The Memoir of Johnny Devine (22 page)

“
And then along came the
new landlord.” She smiled, secretly admiring his profile from where
she stood—a perfect vantage point.

John nodded. “The truth is, I didn’t want to
live here. I wanted to get much farther away from L.A. But due to a
falling-out between my father and his, I never knew my
grandparents. I felt it was my duty to make amends by carrying out
her dying wish.” He shrugged. “So this is it. A big old house and a
couple of ancient hired hands is all that’s left of the Vincent
family. It seemed the right thing to do. Besides, by then things
had changed drastically for me. But I’m getting ahead of the
story.”

Yes, he was, and that
wouldn’t do. Not that she didn’t want to hear the rest of his
story; she just wanted to stretch out the telling
of it
for as long as
possible.

“
Say, if you’re
interested, I might have a few pictures of Millie and Duncan when
they were younger.”

“
Oh yes
.
I’d love to see them.”

He went into the sitting room, then returned
a few minutes later with a soft, leathery-looking book. He sat down
and opened it on his table. “Bet you’ll never guess who this
is.”

Eliza looked over his shoulder at a picture
of a man cutting grass using a long-handled tool with a blade at
the bottom. “Duncan? Didn’t they have push mowers in those
days?”

John huffed out a laugh. “Yes. Millie told
me that my granddad owned several, but Duncan refused to use them.
His father was a chief groundskeeper in Ireland.” John switched to
an Irish brogue. “And what’s good enough for me da is good enough
for me.”

Eliza chuckled.

He turned the pages and stopped again. “This
is my father as a young man.” John studied the picture so long that
Eliza suspected he’d become lost in a memory and forgot she was
there. John’s father was also quite a looker.

She smiled at the strong family
resemblance.

He turned the page. “Ah. Here’s Millie.”

Eliza leaned closer to get a better look.
The picture was terribly faded, but the petite woman, who looked to
be about Eliza’s age, was unmistakably Millie. She had that same
upward tilt to her chin that Eliza had come to love. “She’s such a
strong, wise woman,” Eliza said softly. “I so admire that about
her.”

John turned slightly toward her, inhaling
slow and deep.

Eliza froze. The man had no idea what his
nearness did to her. And unless she wanted to lose her job, he
could never know.

He turned toward her a little more.

She could feel his eyes on her cheek, like
heat grazing her skin. Against her better judgment, she looked at
his face.

Slowly, John’s gaze rose until it met hers.
The air between them stilled. Something in his eyes took hold of
her, made it impossible to breathe.

Move. Now!

She stepped back and nearly stumbled into
the fireplace. What a fool, putting herself in such a spot, getting
so close to him.

What was she thinking? What must he
think?

She gathered her wits and scurried back to
her seat, stunned by the intensity of her feelings. Feelings she
needed to extinguish immediately, before her heart got burned.

I
remember thinking that my father and brother died to give us
freedom, and this is what I do with it. Work hard to make people
believe a hopeless illusion.

~
The Devine Truth: A Memoir

The bus
ride to Richmond Heights on Thanksgiving gave Eliza plenty of
time to count her blessings. She had her health. Her rent was paid
up, and she’d been socking away money for the in-between times. She
had a job with a shot at some extra work if the movie deal worked
out.

Then she spent the rest of the trip stewing
about the possibility of spending more time with John. The sooner
she distanced herself from John David Vincent, the better off she
would be.

Easier said than done.

God, can You help me? The way I feel about
John needs to stop. It’s pointless, not to mention completely
absurd, and will only leave me crushed when the work is finished. I
can’t continue entertaining these feelings.

It was time to tell Betty about her
situation. Eliza didn’t care how her sister took the news. In fact,
the more violent her reaction, the better. Eliza needed all the
help she could get.

Ed Cunningham met Eliza at the bus stop and
drove her home in his new Packard. As they approached the house,
Betty waited in the doorway, Sue Ellen and Eddie Jr. peering out
from either side.

“
Darling, so good of you
to come,” Betty said in her cheeriest voice. She spied the bouquet
in Eliza’s hand. “Daisies, how simple.” She gave her an almost-kiss
on the cheek. Then she stepped back and examined Eliza’s pale-blue
dress and pearls with an approving nod. “And gloves.
Perfect.”

Eliza waggled her fingers at Sue Ellen.
“Better safe than sorry.”

Eddie Jr. squeezed around his mother.
“Auntie Liza! I got the latest model in the Heavy Bomber series.
It’s a Boeing B-29 Superfortress. Wanna see it?”

“
Eddie Jr., what have I
told you about hounding guests with your airplanes the minute they
walk in the door?” Betty tsked.

Eliza smiled at her nephew. “I’d love to see
it.”

Eddie Jr. tugged her by the hand and led her
to his room down the hall, chattering the entire way about the
different kinds of bombers. In his bedroom, model airplanes of
various sizes covered the bureau, the windowsill, and the
nightstand. The newest one was in late stages of assembly on his
desk.

With a smile, Eliza glanced around the room
as her nephew showed her his newest acquisition, describing it in
detail. Not a thing in the room was out of place, which was no
surprise. She studied the airplane. “So this bomber was used a lot
during the war?”

“
Yep. My pal Jack only has
the light bombers, but the heavies have the most power and can fly
the farthest. Look at this.”

As Eddie took a different one down from the
bureau, a framed photo beside the model plane caught her eye. Eliza
picked it up.

It was a faded photo of a young man in an
olive-colored uniform. He wore a belted military jacket, pants, and
a cap with a small red star in the center. Something about the
man’s broad-shouldered build drew her closer to study his face.

It was Papa as a young man. She was sure of
it.

“
Eddie Jr., where did you
get this picture?”

He looked at the picture, then at her. He
chewed his bottom lip. “I found it.”

“
Where?”

“
In the attic.”

Eliza’s heart raced. “Are there any more
photos like this in the attic?”

The boy shrugged, already finished with any
interest in the photo, now absorbed with adding small pieces to his
new plane.

“
Thank you for showing me
your planes, sweetheart.” Eliza returned to the living room with
the framed photo.

Betty was in the dining room directing Sue
Ellen on proper place settings.

“
Betty, can I see your
attic?”

Betty frowned. “Whatever for?”

Hoping she wouldn’t get her nephew into
trouble, she showed Betty the picture. “Did you know about
this?”

Betty took it from her and stared at it. “He
must have found this in that old steamer trunk that Mama had us
store for her when Ed and I married. I forgot all about it.”

Had her parents wanted it stored in order to
hide it? “I’d like to look at the trunk, if you don’t mind.” Eliza
pulled off her gloves.

Betty opened her mouth to protest, then
closed it. She studied Eliza’s feet. “Take those off, then. You
can’t climb the ladder in heels. Come on, follow me.”

The attic’s single light fixture offered a
dim glow that didn’t quite reach the corners where the roof sloped.
The amount of dust made it clear that Betty had not been up here in
a long time.

Brushing aside cobwebs and trying not to
breathe in the dust, Eliza followed Eddie Jr.’s footprints to a
steamer trunk in the far corner. There was very little of interest
inside, just an old wool coat, a framed picture, books, a wool
scarf, an ivory shawl, and two envelopes.

Eliza held up the envelopes and gave Betty a
long look. “Do you trust me with these?”

Betty’s red lips pressed together, then she
shrugged. “You have as much right to know what’s in it as I
do.”

“
I promise I’m not going
to harm our family’s name, Betty. If anything, I’m trying to clear
it. This may be just what we need to do that.”

Betty nodded. “All right. Go ahead.”

Eliza opened one of the envelopes and drew
out a thin, faded letter written in a language she didn’t recognize
but suspected was Russian. She scanned the lines, hoping for
something that would make sense.

The letter appeared to be in feminine
handwriting. Perhaps a love letter.

Or top-secret information?

She opened the second envelope.

This letter looked as if it was written in
the same language and was addressed to the same person. But the
second one was not the same handwriting.

Eliza checked the sender. The signature was
not very legible, but she could see that it was not the same
person, due to the length of the name and the difference in
handwriting.

What did these letters contain? This was
such a potential find, and yet so useless in her hands.

“
I need to find someone
who can translate these. Even if it’s just a simple correspondence
or a love letter, at least it will help us know more about them.
Mind if I take them?”

“
Please, go ahead. Just be
careful.” Betty brushed the dust from her hands with a grimace.
“You don’t want those getting into the hands of that G-man. He
sounds positively bloodthirsty.”

For once, Eliza had to agree with her
sister.

Stuffed
with turkey, sweet potatoes, and a sliver of pumpkin pie that
came close to being as good as Millie’s, Eliza leaned back with a
groan and pressed a hand to her stomach.

Sue Ellen’s eyes widened.

On second thought … Eliza sat up straighter.
She didn’t want to be the sole ruination of her niece’s etiquette
training.

“
Ed,” Betty said sweetly,
“why don’t you tell Eliza what Stanley said when you told him she
was coming for Thanksgiving.”

Ed took a bite of his pie, frowning. He
finished chewing, then wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and set
it down. “I don’t remember. Why don’t you tell her?”

Betty’s smile almost disguised the miffed
look in her eyes. “Oh, but you remember, don’t you, dear? Stanley
said she was a lovely girl, and he simply could not understand why
she wasn’t married yet.”

Ed narrowed a gaze at his wife. “I believe
it was more along the lines of ‘it’s odd that she’s still not
married after all this time.’” He shot a brief glance at Eliza,
then stabbed another chunk of pie.

Betty wore a flat, humorless smile.

As annoying as the sisterly interference
was, Eliza actually felt sorry for Betty. “Don’t worry, Betty. The
right one may still come along.”

“
Right
one?” Betty sniffed. “Any man with a decent job would do at
this point. You’re not—”

“
Getting any younger, yes.
Thank you for reminding me.” Eliza glanced at her niece and nephew.
“So, how is school this year?”

“
Sue Ellen, Eddie Jr.,”
Betty said, “it’s time to wash up and find something quiet to do in
the other room.” As her children left the table, she turned to
Eliza. “I know you don’t like to discuss this, but, darling, you
must. Your rocky marriage is already one strike against you. And
you are getting past the age that a man wants in a
wife.”

Eliza stared at her
sister. “A strike against
me
? Are you saying our ‘rocky
marriage’ was
my
fault?”

Ed quickly wadded up his napkin.

“
Let’s be sensible. It
takes two to make marriage work. But that’s neither here nor
there
,
as I’m
sure you’ve outgrown most of your … shortcomings by now. And if you
marry well enough, you can hire a maid so you won’t have to worry
about your cooking.”

Eliza drew a calming breath, then another.
Neither one did the trick. “Betty, you have no idea what it was
like being married to Ralph. No matter how hard I tried, he was not
to be pleased. He humiliated me daily. He was unkind, uncaring, and
unfaithful. And silly me, I kept smiling and giving and trying
harder. What more would you have had me do?”