Philippe was the first, his dark eyes full of sadness and fear. He wanted to shake his father awake, wanted to confide every emotion he’d ever felt and confess that he didn’t hate him, had never hated him. More than anything he wanted to tell his father that he’d work night and day at the studio, alongside his mother, to keep it going and preserve the reputation it had maintained all these years. There were so many things unsaid, so many apologies unspoken. The need to touch his father was so strong, Philippe clenched his trembling hands into fists. How was it possible the sleeping man didn’t feel his presence?
He walked a little closer, his quiet steps disturbing the birds clustered around the feeder, and bent down to whisper in his father’s ear. “I forgive you, Papa. Au revoir.” He cried then, all the tears he’d harbored since the age of twelve, tears of bitterness, tears of love and forgiveness. His sins of pride were gone now, the door to his heart open and ready to accept whatever this new life had to offer. Then, quietly, he left.
Daniel and Jane were the next visitors to the house in Laurel Canyon. Daniel rang the bell three times and then kept his finger pressed to the bell for several moments. At last he turned to Jane, his eyes full of worry. “He said he was going to stay home today and do nothing. I can’t let him go like this without saying…something.”
Jane’s voice was soft and soothing. “We shouldn’t have come here, Daniel. We said our good-byes yesterday. Reuben wants it this way. We should respect his wishes. I know it’s hard for you, but if this is what Reuben wants…”
Daniel’s voice was agonized. “This is so…he should have done this years ago. Why now? The war is…this isn’t the time to go to Europe. He’s always listened to my advice before. This time…this time I couldn’t reach him. I know he heard me, heard the words, but…Jane…”
“I know what Reuben means to you, and that special feeling you have for him, that love, is the reason you have to let him go,” Jane said quietly. “All these years you’ve been his friend, his confidant, his conscience. It’s time to let Reuben be Reuben. He has to do this, he has to go in order to live. You should understand that. Your reasoning is selfish, Daniel. It can’t be happily ever after for Reuben until he puts his life in order. I for one am glad he’s finally going to do this, and yes, the timing is…incredibly bad. Perhaps this is precisely why he chose this particular time. It’s taken the war and Philippe’s arrival to…to make this decision. Daniel…”
Daniel turned to the pretty woman at his side. The worry left him as he stared into her warm, concerned eyes. What he was seeing was for him, not for Reuben. “When and how did you get so smart?” he asked, marveling.
Jane flushed, her thoughts scattering at what she saw in Daniel’s face. Her heart skipped a beat and then fluttered wildly in her chest. It had been a long time since anyone looked at her this way. Her voice was unsteady, girlish. “I’m sorry, what was the question again?”
“I said when and how did you get so smart?”
Jane laughed self-consciously. “I like to think the people I care about deserve more than a passing thought. I think the reason Reuben and I have remained good friends all these years is that neither one of us trespassed on the other’s private life unless asked.”
Daniel smiled at her in obvious approval. His touch was possessive when he took her arm to lead her around to the gate at the rear of Reuben’s property. “I need to do this, Jane, I need to see him again.”
Jane placed a gentle hand on Daniel’s and nodded. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” she asked quietly.
“Yes, and I’ll bet you five dollars I can count on one hand the number of times Reuben has noticed how beautiful it really is. Beautiful and…lonely.”
“Look, he’s sleeping in the chaise longue. Please, Daniel, don’t wake him,” Jane pleaded. “I feel like I’m trespassing. Even though we both love him, there’s something…something about seeing him like this…not in control, vulnerable. He wouldn’t like us being here.”
“I know, but I had to see him one more time.” He closed the gate and slipped the latch back into place. “Listen, I have an idea. Let’s you and me play hooky today, what d’ya say? Let’s do everything you always wanted to do but never had the time for. Production won’t fall apart without you for one day, and I’m still getting my feet wet. No one will even miss us. You said yourself when we came out here that things were under control. Well?”
Jane was quick to note the unhappiness in Daniel’s eyes. He’d been through a lot lately. “That’s a wonderful idea, Daniel,” she replied warmly. “If you hadn’t suggested it, I was going to. And at the end of the day when you drop me off at my door, will you kiss me good night?” She held her breath for his answer.
“Do I have to wait till I drop you off?” he asked. “Why not here, now, right in front of Reuben’s house? I hate to put off till later something that can be done right now. Pucker up, Jane Perkins.”
It was a silly, friendly kiss that spoke of many suppressed feelings, feelings that would surface and be dealt with possibly later in the evening or in the very near future.
“I wonder, Daniel, if you are the person I’ve been waiting for all my life, that one person I might want to share my soul with,” Jane said, and smiled at him. “I’ve never said that to a man before, possibly because I knew in my heart it wasn’t time. Do you think I’m being forward?”
“No. I was thinking along those same lines, but I didn’t quite know how to phrase it. Do you know what I’ve hungered for all my life? Well, let me tell you…”
It was almost dusk when Reuben woke. Instantly he realized he’d slept the better part of the day. He knew he had to do two things, fill the bird feeders and the birdbath and say good-bye to Bebe.
He enjoyed pouring seed into the feeders and sprinkling a few extra handfuls around the ground. The birds were sleeping now, secure in the thought that morning would arrive with food and clean water. Suddenly the birds’ welfare was the most important thing in the world to him. Daniel…Daniel would come out and take care of the birds. Hell, why hadn’t he thought of that before? Daniel should come here and live in the house while he was gone. He slapped at his head in annoyance. “Sometimes, Tarz, you are downright stupid,” he muttered. He’d write a note, put the key in it, and drop it off at the studio on his way home from seeing Bebe. He felt better immediately as he gazed around the peaceful garden. “I hope you guys are satisfied that I’m securing your future,” he murmured. Overhead the trees rustled softly, and he thought he heard a soft chirp in response. He smiled all the way to the shower.
Bebe sat on the front steps of her house, her hands laced around her knees. Would he come? All day she’d crossed and uncrossed her fingers while she waited. She’d done so much, just to keep busy so she wouldn’t think. Now, she was tired and she still had to walk her dog, the golden-haired spaniel she’d picked up at the pound. In the ten days she’d had him he’d proved to be a wonderful companion. The man at the pound said he’d belonged to an elderly man who had passed away. She’d loved him on sight, and Wilbur, as she had named him, loved her, at least she thought he did. He followed her everywhere, waiting outside the door while she bathed, sleeping at the foot of her bed, walking down the steps with her, bringing her his leash when he wanted to go for a walk.
Now she whistled softly, and the dog trotted over to her. She fondled his silky ears, which dragged down to his first leg joint. Dark, chocolaty eyes stared up at her adoringly. “I don’t know if he’s coming or not, Willie.” The dog laid his head in her lap, licking her hand. “Tomorrow, we’re going to work. I’ll bring your bed. I expect you to snap and snarl if things get sticky.”
Willie cocked his head to listen to the sound of her voice, then licked her hand again, his signal that she should continue to scratch his ears. Bebe laughed. “My best friend. You are, you know. It’s just you and me, Willie.”
Twice Bebe got up to stretch her legs, Wilbur panting anxiously at her feet. When were they going for their n
ightly walk? When her watch read 9:30, Bebe reached for the leash on the wicker table. “He isn’t coming, Willie, so let’s go for our walk. No tugging, no pulling, you are to be a perfect gentleman. Walk at my side,” she admonished the frisky dog.
Wilbur usually took an hour before he found just the right spot to relieve himself. They walked, they jogged, they circled each tree and shrub that lined the long driveway leading in from the canyon. Bebe was wondering how long Willie would continue his search for the ideal tree when a pair of headlights blinded her and the purr of a car’s powerful engine roared in her ears.
He had come.
Bebe hated to do it, but she tugged on Wilbur’s leash. “We’ll do this again later. This is important.”
Reuben stopped the car alongside Bebe as she led Willie back to the house. His voice held amusement and something else…Sadness, Bebe wondered.
“Out for an evening stroll?” he asked.
“It’s that time of night. Reuben, this is Wilbur, Willie for short. I guess you could say he’s my best friend these days. He’s loyal, loves me unconditionally, and doesn’t fight back. A pity I didn’t look for those attributes in my friends years ago.”
“Do you want a ride to the house?” Reuben asked. Bebe shook her head. “I’ll wait for you, then,” he said, and continued on. In his rearview mirror he could see her and the dog loping after the car.
Bebe unhooked the dog’s leash and sat down on the steps. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it? Sit down, Reuben. I know why you’re here, so I don’t expect it will take long.”
Reuben sat down and stretched his long legs out in front of him. She was right, it was a beautiful night—warm but not too sultry. The crickets were chirping, a pleasant sound in his ears. The half moon smiled down on them benignly. His heart began to thud in his chest. “I wasn’t going to come, but then I thought that would be unfair to you. I realize we’re getting a divorce and I take full responsibility for that. There are a lot of things I wish I could change, but I can’t. For whatever it’s worth, Bebe, I’m sorry for what I’ve put you through.”
They were words, words with meaning. Words she needed to hear. “I can’t allow you to take full responsibility, Reuben. I’ve learned so many things lately, and I think the most important thing is that each of us must take responsibility for his or her actions. And because of what I’ve learned, I must tell you something. I wish it were a different time and place and not the night before you leave, but…”
Bebe cleared her throat nervously. Wilbur inched closer; his eyes on Reuben were unwavering. “All these years you wondered why Mickey never wrote to you or Daniel. I’m the reason, Reuben. It wasn’t because of Philippe. She was away and her mail at the château was sent on to Paris. I was staying there for a little while. I opened the mail, read your letters, yours and Daniel’s, and I burned them, all of them. She…I guess she thought you were too busy and didn’t want to be bothered, which was what I wanted her to think. I did send her a note telling her we were married and deliriously happy. I wrote it on our wedding night while you were downstairs getting drunk. I…I also stole the letter you wrote to her that was in your jacket pocket at the studio. It was the one where you…where you said…I guess it was an ultimatum of sorts. I tore that to shreds after I read it. I…I couldn’t let…I can’t let you go back there without knowing what I did. I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to believe me, but I am.”
She paused, staring at her hands in her lap. “You see, I was so in love with you, so jealous of what you and Mickey had. All I wanted was your love, and you couldn’t give that to me because it was all parceled out to Mickey. I literally stole your life away from you. Twenty years that I can never give you back. I wish I’d listened and believed Mickey when she told me you can’t make someone love you. God, how I tried. All the trouble, the drugs, the liquor, I did that, indulged, so you would pay attention to me. I lived for your smile, a kind word from you. If you patted me on the head, I would have died for you. I realize now that I was sick, so sick I was out of my mind half the time. Saying I’m sorry almost sounds silly, even to me, but if there is anything I can do for you, for Mickey, I’ll do it. I wrote a letter to her explaining my part in this. It’s on the table on the porch. I was hoping you would stop by so I could give it to you. Reuben, I don’t want you to say anything, and I don’t want you to even look at me. For too many years I saw disgust and hatred in your eyes when you looked at me. I can’t bear to see it again.”
She stood up and turned away, tears glistening in her eyes. “You should go now, Reuben. I appreciate your coming by and letting me get this off my shoulders. I hope for your sake that Mickey is well and that both of you…well, I hope your meeting after all this time is what you want. She loves you with all her heart. I know what I’m talking about because I feel the same way. And because of those feelings, I can let you go. That’s what love is, wanting the other person’s happiness more than you want your own.”
In a flash Bebe had the leash on Willie’s neck and was sprinting around the side of the house. She raced through the gate, slamming the bolt home. “Good-bye good-bye good-bye good-bye good-bye,” she cried. “If one of us is to be happy, I’m glad it’s you. Good-bye, Reuben.”
The dark night hovered around Reuben, sheltering him from his shame. The dog’s yips from the back garden sounded so happy. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he heard a soft dirge playing on the wind through the rustling leaves.
For the first time in his life, Reuben Tarz truly mourned his loss.
Chapter Eighteen
Bebe Rosen, as she thought of herself these days, started the first day of what she referred to as her career. The anticipation she felt quickly turned to annoyance as she pulled up to the security gate at Fairmont Studios in her rusty car. The guard, his tie loosened at his neck, shirt-sleeves rolled up, and his cap set back on his head, approached and asked to see her pass. She explained who she was, noting scattered gum and candy wrappers littering the entrance. If Reuben were here, the man would be at attention, properly attired, and there would be no sign of debris.
Bebe climbed from the car and looked for the man’s name tag, which was supposed to be pinned to his creased shirt pocket. “Your name, please,” she said coolly.
“Eddie Savery, ma’am.”
“Well, Eddie, it’s like this. I’m taking over for my husband, who has left the country. I’m going to give you exactly ten minutes to straighten your tie, adjust your cap, roll down your sleeves, and find your identification pin. Then I’m going to give you another five minutes to clean up this debris. If you are one minute past my deadline, you are unemployed. Oh, one more thing, don’t ever criticize my car, either mentally or verbally. The clock is ticking, Mr. Savery.” Bebe kept her eyes glued to her watch. You head them off at the pass and never give an inch, she thought, and their respect will be automatic. As Reuben was often fond of saying, everyone wanted discipline and an overseer.
With one minute to spare, the guard was back at his post, the offending debris clutched in both hands. He swallowed hard and did his best to smile at Bebe.
“Thank you, Mr. Savery,” Bebe said, shaking down the sleeve of her suit jacket. “Now, if you’ll open the gate, I’ll be on my way. Have a pleasant day.”
The guard touched his hat respectfully. “You, too, ma’am.” Obviously he wasn’t going to be able to do much reading the way he’d planned. He let his breath out in a loud swoosh. He’d come that close to being fired. The moment he saw a director’s car approach, he snapped to attention.
Bebe pulled her car alongside a snappy Cadillac roadster, probably her son’s. She grinned when she stepped back to look at her own vehicle next to the impressive line of sedans, coupes, and sports convertibles. Her car, she decided, would give the entire studio something to talk about for days.
Upstairs in the executive office building, Bebe stared at Reuben’s closed office door for a long time. Twice she reached out to twist the doorknob and both times she pull
ed back. It seemed sacrilegious, somehow, to cross the threshold of Reuben’s private space, the place where he’d spent twenty-odd years of his life. She looked around, delaying the moment when she could stall no longer. This place where she was standing was the outer limits of the secretary’s office, an austere kind of room, functional, but not elaborate or eye-appealing. Magaret, Reuben’s loyal secretary, obviously hadn’t been much of a decorator. But that could be changed with very little effort. Al Sugar, the head of the prop department, would help her. Some plants, a few comfortable chairs, some decent pictures on the walls, a new carpet, some up-to-date magazines, and it would all take shape.
Bebe noticed her hand was trembling as she reached out once again to grasp the polished brass door handle. A hand snaked ahead of hers and the door flew open. “You just open it, it’s simple,” a voice said coolly.
Bebe looked up and stared into Reuben’s mocking eyes, another ghost from the past. “Thank you,” she said, managing to sound quite normal. “I have this feeling that I’m trespassing somehow.”
“Yes, I felt that way, too, in the beginning. In fact, I still feel that way.” Philippe waited, wondering if his mother would prolong the conversation.
Her back to her son, Bebe drew in a deep breath. She was going to have to turn, face him, and she was going to have to do it now. What would Reuben do in this situation, she wondered. Whirl around, be blasé, and put him on the defensive, something he excelled at. When she turned, her features were composed, her voice even. “I noticed something when I walked into the building; in fact, I noticed it outside, too. It’s quiet, too quiet, almost gloomy.”
Philippe found himself searching his mind for something his father would say in a situation like this. “Rather like a funeral after the funeral, a wake, I believe is the way Americans refer to it. I suppose it is. Mr. Tarz…my father is gone. Most of the people here, at least I find it so, think of him as the studio. I’ve noticed the past few days that people are being quiet because they’re unsure of what’s going to happen, and, of course, their jobs are uppermost in their minds.” He’d said too much, dragged out his response, but his mother was paying attention, actually seemed interested in what he’d just said.
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