She can’t get back on. Nobody’s that strong, he thought. His mind raced, for he knew she could not hang on for more than a few seconds. It was a nightmarish thing, and for one moment he could not even seem to think. Then an idea came to him. Reaching into the pocket beside him, he grabbed a piece of leather chain he had fashioned long ago. Quickly he snapped it in place over the control stick. It fastened in four spots, holding the stick steady. He had often wished there was such a thing as an automatic pilot, but there was not. So he had devised this himself and at times had played with the device, letting the plane fly itself. But he had never left the cockpit, for the device was very rudimentary. The plane would still buck and be tossed by the wind, for the chain could not make the minute adjustments that his delicate fingers could make.
Without thought, he leaped up in the seat and clambered up on the wing. On his hands and knees he scrambled along on the wing, feeling the plane tilt to the right with his added weight. Cara’s body also was driven at an angle as the plane went into a bank.
Jerry had shut out all thoughts of personal danger. He reached Cara and grabbed her wrist, just as her fingers were losing their strength. “Grab my wrist!” he shouted over the screaming wind. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was open but she nodded and loosed one hand from the strap and then the other, grasping his wrist. Her weight nearly pulled him off balance and he struggled to keep himself on the wing. His toes were caught in the cleat, as was his left hand. That was all that was keeping them from falling down to the green fields laid out in the nicely squared rectangles he saw below. He had time to see a river winding and twisting down below catching the gleam of the sunlight. It was beautiful, but it was deadly. Her weight rested now solely on his right arm. With all his might, he struggled and managed to lift her up until her face was even with his. “See if you can throw your leg over the wing!” he yelled.
Cara was a strong woman, and despite her excesses, she kept in good physical condition. She raised her left leg and managed to get her heel over the cleat.
“Great!” Jerry shouted. “I’m going to move up. Move with me!”
Slowly and painfully the two moved back up on the flat surface of the wing. The plane was now tilted at a thirty degree bank and was headed on a slight downward path. “Come on!” Jerry screamed. “I’ve got to turn you loose! Can you make it?”
“I can make it, Jerry!” she shouted. “I’ve got the cleat now and the straps!”
Jerry’s arm was aching but he made his way back, holding tightly to the cleat. When he got back to the center of the wing, he glanced back and saw that she was right behind him. He stepped back onto the fuselage, moving into the back cockpit, and settling down with a sigh. He was relieved to see Cara fall into the front cockpit, and he looked at his hand, which was shaking. “I didn’t think anything could do that to me,” he said aloud, his voice muted by the wind noises. Removing the chain, he grasped the stick and glanced over at Gavin. The camera plane had kept its same position and now he saw Gavin point down, signaling to make a landing.
Fifteen minutes later, Jerry shut the engine off and slumped in the seat. He had lost the panic that had struck him after he had gotten back in the cockpit, and now he took a deep breath and crawled out. When he hit the ground, his knees were shaky and Gavin, who had landed first, came running over as Jerry helped Cara down.
Cara’s face was chalk white, and she clung to Jerry and gave one sob.
Gavin reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, saying quietly, “That was a close one.”
Cara looked up at Jerry. Her eyes were as large as he had ever seen them. “I thought I was dead,” she whispered. “When I looked up and saw you—I couldn’t believe it!”
Jerry held her for a moment and for once in their relationship, he felt in control. Always before, she had been in control of what happened between them. But now, she was soft and frail, and he had proven himself to be strong. “It’s all right,” he said, “we made it.”
As they stood there clinging to each other, Jerry thought, I wish it could be like this always.
Tom Maxwell, the camera operator in Gavin’s plane, had filmed the whole thing, and it would be incorporated into the film. “There’s never been anything like it,” he said enthusiastically. “A man leaving a plane to fly itself and saving her! You couldn’t do that again on purpose in a thousand years.”
Lylah held Jerry when she had heard of the near tragedy and whispered, “I wish I could give you a million-dollar bonus. You’re some man, Jerry Stuart!”
For two days Jerry basked in the glow of Cara’s new attitude. She could not do enough for him and seemed to have lost all thoughts of Brent Peters. It was a wonderful time for him, but he was fearful that it couldn’t last.
He took Adam to a movie on Wednesday. He’d gotten very close to the boy, and Jesse had encouraged him to spend as much time with him as he could.
They went to see Tarzan, the newest sensation on the screen, and afterward, Jerry rigged a rope in the tree in the backyard, and Adam became a younger edition of the jungle man. Later, they went inside and listened to some of the programs that the boy liked. They listened to a program called The Shadow. It began with eerie organ music, and then a deep mellifluous voice said in hollow tones, “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?” There was a pause and then the voice said triumphantly, “The Shadow knows,” and ended with a deeply sinister and mysterious laugh.
It was a scary program even for a thirteen-year-old, and Jerry was amused that Adam kept getting closer and closer to him on the couch. He put his arm around the boy’s shoulders and said, “Boy, this scares me to death! How ’bout you?”
Adam stared up at him in disbelief. “I didn’t know you ever got scared, Jerry.”
“What’re you talking about! I stay scared most of the time. It’s okay to be scared.” He thought for a minute and said, “It’s okay to worry, too, and maybe even cry sometimes. I do it myself.”
Such a thought had never occurred to Adam. Jerry was one of his heroes. Now he looked up at him and relief cracked his young voice. “You really cry?”
“Sure I do. What’s wrong with that?”
“I–I didn’t think men ever cried.”
“If they’ve got any sense they do,” Jerry smiled. “Women don’t have any monopoly on crying. It’s okay if you and I do it. If we’ve got something to cry about, we cry, okay?”
Somehow his words had struck a chord in the boy. Adam dropped his head and said, “I thought it was wrong. I sometimes cry when nobody’s around.”
“You want to tell me about it, Sport?”
“I worry about who I am.”
“I can tell you that. You’re Adam Stuart. You’re Tarzan the Ape Man. You’re the Shadow, Lamont Cranston. You’re my cousin and I think you’re the finest boy in the country.” When the boy didn’t answer, he asked quickly, “What do you mean, you don’t know who you are?”
“I think my father must have been a very bad man and I’m afraid I might be, too!”
“Hey! Don’t even think like that!” Jerry insisted quickly. He pulled the boy closer and said, “I know who half of you is—Lylah Hart—and now you’ve got a dad. There’s nobody in this world I think more of than Jesse Hart, and he thinks of you as his son. You gotta think of him as your dad.”
“Oh, I do. Jesse’s great,” Adam nodded quickly, “but sometimes I hear about people saying things like, ‘it’s in the blood’ and ‘heredity tells.’ I didn’t know what that meant, so I asked Bonnie and she told me. It means you do things that your mother and father do, sometimes, anyway.”
Jerry felt out of his depth, but he turned to the boy and said, “Look here, Adam, I want you to remember you’re who you are. You can’t blame your folks when things go wrong. Look at me, I’ve got the finest folks in the world and I haven’t done anything but play around all my life. It’s not their fault, though. So whoever your father is, that’s got nothing to do with you. You go right on and be the m
an that Jesse is, or Gavin, or Owen. That Stuart blood’s in you. It’s gonna come out all right.”
Finally the boy seemed tremendously assured. He hugged Jerry and went to bed, and for a long time, Jerry sat thinking of it.
He listened to the radio a while and was disturbed by the report that featured the news on the Lindbergh baby. The body had been found, the newscaster said. He asked the country to pray for the Lindberghs in their hour of need.
Jerry turned the radio off and sat in the darkness for a while. Finally he heard a car pull up and he went to the window. He recognized the fancy convertible that Brent Peters tooled around town in. He saw Bonnie get out. She waited, and then Peters came to walk beside her up the sidewalk. Their steps sounded on the porch, then stopped. There was silence for such a long time that Jerry grew nervous. He was sincerely worried about Bonnie. She doesn’t know what she’s getting into, fooling with Brent, he thought. A stubborn streak touched him then and he went to the door and stepped outside—just in time to see the two step apart from an embrace.
“I think you’d better go home, Brent. It’s time for Bonnie to come in.”
Bonnie stared at him, her body gone rigid with shock. Reaching out, she took Brent by the arm and said, “Wait a minute. This isn’t my father.” She turned to Jerry and said, “Mind your own business, Jerry.”
The sight of her innocent face outlined in the moonlight made up Jerry’s mind. Reaching out, he pulled her away and, with his free hand, he shoved Brent backward. “Get out of here and leave her alone!” he said harshly. “I know you’re a big star and all that, but I catch you around this place again, I’ll put you in the hospital.”
Brent caught his balance, his face turned suddenly cold. “As Bonnie says, you’re not her father, Stuart. And don’t touch me again!”
Angrily, Jerry released Bonnie and once again shoved the actor backward. Jerry started to speak, but he had no chance, for a blow he never saw caught him in the mouth. It was a disaster running through his whole body. He fell backward on the porch, hearing Bonnie scream, “Brent, don’t!” Then, with his mind still fuzzy, he got to his feet and lunged at Peters, throwing a blow, anger rushing through him.
It was not effective, however. Brent Peters was an athlete. One of his skills was boxing. He had actually appeared in one boxing movie and had been a fine amateur boxer in his youth. He stood off coolly while Jerry threw wild blows. Peters threw sharp, crisp punches into Jerry’s face, and finally a cruel right hand threw him to the floor.
“That’s enough, Brent,” Bonnie said. “He doesn’t know what he’s doing.”
Brent looked at her and said, “I’m sorry. This wasn’t of my making.” He looked down at Jerry, who was trying to get to his feet, still ready to fight. “I won’t fight you anymore, Stuart. You’re a fool if you think Bonnie would do anything she shouldn’t. That shows how stupid you are.” He turned to Bonnie and said, “Good night,” and left.
By the time Jerry had gotten to his feet the car had roared off. He shakily wiped the blood from his lips and looked at Bonnie, seeing the anger on her face. He felt like a fool.
Bonnie said, “Thanks very much, Jerry, for the show of confidence! I guess you think I’m just like the women you run around with, women who go with anybody who asks them! . . .” She was shocked, humiliated, angry, and brokenhearted over the scene. She began to cry, saying things she should not and knew she should not.
“It’s all right for you to be with Cara any time you want to. You’ve got such a filthy mind, Jerry, you don’t know that there can be such a thing as a different kind of relationship between a man and a woman. I never want to see you again!”
Jerry stood mute, watching as she entered the house and slammed the door. Bingo, the dog, came around the corner. He sat down and watched Jerry for a moment and then came over, pawing at him and saying, “Wuff?” with an inquiring tone in his bark.
Jerry sat down on the porch steps, pulled the huge dog closer, hugged him, and buried his face in the fur.
“Bingo,” he said, “be glad you’re a dog. If you were a man you might make the same kind of stupid mistakes I make!”
THE GOSPEL FOR EVERYONE
For two weeks after his disastrous attempt at a fight with Brent Peters, Jerry avoided Bonnie whenever possible. Several times he encountered her at the studio, and so great was his embarrassment over the confrontation that he had ducked his head, grunted a greeting, and disappeared as quickly as possible. He did manage to see Adam once during that time. He had promised to take the boy to a movie and was determined to keep his word. By carefully questioning Lylah in an offhand manner he discovered that Bonnie spent her Thursdays in a downtown library researching for Monarch and for Jesse’s new novel. One call to Adam and the boy was ecstatic at the opportunity.
Jerry pulled up in front of the house and Adam ran out to meet him at once. When he got in the car, Jerry said, “Okay, Scout, I’ll let you pick it. What movie do you want to see?”
“Dracula!”
“Dracula?” Jerry was stunned. He had heard of the movie, of course, which concerned a vampire. He had not seen it, but Cara had, and she told him it had given her nightmares. If it gave Cara nightmares, he thought as he sat staring at the boy, what would it do to Adam—or to me, for that matter?
“Why don’t we go see a western? There’s a new Tim McCoy over on Thirty-second Street at the Gem.”
“No, I want to see Dracula. All my friends have seen it and they say it’s keen.”
“I heard it’s pretty scary. Might give us bad dreams. We’d better go see McCoy.”
But Adam held him to his word, and Jerry drove downtown to the Grand, which showed first-run movies. It also featured live big bands and popular singing groups.
Jerry parked, and they went inside and once again were awestricken by the theater. The ceiling rose like a cathedral and the aisles were carpeted expensively, not covered with linoleum like the Gem. As they found their seats, they discovered that each row had a tiny aisle light near the floor. “Well, I won’t dump popcorn on anybody,” Jerry whispered. The two waited for the film to begin and stared up at the domed ceiling with its painted fleecy clouds and golden curlicues. “I couldn’t throw a softball that high,” Jerry whispered to Adam. In the center was a huge chandelier. Adam wondered callously how many people it would kill if it fell. To the rear was a huge balcony and it was filled for the performance.
Before the program, however, there was an onstage presentation, a band that played the “Dipsy Doodle.” Then, one of the band members walked up to the microphone and put on a cowboy hat and sang, “I’m an Old Cowhand from the Rio Grande.” Looking at the program, they found out the singer’s name was Perry Como.
“I don’t think he’ll ever make it,” Adam said firmly. “He can’t sing as good as Gene Autry.”
Finally the movie came on and the two sat spellbound. It was a horror of a movie, all right, and Jerry found himself unable to stop feeling afraid. This is ridiculous, he thought, it’s only a movie! But Bela Lugosi had a way of filling the screen and almost coming right down off it. By the time the movie was over Adam was curled up in almost a fetal position, and Jerry was relieved when the lights came on. “Let’s get out of here, Adam,” he said. “I need some sunlight.”
All the way home Adam remained silent, and when they got there they found Lylah waiting, and Bonnie was there, too.
“Well, what did you two see?” Lylah asked cheerfully. Then she saw that Adam was not smiling. “What’s wrong, are you sick?”
“No. Didn’t like the movie,” Jerry said.
“What was it?” Lylah demanded.
“He wanted to see Dracula—”
“Jerry! You didn’t take him to see that awful thing? I saw it, and it scared the wits out of me!” Lylah went over and put her arm around Adam. “It’s all right. It was just a movie. Come along now. I’ve got some dessert for you.” She gave Jerry a disgusted look, saying, “I thought you had a little sense, Jerry,
but I don’t think so anymore.”
Bonnie was suddenly amused with the hangdog look on Jerry’s face. She had missed him and now said, “Don’t worry about it. He’ll get over it.”
Jerry was encouraged by her words. “I didn’t want to take him, but I’d told him he could have his choice. I always like to keep my word to the boy.”
“Did it scare you?” Bonnie asked, a mischievous light in her eyes.
“I was scared spitless,” he said and laughed at his own words. “I never get afraid in an airplane, but somehow that creep up there on the screen sucking the blood out of people—” he shuddered—“I don’t know why people go see stuff like that.”
“Well, I’d kinda like to see it. Would you like to take me?”
Looking up quickly, Jerry recognized this was Bonnie’s way of saying she was sorry for their alienation. “Sure,” he said, “and there’s another one over at the Rialto. That one’s about Frankenstein, the guy with the bolt through his head. Looks like my old algebra teacher in high school.”
“You’re crazy!” she laughed. “I’m not going to see either one of those.”
“I didn’t think you would. Don’t tell Adam about Frankenstein, though, or he’d drag me back, and I don’t think I could stand another one.”
“Did you know that Owen’s having a meeting over in downtown Los Angeles?”
“No, nobody told me about it.”
She hesitated, then said, “Believe it or not, you’ll never guess who’s going with me tonight.”
“Who?”
“Brent. He’s cynical about religion, but he’s curious, too. You want to go along with us?”
Jerry flushed. “You don’t think he’d whip me again, do you?”
“No, it was just a misunderstanding. Brent’s sorry about it, just like I am, Jerry.” She was wearing a simple linen dress, white, with blue trim around the neck, and she looked very pretty. “Come with us. You two can make up.”
A Season of Dreams Page 15