All the Stars in the Heavens (28 page)

Loretta and Clark boarded the lobby elevator at the Sorrento Hotel. He pressed the button and turned to face Loretta. She fumbled to find her hotel key at the Sorrento in her pocket.

“You're in three oh three,” he said. “Your suitcase is in your room.”

“Thank you. Where are you?”

“Room three oh four.”

“That's convenient.”

“I hope so,” he said, moving closer to her.

“You're getting that wolf look.”

Gable laughed. “What are you talking about?”

“Let me show you.” Loretta knitted her eyebrows and bared her teeth.

“I don't look like that.”

“Yes, you do. It's hungry-wolf-on-the-prowl time, and it's very disconcerting.”

“The aim is not to upset you.”

“Whatever your aim is, it's having the opposite effect.”

“You just shut me right down.” Gable turned away from her and leaned against the back wall of the elevator.

“Somebody has to for once.”

“Do you say everything that's on your mind?”

“Not always. I try to be tactful.”

“Try harder.”

“Does every woman in the world go along with your act?”

“Usually. And by the way, Miss Elegant, it's not an act.”

“What is it?”

“Technique.”

“Ugh!”

“Well, you asked me.”

“You didn't have to put it like that. I'm going into my room, and I wish you a lovely evening.”

Gable put his room key in his lock as Loretta did the same at her own door.

“Hey, Gretchen?”

“Yes?”

“What if this is our only chance?” Gable said quietly.

Loretta dropped her head against the door.

“You're not praying, are you?”

“No.”

“After that kneeling you did at the grotto, and the appearance of your rosary beads, I'm just making sure.”

“I'm not praying. I'm trying to resist you.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because of your wife in the purple suit.”

“I told you what the situation is.”

“I understand the situation. But I'd like to think that I'm smarter than the excuse you're giving me.”

Gable grabbed her by the arms. “I have not lied to you. I've told you more about myself than I've told any other woman I have ever known.”

“That's a big deal.”

“Stop joking. What if this is the beginning of something for us?”

“That's a good point.”

“Do you want to turn back, or do you want go forward?”

“If I'm given a choice, I'd like to stay right here with you. Neither forward, nor backward, but right here. With you.”

“Then give me your key.”

Loretta took her room key out of the door and handed it to Gable. He opened the door to his room. “Make yourself at home.”

Gable's was a cheerful yellow room, with wallpaper of a white
trellis with scrolling green leaves. It had the feeling of a garden, which soothed her.

Gable appeared in the doorway with her suitcase. “I've fallen for you, Gretchen.”

He dropped the suitcase and closed the door behind him. He helped her off with her coat. He hung the coat in his closet.

“When did it happen?” She slipped out of her shoes.

“On the raft. On the river.”

“I knew on the train.”

“When we met?”

“No. The morning after the first night. I got up early to go to breakfast.”

“I was in the dining car,” he remembered.

“I thought you had waited up all night for me. At least, that's what I told myself.”

“When you walked in, I couldn't believe it.”

“I never miss breakfast.”

“I couldn't believe I was alone with you. The night before, the car was full of people, and I thought, How will I ever get to her? I was in the front of the car, and you were in the back, and it seemed like a hundred miles. I couldn't figure out how to reach you.”

Gable took her face into his hands. He could not look at her enough. Her eyes sparkled with humor, but there was a sadness there that made him want to take care of her.

Clark picked Loretta up in his arms and carried her to a soft reading chair covered in pale green velvet. He sat down, and she made herself comfortable on his lap.

Loretta and Gable were intertwined. This was their way. It was as if she were a trumpet vine that curled up a tree, so close as to become part of it. They had a way of being one with each other that was natural, that neither had experienced with any other person. It had not been awkward between them ever; there was no ceremony to stand on, no odd placement of an arm or a leg or a hand or a foot. They fit. She had scooped her arm behind his neck, his arms were around her, she wrapped one of her legs around his, they were comfortable, connected, as smoothly designed as links in a chain of gold.

Gable kissed her tenderly. “What do you think?”

“I don't think we'll have to tip the maid in three oh three.”

Gable laughed. “Whoever said beautiful girls can't be funny are idiots.”

“Is Joan Crawford funny?”

“No.”

“How about Claudette?”

“About as funny as a mathematician.”

“How about Connie Bennett?”

“She's funny.”

Loretta pinched him.

“Sorry. But not as funny as you.”

“Are you really in love with me?”

“I am.”

“Love is everything to me.”

“That comes through, Gretchen.”

“You know how I seemed a hundred miles away on the train car? I wasn't ever a hundred miles away, I've always been right here.”

Gable picked Loretta up and carried her to the bed. As he undressed her, he would stop and hold her for a long time. She helped him with his tie made of the creamiest silk, his vest and jacket made of the softest wool. He wrapped her in the satin blanket. Loretta was enveloped by him. He knew how to touch her without her having to ask. He made her feel treasured, and he meant it. Clark had paid close attention to her, and he believed he knew exactly how to please her. As tall and strong as Gable was, he was delicate with Loretta. Every button, the pull of each sleeve, was a reason to kiss her again, to remind her that she was safe in his arms.

For her part, she wanted to stop time. She didn't want to think about where this romance might go, or write the ending before they had started their journey, so she took her time with every button on his shirt; for every button there was a kiss. She wished for a thousand.

She opened the satin blanket and pulled him toward her. The bed was soft beneath them. For the first time in weeks she felt warm, down to her bones. When his skin touched hers, she felt drenched
in velvet. She smiled at the faint scent of bitter orange on his neck. It was as if he had brought the sun inside.

Clark was surprised to find himself full of emotion. It was hard to catch his breath. His heart—something he never offered—belonged to her. It was racing. He wondered if she could hear it, if she knew how much this night meant to him. He wasn't a man who had ever surrendered to any woman. Tonight, Loretta had him.

“What do you remember?” she whispered.

“Everything.”

He remembered her lips when she smiled at him for the first time on the train, the arch of her back when she leaned across the table to serve him spaghetti in the kitchen, how her body felt when he pulled her on to his lap the night she made the apple pies, her long legs when she took the stairs two at a time. He remembered the first freezing cold morning on the set when she stood and faced him, reached into his coat pockets, and held his hands to warm them. In honor of that moment, he kissed her hands.

“What will you remember?” she asked.

“Everything.”

Now it was Clark who looked around the room for the clock. He wanted more time. He wanted to hold on to the moon and push away the sun. If the sun never came up again, that was fine with him. Clark Gable was in love with Loretta Young. He wondered if she knew.

Loretta draped the blanket around herself like a cloak as Clark pulled her close, enveloping him in the satin. And this is how they stayed until morning.

B
ill Wellman figured Clark Gable and Loretta Young had shared something more than a pen as they witnessed the wedding of Luca Chetta and Alda Ducci in Seattle. Even though Gable made good on the promise of returning from Seattle with the truck loaded with fresh food and supplies for the hungry cast and crew, Wellman was suspicious.

If Wellman had a hunch his costars had fallen in love, he was right.

Wellman stood behind the camera and watched as the wind whipped up the snow powder on the branches of the cedars.

“No matter what happens, keep rolling,” he instructed the cameraman before shouting, “Action!” The echo of Wellman's voice thundered through the white canyons.

Loretta lay in a snowdrift surrounded by wolves (Siberian huskies, standing in for them on camera in fact). She exhaled slowly, then took shallow sips of air, slowing her breath to a stillness that would mimic unconsciousness. Bela Lugosi had taught Loretta to play dead on camera through modulation of her breath. He also showed her how to keep her eyelids closed to prevent fluttering during the close-up: “Keep your eyeballs looking down, even when your eyes are closed.” This tip came in handy on Mount Baker that morning.

The camera was placed to film Gable and Oakie wide coming over a mountain pass, riding a dogsled. Oakie commandeered the reins while Gable stood behind, riding the sled blades.

Oakie was a wild man as an actor; he was spontaneous and real. He'd whip the dogs into a frenzy, and drive them fast and furious over the edge of the icy ridge for the sake of authenticity. Gable and Oakie were to spot Loretta in the distance, see the wolves, and react to save her. Gable was to take aim with a gun and shoot the wolves. The camera was over Gable's shoulder, and would cover him as he fired. From this angle Gable would run to Loretta's rescue and hold her in his arms.

The actors took their positions. Wellman shot the scene and called for a second take. Gable and Oakie returned to their starting position behind the cliff. The crew stood by with long-handled brooms to smooth the snow in their path. A third take. The crew swept the snow into position again. A fourth. The crew swept the snow again. A fifth.

“If we go again, I'm jumping off this mountain,” Jack Oakie complained.

“Control the dogs, Jack, or you won't have to jump,” Gable said. “You'll be eating the bottom of that canyon.”

They filmed the scene again. Satisfied, Wellman ordered coverage, and the cameras were moved to film the scene from another angle, from Loretta's point of view in the field.

Gable broke away from the team of experts handling the dogs to catch up with Wellman as he trudged alone across the field.

“What do you need?” Wellman asked Gable.

“I don't like the way you leave Loretta on the ground,” Gable complained. “She'll freeze to death.”

“I'll take care of it,” Wellman grumbled.

“I mean it, Bill.”

“I said I'd take care of it.”

Gable watched as Wellman caught up to his camera team. Gable turned and went to check on Loretta.

“You okay?” Gable asked her.

“I'm fine.”

“You must be freezing.”

“I'm okay. The sun is hot.”

“I'll come and get you for lunch.” He smiled.

“It may be dinner, the way this scene is going.”

Alda jumped out of the utility jeep with a thermos of hot coffee for the actors.

“Hey, it's the newlywed,” Gable greeted her. “How's it going?”

“Blissful.” Alda beamed.

“No dreams of that convent life anymore, eh?”

Loretta slugged Gable's arm. “Clark, what's the matter with you?”

“I thought you'd appreciate my interest. I support true love and marriage, home and hearth—you know, all the stuff they write about in
Movie Mirror
.”

Gable joined the dogsled team as Alda poured Loretta a cup of coffee.

“How's Wellman treating you?” Alda said softly.

“He's acting like a spurned lover.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'll get through it. I'm doing my job, and the rest is none of his business.”

“It's a small company. Word travels fast,” Alda said.

“Small town. Small minds. My mother says that about Hollywood, you know. It's a town that runs on gossip. You can't help any of that.”

But it isn't gossip, Alda thought.
You're in love with Clark Gable.
Alda knew it for sure. She had fallen in love with Luca on Mount Baker; she understood the kind of temptation Loretta was up against. The bitter cold forced the company to find warmth however they could.

Alda had not seen Loretta this happy since she began working for her. Loretta's friendship with Spencer Tracy had been pure anguish. With Tracy, it was high drama, tearful phone calls, a lot of kneeling in church, and long, soulful conversations in their dressing rooms between takes. There had been very little joy, and almost no fun.

The love affair with Gable was completely different. Loretta was energetic and industrious; she sprang out of bed in the morning looking forward to work. Maybe this particular happiness was a
prelude to a whole new life together—but if Loretta and Clark were making plans, they didn't let on. They lived in the moment, savoring their time together. Hollywood and home were forgotten on Mount Baker.

Everyone in the company of
The Call of the Wild
could see the change in Gable and Loretta's friendship after the weekend in Seattle.

During the meal breaks, Gable sat in a folding chair while Loretta faced him in another. He sheltered her, wrapped his legs around hers to keep her warm, and they leaned in, deep in conversation, unaware of the crew around them. If there was a break, or a reset, or a trudge through the snow from one location to another, Loretta and Clark were together. They were better team players now that they were lovers, working as a unit to get the best possible result. United, they were a force. Wellman even upped his game, and so did the crew.

Alda noticed that show people didn't judge one another when it came to affairs on the set. There was an unwritten law: If it's good for the movie, it's good for everybody. After all, they were there to make a romantic adventure story, and if real emotions appeared on film, all the better.

Loretta and Gable were out to beat the clock. They knew their jobs on this film would end, so they took advantage of the time they had together. At night, they sat by the fire in the great room and went over their scenes for the next day. When their work was done, they talked into the night. They were the last to retire, and the first at breakfast.

Gable had moved into Loretta's room. It was so much easier to build one fire than two. Besides, they couldn't get enough of one another's company. Both of them were realistic as they tore scenes out of their scripts once they'd been filmed. When the pages were gone, the shoot of
The Call of the Wild
would end.

Every day Loretta looked forward to the nights, and every night Gable looked forward to the days. They were so in love that the freezing cold did not affect them. They weren't hungry, they barely needed sleep, and they gave each other energy in that way that only love can do. They appeared invincible; it seemed they had all they needed in the company of one another.

Loretta and Clark were living inside the movie, a magical place with its own language, script, and rules, where people meet and fall in love with an intensity of feeling and in physical proximity to one another, without real-life problems or responsibilities to intrude. Onscreen lovers might remain in the scenes long after they are shot, believing they have made a memory instead of a movie. Only the very wise know to trust the words “The End” and leave the feelings on location where they had them.

Loretta knew, as surely as the snow would melt come spring, that the situation between her and Gable would change, but she would not consider it on Mount Baker. She dared not think about the future; it was too complex and layered, forcing her to confront deep feelings of shame at having invited a married man into her heart again. But even her conscience could not keep them apart. She didn't want to waste any time on regret that she could spend with Gable. She prayed for what was best for them, and never specified what the best might be. Staying in the moment is the goal of every actor, and Loretta applied it to her time with Gable. Maybe if she stayed in the moment he would too and they could be together always.

Loretta was sitting on her bed, going over the scene to be shot the next morning, making notes to herself.

“You have mail”—Alda handed her a stack of envelopes—“and Georgie sent you another box of See's chocolates.”

“Thank God and Georgie!” Loretta opened the box, offering chocolate to Alda, who took a piece. Loretta savored another. “How is Luca?”

“He's still on the set. He's painting the interior of the bank.”

“Clark and Oakie shoot that tomorrow.”

Alda knew she needed to talk about the return trip home to Los Angeles, but was finding it impossible to bring it up. Alda would be moving out of Sunset House and into Luca's home in the valley, just over the hill from Hollywood. Alda believed her happiness would pain Loretta, who would be returning home alone. Alda had rehearsed a speech several times in front of Luca, but now, face to face with Loretta, she couldn't find the words.

“Is something on your mind, Alda?”

Alda sat down on the edge of the bed. “I'm worried about you.”

“Why?”

It was difficult for Alda to broach the subject, even though she, Luca, and Clark had become good friends during the filming.

“Alda, you can ask me anything.”

“Is Mr. Gable going to leave his wife?”

“He says he is.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Do you?” Loretta asked her.

“He's a good man. But sometimes good men get in difficult situations that they can't get themselves out of.”

“You know, it's the strangest thing. Clark and I keep kicking the can down the road, thinking there will be plenty of time to deal with the future once we wrap. But it's hard for me to think about anything beyond this moment. I can't remember home. I don't know if it's this script, or that we've been on location for so long, but I've never felt so removed from my real life as I have on this job. It's almost like what you feel when you go to a movie on a Saturday afternoon and you're swept away by the story, and it ends and you've been in the dark for hours and you walk out of the theater into the sunlight. You can't see and you don't know where you are—you're somehow still back inside, in the world of the movie. I'm in a place where I've never been before, and I don't know what to do.”

“Do you love him?”

“Madly.”

“What do you love about him?”

“Clark is a good man who has made some bad choices in life. Maybe that's the wrong word, but his choices weren't wise, and they haven't served him. We've talked about it—and it's a lot like the situation when I married Grant Withers. But I had the sense to get out quickly. Mr. Gable has a different view of things. He stays for many reasons that I wouldn't, but that work for him. His father and stepmother live with him, he is ward to Ria's children, he has a life there. But he has another life that he lives, that he's not proud of—but he tells me that would change if he was married to the right woman.”

“Are you that woman?”

“I don't know.”

“Do you want to be?”

Loretta and Alda sat in silence for a few moments. Alda realized that Loretta's situation with Gable was a lot like her relationship with Spencer Tracy. Both men were married and had complicated personal lives and ambitious professional ones. She wondered if Loretta fell in love with these types because she was as ambitious as the men, and didn't want marriage to interfere with her career. Loretta was also younger, which entitled her to a few callow years of making mistakes before she married and had a family. At least, this was how Alda rationalized the love affair.

“Is there anything I can get for you?” Alda stood.

“I'm all right, Alda. I have everything I need.”

Alda went down the hall and back to the room she shared with her husband. She was so worried about Loretta that she felt sick. Alda didn't know how to advise Loretta to separate her real life from her acting. Loretta seemed to believe the lines written for her character in the script were true. She'd almost become Claire to Gable's Jack. They bantered in the same way offscreen as they did when the cameras were rolling.

Alda worried about other aspects of Loretta's career in show business, too.

The attention paid to physical perfection—the hours spent on hair, makeup, and costume fittings—while good for the camera, could not be good for Loretta the woman. Alda had witnessed how Wellman undermined Loretta's confidence to keep her in line. Loretta laughed off the director's comments about her bad angles and scrawny frame. Maybe some of these were motivated by Wellman's envy of Gable, but no matter the reason, it was painful to observe.