Finding Dorothy

by Elizabeth Letts

  “Quiet now!” she cried out. “Quiet now!”

  Maud leapt out of bed to follow her, shivering as the frigid air cut through her nightdress.

  “Come now, Julia,” Maud whispered. “You’ll wake Magdalena. Come back to bed.”

  “I don’t care!” Julia said. “I don’t care who I wake. Don’t you know what that sound is? That’s the sound of my dead baby, crying in the cold, cold ground.”

  The wolves kept howling. Maud pulled Julia toward her, trying to muffle her screams. From the front room, Maud heard rustling, the scrape of the dead bolt, then a door slamming.

  Out the window, the yard was lit up by a full moon shining on the snow. The fresh mound of dirt over Jamie’s grave was the only dark spot. It lay like a splotch of dried blood on the brittle crust of snow. James, rifle in hand, was staggering across the icy ground. He tripped over the fresh dirt, then continued unsteadily. He stopped abruptly, visibly swaying, pulled the rifle up to his shoulder, and fired a shot. Its sound was so loud that for a moment, Julia was stunned into silence, and the wolves’ infernal cry ceased. James lurched a bit, staring off into the darkness, but after a moment, the wolves started up again, wailing like inmates of Bedlam when the moon was full. James shot again—but his arm was too unsteady to allow him to take aim. Still holding up the rifle, he took a couple of steps back toward the dwelling. Julia pushed the bedroom door open and lunged into the front room, her nightdress billowing up behind her. The door was wide open and banging in the frigid wind.

  “Julia, no!” Maud tried to grab her sister’s arm to prevent her from going outside. James was now pointing his rifle in the direction of the room where Magdalena was sleeping. James held the rifle up to his shoulder, preparing to fire again.

  “James!” Plunging outdoors, Julia immediately slipped on the ice, letting out a loud scream. James turned to look at her. Maud rushed forward, careful not to slip herself, and picked Julia up from the ground.

  Maud all but shoved her sister back into the house. She jammed her feet into a pair of Julia’s boots that stood by the door, grabbed a folded blanket from the settee, and ran out into the frigid night, heading straight toward the man who was holding the rifle, now pointed directly at her heart.

  “Drop that gun right now, James Carpenter, before you hurt yourself or somebody else!” Maud’s voice sounded firm and steady, but her knees were trembling so hard she thought she might collapse.

  The night had gone silent again. The wolves, no doubt scared off by the ruckus, had stopped howling.

  “I’m not going to stop!” James said, his words slurred. “Got to chase those wolves away from my son!”

  Maud tried to think fast. “But listen, James,” she said, her voice now much more gentle. “You are such a good shot. You’ve killed them! See, it’s quiet now.”

  James kept the rifle cocked, its muzzle swinging unsteadily.

  “Now, you come on back inside the house,” Maud said. “It’s cold out here, and we need to get you warmed up.”

  James swayed, rifle still cocked. Maud’s teeth were chattering so hard it sounded like gunfire inside her head. She could see the black shaft of the rifle as it meandered back and forth, now aiming at the house where Magdalena slept, now yawing point-blank at Maud.

  “James? Come now.” Slowly, Maud stretched out her hand, palm up as if approaching a frightened dog.

  The whites of James’s eyes reflected against the snow.

  For a moment, neither of them moved. Maud looked back and forth from James’s wild eyes to the gun’s muzzle, afraid to breathe. At last, James dropped the rifle to his side and shuffled back to the house. Maud, shivering as if gripped by a mortal fever, followed behind. Inside, James propped the rifle up in the corner and flung himself down on the settee, still wearing his boots. Maud took the blanket from her own shoulders and laid it over him.

  “Go to sleep now,” she said. “We’ve all had a long day.”

  Maud looked up to see little Magdalena standing in the bedroom doorway, her hand on the doorjamb, shivering in her nightdress, her eyes dark and wide.

  “What happened, Auntie Maud?”

  “Nothing, sweet pea. Let’s get you back into bed.”

  When Maud at last climbed back into bed next to her sister, Julia was still awake.

  “Julia! He could have killed us all with that rifle!”

  “It’s the drink that does it,” Julia whispered to her sister. “He’s a good man, but he goes to the devil with drink.”

  Maud pulled her sister around to face her. “Julia! A good man does not go to the devil with drink. A man who goes to the devil with drink is not a good man!”

  “There’s nothing to do about it,” Julia said. “Whenever I tell him to stop, he says he’ll leave me here and not come back. Where would I be alone out here with the children?”

  “You do not have to stay out here alone! Come to Aberdeen and let him do as he will. We will look after you. You can stay with us. Don’t you remember what Frank said? Our door is always open.”

  There was such a long silence from the other side of the bed that Maud thought Julia had fallen asleep, until she said, “Maudie, you just don’t understand.”

  “A drunken husband firing his rifle. You lost a child today. Do you want to lose another one? Did Mother teach you nothing at all about standing your ground?”

  Julia did not respond, but her body was shaking and tears shone on her cheeks in the moonlight. Again, she whispered, “You don’t understand.”

  “It’s been such a long day,” Maud said. “Let’s rest. We can think about this tomorrow. Here now…” Maud pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her nightdress and dabbed her sister’s tears.

  Maud lay like a board until Julia’s sobbing subsided. At last all was still, just the quiet breathing sounds of Julia and Magdalena.

  Then the wolves started up their howling again.

  * * *

  —

  THE NEXT MORNING, while James snored on the settee, deep in a stupor, Maud implored her sister to gather up her things and leave. But Julia acted as if the events of the previous night had not even happened and insisted that she needed to stay near her newly buried child.

  Maud boiled strong coffee and plied James with several cups of it, until he was ready to drive her back to the Edgeley depot so she could catch the train back to Aberdeen.

  As she was getting ready to leave, Magdalena tugged on Maud’s hand and looked up at her plaintively. Her hair had grown out a bit, and her braids now hung below her shoulders again. She tilted her face upward, her chin pointing like a prow through stormy waters.

  “Do you have to go, Auntie Maud?”

  “I’m afraid I do, sweet pea. But I won’t stop thinking about you when I’m gone.”

  “Can I come with you?”

  Inside, it seemed as if a poisonous snake had wrapped around Maud’s innards, slowly squeezing them until she longed to gasp aloud. But on the outside, her expression was serene, as she knew that any sign of sadness would just make the poor child feel worse.

  “Not this time,” Maud said.

  Somber little Magdalena, stiff as a Sunday school teacher, didn’t even utter a word of protest. She nodded solemnly and squeezed her Auntie Maud’s hand until finally she dropped it, and clasped both hands behind her back, looking even more solitary without her beloved Dorothy in her arms.

  Riding away on the wagon, Maud watched all of it—the dreary, isolated shack, the fresh grave, her pale, weathered sister, and the brave little girl—retreating and retracting, until they dwindled down to a single dot and disappeared.

  That night, after Maud returned to Aberdeen, Frank didn’t ask her for details about the trip, the funeral, or her sister; nor did he ask her what was making her so sad. Once they were in bed, he just enfolded her in a soft embrace and stroked her ha
ir. It seemed as if she were shrinking, until her entire fiery heart and soul and all of her sadness had joined to form a round, bright ball of fire encircled by heat. She lifted her head and looked into Frank’s eyes for a long time, and a certainty overtook her. Baby Jamie had not been meant to live, but Maud was young and strong—strong enough.

  Maud reached down with her hand, guiding her husband toward his sacred and loving duty. He paused, looking at her searchingly. He breathed so softly, “But, Maudie, are you sure?”

  Maud averted her gaze from him but nodded. He cupped his hand around her chin and brushed her hair up from her forehead until he was looking her straight in the eye.

  “No, I won’t do it, unless you tell me with words. I would never ever hurt you.”

  Maud stared straight at her husband.

  “Frank, I’m sure.”

  CHAPTER

  17

  HOLLYWOOD

  1939

  Maud felt a prickle of cold air and heard the sound—like an old man wheezing—as she entered the Thalberg Building. A day had passed since she had found Judy sobbing in the alleyway, but she could not get the thought out of her mind. She was determined to find a way to help her.

  In the lobby, Maud noticed a new girl seated in the receptionist’s chair. The young redhead frowned slightly when she saw Maud. “Mrs. Baum?”

  Maud squinted in confusion. How did this stranger know her name? But with a closer look, she realized that this was the same young woman she had met on her first visit to the studio, only now her hair, which had been platinum blond, was dyed a fiery shade of red.

  Maud smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you. It’s the hair.”

  The girl touched her bob and colored slightly. “Casting was looking for redheads,” she said. “I’m an actress. Aspiring actress. Just haven’t landed a part yet.”

  “Be patient,” Maud said. “I’m sure your turn will come soon. Now, if you please—”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Baum. Mr. Mayer is not in today. And neither is Mr. Freed.” The girl spoke a bit hastily, as if to preempt any further inquiry.

  “That’s not a problem. I’m looking for Mrs. Koverman.”

  “I’m sorry.” She chewed her lip. “You’re not on the schedule.” Maud noted that she had not even glanced at the appointment book that lay open on her desk. “I was told—” She stopped short, and her eyebrows shot upward like the wings of a gull taking flight.

  “That’s all right.” Maud smiled sweetly. “Don’t worry about it, dear. I’m not going to make a fuss.” The girl looked relieved as Maud turned away, but instead of moving toward the outside door, Maud pivoted the other way, dashing across the lobby to the elevator and punching the button. The doors slid open immediately. Relieved, she stepped into the waiting car. “Tell her I’m on my way up,” Maud called through the closing doors.

  When Mrs. Koverman saw Maud stepping out of the elevator, she jumped up, grabbed her pocketbook, and signaled that Maud should follow her down a short hallway, away from Mayer’s office. She stopped in front of a door marked LADIES.

  “Welcome to my office,” she said with a wry smile. Ida ushered Maud into a well-appointed ladies’ room consisting of a large anteroom furnished with floral couches and large mirrors. An open door led to a row of toilet stalls arrayed behind.

  Maud looked around in surprise. “Quite a palace,” she said.

  “Not bad, eh? This is where I hold all of my most important meetings,” Mrs. Koverman said with a laugh. “No one is ever in here besides me. It’s the quietest place I know. Please…” Mrs. Koverman seated herself and gestured for Maud to follow suit.

  Maud sat stiffly on the edge of a floral upholstered divan, her handbag balanced on her knees, trying to project a businesslike manner. “Mrs. Koverman.”

  “Please, call me Ida.”

  Maud collected her thoughts. “After the unpleasant spectacle that we witnessed yesterday…”

  Ida nodded.

  “…I feel it incumbent upon me to speak up on Judy’s behalf. My husband, Frank, was a great advocate for the rights of women. He would have found it most intolerable to see the girl who was cast to play Dorothy be treated in such a heartless manner.”

  Ida clucked sympathetically, adjusting her bulk on the upholstered chaise. “Freed is a pig,” Ida said. “But if it ever leaves this room that I said so, I’ll lose my job, and I need this job. I’ve got a family to support.”

  “And what can be done?” Maud said. “I came to you first because I believed I could enlist your sympathy, but I’m unafraid to speak to anyone—from Louis B. Mayer on down. I thought you might be able to advise me in developing a strategy.”

  Ida sighed. She reached into her pocketbook, pulled out a compact, and proceeded to freshen her bright red lipstick. “I want you to know something. I love that girl as if she were one of my own. That voice…” Ida sighed again, kissed her fingertips, and looked heavenward. “Straight from on high. She could melt an iceberg with that voice.”

  “It certainly is something,” Maud agreed. “I was quite struck from the moment I heard it.”

  Maud watched as Ida pressed her lips together, blotting her fresh coat of lipstick, then dropped her compact and the shiny metal lipstick tube back into her purse. Next, unfazed by Maud’s presence, she reached under her dress to fiddle with her garter, then hiked up one silk stocking. Maud tried to hide her surprise at Mrs. Koverman’s nonchalant handling of her undergarments, but her expression must have shown her discomfiture. Straightening her skirt, Ida chuckled. “Sorry, Mrs. Baum. I don’t spiff up when the gents are present, but I figured in the ladies’ room, it’s anything goes.”

  “As for Judy…” Maud paused, wishing her voice didn’t sound quite so stiff. She considered herself a modern woman, but perhaps not quite as modern as Ida Koverman!

  “Let me tell you something, Mrs. Baum. Most people don’t know this, but I’m the one who discovered her. I heard her singing at a nightclub in town, she was just a wee thing, not even thirteen, and I knew right away that she was something special. But I couldn’t get anyone to listen to me. You know how men are. They’ll chase after a paste jewel but miss a real-life diamond if it’s got a little dirt on it.” She reached under her skirt again, tugged on her other garter, then slipped off one shoe and began to massage her stockinged big toe.

  “So how did you do it?” Maud asked.

  “I got her to sing ‘Eli, Eli’ to Mayer. It’s a Yiddish song, so beautiful. Reminded him of his childhood. By the time she stopped singing, he had tears running down his face.” Ida let go of her stockinged foot. “And he signed her. Just like that. But Mayer, bless his heart, and he’s a good man deep down, he just couldn’t see it, couldn’t see past the funny-looking package that big voice came in. You have no idea what they’ve done to the poor child since then—they’ve straightened her teeth, they’ve fixed her nose, they’ve fed her cottage cheese and diet pills and stuffed her into corsets, and all the while, you and I both know, as women, that the light that shines from that dear girl has nothing to do with the shape of her nose or the straightness of her teeth. It’s that inner beauty.” Ida slipped her foot back into her pump and groaned softly. “These gosh-darned shoes make my bunions flare up. I put on slippers the second I get home.”

  “What about her mother?” Maud said. “Doesn’t she protect her from—from people who don’t have her best interests in mind?”

  “Ethel?” Ida snorted. “She sees that girl as the First Bank of Hollywood. Worst kind of stage mother. Now, her father—he was cut from a different cloth.”

  Ida was leaning back comfortably on the upholstered chaise, but Maud still sat stiffly upright, ankles crossed. “She seemed to be very fond of him.”

  “Frank Gumm was a lovely man—pretty to look at, and sweet as they come. ’Course, being the way he was didn’t make it any easi
er for them.” She dropped her voice and leaned forward as she said this, even though they were quite alone in the room.

  “The way he was?”

  She adopted a dramatic whisper. “The way I heard it, that family got chased out of town more than once. Frank Gumm owned several movie theaters, but he seemed to get on too well with the young male ushers.”

  Maud took this in.

  “Now, don’t get me wrong—nothing wrong with it, far as I can see. Just between you and me, a lot of our fans would be pretty disappointed to find out how many of our leading men prefer the gents to the ladies. Best-kept secret in Hollywood. But in Judy’s case, I think that family went through hard times—and she was so fond of that daddy of hers. She misses him, and it makes her come on too friendly to these older men. She’s looking for another daddy, but they’d rather be sugar daddies, if you catch my drift.”

  Maud nodded. “I’m afraid I do.”

  Ida slid her wristwatch around on its silver chain. “I better not stay in here too long. Somebody will be looking for me. Now, how is it that I can help you, Maud?”

  “What can be done?” Maud said. “To protect that girl? Who should I speak to? What can I do?”

  “I can sense you’re a good woman. But that’s not really how it works around here. There are thousands of girls who would trade places with Judy Garland in a heartbeat, right now, in spite of everything she endures. And there’s an army of mothers out there who would kill to have that chance for their daughters, even knowing the price it comes with. You know what I mean?”

  “I certainly do.”

  “I’m not a big fan of Ethel Gumm, but in a way you have to give her some credit. And you’ve got to give Judy credit, too. I don’t suppose they’d be better off dragging from one two-bit nightclub to the next trying to keep body and soul together.”

  “My husband and I got our start in the theater. I have an idea of what that life is like. Quite a bit different when you’re trying to feed yourself than when you’re doing it for a lark.”