Sins of the Flesh (54 page)

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Daniel muttered.

“And the television…?”

“Philippe will make a fortune on it, there's no doubt about it. Nellie is entitled to nothing since you did it all in your name, Bebe,” Daniel reassured her. “The wave of the future is here, and sooner or later it will hurt this industry. That's when you'll get your pound of flesh, Philippe.”

Whatever was good, kind, and decent in Philippe died at that moment, replaced by vengeance, ruthlessness, and hatred. “What about my house?”

“Nellie's lawyer said the child needed a home atmosphere and suggested she keep the house. You can fight it if you want.”

“Philippe, why not move into your father's house,” Bebe suggested. “I'm sure if he were here, he would offer it to you. Daniel isn't there anymore, not since he moved in with Jane. He only goes by to check on things every few days. Someone should live there. I think Reuben would want it to be you.”

“Where do you stand on all of this, Mr. Bishop?” Philippe asked coolly.

Daniel reached over and took Jane's hand. “Well, first of all Jane and I are getting married.” He grinned. “She's finally going to make an honest man of me. And as far as Nellie is concerned, once all the legal paperwork is done, I wash my hands of her. I told her so, and it didn't seem to matter to her one way or the other. One part of me believes I've failed her, and the other part, the legal part, knows I am no longer responsible for her because she's of age. Someday I guess I'll be able to forget all this.”

“I'll never forget it,” Philippe snarled as he stomped from the room.

 

Ten days later, with the ink barely dry on all the legal documents,
Variety
broke the news. Hollywood raised its eyebrows and decided to take a backseat, wait-and-watch attitude. Two days after the announcement that Cornelia Tarz was taking over Fairmont Studios, a second story broke that Philip Bouchet Tarz, son of mogul Reuben Tarz, was starting up production at Global Studios, the film company that had turned out
The Sands of Time
. At this piece of information Hollywood lowered its brows, climbed onto the front seat, and started to buzz. Odds and bets were the order of the day.

The war was on.

 

While Hollywood flapped its wings, Philippe wrote a note to Mr. and Mrs. Almeda thanking them for their hospitality. Then he wrote a second note, this one stiff and formal, to “Elizabeth,” as he referred to her now. In it he apologized for taking up so much of her time and said he wouldn't be returning to Sacramento in the near future. He closed by wishing her well in any and all future endeavors and signed the note Philip Tarz.

When Philippe said his good-bye to Mike outside his mother's house, he handed over a check for the down payment on a building for Mike to start his flight school. “It's a loan, nothing more,” he insisted when Mike began to protest. “Look, buddy, I don't want you thinking I don't want you here. I do, but this is best for you and for me. I have to tackle this on my own and either fall on my face or make it big-time like my old man. And I'm asking you please not to make up any fairy tales for your sister. I want your promise.” Mike nodded glumly. “Maybe someday I'll be free to…to…you know.” He shrugged.

“Nellie sounds to me like someone who'll live to a ripe old age,” Mike predicted, his voice tight with the effort at holding back tears. “Evil people usually do. Jesus, there must be a way….”

“If there is, I'll find it. I don't have the right to ask Lizzie to wait for me. I would never ask that of her, and it wouldn't be fair. So, let's say good-bye here.” Philippe forced a grin. “Hell, it's not really good-bye, I'll see you at March Field when we sign out for the last time. Good luck, buddy.”

Mike wanted to shake his friend, to do something—anything—to make him change his mind, but he knew he couldn't. “Guess I'll see you around. Listen, if you decide to do anything with stunt pilots, you give me a call, okay? I'll be here in a minute.”

“Right. Now get out of here before we both start to blubber.”

“Lizzie isn't going to understand any of this,” Mike muttered as he settled himself behind the wheel.

“I know.” Philippe sighed. “I don't understand any of it myself.”

“Think of it as a new beginning.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'll do that. You drive carefully, you hear?”

In frustration, Mike threw the car in gear and roared down the drive, tires squealing. He didn't look back or blow the horn.

Philippe turned and walked back to the house. At the door he turned and waved…to nothing. Mike was out of sight. “Okay, Hollywood, it's my turn at bat,” he muttered. “Only time will tell if I'm the man my father is.”

Time. Time was the answer to everything.

Hollywood turned out en masse to honor its own on Academy Awards night. Elaborate hairstyles, designer gowns and furs, glittering jewelry, and handsome tuxedos were the order of the evening, as were the gleaming smiles and gracious handwaving to the public that lined the entrance to the theater.

There was a subdued excitement as filmmakers and actors took their assigned seats in the plush theater. There wasn't one among them who didn't covet the small golden statue, but they all knew, regardless of the nominations, who would walk away at the end of the evening with Hollywood's highest honor.

In the front row, sixteen children sat alongside Bebe, Jane, Daniel, and Philippe. The children were restless, uncertain of what to expect. All they wanted was for the evening to be over so they could return to France the following day. There had been one bad moment at the door when the usher wouldn't allow Bruno to bring his dog inside. As one, the children backstepped. Anna spoke for all of them: “If the dog doesn't go in, we don't go in. He was as valiant as all of us.” Those lining the plush ropes jeered and booed the usher's decision. Photographers snapped pictures of Bruno sticking out his tongue at one of the royally clad emissaries of the awards. It took ten minutes of negotiation on Bebe's part before they could enter—the dog in tow.

Two hours later, backstage, Jane and Bebe hugged each other ecstatically.
The Sands of Time
had won Oscars for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Original Screenplay, Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actor, and Best Supporting Actress. Best
everything!
Each time an award was accepted, the entire theater surged to its feet, applauding to show its support for the academy's decision.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, members of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, we have one last honor to bestow before we adjourn for another year,” announced Clark Gable. “Tonight the academy wishes to honor sixteen courageous little soldiers from France. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Marchioness Michelene Fonsard's little army. Come forward, children!”

The house rose and roared its approval as the children trooped up to the stage. Marie took her place before the microphone and in almost perfect English spoke.

“We wish to thank you for this honor. Mademoiselle Mickey and Monsieur Tarz saved our lives. We accept your honor on their behalf. We will always remember this wonderful time in your country. Tomorrow we return to France, where we will join Monsieur Tarz, who is waiting for us. We will tell him of this wonderful evening. Thank you.”

One by one the children were handed their small statues. As Bruno reached for his award, his dog leapt from his arms and scampered across the stage. The bright lights and laughter of the audience confused the dog, and he immediately peed on Gable's leg, to the uproarious delight of the audience. Good sport that he was, Gable picked up the dog and announced, “It's a rented tux.”

Backstage there was pandemonium. “You'll need a truck to carry all of these back to the house,” Daniel said, laughing.

The children shyly posed for pictures and murmured their thanks over and over, their statues held aloft.

“I'm so tired I could go to sleep on my feet,” Bebe whispered to Jane.

“Take them home, Bebe. Daniel and I will make an appearance at the party and join you in a little while,” Jane promised. “The kids look absolutely exhausted. Daniel's bags are in the car. You're all packed and ready to go, right?”

Bebe grinned. “The children have been packed and ready to go for the last two months. I'm ready to go, that's for sure. I've had enough of Hollywood to last me the rest of my life. I wish you were coming.”

“I will, but I have to help Philippe get Global off the ground. Eight, ten months, and I'll be knocking on the door of that château. I'm glad Daniel's going, though,” Jane added. “He has to get away from here, away from Nellie. It's best. I'm going to miss him terribly, but it'll give me something to look forward to. In the meantime, you be sure and tell Reuben we made a hell of a team.”

“I will. I'll see you later.” Bebe glanced around. “Have you seen Philippe? He came with all of us in the bus and said he would leave with us, but I haven't seen him since the children accepted their honors.”

“He left a few minutes ago in my car,” Jane told her. “Said he wanted to write a letter to his father. I think the young man has a lot to say at this point. He's going to be all right, Bebe. This thing with Nellie…it'll be resolved eventually. Philippe is starting a new life, and at this point Nellie is nothing more than a nuisance he has to deal with. Don't worry about him; I won't leave until I'm sure he's on the right road.”

“Bless you, Jane, what would any of us have done without you?” Bebe said in a choked voice. Jane kissed her on the cheek before she linked her arm with Daniel's.

Bebe clapped her hands. “Okay, listen up! We're going out to the bus in an orderly manner. We're going home to…to get ready for our trip tomorrow. All in favor, say aye!”

The mad scramble through the crowds with Bebe dashing behind her young charges had photographers clicking their cameras madly.

It was over. Tomorrow, Hollywood would be a memory.

“I feel like I've just come home for the second time in my life,” Daniel said softly to Bebe.

“I feel the same way. So many years, Daniel…. This is the right thing, isn't it?” she whispered.

“More right than you'll ever know. You go ahead, we'll all wait here. This is your moment and you've waited long enough. I don't know if those shoes are sturdy enough to tramp through a vineyard, though.”

“My feet have wings.” Bebe smiled as she started off toward the vineyard where Reuben was pruning the grapevines. She saw him first, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle an exclamation of joy. Quietly she waited at the end of the vines, willing her husband to turn and notice her.
Turn, Reuben, look at me,
she prayed.

He did turn then and noticed the slim young woman in a cornflower-blue dress, the same dress he'd seen once before in Paris. Bebe…Sucking in his breath, he started forward. When he got closer, but not within arm's reach, he heard her say, “I'm Barbara Tarz from California.”

He wanted to say, I'm Reuben Tarz, but all he could manage was, “What took you so long?” She ran straight into his outstretched arms.

“I…I had a…couple of things to do…. But I made it,” she said, kissing his eyes, his cheeks, his mouth. “I'm here, Reuben.”

“I…I wasn't sure you'd come…. I hoped…I actually prayed…”

“Oh, Reuben, how I've missed you! I didn't get the…divorce…”

Reuben smiled. “I know.”

“How do you know that?” Bebe asked, looking up in surprise.

He stroked her hair tenderly. “Because you love me and I love you. I could never divorce you back then any more than you could divorce me…. How are the boys, Simon and Dillon?”

“Fine, they send their love.”

“Philippe? Is he with you?”

“No, he isn't, but he sent a letter to you.” Bebe grinned suddenly, mischief dancing in her eyes. “I did bring…Come along and see who came with me.”

His arm about her shoulder, Reuben walked with her to the château and stopped when all sixteen children ran to him, Daniel in their wake. “You arranged all this?” Reuben gasped as he lifted Bruno high on his shoulder. Amid the laughter, the squeals of joy, the hugs and kisses, Bebe watched tears stream down her husband's cheeks. “I've spent months looking for these children. I had no idea…I wrote letters, I did everything I could think of…. Thank you, Bebe, thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“Daniel deserves most of the thanks,” Bebe replied, blushing. “His friends got the children out. Oh, Reuben, we have so much to tell you! It will take days.”

“You son of a gun!” Reuben cried, clapping his friend on the back.

“Old times, old friend,” Daniel said in a shaky voice.

“You here to stay, or…or just passing through?” Reuben asked gruffly as Bruno yanked at his hair, clamoring to see the red wagon.

“I thought I'd stay on. Someone has to look after you, you big galoot,” Daniel said, grinning.

“I kind of feel that way myself,” Bebe chirped. “Unless, of course, you don't want us.” She held her breath expectantly.

In a voice tight with emotion, Reuben said, “This is where we all belong. We're home now, and none of us is going to leave.”

Bebe positively glowed with happiness. Daniel beamed and said, “We have one more coming in a little while: Jane. We're getting married, but that's a long story. I think we should get this kid his red wagon before he wets his pants.”

Reuben chuckled. “I think you're right. I painted it and it's waiting; so is the bicycle. The barn is full of dogs and new pups. I've also got a goat and six chickens and two roosters. I'm trying to negotiate a cow, but it's tough. I did get a donkey for the pony cart, however.”

“Okay, single file now,” Bebe called out, clapping her hands. “March. Straight line, Bruno.”

The little boy did a fast double step and turned. “I am glad to be here, monsieur. I counted the days. You are now our papa and Mademoiselle Bebe is our mama and Monsieur Daniel is our uncle,” he said in English. “You are proud of us, eh?”

“Damn right, kiddo,” Reuben said huskily.

Bruno grinned. “For you, monsieur, we learn the English to say thank you.”

“And you did a damn fine job. At the top of the stairs, down two doors, is the red wagon. Go!”

 

A short while later they found Bruno sitting in the wagon fast asleep, the dog curled up next to him.

“For this alone, it was worth it,” Reuben whispered, his eyes misting. “Mickey would be so happy.”

“Yvette…has there been any word?” asked Bebe.

Reuben shook his head. “I tried to find out, but things were so…there were no records. I think she's safe and will find her way here one of these days just the way you have. I've been trying to work at the farm a few days a week in case she returns. With the children here we can get it back into shape. Jesus, I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life as you two.”

“I love you, Reuben,” Bebe said softly.

“And I love you,” Reuben said, drawing her close.

Daniel stood quietly, watching them. “The Three Musketeers,” he said. “Where is it, Reuben?”

“It no longer exists. It's a memory.
We
are the Three Musketeers.”

Bebe's eyes brimmed. At last she belonged.

“All our sins are forgiven,” Reuben said quietly.

Bebe smiled.