saw how pretty she was, and that beauty would have attracted Joe’s attention.
His full attention.
“I—I know now that Gracie isn’t your child,” she said quietly. “And I apologize for just leaving her here, but she is your brother’s child. Joe’s. And this is the address that I had for him.”
There was no reason for his stomach to drop to his feet. That statement shouldn’t have surprised him. Joe had been giving this address out to women since he’d left. The bag of mail in the closet proved that.
“When did he give you this address?” Jack asked.
“He didn’t. If you have another address for him, I’d appreciate if you’d give it to me. I really need to find him. As soon as possible.”
The desperation in her voice was almost convincing. Of all the women who’d come begging for an audition, she might be the one who did have what it took to be an actress. Just his luck. “Then how did you get this address?” Another thought struck him. “Why didn’t he give it to you? If Joe really is the father to your baby?”
Her gaze fell to the floor. “Grace isn’t my baby.” She bit her lip and lifted those beautiful eyes back up to him. “Her mother was my friend, Vera. She passed away a few weeks ago. In Chicago.”
The pleading in those eyes unsettled him.
“Please, Mr. McCarney, if I can’t find Joe, Grace will be an orphan.”
The flop of his stomach was merited this time. Chicago. Last he heard, Joe was down in Florida, Miami, but he had been in Chicago a year ago. Working for the circus. Damn it, Joe!
Jack took a deep breath, and told himself that he still didn’t have enough information to believe this woman.
“Please, Mr. McCarney. All I’m asking is for you to tell me where I can find Joe. Grace needs her father. Her family. She has no one else.”
No matter how sincere this woman sounded, he had to be cautious. Joe could be anywhere and if he committed to the idea that Joe was the baby’s father, that would make him the baby’s uncle—a responsibility he didn’t need right now.
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
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.
