Stars Over Sunset Boulevard (19 page)

August 1942

V
iolet sat on the porch step with Bert's letter in her hands. She had already read it twice, but she flattened the paper against her bent knees and read it again just to imagine his voice saying these words to her:

August 4, 1942

Dear Violet,

I am nearly finished with basic training here at Camp Wheeler and am happy to assure you I will be getting a week's leave before I am to report to my duty station. I can't wait to get home and hear the birds singing in the morning again. I never hear birds here, and the heat has been ruthless. I know you warned me what Southern summers are like, but I still cannot understand how air can feel like water.

I also found out that I won't be heading out to any place faraway—at least not soon. I am being assigned to the Fourth Infantry Division, which is posted here in Georgia at Fort Gordon. They are doing training maneuvers in the States. I don't think Fort Gordon is a place where you would want to come, though, and it's definitely not a place to bring Mother. I think the best place for you to be is with her, and she with you. Hopefully this war will be over soon, perhaps even before I go to any place outside of the States. And I can come home to you and we can pick up our lives again as if this war never happened.

I only wish God had seen fit to bless us with a baby by now, so that in my absence you would have a son or a daughter to keep you company and fill these dark days with sunshine. I still pray that someday God will grant us a child. You would be a wonderful mother, Violet.

Time for lights-out, so better sign off. I will be home before the month ends.

Love to Mother, but especially to you.

Bert

Violet traced his handwriting on the paper, missing his touch, the sound of his voice, his warm presence in her bed. Bert had been gone for more than a month already—after having been called up earlier that summer—and was learning how to do what kind souls like Bert should never have to do. In his letters he made it seem like learning to be a soldier wasn't so bad, but Violet could tell he missed her and his little photography business and his classes at the university and even taking
care of his ailing mother. She hoped that wherever he was ultimately assigned, it would be somewhere safe. There were still safe places in the world, weren't there?

She had tried to convince Bert to find a way out of enlisting. But since Pearl Harbor, every able-bodied young man in Santa Barbara was looked upon as someone who should've been gone already. He had felt compelled to sign up.

With Bert away it fell to Violet to take care of her mother-in-law, Delores. Bert's two sisters were both married now and living elsewhere, Evelyn in Seattle and Charlene in San Francisco. Delores hadn't been in the best of health when Bert and Violet relocated to Santa Barbara two years ago, and she'd only been getting worse. Violet got along fairly well with Delores, but she knew she wasn't Delores's first choice for a caregiver. She adored Bert, but he was gone. And while both of Delores's daughters had offered her a room at their respective houses, she wouldn't leave the home her husband had built for her and that contained all her memories of him. Charlene was expecting, which Delores was very happy about, and Violet was hopeful that when she finally had a grandchild to cuddle, Delores would rethink the idea of moving to San Francisco. If she moved in with Charlene and her husband, that would leave the house for Bert and Violet, and she wouldn't have minded that at all.

In the meantime, Violet saved her tin cans for the war effort, she prayed for peace, and she tried to make the house as cozy as she could for an ailing woman. She took Delores to the movies sometimes, like
Mrs. Miniver
, which Delores didn't like, and Walt Disney's
Bambi
, which made her cry. Right after Bert left, Violet saw
To Be or Not to Be
with Carole Lombard, which she enjoyed even though she went alone.

Violet often found it hard to believe she had been gone from the studio for two years. Had she and Bert stayed in Hollywood, she didn't know what she would have been doing for work. David Selznick was dissolving his company and she didn't think he even owned
Gone With the Wind
anymore. She'd read in
Variety
that a good friend of his, Jock Whitney, bought the film from him as part of the studio's liquidation.

Sometimes, that year she'd spent in Hollywood seemed like a dream, as if her new life had begun when she and Bert eloped. It had all happened so fast. She hadn't purposely not told Bert that she couldn't get pregnant; a good time to tell him had just never presented itself, and now she didn't know how to bring up the matter.

She and Bert heard from Audrey now and then. She'd been in a few plays, and in April had sent a review of her most recent one, as the critic liked her performance very much. Violet missed Audrey in ways that surprised her, even when Bert had still been home. She had made a few friends in Santa Barbara, but no one like Audrey. And despite what she had done to Audrey to win over Bert, she found herself feeling lonely for her companionship. She often wondered whether Audrey felt the same way.

The screen door behind her squeaked on rusty hinges.

“Is that a letter from Bert?”

Violet turned to nod at her mother-in-law.

“What does he say? How is he?” Delores looked longingly at the letter in Violet's hand.

Violet smiled up at her. “He says he can't wait to get home to see you. He has a week of leave coming to him when he finishes and will be here by the end of August.”

“Just a week?”

Violet was only momentarily annoyed at Delores's
hunger to see her son, when he was first and foremost Violet's husband. Delores loved Bert as much as she loved Bert. She worried for his safety like Violet did. He wasn't an hour away in glamorous Hollywood anymore. He was three thousand miles away, in a world that suddenly seemed to have turned hostile in every direction. Delores looked pale and her hand trembled as she held open the screen door. The hot afternoon sun slanting across the porch made her forehead glisten.

Violet slipped the letter into her pants pocket and rose to her feet. She took Delores's arm and guided her back inside the house. “Then we will make it a wonderful week, won't we? And guess what he told me? He's not going anywhere far away. He gets to stay in Georgia.”

“Really? Is he certain?”

“At least for now. Isn't that wonderful?”

Delores leaned into Violet as they stepped over the threshold. “I don't want him going to where the war is. He can't go there. War killed his father. You know that, don't you? He was never the same after the trenches.”

Violet ushered Delores to her favorite armchair and settled her into it. “Let's not think about that right now. Ready for some tea?”

Delores sighed audibly, picked up a wooden fan stamped with stenciled palm trees and a flamenco dancer, and began to wave it back and forth. “It's too hot for tea, Violet.”

“How about some lemonade, then?”

Delores closed her eyes. “I don't want anything from the kitchen. You get something if you want it.”

“Well, I'll just go see what I can make for us for dinner tonight, then.” Violet started to walk away.

“So, Bert said he's all right?” Delores called after her.

Violet turned back around and for a moment she considered her answer. She wanted Bert to hear that she took good care of his mother while he was away. She wanted Delores to say to him how wonderful Violet was, so thoughtful and caring. She pulled the letter out of her pants pocket and extended it toward her. “Do you want to read his letter, Delores?” she said kindly. “I don't mind.”

Delores's eyes widened. “Oh, surely you don't mean that!”

Violet took a step closer and smiled benevolently. “But I do. I wouldn't offer if I didn't. Truly.”

“But he wrote it to you. It's personal. You're . . . you're his wife.”

“He wrote nothing in this one that will embarrass either one of us, I promise.” Violet laughed.

Delores's anxiety seemed to soften and she smiled at Violet. “Maybe you can read it to me?”

“Sure.” Violet began to read aloud. She faltered when she got to Bert's longing for them to have a child and she mentally kicked herself for not skipping ahead when she got to that part. She quickened her pace to get to the line where Bert spoke of his love to his mother.

When Violet was finished she slipped the letter back into her pocket and forced a smile to her lips. She raised her gaze to look at Delores.

The woman was smiling but tears rimmed her eyes. “It doesn't seem fair that God should withhold children from Bert and you,” she murmured. “Not fair at all.”

Violet hesitated only a second before responding. “No. It doesn't.”

“Bert's right, you know. You would make a good mother, Violet. You've been taking such good care of me while he's been gone. I know it can't be easy when you
probably miss your own mother and father and wish you could spend the time that Bert is away with them.”

A stab of equal parts longing and regret poked at Violet and she involuntarily winced. “I wouldn't dream of leaving you here alone, Delores.”

Delores dropped the fan in her lap. She reached out her hand toward her daughter-in-law and Violet took a step forward to squeeze it.

The two women were silent for a moment.

Violet broke away first. She turned to head back into the kitchen. “How does bacon and eggs sound?” she called over her shoulder to Delores. “I always liked it when Mama made breakfast for supper.”

Before Delores could answer, Violet heard footsteps coming up the walkway to the front door. She turned her head toward the sound, and on the other side of the screen door a woman in heels, a full skirt, and a flowered hat was walking toward her. The visitor was backlit by a brilliant low-lying sun, which made her facial features indistinguishable as she approached.

But Violet would know that silhouette anywhere.

Half a second later Audrey came to a stop at the doorstep.

“Oh, my stars!” Violet reached for the handle on the screen door and swung it open wide.

Even before Audrey was fully inside, she was taking Violet into her arms. “It's so good to see you, Vi. I've missed you so much.” Audrey spoke the words over Violet's shoulders.

Out of the corner of her eye, Violet saw that Delores, curious, was staring at the beautiful stranger.

Audrey stepped back and held Violet at arm's length. “Let me look at you.”

The request gave Violet a moment to study Audrey as
well. She looked as lovely and enchanting as ever. Her hair was a deeper shade of brown than when Violet had last seen her. The lemon yellow, full-skirted dress was not Audrey's usual figure-hugging sheath, but it was nevertheless eye-catching and fashionable, and accented by a boxy, short-sleeved linen jacket. Ample jewelry shimmered golden at her neck, wrists, and ears. Violet was embarrassed by the plain slacks and faded cotton blouse she was wearing, and the old kerchief of Bert's that held her hair off her neck.

“Marriage agrees with you,” Audrey said, smiling.

Violet laughed nervously. “I look frightful and you know it.”

“You look happy as a clam,” Audrey replied, her tone friendly but serious. “I can see how happy you are. It wouldn't matter what you are wearing. I am sure Bert can't wait to get home to you.”

Behind them Delores had risen from her chair.

“Delores, this is Audrey Duvall.” Violet directed Audrey's attention to her mother-in-law. “Audrey's a good friend of Bert's and mine from Hollywood.”

Delores's eyes widened at once at the introduction with an unmistakable look of recognition. Violet couldn't recall mentioning Audrey's name recently to Delores. Had she? Or had she made much mention of Audrey's occasional phone calls to the house? Violet was still pondering the look when Audrey stepped forward to clasp Delores's hands in her own.

“It's so good to finally meet you, Mrs. Redmond. Bert has told me so much about you.”

“Please. Call me Delores.” The woman's eyes were still wide with wonder. “Very nice to meet you, too.”

Audrey looked from Violet to Delores and then back to Violet. There was a sudden desperation in her eyes. “I hope it's all right that I didn't call first before coming to see you.”

“Of course it's all right!” Violet replied. “I would have met you at the train station, though.”
And changed into something decent to receive a visitor.

Audrey smiled in relief. “I'm so glad! And I didn't take the train. I actually learned how to drive. I've got a car.” She nodded toward the screen door and a light green sedan that was visible across the street. “It's used but it gets me around.”

“Oh!” Violet exclaimed. “How exciting.”

“Yes,” Audrey said, but Violet detected a sudden sad undertone. Something wasn't quite right with Audrey. Whatever it was, it was the reason she was on Violet's doorstep without having called first.

“Can you stay for supper or do you have to rush right back?” Violet asked.

Audrey's gaze was still on her car parked across the street, but as she turned Violet saw a shimmering in Audrey's eyes. She was holding back tears. “I don't have to rush back.”

Something was terribly wrong. Audrey was in some kind of trouble. Violet reached out to touch Audrey's arm. “Perhaps you'd like to stay overnight? We've a guest room and we'd be happy to have you. Wouldn't we, Delores?”

“Of course,” Delores replied, still a bit taken aback by the afternoon's turn of events.

“Did you bring a suitcase, Audrey?”

Audrey nodded and forced a smile past her pursed lips.

“Here,” Violet said, leading Audrey away from the door, Delores, and the view of the little green car that had brought Audrey to her. “I'll show you the guest room, and you can set down your purse and hat.”