Looking for a Love Story (30 page)

“No,” she’d said, and relief flooded her. “No, I guess there isn’t any. Not now. But someday—”

“Today isn’t someday. Today is today,” he’d said. “And today, everything is fine. Right?”

“Right.”

But there would be a someday. Because he hadn’t said there had been no one for the past two years. In fact, he’d implied there had
been, it just hadn’t counted. But the time would come when he would want to be loved in a way that did count. And when that day came, some smart girl would see what a catch he was. And she—the smart girl—would have a whole heart to give him. She wouldn’t dream sometimes of a man with sky-blue eyes and a mop of bright blond hair who had given her red roses and a daughter who looked so very much like him. The girl would love Joe and only Joe. But in the meantime …

Joe had moved to the window to look out over the city. Being on a high floor above the other buildings was another benefit of making a larger paycheck. Ellie moved to stand behind Joe and slipped her arms around his waist. She felt his body tense as he turned around.

“Ellie, you don’t have to …”

“Yes, I do.”

He wasn’t that much taller than she was, so it was easy to reach up so he could finally kiss her after two years. And after that one kiss, the rest came all too easily too.

She learned something that night: Any woman who hoped with even the tiniest part of her brain that one man could make her forget another was doomed to disappointment. That would not change. But she also learned that she didn’t have to be madly in love to make love. There could be other feelings, like affection, warmth, and maybe even gratitude and familiarity. And those were good feelings. So from now on, she and Joe would be sleeping in the same bed. Even when they could afford a suite.

The gig as a disappointment act had been a turning point for Joe professionally. From that time on, he’d been booked into better houses and bigger cities. His reputation had built until he’d finally gotten the call to come to New York and play the Jefferson.

•   •   •

ELLIE HAD REACHED
Fifth Avenue and turned uptown; ahead of her were the spires of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. She wasn’t one who prayed in a formal way, but she always felt when she went into a church that she should have her request worked out in a little speech, as a sign of respect for the Almighty. So she stopped now to gather her thoughts and make the best possible case for Joe.

AT PASTOR’S BOARDINGHOUSE
, Joe walked to the door of Baby’s room to look in on her while she slept. She’d had a late night; even though Joe wasn’t performing until the following week, he and Ellie never went to bed before midnight, and Baby stayed up with them. If they weren’t careful she’d become a night owl who slept until noon.

Baby didn’t seem to mind that her days and nights were topsy-turvy, although sometimes Joe worried that a youngster needed a more orderly schedule than they were able to give her. And she needed space. Whenever they arrived in a new town, Ellie tried to find a park where the child could run, but when you were doing two shows a day and spending hours writing new material, there wasn’t much time for parks and playing. Baby spent most of her days in hotel rooms and dressing rooms. He and Ellie should talk about that. They should start making plans for the child’s education and her future. But he didn’t want to have that conversation. Because then he and Ellie would have to talk about their own future, and he was too afraid to do that.

Joe shook his head. This was not the time to be thinking about difficult things like his marriage, not while the Jefferson opening was looming. He and Ellie were both nervous enough already, although he hid it better than she did.

Ellie couldn’t sleep when she was wound up about something, which was why she’d gotten up early this morning and left without
telling him where she was going. He knew anyway; she was off to light a candle for him at St. Patrick’s. Ellie wasn’t a practicing Catholic. Her pa had not been a churchgoer, and she and Joe usually caught up on their rest on the Sundays when they weren’t traveling. But Ellie’s mother had taken her to mass faithfully and had believed in the power of candle-lighting. So in moments of great need—like now—Ellie turned to her mother’s tried-and-true faith.

Baby was stirring in her crib. Joe was glad she was waking up. She didn’t care that next week he’d be starting the most important engagement of his life. She didn’t know his entire future hung on it. She was going to be hungry and she’d want her breakfast.

ELLIE HAD COME
to a stop in front of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. She looked up at the lacy twin spires reaching into the sky like something out of a fairy tale, a magical place where miracles could happen. When Ellie went to church, it was because she needed miracles and magic. Perhaps that was wrong, she was sure church-going people would say so. But she was pretty sure God understood. She started up the stone steps to the heavily carved front door. She’d planned what she was going to say when she lit her candle:
Please, dear God, let Joe kill at the Jefferson
. Nice and simple.

CHAPTER 30

Joe waited while Baby struggled to put on her shoes—at three she was a determined little thing, whose favorite expression was an emphatic “Do it myself!” It could take quite a while before she’d finally turn her blue eyes up to him in a silent appeal for help. So he waited. The truth was, her independent streak gave him a kick. She was so like her mother.

After she was dressed, Joe took her hand, and together they walked to a coffee shop called Neely’s on the corner of Broadway and Forty-fifth. Mrs. Pastor served a full breakfast at the boardinghouse, but this morning he was feeling antsy and wanted to go out.

Neely’s was cheap and good, and it catered to a show-business crowd of managers, bookers, and performers who worked in all areas of the industry: variety, vaudeville, and legit. The place was open from 6
A.M.
until after midnight—and Neely could be talked
into staying open later if a show had opened and the performers wanted to continue celebrating after the cast party had ended.

Having breakfast at a theatrical watering hole was not what Joe would have chosen to do if he’d known of another place to go. At some point while he was downing his coffee, he knew some well-meaning soul would congratulate him on his upcoming engagement at the Jefferson, and his nerves would tighten even more. However, he ran the same risk at the boardinghouse. Gossip was a favorite pastime in show business.

Joe pushed open the glass door with
Neely’s
written in gold and black cursive across the middle and walked inside. “Chocolate ice cream?” Baby asked, as they waited to be seated. She’d recognized the place from a previous visit when she’d devoured a double scoop. She was such a bright little thing! And she was growing up so fast soon they’d have to stop calling her Baby and find a new nickname for her. “No ice cream morning,” Joe told her. “How about some flapjacks?”

Suddenly, he was aware that someone was watching them. He turned to encounter the sky-blue eyes that matched those of the little girl whose hand he was holding. Benny was sitting at a table with three of the biggest bookers in the business. Benny was now one of their number; he’d finally climbed to the position of power he’d always wanted.

Now he was staring at Baby. Joe watched Benny’s face go white and his eyes darken as if he was stunned by what he was seeing. It couldn’t have been news to Benny that Joe and Ellie had married and she had had a child; thanks to the show-biz grapevine he’d have heard about that. But the similarity between himself and the little girl must have been a shock—particularly for a man with Benny’s large ego. Sensing a danger he couldn’t articulate, Joe pulled Baby toward the door of the coffee shop.

“No,” she protested. “Flapjacks!”

“We’ll get some from Mrs. Pastor,” Joe urged. “You like her flapjacks.”

She agreed, bless her, and they were able to leave. He felt Benny watch them go.

JOE AND BABY
were sitting in the boarding house dining room when Ellie came back. Baby was trying to eat a flapjack and was happily smearing herself with maple syrup, but Joe’s soft-boiled egg had congealed in the shell untouched. Swallowing food was an impossibility.

“You’re back,” he said as Ellie bustled up to the table and sat down.

“I went to St. Patrick’s.” She threw a quick look at him and another at his uneaten breakfast. “I lit three candles for you in the Lady Chapel.”

“You think I need that much help? Thanks a lot.”

“Oh, good,” she said cheerfully. “The candles are already working.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“When you’re grouchy before a performance, you always knock ’em dead.”

Joe didn’t tell her that his bad mood had nothing to do with knocking them dead at the Jefferson. He didn’t mention the near encounter he’d had with Benny at the coffee shop. He told himself it was because he didn’t want to upset her, but he knew that this wasn’t the real reason. Ellie had never gotten the man out of her system; that was why Joe was afraid to talk about their future. Sometimes he thought it was a stubbornness in her makeup—she had given Benny her whole heart, and she refused to accept the fact that it wasn’t enough. But at other times Joe thought maybe there was something in all those songs that said that each of us has
only one true love. Maybe Benny
was
the only one for Ellie, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. It was the kind of sentimental notion he usually found silly, but there had to be some explanation for the way Ellie clung to her memories.

In the beginning, Joe had hoped that time would do the trick. Once she was away from Benny, she’d realize how deeply selfish he was—and Joe would be right there, working and living with her and helping her to raise her child. Proximity and time would bring her to her senses. And for a moment it had seemed as if that was what had happened. When Ellie put her arms around him and reached up for their first kiss, he’d thought he’d won her. But he’d realized quickly that he hadn’t. Perhaps it was her stubbornness—or perhaps the love songs were right and Benny was the only man for her.

There were times when Joe told himself he was through. He couldn’t go on like this; he didn’t need this woman who was still hanging on to a dream. But then she’d wake up at the crack of dawn to light candles for him at St. Patrick’s, and he’d know he wasn’t through at all. At such moments, he’d have to ask himself if he was the stubborn one.

And there was Baby—his little girl. She
was
his; to hell with what anyone said. But if people were to see her standing next to Benny—or, worse, if Ellie were to decide that she wanted to end the marriage—how could he live without that child?

Baby was sitting next to him, and as if she could read his thoughts she gave him a smile that was sticky with maple syrup. And he knew that he could go on like this. He could do it forever if he had to.

“Thank you for lighting the candles,” he said to Ellie. He was going to put the near run-in with Benny out of his mind. It had to happen eventually. At least they’d gotten the first encounter out of the way.

CHAPTER 31

After breakfast, Ellie and Joe took Baby to Central Park. “We might as well let her play outdoors as much as we can now,” Ellie said to Joe. “When we start working she’ll be cooped up again.” By the time they went back to the boardinghouse, the daily mail had already been delivered. Joe brought Baby upstairs while Ellie went into Mrs. Pastor’s parlor to see if she and Joe had gotten any letters.

“There, nothing from the post office, but there is a note for you,” the landlady said. “A boy brought it over from the Keith office.”

“It must be for Joe.” She felt a little pinprick of apprehension. The Keith organization had promised that one of its bookers would be catching Joe’s act at the Jefferson. Had something happened and the man wasn’t coming …? She closed her eyes and tried not to think about the past three years of brutal hard work.
If the Keith scout doesn’t show, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand it
, she thought.