All the Stars in the Heavens (41 page)

“I will, Father. Once Judy is settled and we've figured out what to do.”

“I'm going to leave this with you. You fill it in, and I will sign it.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Father Fitzgerald went to the door. She picked up the pen. “Father?
I don't want to put my sister and brother-in-law's names on this document as godparents for now. Can you provide me with a name?”

Father thought for a moment. “When I was a boy, there was a lovely couple who were very devout and couldn't have children. Write down Mr. R. C. Troeger and Mrs. R. C. Troeger.” The priest spelled the name for Loretta.

“Thank you.”

The priest left Loretta alone as she filled in the rest of the fictional document. She wrote slowly, having thought these names through. Mary Judith Clark was the infant: Mary in honor of the Blessed Mother; Judith as her proper name; and as for the surname, Loretta chose Gable's first name deliberately. She wrote “William Clark” in the space identifying the father. William was Gable's own father's name.

Loretta left the clues for her family and ultimately for Judy, who one day would want to know when and where she was baptized. Loretta would explain why she had to hide the truth on paper. She was protecting her baby, Clark Gable's career, her own livelihood, and the reputation of her family. Loretta made sure Judy was baptized for spiritual reasons; those were more important to her than any of the other reasons for fabricating the names on the baptismal certificate.

Loretta closed the fountain pen and left it next to the document on the pastor's desk. Father Fitzgerald would return, sign it, stamp it, and record it in the permanent ledger of the church. He would make another copy and send it to the prelate at the diocese of Los Angeles.

Loretta was relieved her daughter had received the first sacrament of her spiritual life. She had brought Judy to the church to be blessed, welcomed into the community, and washed in the waters of baptism. Loretta had ensured the salvation of Judy's immortal soul. No matter how Loretta might fail her daughter, on this point she was clear. Loretta's faith brought her comfort. Her church hadn't let her down; it had been there for her in her darkest hours, its prayers had soothed her while the ritual of the mass had given her continuity and grace. Loretta could not give Judy everything, including
her father's presence on this special day, but she could give her the gift of everlasting life, even if the certificate that confirmed it was fiction.

The Mayfair Ball at the glamorous Victor Hugo restaurant, with its intimate tables and its indoor garden motif of trellises, lush greens, and exotic flowers, broke up the long winter in late January of 1936.

Carole Lombard, the quirky bombshell actress, hosted, requesting that everyone in attendance wear white. Carole was the highest paid actor in Hollywood at the moment, and she liked to share. She expected opulence, a blizzard of sequins, crystals, and beads hand-sewn on Indian silks, Italian velvets, and French faille, and she got it. The women kept the studio costumers busy up to the final fittings, draping white velvet, cutting white tulle, and hemming white satin until there wasn't a stitch of white thread left in Hollywood.

The men were required to wear white tie and tails. Loretta accepted the invitation of Lydell Peck, a studio executive, a good friend who slipped her the best scripts on the Paramount lot. She decided to go at the last minute, knowing that advance word of her attendance would bring the barrage of questions about Gable. The Mayfair Ball wasn't a night out on the town for Loretta; it wasn't fun, it was strictly business. After nearly a year off for her illness, Loretta had to show she was back in the game.

Loretta entered the restaurant in a white chiffon sheath, anchored with a diamond brooch on her shoulder. Her evening gloves trailed up her arm in sleek satin. As the stars poured into the restaurant, Niv left his date, Merle Oberon, to greet his pal Loretta.

“He's coming,” Niv whispered in her ear.

“With whom?”

“Some lounge singer. I think he found her on the MGM extras roster.”

“Incorrigible.” If Loretta needed proof that Gable was incapable of being faithful, all she need do was check his dinner companions. “I saw Ria Gable at the valet with about a hundred attorneys. I'll have to give her the old dodge.”

“I wouldn't worry. She's off your trail and back on Elizabeth Allan's.”

“Is he seeing her again?”

“Off and on,” Niv admitted.

Loretta turned pale at the thought of Gable juggling so many women. He might claim to be serious about wanting to divorce Ria and marry her, but his actions proved otherwise.

Niven took Loretta's arm. “Are you all right? If you need me to snuff any reporters or steal you away from any dirty old bosses, you just give me the high sign and it's Niv to the rescue.”

Niv left Loretta to join Merle Oberon. Loretta took in a long, slow breath to calm her racing heart. She chided herself for having shown up to this party at all, but her agent had convinced her that she needed to be out, to be seen, so that the studio bosses could see for themselves that she was the picture of health. Tonight, even her career seemed too high a price to pay for the humiliation of being part of a circus that included Gable, his wife, and his women. Loretta decided to act her way through the evening, pretend that she was having a nice time, and cut out of the joint as soon as possible, faking a headache to her date.

Carole Lombard had a big raucous laugh that she threw her entire body into. She was wearing satin—a skin-tight bias-cut gown that clung to her as though it were wet, more nightgown than formal wear. Loretta watched Lombard command the room like one of the boys looking like one of the girls. Lombard had style, but very little couth.

“Pretty dress,” Gable said from behind Loretta.

The sound of his voice made her heart race. Loretta turned to him, remembering her vow to pretend she wanted to be there. “You look handsome.”

“Not handsome enough to keep you.”

“Oh, Clark.” Loretta let her guard down, and Gable saw through her veneer.

“I miss you,” he said.

“Do you mean it?” Loretta was about to invite him to see Judy, to hold her again, to see the crib she had purchased with the money he
had given her. As she looked into his eyes, she regretted everything. She wanted him back. She had to talk to him about Judy, and how to have him be a part of their lives. “If you do . . .”

Ria Gable entered the restaurant with more attorneys than the Supreme Court bench. She wore a floor-length white chemise, with enormous puffed sleeves the size of Halloween pumpkins. Ria's dress said
party
, but her face said
execution
.

Sensing the social chopping block, Gable whispered, “I have to skedaddle.”

Loretta watched as Gable walked away. He had been sweet to her, a drive-by of warmth, one that any pretty girl in the room would enjoy. Clark joined the MGM studio executives, playing the role of delightful, accessible movie star, artfully working the bosses and their wives with charm. Gable was smooth; whatever he earned, he deserved. Loretta was reminded how hard he had to work to stay at the top. If only she had met him anywhere but Hollywood, they might have had a chance.

An adorable strawberry-blond dancer with a décolleté so deep she could carry Gable's wallet in the abyss hovered beside him as he worked the room.

Loretta's face burned. She knew Gable had girlfriends—after all, she had been one outside of his marriage to Ria—but to see him working the room with yet another girl on his arm humiliated her. Deep down, she had expected him to wait while she sorted out Judy's future, but clearly he wasn't waiting for her, or for anyone. His life had gone on as though Mount Baker never happened.

The wound she felt was as deep as one could go, all the way down to her broken heart. She remembered her father walking out on her mother when she caught him with another woman, the last of a string of others. Whatever else the red-haired laundress was or wasn't, she was Gladys Young's final straw. Loretta did not have the fortitude her mother possessed after having divorced two husbands. Loretta still longed for love.

Loretta saw Ria Gable move her entourage close to Gable, not to greet him with civility but to taunt him. Ria was prepared to fight for every last dime she could wrangle from Gable's current contract, and
the word in the papers was that she would be successful. Ria looked like a white spider, creeping up on Gable to make her point. Everyone knew the way to hurt Gable was through his bank account. He had not left his thrifty ways in Ohio.

Where was Loretta in Gable's harem? Loretta was somewhere between the upstart lounge singer and the matron ex-wife. Or was she? Gable still flirted with Loretta as though nothing had happened. But something had, and she was in a crib on Rindge Street.

“Sorry to leave you so long,” Lydell said, handing her a glass of champagne.

“No, you go and chat people up. I'm going to say hello to some friends.”

“I'll meet you at the table for supper.”

“Thank you.”

Carole Lombard breezed by with a quick tap on Loretta's shoulder. “Loretta, you look divine!”

“Thank you!” Loretta said as she passed. “So do you.”

Lombard made a direct beeline strut toward Gable, who was leaning over Louis B. Mayer's table, where the boss himself, in head-to-toe white, looked like a fat pigeon perched on a fence. Gable was regaling his boss with some story, and whatever it was, Mayer was engaged and amused. There was conviviality and connection between the man who signed the checks and his biggest star, the man who cashed them.

Lombard tapped the dancer on the shoulder and delivered a withering look to her. She got the message and stepped away.

Lombard gave Gable an affectionate pat on the back, and he stood up and greeted her. She ran her hand down Gable's back, teasing him with her long, burgundy fingernails. She excused herself, and he turned back to pick up his conversation with Mayer when Lombard gave him a pat on the backside.

Loretta was shocked by the intimate behavior in public, but Gable, for his part, accepted it and watched Lombard as she walked off, taking her in like a sweet glass of cold champagne. Lombard might as well have been the hotel maid at the Mount Baker Inn.

Lydell Peck dropped Loretta off at the front door of Sunset House. She kissed him on the cheek, and he tapped the horn lightly as he drove down the far side of the driveway and back out onto Sunset. Loretta thought the flat sound of the tin car horn was the perfect ending to a lackluster evening.

Loretta set down her evening bag and removed her earrings as she stood in the foyer. She could hear her mother's voice in the kitchen.

“Mama?”

Gladys, in her nightgown and robe, hung up the phone. “Thank God you're home. It's Alda. She's at Saint Vincent's Hospital.”

Loretta changed out of her evening gown and jewels. She threw on a skirt, sweater, and loafers and went to her car.

“Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?”

“Mama, you have to stay with Georgie. I'll be fine.”

Saint Vincent's was a small Catholic hospital tucked on a residential street. Loretta pulled up in front on West Third Street, jumped out, and ran into the hospital.

“Chet!” Loretta saw Luca in the waiting area. “What happened?”

“She had terrible pain. I thought maybe her appendix burst.”

“Did it?”

He shook his head.

“What is it, Chet?”

“She was pregnant.”

“Oh, no.”

“She lost the baby, and now they're giving her . . .” Luca began to weep.

“Calm down, Chet. What is happening now?”

“They had to give her a hysterectomy. To save her life. She doesn't know it. They came out and asked me for my permission. I didn't know what to do.”

Loretta sat down next to Chet and put her arms around him. “You did the right thing.”