What the Heart Keeps (31 page)

“
I’ve never seen anything more wonderful than when William Humphreys took Julia Swayne Gordon into his arms,” she breathed, her eyes starry. “Such passion! Then later when he rejected her, how her tears flowed. Oh, those clothes she wore, and the jewels in her hair. It must be the greatest thrill in the world to be a movie star.”

There
flashed through Lisa’s mind what Alan had told her of the lives of movie people whom he had met in New York. There had been harassing by rival companies, film cameras shot to pieces by hired gunmen, and exhausting hours of filmed acting in broiling sunshine on flat roof tops to capture maximum light. Perhaps everyone would fare better in the exodus to California. She had read in one of the movie distributors’ news-sheets that a valley of cultivated fruit orchards named Hollywood was being used with the landowner’s permission for the taking of some film sequences. It sounded idyllic.

“
I should think in the right location film acting would be enjoyable,” she agreed.

Minnie
bestirred herself and came across, her eyes still dream-laden. “I’ve played Portia and Juliet and Lady Macbeth. Mrs. Jackson would read the other parts while Evangeline and I were a cast of two to recite our lines. Evangeline always acted with such verve and quite outshone me.” Her voice grew more ruminative. “Yet last Christmas when we gave a performance for a few people I saw Mrs. Twidle wipe her eyes when I expired as Juliet. Wasn’t that strange?”

Mae
Remotti entered the room just then. “Congratulations, Lisa,” she said with satisfaction, advancing with the click of heels and a shimmer of dark blue satin. “I hear the show was a big success. Alan will be proud of you. You could put on a programme every night of the week if you wished.”

“
Three evenings in a row will prove to be plenty, I’m sure.”

Mae
wagged a well-manicured finger admonishingly. “Don’t make any hasty decisions. These motion-picture evenings mean extra dollars and cents to me as they do to you. In business nobody throws away a chance to make more money. I know the equipment is heavy for you to handle on your own, but that’s no problem. Risto can collect and deliver it again for you every day in one of the hotel wagons. What do you say?”

“
Go on, Lisa,” Minnie urged eagerly. “Remember you have me to help you.”

Lisa
’s thoughtful expression showed that she was beginning to mull over the possibility more seriously. “I have to think of Mrs. Saanio. She can’t be expected to take care of Harry six evenings out of seven, but she might allow Tuula, her eldest girl, to sleep at my house each night to be with him. I’m sure the girl would welcome some pocket money.”

“
That’s settled then,” Mae declared quickly.

“
Not quite,” Lisa countered. “I’ll extend the present programme to six evenings on a trial run and see if the attendances keep up.”

“
They will,” Mae replied confidently.

She
was right. There was no lessening of numbers in the audiences. On the contrary, when Friday and Saturday night came a “House Full” notice had to be placed outside half an hour before the show was due to commence. The only crisis arose with the pianist’s temperamental refusal to play each evening for a whole week. She gave notice and walked out minutes before the show was due to begin. Mae dealt with it by allowing Risto to leave the bar and run the reels while Lisa took the vacated seat at the piano. He became established as the projectionist, his skill at mending broken film at lightning speed appreciated by the audience, who always began to stamp their feet when there was a breakdown. With Tuula Saanio sleeping at the house overnight in charge of Harry, all Lisa’s immediate problems were solved.

Minnie
gave up driving home with Lisa in the automobile when the evenings ended. Instead she chose to sit beside Risto on the wagon when he followed with the cinematograph equipment stowed aboard. Their friendship was advancing steadily and each enjoyed the other’s company. He eventually took a chance and stopped the horse and wagon to put his arms about her in an attempt at a kiss, but she gave him such a shove in the chest that he was almost unbalanced from the driving seat.

“
Okay!” he exclaimed good-humouredly. “I’ll wait until you beg me to kiss you!”

She
giggled as he knew she would. What was good between them was their ability to laugh at most things together. He felt she had had little laughter in her life and suddenly everything was fun for her. It was as if she were blossoming before his eyes, all shades of the past cast away. It never occurred to him that she was falling in love with him as he was with her.

Lisa
began to organise her daily routine on different lines. The distributor’s agent, whom she had been expecting on the day of Peter’s reappearance into her life, arrived most opportunely when her decision to continue the film shows had been made. He arranged that certain movies she required urgently should be rushed to her and listed her requirements for the next eight weeks. She could not look beyond that span for personal reasons, not knowing what might have happened or where she would be when that time had elapsed.

It
was for this reason that Lisa began to instruct Minnie on how to accompany on the piano whatever was being enacted on the screen. If she had not been going away she would not have surrendered the piano to anyone else, but she had no choice. The girl was quick and alert, which was important, and her musical talent vigorous and enthusiastic, only needing guidance to moderate for gently romantic and quieter scenes. Lisa’s instruction took place during special morning showings of reels run by Risto.

“
It’s rush-about music for comedies,” Lisa explained, “and some of the French light operas provide just the thing. When there are lulls in the film story some neutral music is in order. Rousing overtures for cowboys and Indians, heavy opera for dramatic scenes, something sweet and tender for love and one or two set pieces for scenes of pathos.”

Minnie
did well for a first attempt. As the sessions progressed and she snatched every free minute for practice, she became steadily more proficient until Lisa felt that eventually Minnie would be able to take over from her when she herself had gone away with Peter. She was determined not to leave Alan bereft of consideration and had decided to appoint a respectable middle-aged widow in the settlement to keep house for him in addition to caring for Harry until he could stay with her at frequent intervals. She found it heart-breaking to think of being apart from the child, and clung to the hope that with time Alan would find it convenient for Harry to be with her for longer and longer periods. The presence of the housekeeper would provide chaperonage for Minnie and preclude the kind of talk that indirectly had precipitated her own marriage.

Risto
took great interest in Minnie’s practising at the piano. “When are you to play for a show?” he asked her.

She
shrugged. “I don’t know. I’d like to be given a trial run but maybe Lisa thinks I’m not ready yet. At least she can be sure that I could step in if an emergency with Harry or some other unexpected crisis should keep her away.”

It
would have suited Minnie to have been the full-time pianist, simply because if the first “House Full” notice was not displayed before the commencement of the show she never managed to see the earlier reels, and she had become a film addict. She and Risto discussed the main movies at length, both of them seeing each one enough times to observe backgrounds, spot faults, and note acting tricks and mannerisms. The snatches of dialogue flashed onto the screen to clarify the plots became so familiar to them after the five days’ viewing that they could repeat whole lengths to each other, speaking the individual roles with dramatic gestures and exaggerated eye-rolling and much hilarity. Quotes from the current movie of the week would pepper their normal conversation, creating private jokes between them, so that when the words appeared on the screen she, standing by him at the projector, which had become her usual place, would sometimes become so convulsed with giggles that he was infected by her mirth and had difficulty in concentrating on the task in hand.

By
chance they were alone one evening in the hall before the show started. Almost automatically they dropped into the dialogue of the current movie until they realised simultaneously that it was the lead up to the scene of passionate embrace. They trailed off the words that were not their own and fell silent, looking at each other. There was no light-hearted foolishness in them now. Only a shared sense of wonder illumined their faces as they drew together. She felt him trembling as he put his strong, young arms about her. They sank into a kiss, she responding to the eager passion of his mouth, and when they drew apart at the sound of voices approaching in the lobby outside, they gazed at each other with intensity. Each knew that the kiss had been a turning point in their relationship. Henceforth, nothing would be as easy and uncomplicated as it had been previously. They were in love.

It
was when Lisa was playing some introductory music for a performance during the fourth week of her independent enterprise that she knew Peter was one of those taking their seats. How she knew it was impossible to say. There was no tingling down her spine, no sensation of being stared at, only an intimate knowledge throughout her whole body that he was close at hand. Searching her memory, she tried to recall if she had experienced a similar awareness, without realising its source, when they had both been in Calgary or when he had visited the sawmill unbeknown to her. She could well have mistaken it for the bouts of restlessness that had ever come upon her when sometimes her thoughts had drifted to him.

She
did not look round, but continued to play herself into the programme with a few dramatic chords as the opening reel projected its flickering image on the screen. In the interval before the main motion picture, she did turn her head, it being her custom to acknowledge with a smile and a nod those people she knew who had caught her attention. And there he was, seated no more than a few feet from her, and as their gaze locked across the short distance between them she felt herself drawn deep into the love she saw in his eyes.

When
the show was over and the patrons were departing, he came to her as she was stacking her sheets of music together. “How are you?” he asked her.

She
cradled the music against her with an arm. “I’m fine. And you?”

“
I’ve missed you.”

“
Oh, my love,” she breathed. Then she glanced about her, for the hall was far from empty yet. “We can’t talk here.”

“
Later then. I’ll wait for you.”

She
shook her head despairingly. “I must drive home straight away. Minnie would ask questions if I deviated from my routine at this late hour of the night.”

“
Let me at least ride home with you and I’ll walk back.”

She
could not refuse him that one small favour. “Wait for me by the automobile. It’s parked by the trees at the side of the hotel stables. I’ll be about half an hour.”

He
nodded and departed. She went to pull the curtains across the screen, which remained as a semi-permanent fixture on the wall, and afterwards helped Risto and Minnie with the rewinding of the films and the stacking of the reels. When everything was done, Risto hurried out to fetch the horse and wagon and bring it to the side entrance to facilitate the loading up of the equipment. Lisa waited, as she always did, until everything was in its place and Minnie had taken up her seat beside Risto. Normally she overtook them on the road. Tonight she would not.

As
the wagon rolled away she shot home the bolts of the door, checked that all the lights in the hall had been extinguished, and then set off through the kitchen, her cashbox with the evening takings under her arm. Those still working there bade her good night as she left the stifling heat and cooking aromas to emerge into the warm air of the night, which seemed almost cool by comparison.

She
had gone more than a few steps when she heard someone coming behind her. Thinking that Peter must have been strolling about while waiting for her, she swung around expectantly in time to glimpse a brutish-looking man leaping for her. Her sudden turning saved her from the unseen attack that would have been made upon her, and gave her a second to scream before he landed a savage punch in her breast and snatched the cashbox from her. She fell sprawling and screamed again. Footsteps clattered from the kitchen as people ran out to see what was amiss. The cook reached her first.

“
Mrs. Fernley! Are you hurt?”

She
sat up with his supporting arm about her shoulders. Pain filled her breast and she felt nauseous with it, but she chose to shake her head. “I’m all right. Somebody stole my cashbox.”

“
Don’t you worry,” he said. “I guess that guy ain’t going no place with it.”

There
was certainly a lot of noise and shouting to be heard. Those in the saloon had poured out to join the crowd gathering somewhere out of her range of vision. Somebody else gave a helping hand as the chef assisted her to her feet. Then Mae was there, taking over and having her brought through to the private parlour. The door was shut and she was able to lie down on the velvet couch. Mae peered closely at her.