Family Album (3 page)

“Some kind of a need I guess … to repay all the good things that have happened to me. I never really feel I deserve it all. And you have to pay your dues in life.” It was the kind of thing Kathy would have said and tears almost filled his eyes. He had never felt that kind of a need, to pay “dues,” to repay anyone for how fortunate he had been. And now he didn't feel fortunate anymore anyway. Not since …

“Why do women always feel a need to pay dues?”

“That has nothing to do with it. Some men do too. Don't you, in a way? Don't you want to do something nice for the next guy, if something good happens to you?”

His eyes grew rock hard as he looked at her. “Nothing good has happened to me in a hell of a long time … at least not since I've been here.”

“You're alive, aren't you, Ward?” Her voice was soft beneath the bright lights where they sat, but her eyes bore into him.

“Sometimes that's not enough.”

“Yes, it is. In a place like this, that's a lot to be grateful for. Look around you every day … look at the boys wounded and crippled and maimed … the ones who're never going home at all….” Something about the tone of her voice bore straight to his heart and for the first time in four months, he had to fight back tears.

“I try hard not to look at that.”

“Maybe you should. Maybe it'll make you glad you're alive.” She wanted to reach him, to touch the place that hurt so much. She wondered what it was, as slowly he stood up.

“I don't give a damn anymore, Faye. If I live or die, it's all the same to me and everyone else.”

'That's a terrible thing to say.” She looked shocked and almost hurt as she stared up at him. “What could possibly make you feel like that?”

He looked down at her for an endless moment, silently begging himself not to say anything more, and suddenly wishing she'd go away. But he stared at her, she seemed not to move at all, and suddenly he didn't give a damn who he told. What difference did it make now? “I got married six months ago, to an army nurse, and two months after that she was killed by a fucking Jap bomb. It's kind of hard to feel good about this place after that. You know what I mean?”

She sat frozen in her seat, and then slowly nodded her head. So that was it. That was the emptiness she saw in his eyes. She wondered if he'd always be like that, or if he'd come alive again. One day. Maybe. “I'm sorry, Ward.” There wasn't much else one could say. There were other stories much like this, some worse. But that was no consolation to him.

“I'm sorry.” He smiled a quiet smile. There was no point dumping it on her. It wasn't her fault. And she was so different from Kathy. Kathy was so quiet and plain and he had been so desperately in love with her. And this woman was all beauty and flash, worldly right down to the tip of every brightly polished nail. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tell you something like that. There are a thousand stories like that here.” She knew that there were and she had heard most of them before, but that didn't make them any easier to hear. She felt terrible for him, and as she followed him slowly back out to the jeep, she was glad she hadn't had dinner with the CO. after all, and she told him so, as he turned to her with that quiet half smile of his that somehow appealed to her, more than any smile she'd seen in Hollywood, at least in the last year or two.

“That's a nice thing to say.”

She wanted to touch his arm, but she didn't dare. She wasn't just Faye Price the actress now, she was herself. “I mean it, Ward.”

“Why? You don't have to feel sorry for me, Faye. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself. I have for a long time.” But she saw more than that. She saw what Kathy had, and more. She knew how desperately hurt he was, how lonely, how shocked still by the pretty little nurse's death … his wife … it had happened two months after they got married, to the day, but he didn't tell Faye that bitter detail as he drove her back to the tent she'd been assigned. “I still think it's damn nice of you to come out here to see the men.”

“Thanks.”

He stopped the jeep, and they sat looking at each other for a long time, each with a lot more to say, but no way to say it here. Where did one start? How did one begin? He had read about her affair with Gable years before, and he wondered if it was over now. She wondered how long he would pine for the army nurse he had loved.

“Thank you for dinner.” She said it with a shy smile and he laughed as he opened the door for her.

“I told you … it's just like ‘21’ …”

“Next time I'll try the hash.” They were back to joking again, it seemed to be the only route open to them, but as he walked her to the door of her tent, and pulled the flaps back for her, there was something more in his eyes, something quiet and deep and alive in a way he hadn't been a few hours before.

“I'm sorry I told you all that. I didn't mean to lay my troubles in your lap.” He reached out a hand and touched her arm as she looked at him.

“Why not, Ward? What's so wrong with that? Who else do you have to talk to here?”

“We don't talk about things like that.” He shrugged. “Everyone knew anyway.” And suddenly the tears he had fought back before sprang into his eyes again, and he started to turn away, as she grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

“It's all right, Ward … it's all right …” And the next thing she knew, she was holding him tight, and they were both crying, he for a dead wife, and she for a girl she had never known, and a thousand men who had died and would continue to die long after she went home. They cried for the agony and the waste and the sorrow that was inescapable here, and then he looked down at her, and gently smoothed a hand over her silky hair. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and it struck him odd that he didn't even feel guilty for thinking that. Maybe Kathy would understand … maybe it didn't even matter anymore … she was never coming back to him … he would never hold her or touch her again … and he would probably never see Faye again after that night. He knew that too, and wished he could go to bed with her. Now. Before he died or she did, or time ended the spark they felt as surely as any bomb.

She sat down slowly on the room's only chair, and looked up at him, as he sat down on her sleeping bag, and they silently held hands, a lifetime of words unspoken but deeply felt, as the jungle roared to life in the distance somewhere.

“I'm never going to forget you, Faye Price. I hope you know that.”

'I'll remember you too. I'll be thinking about you over here … I'll be knowing that you're all right every time I think about you.” And he actually believed that she would. She was that kind of girl, despite the fame and the glamour and the silver lame dress. She had called it a “costume” and to her that is all it was. That was the beauty of her.

“Maybe I'll surprise you and drop in on you at the studio when I come home.”

“You do that, Ward Thayer.” Her voice was quiet and firm, her eyes still beautiful after the tears.

“Will you have me thrown out?” He seemed amused at the thought and she looked incensed.

“Of course not!”

“I may try it, you know.”

“Good.” She smiled at him again, and he could see how exhausted she was. She had given so much of herself that night. To the others, to him. And it was after four o'clock. She would have to be up again in less than two hours, in order to move on, to do the next show. She had been working nonstop for months now. Two months on tour, and three months before that, without a day off, on her biggest film so far. And when she went back, there was another movie waiting for her. She was a big star, and she had a big career, but none of that seemed to matter here. She was just a pretty girl with a big heart, and given a little time, he could easily have fallen in love with her.

He stood up, almost regretfully, took her fingers in his own, and then lifted them to his lips. “Thanks, Faye … if I never see you again, thank you for tonight …”

She left her fingers in his for a long moment, her eyes holding his. “Well meet again one day.” He wasn't as sure, but he wanted to believe her words. And then the weight of the moment was too much for him, and he needed to make light of it. “Ill bet you say that to all the guys.”

She laughed and stood up as he walked slowly to the tent door. “You're impossible, Ward Thayer.”

He turned and glanced over his shoulder at her. “You're not bad yourself, Miss Price.” She was just Faye to him now, in his mind, it was difficult to remember who else she was … Faye Price … the movie star … actress … singer … important personality … she was just Faye to him, now, for tonight. His face sobered slowly then. “Will I see you again before you leave?” Suddenly that mattered a lot to him, and to her as well, more than he knew in fact. She wanted to see him again too before she left.

“Maybe we can catch a quick cup of coffee tomorrow morning before things get too crazy.” She knew the crew had probably been up all night, raising hell with the enlisted men, or the nursing staff, or preferably both, singing and playing the band's instruments. It was the same everywhere they went, but they needed to let off steam, and they never seemed to mind staying up all night. The crunch would come the next day when they had to get organized to leave, and then suddenly everything would be totally insane for two hours before they boarded the plane to the next base. She went through it almost every day, and then finally on the plane, they would all sleep until the next stop, and then the magic would begin again. She would have a lot to do before they left, to help everybody load up, but maybe, just maybe … there would be a spare moment for him…. “I'll look for you.”

“Ill be around.”

But when she joined the others at the mess hall the next day at seven o'clock, he was not there. The CO. had needed him, and it was almost nine o'clock before Ward found Faye standing with the others while their plane warmed up. There had been a faint look of panic in her eyes which pleased him as he shrieked up in the jeep, and jumped out to speak to her.

“Sony, Faye … the CO ….” The noise of the propellers drowned him out, and there were frantic orders being given by the stage manager to the rest of the group around her.

“It's all right …” She smiled her dazzling smile at him, but he saw that she looked tired today. She couldn't have had more than two hours sleep, and he had had half of that himself, but he was used to it. She was wearing a bright red jumpsuit today with platform sandals that made him smile. The latest fashions for Guadalcanal … and then suddenly Kathy's face flashed into mind and he felt the old familiar pain again. His eyes met Faye's as someone in the distance shouted her name. “I have to go …”

“I know.” They were both shouting above the din.

He grabbed her hand for one moment and squeezed it hard. He wanted to kiss her lips but he didn't dare. “I'll see you at the studio!”

“What?” She looked distressed, in all her travels among service men, no one had touched her as this man had.

“I said … see you at the studio!”

She smiled at him, suddenly wondering if she would ever see him again. “Take care of yourself!”

“Sure.” There were no guarantees here. For anyone. Even for her. Her plane could have been shot down on its way to their next stop. They all accepted that, realized it, until someone they cared about got hurt … a buddy, a roommate, a friend … Kathy … he shook the image from his mind again. “You take care too.” What did you say to a woman like her? “Good luck.” She didn't need much of that, she already had it all. Or did she? He wondered if there was a man in her life, but it was too late to ask now. She had begun to walk away with the others, looking back and waving at him. The CO. had suddenly arrived for a last round of thanks, and Ward saw her shaking his hand, as he watched her go, and then suddenly she was in the plane, standing in the doorway for a last instant as she waved at him, and then the red jumpsuit disappeared from his life, probably for good, he thought. He hardened himself never to see her again. It was unlikely that he would, he told himself, as Faye told herself the same thing. She found herself looking down at him, wondering why he had hit her so hard. Maybe it was time to go home after all, maybe the men she met on tour were beginning to appeal to her, and that could be dangerous … but it wasn't that … it was something else about him … something she had never felt before. But she couldn't afford those feelings now. He was a stranger to her, she reminded herself, and she had a life to live. A life which didn't include him. He was fighting a war. And she had enough wars of her own … on tour … in Hollywood…. Goodbye, Ward Thayer, she whispered to herself … good luck … and then she sat back and closed her eyes as the plane flew on … but his face haunted her for weeks … those deep blue eyes … it was months before he was completely out of her mind. And then he was. At last.

CHAPTER 2

Everyone on the set stood in total silence, and tension was heavy in the air. They had waited for almost four months for this moment, and now that it was here they all wanted to stop it, to keep it from coming, to make it come on another day. It had been one of those magical movies where almost everything went smoothly, what seemed like lasting friendships had been made, everyone was crazy about the star, and all of the women were more than half in love with the director. The male lead was Christopher Arnold, and everyone said he was Hollywood's biggest male star. It was easy to see why, the man was a pro. And now they all stood watching him, in his last scene, speaking softly, tears in his eyes. You could have heard a pin drop all the way to Pasadena, and Faye Price walked off the set for the last time, head bowed, real tears streaming down her cheeks. Arnold watched her go, devastated … that was it … the final scene … it was over.