Looking for a Love Story (28 page)

“We need to start on the monologue for tonight,” he’d said. “I’ll do yesterday’s material at the matinee, since we’re busy this morning.”

She’d wanted to reach across the table and slap him. She’d wanted to tell him she was sorry if being “busy” marrying her was getting in the way of his damn work. She wanted to break down and cry because this was not the way it should be for a girl on her wedding day.

But it wasn’t a real wedding day. She and Joe were simply taking care of a problem. And he was doing her a big, big favor. She had no right to be angry. So she’d grabbed half the newspaper, said brightly, “The show must go on,” and started skimming the front page. By the time they had to leave for the courthouse, they’d written half the monologue.

The justice of the peace who pronounced them man and wife had cut himself when he’d shaved that morning. Their witnesses
were two strangers the town clerk rounded up for them because they hadn’t known they’d need any. After they’d muttered their I do’s, she and Joe had kissed like a brother and sister being forced to be affectionate at a family party. She didn’t have a bouquet, and there wasn’t anyone playing music. They were back out on the street in twenty minutes. That was how long her wedding had lasted from start to finish—twenty minutes. Then she and Joe had stood in front of the courthouse and stared at each other.

All she could think about was Benny. If she’d been marrying Benny, he would have found a way to make it a happy day. He would have laughed because the justice of the peace had a bandage on his chin. He would have given her a red rose. In spite of the nasty little ceremony, he would have found a way to make her heart sing.

“I’m not hungry yet, are you?” Joe’s voice had broken into her thoughts.

“No, we just finished breakfast,” she’d said.

Benny would have arranged for a grand lunch of lobster and champagne. At the very least, he would have grabbed her hand and run with her to the ice cream shop across the New Haven green to buy her a hot fudge sundae.

But Joe had seemed relieved that she didn’t want him to make a fuss. “If we go back to the hotel and get to work right now, maybe I can still do the new monologue at the matinee,” he’d said. She had looked at her husband—the kind, matter-of-fact man who had been so very good to her—and thought,
He’ll never make my heart sing
.

But that night, after the show was over, she found she was grateful for Joe’s matter-of-fact personality. Because they had to start living in the same room. This was something they had agreed on.

“We don’t have to make any big announcements about getting
married,” Joe had said. “That way no one can really trace back the date, if …”

“If anyone counts the months before the baby is born.” Ellie had finished his thought.

“You’ll just start using my name and we’ll share a room and people will figure it out.”

That was the way he’d said it—casually, as if it was going to be the easiest thing in the world for them to sleep in the same small room. But he was right. If they wanted to make the marriage look right, they had to live together.

So on the night after the hurry-up ceremony at the courthouse in New Haven, she had taken her suitcase into Joe’s room. And she had tried not to look at the single bed that sat in the middle of it, because she was afraid her teeth would start chattering if she did.

Joe had said calmly, “I can take the bed apart, and one of us can have the mattress and one can have the pillows and the rest of the bedding, if you like—but I don’t think it’ll be comfortable, and we’ll have to put it back together in the morning before the maid comes in. Or we can share the bed and stay on our own sides. I’m pretty good at that. I had three brothers, and there was only one bed for all of us when I was growing up.”

“Florrie, Dot, and I slept together too,” she’d said, and somehow discussing it made her feel less cold and shaky.

“Then we’re old hands at this.” And he’d picked up his night clothes and started for the door. “I’ll change in the bathroom down the hall,” he’d said. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Will that be long enough for you?”

“Yes,” she’d said. “That will be fine.”

And it had been. She’d gone to sleep and hadn’t bumped into Joe once all night.

The next morning she’d been relieved, and it wasn’t just because sleeping in the same bed with Joe had not turned out to be
too much of a problem. Ever since Joe had offered to marry her, she’d lain awake nights, worrying that, in spite of everything he’d said and the unromantic way he behaved, he did have feelings for her. She’d told herself she wasn’t going to think about it, but she couldn’t stop. Because if Joe did have feelings for her, and she didn’t have any for him, marrying him would be the cruelest kind of selfishness. But if she didn’t marry him, what about her baby? Round and round her mind had gone, night after night. And in her heart she was still hoping—and praying—that the baby’s real father would come back, and that would solve everything.

But after that terrible little ceremony, she could stop hoping and doubting. She had to trust Joe when he said that this was what he wanted, and she had to stop torturing herself with questions, because there was no turning back. They were married; it was done. She was grateful for the finality. She’d felt bruised in those days, as if her spirit had been in some kind of violent accident and was trying to recover. Through the pain she’d been aware of only two things—she was going to have a baby, and in spite of everything she was still in love with the baby’s father.

Ellie closed her eyes again and let the sunshine play on her face. She’d let Joe sleep a little longer before she started back toward the hotel.

AT THE HOTEL
, Joe woke up and looked around. Once again, Ellie had taken Baby outside so he could get his rest. He leaned back on the pillows. It touched him that Ellie watched out for him like that. He’d never been sure how she felt about him; he still wasn’t. She was grateful to him for getting her out of a bind, that much he knew, but was there anything more? In the beginning he’d known there wasn’t. He remembered the way she’d stood there in front of the courthouse in New Haven after their sad little
wedding conducted by the justice of the peace who was hung over. Joe had wanted to tell her then that she deserved better than this. He’d wanted to buy her a bouquet of flowers to hold, and he’d wanted to take her someplace nice for a big lunch. But he’d known this wasn’t a happy day for her. She wasn’t a joyful bride marrying the man she loved, and it seemed to him that he’d be rubbing salt in her wounds if he tried to pretend otherwise. Besides, to do it under the circumstances would make him feel foolish. So they’d gone back to the hotel to work. Because work was something they could always share.

But that night when Ellie had come into his room, he’d almost called off the whole marriage. She’d walked in carrying her suitcase and she’d put it down on the floor and stared at him with eyes full of fear. This beautiful girl with the strawberry-blond hair was looking at him as if he were some kind of monster. And he’d wanted to yell at her,
I bet you didn’t look like this when you were getting into Benny’s bed. I bet you were smiling then!
But then he remembered the way she’d looked the first night he’d seen her, when her drunken father hit her, and he remembered how she’d looked when she realized Benny had walked out because she wouldn’t abort her baby. At sixteen she’d known very little kindness in her life, and now she was all alone in a bedroom with a man who was in many ways a stranger. And, stupid as it was, she still loved the man who had deserted her. Joe had wanted to put his arms around her and tell her she would be all right. But that would only scare her more. So instead he’d talked some nonsense about sleeping arrangements and asked her how long she’d like him to stay out of the room while she changed into her night clothes. And then he’d spent the whole night wide awake and hanging on to his side of the mattress so he wouldn’t roll over and touch her by accident.

Joe shook his head and leaned back on his pillow. He’d wanted to take care of Ellie that night because she was afraid, and at the
same time he’d wanted to shake her for being such a little fool about Benny—and he’d wanted to kiss her. If he lived to be a million years old, he would never understand why he felt the way he did about Ellie.

THE SUNSHINE ON
the boardwalk was getting too warm. There was a grove of trees in the park across from the beach where Ellie was sitting with Baby. She stood up and began pushing the carriage. The little girl was still sleeping, which was a blessing. She was tiny, but Ellie could see changes in her already. She was growing up fast—too fast. Sometimes Ellie wished she could turn back the clock to the day the child was born and make it stop there.

ELLIE’S DAUGHTER HAD
been born in a small town called Millertown. It sat on the Hudson River, near the railroad line from New York City to Albany, and Joe had seen it for the first time when he and Benny were traveling to a booking upstate. There was an apartment building with a view of the river that had caught his eye from the train window, so the next time Masters and George were between gigs, he’d gone to Millertown to rest for a few days. He’d discovered a first-class diner across the street from the train station, a pretty park, and friendly people, and later he’d remembered the town when he and Ellie were making plans. On top of all its other good points, Millertown had a small but well-equipped hospital where she could have her child.

Ellie had been afraid that Joe might say she should stay with her sister Florrie and her horrid husband and have the child in New York while he continued working on the road. And she couldn’t have done that. Because New York was rapidly becoming Benny George’s town. He was making a name for himself as a booking
agent and people were already saying he was going to be one of the men who could make or break a career. Given the incestuous nature of their business, Ellie would have run into him sooner or later, and she knew she couldn’t have taken it—not while she was carrying the child he’d wanted her to get rid of.

But the subject of New York never came up when she and Joe were making their plans. Joe said he couldn’t do the act without her to help him, so they’d both lay off until the child was born. They settled in Millertown, in an apartment in the pretty building overlooking the Hudson River, and Joe had stayed with Ellie as they waited for the birth together.

It had been a strange time, Ellie thought, when she looked back on it; in some ways it had been like a vacation. Their days had taken on a peaceful pattern that she had never before known. They had made friends with the elderly couple who owned the diner and eaten there every Sunday. Ellie had discovered a library in the center of town, and for the first time in her life she had the leisure to read books. It wasn’t a life she could imagine living forever; eventually she knew she’d want to get back to the hustle and bustle of the road and show business, but for a while there was something soothing about it. She got to know Joe better during those long lazy days. She learned that, in spite of his fast mind, there was a part of him that was delighted by simple things. He liked the local band that played—badly out of tune—in the park gazebo on Saturday nights. He could watch the river for hours on end and always see something new.

During that time, Ellie was almost able to forget that she and Joe weren’t an ordinary married couple—and that the child she was carrying wasn’t his. And if every once in a while she did remember, and wondered once again if Joe was in love with her, she pushed those thoughts aside. Joe seemed content with this bargain he’d made; making herself miserable with doubts and guilt would
be a terrible way to thank him. Instead, she’d tried to find little ways to show him how grateful she was—like making his coffee exactly the way he liked it and taking it to him in the morning. And not asking questions. And being content herself.

Then her daughter was born. The nurse put her in Ellie’s arms, and for a second Ellie felt her heart stop, because the infant was so clearly Benny’s. Even her tiny head was covered with a soft yellow down that was going to turn into his golden mop. Without meaning to, Ellie tensed when Joe was brought in to see “his” child. She watched the nurse hand her to him—because of all those brothers and sisters he was far more expert at holding an infant than Ellie had been—and braced herself as he looked at the child’s telltale hair. She told herself she’d understand if Joe turned away or handed her back. She reminded herself that Joe had agreed to give Benny’s child a name, but loving her had never been a part of the arrangement. Ellie told herself she didn’t expect that of him.

Joe had looked into the tiny face, then he’d stroked the little head covered with the golden fuzz that was going to be just like Benny’s. “Like a little bird,” he’d murmured. He’d turned to Ellie. “We can name her Eleanor, after you, or we could name her Joanna, after me.”

Ellie had not cried since the pains had started the night before, because she’d been determined to be strong through this ordeal she’d brought on herself. But that was when she started to sob.

ELLIE HAD REACHED
the steps. Pulling the stroller up them had been hard, but getting it back down was going to be even harder. It was too heavy to roll down, and too big to lift. She looked at her watch; the time had flown. Joe would be waking now, and they needed to get to work as soon as he’d had his morning coffee.

•   •   •

JOE GOT OUT
of bed and turned to look at the corner of the room where Baby slept. He liked to see her there when he woke up, and he missed her when she was gone. From the beginning he’d been her willing slave … well, almost from the beginning. There had been one bad moment the first time he’d held her and really looked at her. Even then, tiny as she was, she was unmistakably Benny’s child. Joe had thought about the years ahead when she’d grow to look more and more like his former partner, and he’d wondered how that would feel.

But then he’d seen that Ellie was watching him. She’d turned away fast and tried to look tough, like she didn’t care, which was what she always did when she was afraid of being hurt. At the same moment, the infant in his arms had shifted. She was so small and defenseless. And it was because of him that her mother had been able to keep her. So even if he wasn’t her father, she was his. Somehow Ellie had read his mind, because the tough look had faded from her eyes. It wasn’t until he started suggesting names that she had started to cry.