Star (8 page)

“Maybe you will one day.” They both laughed at that. Movies were for movie stars, not for real people. And life couldn’t have been more real for her, no matter how beautiful she was. She knew her life would never include being in movies. “You’re pretty enough to be. You’re beautiful.” His voice was gentle, as the swing slowly stopped moving again and she looked at him. There was something startling about the way he had said it. The force of his words surprised both of them into silence, and then she only shook her head with a sad smile. She was already mourning the thought of his leaving.

“Hiroko is beautiful, I’m not.”

“Yes, she is,” he agreed, “but so are you.” His voice was so soft she could barely hear it.

And then suddenly, feeling brave, she asked him the question she’d wondered since she first saw him that morning.

“Why did you come today?” To see Boyd … Hiroko … Tom … Becky’s baby … there were
half a dozen plausible answers and only one that had brought him here. And as he looked into her eyes he knew he had to tell her. And she had to know it.

“I wanted to see you before I left.” He spoke softly and she nodded. It was what she had wanted to hear, but now the words frightened her a little. This very handsome man, from another world, had actually come to see her. And she didn’t quite understand what he wanted of her. Nor did Spencer himself, which made it all the more confusing.

She quietly left the swing, coming to stand next to him, looking up at him with the lavender-blue eyes he had never forgotten. “Thank you.” They stood together for a long moment, and then from the corner of his eye, Spencer saw her father approach them. He was waving at Crystal, and for a moment, Spencer was afraid he was angry, as though he had read the younger man’s mind and didn’t like what he saw there. In fact, he had been watching them for a long time, and had wondered what they were saying. There was something about the man he liked, and he knew that he was only passing through. And it was good for a man like that to admire her. Tad Wyatt was only sorry there weren’t more like him in the valley. But he had other things on his mind as he approached them with warm eyes, and a smile that was reminiscent of Crystal’s.

“You two were looking awfully serious, way over here. Solving the problems of the world, were you, young ’uns?” The words teased, but the wise old eyes took Spencer in. He liked what he saw. He had from the first, although he also knew that he was too old for Crystal. He saw something in her face that he had never seen there before, except once or twice, when she had looked up at him with open adoration. But it was something different this time, something both happy and sad. And suddenly,
Tad Wyatt realized that his baby had become a woman. He turned to Spencer then, and spoke in his deep, quiet voice. “You’ve a treat in store, Captain Hill.” He smiled at Crystal proudly. “That is, if Crystal will agree. The folks want to hear you sing, little one. Will you do it?”

She blushed and shook her head, the long pale mane sweeping over part of her face, the tree casting shadows on the other side, as the sunlight caught the platinum of her hair, and both men were momentarily stunned into silence by her beauty. She looked up at her father then, and the lavender eyes were filled with shy laughter. “There are too many people here … it’s not like in church …”

“It won’t make any difference. You’ll forget them once you start.” He loved to listen to her voice as they rode over the hills, her voice had the same awesome, explosive quality as a brilliant sunrise, and he never tired of her singing. “Some of the men brought their guitars. Just a song or two, to liven up the party.” His eyes pleaded with her, and she could never refuse him, although it embarrassed her to think of singing in front of Spencer. He would probably think she was stupid. But he added his voice to Tad’s, urging her, and when their eyes met, there was a long moment of silence between them, a moment that said everything neither of them dared to say. And for a minute, she thought that it might be her gift to him, something he could remember her by. She nodded quietly, and followed her father slowly back to the others. Spencer went back to Boyd and Hiroko then, and she glanced over her shoulder once and saw that he was watching her, and even from the distance, she could feel the love in his eyes for her. The love that neither of them understood, that had been conceived a year before, and carried for a whole year until they met again. It was a
love that would not go anywhere, but at least they had that to take with them when he left her.

She took a guitar from one of the men’s hands, and sat down on a bench as two others joined her and smiled at her in admiration. Olivia was watching her from the porch, annoyed as always that Tad had singled her out to make a spectacle of herself. But she also knew that people liked to hear Crystal sing. Even some of the women relented when they heard her sing in church. And when she sang “Amazing Grace,” it brought tears to their eyes. But this time, she sang her father’s favorite ballads, the ones they sang together when they rode out in the early mornings, and within minutes the crowd had gathered around her and no one said a word as they listened to her strong, sure voice cast its magical spell on them. Her voice was as unforgettable as her face, and Spencer closed his eyes and let himself drift in the pure, sweet beauty of it, as the sheer power of her voice held him spellbound. She sang four songs, and the last strains seemed to soar into the summer sky like angels flying toward the heavens. There was a long silence when she stopped as everyone stared at her in fresh amazement. They had heard her sing a hundred times before and yet when they heard her again, it always moved them. There was an explosion of applause, and Tad wiped his eyes, as he always did, and in a few minutes the crowd dispersed, and they went back to their conversations and their drinking, but for a moment she had made each of them fall in love with her. And Spencer couldn’t bring himself to speak to anyone for a long moment after he’d heard her. He wanted to talk to her again, but she had gone off somewhere with her father, and he didn’t see her again until it was time to go, and she was standing near her parents, shaking people’s hands as they thanked them for lunch and gathered up their children.

Spencer thanked her parents dutifully as well, but then suddenly he had her hand in his own, and he was terrified that the moment between them was too fleeting. He might never see her again, and he couldn’t bear the thought as he looked into her eyes and wanted to hold on to her forever.

“You didn’t tell me you could sing like that.” His voice was whisper soft as his eyes caressed her. But she laughed, looking young again, and embarrassed at the unexpected compliment. She had sung the songs for him, and she wondered if he knew that. “You might get to Hollywood after all.”

She laughed again, the sound as musical as her singing had been. “I don’t think so, Mr. Hill … I don’t really think so.”

“I hope we meet again one day.” Their eyes grew serious and she nodded.

“So do I.” But they both knew it was less than likely.

And then, he couldn’t stop himself from saying the words. “I won’t forget you, Crystal … ever … take care of yourself.” Have a good life … don’t marry someone who doesn’t deserve you … don’t forget me … what could he possibly say to her without sounding like a total fool, and he could hardly tell her that he loved her.

“You too.” She was nodding solemnly. She knew he was leaving for New York in a few days, and their paths wouldn’t cross again. A continent, a world, a whole life would separate them forever.

And then, without saying another word, he bent and gently kissed her cheek, and a moment later he was gone, driving away from the ranch, his heart like a rock in his chest, as Crystal stood silently apart from the others, and watched him.

On his way home, Spencer took the turnoff before the Golden Gate Bridge, and pulled the car off the road. He needed a moment to think, to compose himself, and remember. Crystal had haunted him for a year, and now she was doing it again, only hours after he had left her. The valley seemed only a dim memory now, and all he could think of was her face … her eyes … the way she looked at him … her voice as she sang the ballads. She was a rare bird and he knew he had lost her forever in the forest. There was no way he’d get back to her again. And it was crazy even to think of it. She was a sixteen-year-old girl, living in a remote California valley. She knew nothing of the life he led. And even if she did, she wouldn’t understand it. It was too far from her own ken. What did she know of Wall Street and New York, and the obligations he had to live up to. His family expected a lot of him, and nowhere in their plans was there room for the country girl, the merest child he had accidentally fallen in love with. A girl he barely knew, he
reminded himself. His parents wouldn’t have understood that. How could they, when he didn’t understand it himself? And like her dreams of Hollywood, and movie stars, Spencer had had his own dreams. But those dreams had changed when his brother died in Guam. And now he had not only his own life to lead, but he had to live up to his brother’s aspirations. His family expected that of him, and at least he was going to try. And what did Crystal know of all that? She knew nothing, except about the valley she had grown up in. He knew he had to forget her now. He smiled sadly to himself as he looked out over the bay, and at the bridge, thinking of her, and he reminded himself that he was being foolish. He had been dazzled by a pretty girl, which only proved to him that he had to get on with his life now. He needed more than law school and hamburgers in Palo Alto with attractive co-eds to provide him amusement. There was a whole world waiting for him. A world with no place in it for Crystal Wyatt, no matter how lovely she was, or how taken he was with her at the moment. He walked back to his car, wondering what his father would say if he told him he had fallen in love with a sixteen-year-old girl in the Alexander Valley.

“Good-bye, little girl,” he whispered to himself as he crossed the Golden Gate Bridge for the last time. He had a dinner party to attend that night. It was a duty he owed his father. He wasn’t in the mood, but he knew he needed to get his mind off her. She was gone now. But gone or not, he knew he would never forget her.

He was staying at the Fairmont Hotel for his last few days in town, and he had taken a room with a sweeping view, just to remind himself of what he’d be missing. He was almost sorry he hadn’t looked for a job in San Francisco, but that had never been his plan. He had promised his parents he would come home again, and he knew only
too well what was expected of him now. His father had been a lawyer until the war, when he was appointed a judge, which was as far as his own political aspirations would take him. But he had always had far grander plans for his sons, especially for Spencer’s older brother, Robert. Robert had been killed in Guam, leaving a young widow and two children. He had studied political science at Harvard and politics had been his life’s ambition. He had talked of being a congressman, and Spencer had dreamed of being a doctor. But the war changed all that. With four years delay, he himself couldn’t imagine spending many more years studying medicine, and law school had been the right decision. Judge Hill had assured him of it, and Spencer knew his father had secret yearnings to become an appellate justice. Be that as it may, the burden of proof rested on Spencer’s shoulders now. It was he who had to follow in Robert’s footsteps. The Hill family was a solid one, his mother’s forebears had arrived in Boston with the Pilgrims. His father was of simpler stock, but he had worked hard to measure up, and had put himself through Harvard Law School. And now it had been important to both of them that Spencer do something “important” with his life. And to them, “important” didn’t include a girl like Crystal. Robert had, of course, married well. He had always done what they wanted, while Spencer had always been free to do exactly as he pleased. And now suddenly, with his older brother gone, he felt as though he had to make it up to them, as though he had to follow in the footsteps that had never suited him before and now suddenly had to. Going to law school had been part of that. And going back to New York now. And Wall Street … he could hardly think of himself there, and yet he had just crammed three years of law school into two preparing for just that. But Wall Street sounded so damn stuffy. At
least if he could make something useful of it, use it as a stepping-stone to a grander scheme, maybe then he would be able to stand it. He looked out the window again as he thought of it, staring into the distance, thinking of the place where he had left Crystal. He sighed then, and turned back into the room. The carpets were thick, and the furniture was new and there was a huge chandelier hanging above him. And yet, all he could think of was the ranch … and the hills … and the girl on the swing. He had two more nights left. Two nights before he had to move on to the life he had so unexpectedly inherited from Robert. Why the hell couldn’t he have lived? Why couldn’t he have been there for them, to do what they expected, to work on goddamn Wall Street … He strode out of the room and slammed the door with a vengeance. He was expected at eight o’clock at the home of Harrison Barclay. He was a friend of Spencer’s father, a federal judge and extremely well connected politically. There had even been talk that one day he might make it to the Supreme Court. And Spencer’s father had insisted that he see him. Spencer had looked him up once the year before, and had called again a few weeks ago to tell him he had graduated from Stanford and was going back to New York to an illustrious law firm. Harrison Barclay had been extremely pleased for him, and had insisted that he come to dinner before leaving. It was a command performance, but Spencer knew this was only the first of many in his life, and he might as well start getting used to it. He had returned to the hotel just in time to shower and shave and change, and he hurried downstairs to the lobby, but he was in no mood to see anyone, least of all Harrison Barclay.