“There are a lot of places I'd like to take you … Paris … Venice … Cannes…. Now that the war is over, we can go anywhere we want.”
She laughed, at his words and shook her head as she set down her glass. “You really are spoiled, my friend, aren't you? One of us has to work at least. I can't just go off halfway around the world.”
“Why not?”
“The studio wouldn't let me. After this movie, my agent is going to renew my contract, and I'm sure they'll keep me pretty busy for a long, long time.”
Ward's eyes lit up like Christmas and he stared at Faye. “You mean after this movie, your contract is over?” She nodded her head, amused at his reaction. “Hallelujah, baby! Why don't you take a year off?”
“Are you crazy? I might as well give it up for good, Ward. I can't just do that.”
“I don't know why not. You're one of the biggest stars they've got, for heaven's sake. You don't think you could take a year off and pick up exactly where you left off?”
“I doubt it.”
“Don't believe that for a second, Faye Price. You could walk out and come back anytime you want.”
“That's quite a risk, Ward. I wouldn't play games like that with my career.”
He watched her with serious eyes. Things were happening much faster than either of them had expected. “It's the fork in the road again, isn't it, Faye? … Which road do you really want to follow? The old one? Or the other one we talked about … marriage and babies … stability … and a real life….” She walked away from him and stared out into her garden, saying nothing, and when she turned around, he saw that there were tears in her eyes. But more than anything she looked angry, and he was startled.
“I want you to stop that, Ward.”
“Stop what?” He hadn't intended to upset her and he was shocked at her reaction.
“Stop torturing me with this nonsense. We hardly know each other. We're strangers. For all I know, by next week, you'll be involved with some little starlet, or Rita Hayworth, or someone else. I've worked like a dog to get where I am, and I'm not ready to give it up yet. Maybe I never will be. But I'm sure not going to do it for some half-crazy ex-GI fresh off the boat from the war, who thinks he's been in love with me for two years because he talked to me for a while when I was on tour. You don't throw your whole life away for that, Ward Thayer. And I don't give a damn how rich you are, or how carefree, or if you've never worked a day in your life. I have. I've worked every day of my life since I turned eighteen, and I don't intend to stop now. I got here, and I'm staying here, until I know it's safe to walk away from it.” He was interested in the word she had chosen … “safe” … and she was right. She had worked hard to get where she wanted, and now that she was there, she would have been crazy to throw it all away. But in time he would show her that he meant everything he was saying … if she would listen. “I don't want to hear that stuff anymore.” The tears were spilling down her cheeks now. “If you want to see me, fine. Take me to dinner. Dance with me. Make me laugh. But don't ask me to throw away my career for a stranger, however much I might like him, however much I may care …” and with that a sob broke from her, and she turned her back to him again, her shoulders shaking in the exquisite evening dress by Trigère. He went quickly toward her and put his arms around her, holding her close to him, her back against his chest, his face nestled in her silky hair.
“You'll always be safe with me, babe … always … I promise. But I understand what you're saying. I didn't mean to scare you. I just got so excited … I couldn't help it.” He turned her slowly to face him, and his heart tore when he saw her face wet with tears. “Oh Faye …” He crushed her to him, and then crushed his lips on hers, and instead of pulling back, every inch of her reached toward him. She needed the comfort he had to offer, needed something she saw in him, wanted him more than she had ever wanted any man before.
They kissed for what seemed like hours, his hands caressing her back, his lips seeking her mouth, her face, her eyes, her hands on his neck, and then touching his face as she kissed him, feeling relief from the fear and anger she had felt only moments before. She was crazy about this man, and she was not yet sure why. Except that perhaps she believed what he told her, that she would be safe with him … always … he offered her a protection she had never had. Not with her parents during the Depression, or on her own, or with the other men she had known. And it wasn't just the money. It was his outlook, his lifestyle, his certainty that he lived in a perfect, carefree world. And it was obvious that he adored her. They had to tear themselves from each other an hour later, in order to avoid an incident that neither of them wanted yet. He knew that Faye was not yet ready, and would always have regretted succumbing to him so soon. And he had to leave her, for fear that he might lose control. He wanted to take her on the floor of her study, in front of the fire, or upstairs in the silky white bedroom, or in her bathtub … or on the stairs … anywhere … his whole body keened for hers, but he knew he couldn't have her so soon. And when they met the next night, the agony was even sweeter, as their lips met instantly, and they spent an hour in his Duesenberg, beyond her gates, kissing like two children, and then laughing as he drove her to the Biltmore Bowl.
There was a big party being held there, and the photographers went wild when they saw them. But this time, Faye didn't seem to resist it. In four brief days, she knew that there was no running away from Ward Thayer. She didn't know where their romance would lead, but she wasn't going to fight it anymore. She had worn her floor-length white fox coat to the party, over a black and white satin gown. She looked absolutely exquisite as they walked in, with her hand tucked into Ward's arm. She looked up at him warmly for an instant, and he smiled at her, just as the photographers approached them, and they had a field day with Ward and Faye for the rest of the night. But as promised, he got her home early. The late nights were beginning to wear on her in the morning. But Vance Saint George arrived on the set so late every day that she usually had time to take a nap.
“Did you have fun?” He looked down at her, as she rested her head on his shoulder as they drove home. “I thought it wasn't a bad party.” It had been to promote a new movie, and all the big names had been there.
“I thought it was fun too.” She was beginning to enjoy their nightly outings even more than she had at first. “If I just didn't have this damn movie to do, I could really have some fun.”
He laughed at her and tugged at a lock of the golden hair. “See, that's why I told you not to renew your contract the other night. This is fun, isn't it?”
“It's habit-forming. But I'm a working girl, Ward.” She tried to look at him disapprovingly, but they both laughed.
“That's your choice, but you can choose differently any time you decide to.” He looked meaningfully at her and she didn't answer, and when they reached her house, he kissed her passionately on the tips again, and this time he had to fight himself not to carry her upstairs. “I'm going.” He said it in a voice of anguished desperation, and she kissed him once more in the doorway. The delicious torture went on for weeks, until finally late one Sunday afternoon in October, a month after their courtship had begun, they were walking in her garden, talking about the war, and other subjects. She had the afternoon off from shooting, and Arthur and Elizabeth were off for the weekend. There was a feeling of peace between them as they wandered. She had been telling him about her childhood, her parents, her desperation to leave Pennsylvania, the initial excitement of modeling in New York, and then finally the boredom, and then she confessed that at times it was still that way for her now.
“It's as though there's something more I could be doing … with my mind … not just my face or my lines. I don't want to just memorize other people's lines for the rest of my life.”
It was an interesting confession and it intrigued him. “What would you rather do, Faye? Write?” As usual, he was aching for her body, but there was nothing he could do about it. At least they were alone for a change. She was
n't rushing to or from work, Arthur wasn't hovering in the doorway with tray in hand, and they weren't going to a party. They were growing hungry for time alone and she had offered to cook him dinner that night. They had spent a lovely afternoon, lazing around the pool, and then wandering in the garden. “Would you like to write a screenplay?” He turned to her and smiled at her expression. She looked frightened at the thought as she shook her head.
“I don't think I could do that.”
“What then?”
“Directing … one day …” She barely breathed the words. It was quite an ambition for a woman, and he didn't know of any who had directed movies before.
“Do you suppose anyone would let you?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I doubt it. Nobody believes a woman could do that. But I know I could. Sometimes when I watch Saint George on the set these days, I just want to scream, I know what I want to have him do … how I would direct him … the instructions I would give him. He's such a simple-minded fool, you have to bring it down to the kind of emotions he can relate to, and believe me,” she looked painfully at Ward and rolled her eyes, “they're damn few.”
Ward smiled at her and picked a bright red flower to tuck behind her ear. “Have I told you lately that I think you're amazing?”
“Not for at least an hour.” She smiled appreciatively up at him. “You spoil me, you know. No one's ever been as good to me as you are.” She looked genuinely happy and he couldn't resist the urge to tease her. They had a comfortable easy way about them that they both enjoyed.
“Not even Gable?”
“Stop that.” She made a face at him and ran past him, as he chased her, and then suddenly he caught up to her and grabbed her, and they were kissing in an arbor, and suddenly all the breathlessness they both felt overwhelmed them, and Ward felt he couldn't bear to take his hands or lips from her again. It was almost painful when at last he tore himself away.
“It's not easy, you know.” He looked agonized as they walked slowly back to the house and she nodded. It wasn't easy for her either. But she didn't want to make a mistake with Ward. He had made his intentions clear to her right from the beginning, and it was too dangerous to play games with that. He wanted everything from her, her career, her body, her children, her life. He wanted her to give everything up for him … and at times it was almost tempting to her. Lately she had even told her agent not to rush into the next contract, although he thought she was crazy. But she said she needed time to think, and it was growing more and more difficult to think when Ward was near her.
“You make me crazy too, you know.” She whispered as they went up the pink marble steps and into her study, but it looked so bleak there, so stuffy and much too formal. She went to make them both a cup of tea and then suggested they move to her sitting room upstairs. It was small and warm and cozy, and Ward lit a fire, although they didn't really need it. But it was pretty, and they sat side by side admiring the blaze. “I've had an offer to do a wonderful movie.” She told him, but there was no excitement in her voice as she said it, and she wasn't sure she wanted to do it at all. In fact, her agent had been furious at her indecision.
“Who's in it?”
“No one yet, but they have some awfully good possibilities.”
“Do you want to do it?” He didn't sound upset, he was only asking but she took a long time to answer as she stared into the fire.
“I just don't know.” She looked up at him, feeling contented and at peace with life. “You make me awfully lazy, Ward.”
“What's wrong with that?” He nuzzled his face into her neck, and began to kiss her with one hand lazily sculpting her breast. She gently touched his hand, wanting to push away his fingers, but it felt too good. She had no desire to push him away, hadn't since they'd met, and yet it seemed wiser … wiser … suddenly all she could feel were those delicious burning fingers, their mouths met, and a passion rose in them both that was difficult to quell. They never seemed to come up for air, as her skirt rose slowly past her knees, and his hand found her thighs. Her whole body trembled as his hand moved up, and then suddenly he moved away. Breathless, anguished, he looked at her, and held her face in both his hands. “Faye … I can't … I've got to go …” He couldn't stop himself any longer, he wanted her too badly, had for much too long. He looked at her with tears in his eyes, and then he kissed her, just once more, and it was the moment that decided both their futures. The way she kissed him told him that she didn't want him to go, and then silently she stood up and led him across the hall to the spectacular white bedroom, and without waiting a moment longer, he lay her across the white fox-covered bed. He peeled her clothes from her, devouring her flesh, murmuring to her in whispers, as her fingers gently disentangled him from his clothes, and moments later, they lay side by side, naked, enveloped in the rich white fur, and then suddenly they were engulfed in each other's bodies, and neither of them thought of resisting or being sensible anymore. Faye shouted out for him with a passion that overwhelmed her, and Ward lay within her, his excitement far beyond control. They spent themselves in what would have looked like agony to strangers, and was the purest passion either of them had ever known. And as she lay silent at last, in the circle of his arms, the white fur bedspread soft beneath them, he looked down at her with a love he had never known before.
“Faye, I love you more than life itself.”
“Don't say that….” His passion frightened her sometimes. He loved her so much … what if one day it stopped? She couldn't have stood it. She knew that now.
“Why not? It's true.”
“I love you too.” She looked up at him with a sated smile, and he bent to kiss her once more, and it amazed him how quickly his body begged for her again, and how hungrily she reached for him, and they made love in her bed for hours, never able to get enough, to make up for the years when they had done without each other. It was as though they had waited for this for much, much too long.
“Now what, my love?” He sat on the edge of her bed at midnight, smiling at her as she rose slowly, stretched, and smiled down at the man she so richly loved.
“How about a bath?” And then suddenly she remembered, and covered her mouth with a look of horror. “Oh my God, I forgot to give you dinner.”
“No, you didn't.” He pulled her toward him again. “This suited me just fine.” She blushed faintly and he smoothed the long blond hair back from her face, and then followed her to the white marble bathroom. She filled the tub with warm soapy water, and they slid in together, his feet tickling her in subtle places, as he nibbled on her toes. “I asked you a question a little while ago.”
She frowned slightly, unable to remember. “What was it?”
“I asked you ‘now what?’”
She smiled at him mysteriously. “And I said, ‘a bath.’”
“Cute. But you know what I mean. I don't just want to have an affair with you, Faye.” He looked faintly troubled, and at the same time extremely pleased with the evening they had just spent together in her bed. “Although, I must admit, it's tempting. But I think you deserve more.” She said nothing. She only watched him, her heart beating faster. “Will you marry me, Miss Price?”
“No.” She suddenly stood up, and he looked shocked. It was a rapid refusal as she stepped out of the tub.
“Where are you going?”
She turned to look at him, magnificent in her naked beauty in the center of the white marble bathroom. “I will not tell my children that their father proposed to me in the bathtub. How can I tell them something like that?” He began laughing as he looked at her in amusement.
“No problem.” He leapt out of the tub, swept her up in his arms, and deposited her soaking wet on the white fox bedspread once more, as he knelt at her feet and looked up at her with blatant adoration. “Will you please marry me, my love?”
She grinned at him, impish, happy, yet at the same time terrified at what she was doing. But she knew she had no choice now. It was not just because she had s
lept with him. But it was what she wanted, “the other road” … the good life … marriage and babies with him … and with him, she was brave enough to do it. For her, it meant giving everything up, but she didn't care. “Yes.” It was the merest whisper, and he crushed his lips on hers before she could change her mind, and when they came up for air they were both laughing with delight and excitement.
“Do you mean it, Faye?” He had to be sure … had to … before he went totally berserk and gave her the world.
“Yes. I do … yes … yes … yes … yes!”
“I love you. Oh God, I love you.” He crushed her to him, and she laughed as he held her close to him. She was happier than she had ever been before, and then suddenly he looked at her, grinning, his blond hair tousled, his eyes the purest sapphires as he smiled. “Tell me something, do you have to tell your children what you were wearing when I proposed? If you do, you're in big trouble, Mrs. Thayer.”
“Oh dear … I didn't think of that.” She laughed as he held her, and a moment later, he was beside her on the bed again. It was hours before they reached the bathtub again, and they had to fill it with more hot water. By then it was almost four o'clock in the morning and Faye knew she wouldn't sleep before she went to work. Instead, they sat in the bathtub for an hour, talked about their plans, their lives, their secret, when they would make the announcement. They giggled over how shocked everyone would be, not that they were getting married, but that she was giving up her career. And as she said it, she felt a tremor, but it was more excitement than panic. She realized now that secretly, deep within, she had thought about this a great deal. She had always known what Ward wanted from her, and how much he wanted to give her. She regretted nothing now, and suspected that she never would. What was she giving up? A career she had enjoyed, but she had already reached the summit. She had won one Oscar, considerable acclaim, and had made a dozen interesting films. It was time to go now. She had another life to live. A life she wanted more than making movies. She lay back in the bathtub, smiling at her future husband, feeling something she had never felt before. A confidence, a peace, a certainty that she had chosen the right road.
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