A chill went through Bonnie and she stood silent, unable to move or speak. “What happened?” she whispered finally.
“Well, he was doing this stunt with a new man . . .” He outlined quickly the stunt that should have been rather simple, but Jerry’s plane had somehow gotten out of control. It had gone into a dive, and he had managed to pull out less than a hundred feet above the ground. “He would have been dead. There’s no walking away from a head-on crash like that,” Jesse said curtly.
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He got out of the plane, and it was like he was in shock. Everybody said he was like a dead man. He couldn’t even talk, Gavin said.”
“But where is he now, Jesse?”
“He just walked off, and nobody knows where he went.”
“We’ve got to find him. There’s something wrong!”
“Well, we can start calling around to his friends. I’m afraid he might go out on a drunk again—and that would be the end for him.”
Bonnie had the same fear. She immediately went to the phone and began calling the different places where Jerry might be found. No one had seen him, however, all day long.
Night fell and there was still no sign of him. Lylah came home worried, as well. They had a quiet supper and afterward Jesse and Lylah took Adam out to a movie. When she was alone, Bonnie could not sit still. A great anxiety seemed to drive her, and finally in desperation, she went out and got in the car. She had one idea where she might find Jerry—a small lake on the east side of Hollywood. It was a hidden place surrounded by trees, and very few people knew of it. Jerry had taken her there once to fish for perch that abounded in the small body of water. He had told her while they were there, “This is the quietest place I know. Here’s a little bit of sanity in the midst of this crazy Hollywood dump.”
As she pulled up on the outside of the grove, a sudden sense of relief washed over Bonnie. “There’s his car,” she whispered. “He’s all right.” Stopping the Oldsmobile, she got out quickly and followed a worn path that led through the grove to the pond. The moon shone brightly, so she had little trouble seeing. Finally reaching the bank, she called out tremulously, “Jerry, are you here?”
A moment of silence, then—“Over here.” A form suddenly materialized and Jerry asked wearily, “What are you doing here, Bonnie?”
“We–we were all worried about you. I’ve called everybody. Are you all right?”
“Just dandy.” There was a bitterness in Jerry’s tone. He turned and walked over to a fallen tree and sat down heavily on it and looked out silently over the lake. There was a defeated look to his slumped shoulders, and he kept his face turned away from her.
Bonnie went over and sat down beside him. She took his hand and held it in both of hers. “What happened, Jerry?” she asked quietly.
The silence ran on for such a long time she thought he didn’t plan to answer her. Finally, he turned and said hoarsely, “I went into a dive—the plane was out of control—I don’t know what happened. I was headed straight to the ground at top speed. It was rushing at me, Bonnie, and I felt so helpless. I knew I was going to die—” He broke off and looked back out over the water. He was squeezing her hands so hard that they hurt, but she said nothing. He turned back and said, “I was dead, that’s all there is to it—and all I could think is what a rotten thing my life’s been!”
Bonnie held his hand and they sat quietly for a long time. Finally, he looked at her again and said, “I can’t forget the last time I felt like this. It was at the end of Owen’s meeting, and he had given the invitation. I felt scared and lonely. That’s how I felt when the plane was going down.”
“Jerry, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Your life is empty, but it doesn’t have to be.” That was all she said, but for a moment she was afraid that it might have been too much. She knew how Jerry hated being preached to. He had heard the gospel for years from his parents, from Owen, from her, and from Lylah. A great fear came to her that he might be one of those with such a hardened heart that he could not hear, but then he turned to her and her heart leaped, for she could see that he was not angry.
“You’re talking about being saved,” he said simply. “I’ve heard about that all my life—and I’ve seen it, too. I saw it happen with Lylah. When she became a Christian, why it was like she was a different woman—I’d never seen anything like it before, Bonnie. Then, I’ve seen it in you,” he said. “You’ve always had something in you that I’ve envied—a peace, I guess.”
“Oh, Jerry, it’s so easy to be saved! God loves you so much that he sent Jesus to die for you. You’ve heard that a thousand times.”
“I know, but it sounds too—well, too easy, I guess. I’ve always thought you had to do something. I’ve tried to be better—to quit drinking, go to church—” He shook his head sadly. “That just makes it worse. I just can’t do it, Bonnie—I just can’t!”
“Good!” she rapped out abruptly.
Jerry’s head snapped around. “What do you mean—good?” he asked almost angrily. “Is it good that I can’t be saved?”
“No, it’s good that you recognize that you can’t help God save you. Jerry, none of us can help God. If we could have been saved by living good lives or quitting our drinking or whatever was wrong, then there wouldn’t have been a need for Jesus to die.” She spoke earnestly and he sat listening. She quoted many Scripture passages that he had heard over and over again, but now they struck him in a way that they never had. They seemed to go straight into his heart, and despite himself, he found a hope beginning to grow in him. He listened as she said, “The Bible says, ‘Not by works of righteousness which we have done, but according to his mercy he saved us.’” Then she shook her head, saying, “Don’t you see? It’s not what we do, it’s what Jesus did at the cross.”
“But how does that help me? Jesus died hundreds of years ago. What does that have to do with me?”
“Jerry, all times are the same with God. He is the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last. When Moses wanted to know his name, God just said, ‘I AM.’ That means that he doesn’t have a yesterday, tomorrow, or today—all times are the same to him. And when you call on him, that’s the time that he hears.”
“That’s what Owen kept telling me—and Mom and Dad, of course.”
“It’s true! It’s all you can do. If Adam hurt you, then turned to you and said ‘Jerry, can you forgive me?’ what would you do?”
“Why, I’d forgive him, of course.”
“And do you think you’re better than God?”
Jerry blinked in surprise. “Why, no, of course not!”
The air was warm and there was a silvery glow of moonlight that fell on Jerry’s face. Bonnie wanted desperately to see the pain and the doubt and the fear, which were etched there, erased. She prayed silently, her heart crying out to God and finally she said, “Jerry, this is your time—I just know it!”
“My time?”
“Yes, the time for you to come into the family of God. It’s time to have your sins forgiven and to become a follower of Jesus.”
“I don’t know if I can do it. I’ve been so rotten, and everything I’ve tried has failed.”
“We’re all failures. Some fail harder than others—in the sight of the world, at least,” she said quietly. “But God loves you. Jesus is the proof of that. His death on the cross is God’s sign that he loves us. Do you believe that?”
“Of course.”
“Do you believe the Scriptures, Jerry?”
“Yes, I believe the Bible. I just can’t make it work.”
“Do you believe it when it says ‘Whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved’?”
Jerry struggled with that. “It seems too simple,” he muttered. “But if it says it, then I believe it. But how do I do that?”
“Just tell God that you’re sorry for your life and your sins. Confess them to him and then ask him to forgive you in the name of Jesus. Will you do that, Jerry?”
>
There was a moment’s pause and for one awful moment, Bonnie feared that he would rise and walk away, turn his back on her and on God. She yearned to see him come to himself and find God, but this was as far as she could go. You can only go so far with anybody, she thought, and now it’s up to Jerry. Oh, God, draw him as you’ve never drawn him before.
Jerry seemed to be frozen. He did not move, but then suddenly, he removed his hands from her and looked at her almost frantically. “Yes!” he whispered hoarsely. “I can’t go on like this—I’ve got to have something in my life besides what I have had.”
“It’s all right,” Bonnie said. “We’ll pray.” She began to pray quietly, putting her hand on his back, and soon she felt his body begin to tremble, even as it had once before. Then she heard him saying, “Oh, God, I’m so alone—I need you so desperately!” He prayed hoarsely, as if he had to force the words. Finally, she heard him sob, “I ask you to save me in Jesus’ name.”
They sat there for a long time, Bonnie praying from her heart and Jerry with his face in his hands. Finally, he straightened up and turned toward her. “Bonnie,” he whispered, “something has happened to me. I feel as if all the stuff that was in me is gone. Is this it? What you’ve been feeling since you’ve been a Christian?”
“Yes, that’s the peace of God, Jerry,” she said.
He shook his head and wondered, “Will it always be like this?”
“Jesus said, ‘I am with you always.’ It’s just the beginning.” She began to talk to him about what it means to be a Christian, how he needed to make his faith in Christ public. “Jesus didn’t call people to be secret disciples,” she admonished him. “You must openly declare your faith in him to other people. Will you do that?”
Jerry said instantly, “Yes, I’ll do that. I don’t know how it’s going to go.” His voice trembled, then he smiled beautifully. “Something’s in me that was never there before.” Suddenly, he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go. I want to tell Gavin about it and then I want to call my folks.” He suddenly reached out and hugged her. Holding her close, he said, “Thank you, Bonnie. I don’t know how you’ve put up with me all these years.”
She was very conscious of his arms around her, and tears ran down her cheeks. When he stepped back, she said, “Come along, Jerry, we’ve got some things to do!”
THE STUART LINE
The premier of The Pilot was not as impressive as some opening nights, but it was large enough for Lylah and for those who gathered with her in front of the theater in downtown Hollywood. The spotlights swept the skies overhead with their cone-shaped beams of light. The crowds had gathered outside the theater and were accustomed to greeting Hollywood personalities. They gasped and applauded as the actresses and actors got out of their cars, giving special fervency to their cries for Brent Peters. He was walking with Bonnie, who had agreed to accompany him rather reluctantly. Leaning over, he whispered, “Listen to them crying out my name,” then grinned. “If the picture’s a bust, they’ll throw rotten cabbage at me.”
Bonnie looked up at him and smiled cheerfully. “It won’t be a bust, Brent. You did a marvelous job.”
He looked at her carefully and shrugged his shoulders. “I still think you and I could have made a good life together. I need someone steady like you to keep my feet on the ground.”
“No, you don’t need me. I’m not cut out for this Hollywood life. Come on; let’s go inside and watch the picture.”
They made their way inside the theater, and soon the row reserved for them was filled. Jesse and Lylah sat together, with Adam sitting between Lylah and Jerry. The cast was there—and Carl Thomas and others who had worked to complete the picture. Adam whispered incessantly. “You show me the times you were flying the plane, will you, Jerry?”
“Sure I will. I did all the good stuff.” He looked down the row to where Bonnie was sitting with Brent and his face stiffened, expressionless. Adam followed his glance and said, “Gee, Bonnie’s sure pretty, isn’t she? I didn’t know she had a dress like that.”
“I guess she bought it just for this occasion,” Jerry said quietly. “Look, the movie is coming on.” He watched as the credits rolled by and smiled faintly to see his name as an assistant—then Cara’s name came on and his smile faded. He sat watching the movie, and he was amazed. He had seen bits and pieces of it done. It had been a surprise to him that a movie is not made from front to back—from beginning to end. One of the first stunts in the picture was the last one he had done. It had not been a particularly difficult one, but he remembered how Gavin had urged him to be careful.
He watched the audience as much as he did the picture, attempting to gauge how they were taking it. It was not a picture that evoked a great deal of loud laughter, for the humor in it was rather sophisticated—keen and cutting sometimes. He had to admit that Brent Peters had done a fine job in the lead role. There was pathos in the movie, sadness, grief, and the struggles of aviators against the skies, and the dangers that the world of aviation brought with it. As the screen flickered, Jerry thought of Cara. He remembered her smile, her laughter, her verve.
Finally, the picture ended and Jerry came out of his reverie. The audience was standing, applauding loudly. They continued to do so, and Jerry saw Brent go over and take Lylah’s hand. He escorted her to the stage with Jesse following closely behind and spoke into a microphone that was placed in front of him. “Thank you so much, fine friends, for your enthusiasm. I will say nothing of my own performance, but I will say that this picture was a delight to make! It was made by the courage and vision of this dear woman whom you have loved on the screen for years, Miss Lylah Stuart. Lylah Stuart Hart, I should say. She and her husband have brought this picture to birth. Lylah, I congratulate you and Jesse.”
Lylah took the microphone, and after all her years on the stage and before a camera, she felt inhibited. She was close to tears, for the film had stirred her. It was a better film than she had thought and she said, “Thank you, Brent. I must say what he has not said himself. His performance in this film is the finest that he has ever given. I must also say that the story belongs to my husband.” She turned to Jesse and smiled sweetly. “Without him, there would have been no film.”
She spoke for a while, very briefly, thanked them, and then curtsied. “Thank you for your response to our film.”
Jerry put his hand on Adam’s shoulder and said, “That’s some set of parents you got there, buddy. I hope you appreciate them.”
“I do.” He was strangely quiet, but on the way home, he said, “Mom?”
Lylah put her arm around him. Adam was seated in the middle, and Jesse was driving. “What is it?”
“You did good—both of you. It was a swell story, Dad. I wish I could write like that. I’d write westerns.”
Jesse laughed and reached over and ruffled the boy’s thick, brown hair. “Maybe you will. There’s no time like the present to start.”
They parked the car and went in. When they got inside, Adam suddenly turned and said without preamble, “Mom, why won’t you tell me who my father is?”
Jesse halted abruptly, turning his head slightly to watch Lylah’s face. He saw the shock run over it, and then he stepped to her side. Putting his arm around her, he said evenly, “Lylah, I think it’s time.”
Lylah took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on this son of hers. He looked so tall and straight—and so much like his father!
Slowly, Lylah nodded and walked over to Adam. “Come and sit down,” she said quietly. “I’ll tell you about your father.”
Jesse took a chair over on one side of the room and watched as Adam turned his face toward his mother. As she began to speak of her early days, her struggles in the theater, and finally about how she had gone to Germany, he wondered if she would be able to keep herself steady, and realized what a terrible moment this would be for her.
Lylah said slowly, never taking her eyes from Adam, “When I was in Germany, a dear friend of mine introduc
ed me to her cousin. He was a baron and his name was Manfred von Richthofen. Have you ever heard of him?”
Adam’s face assumed a frown. He’d said nothing during the earlier part of his mother’s recitation, but now he said, “I think so—but I can’t remember. Was he famous?”
“Yes, he was very famous, Adam.” Lylah hesitated. She had no idea how Adam would take what she had to tell him, but she had long known this moment would come. She said quietly, “It was wartime. America was at war with Germany. Your uncle Gavin was a fighter pilot.”
Suddenly, Adam opened his eyes wide. “That’s where I’ve heard of him! Manfred von Richthofen! Uncle Gavin’s told me that he was the best fighter pilot the Germans had in the war.”
“That’s right.”
The room seemed very quiet. Jesse and Lylah both watched as emotion suddenly seemed to break the boy’s face. He looked young and vulnerable, and as he stared into his mother’s eyes, he asked in a whisper, “Is he my father?”
“Yes, he is.”
Adam looked at his mother, his eyes fixed on her. Neither adult knew what was going on in his young mind, but when he finally spoke, both of them were taken off guard. “Did you love him, Mother? Did he love you?”
Tears filled Lylah’s eyes and she nodded, pressing her lips together for a moment. Dashing the tears away, she said, “Yes, I did love him—and he loved me. But I was an American and he was in the army at war with our country. We didn’t marry, Adam.”
“What happened to him?”
“He was killed—shot down in action. Not long after he died, you were born. Uncle Gavin was at the hospital, and Uncle Owen and Uncle Amos. I’ll never forget that moment,” she said in a voice that was almost too quiet to hear. “I was holding you and they stood on each side of the bed. Then they–they put their hands on you and said ‘He’ll be a Stuart.’” Tears overflowed and she bit her lip to gain control. “Adam, your father was an honorable man and I loved him very much. I was very young—we both were—and it was wartime. We sinned, Adam, but never doubt that he would have loved you if he had lived.”
A Season of Dreams Page 26