The Memoir of Johnny Devine (23 page)

Ed looked like he had just discovered his
suit was made of sandpaper. He rose and excused himself.

Betty watched her husband
leave, then lowered her voice and leaned closer to Eliza. “But,
Eliza, did you really
try
? I’m sure if you would have
just—”

“
Betty! Do you hear
yourself?” Eliza’s heart thumped so hard it hurt. “Do you have any
idea how degrading it is to tell a woman who lives to be pleasing,
day after day, that it’s her fault when her husband cheats on her?
Do you have any idea how demoralizing that is? How can you, a
woman, even consider letting a lying philanderer off the hook and
say that a man’s dissatisfaction—or anything for that
matter—justifies sleeping around?”

Betty stiffened and stared at Eliza as if
seeing her for the first time.

“
Can we just drop this,
please?” Eliza hissed, her body trembling from the adrenaline
coursing through her.

“
Yes, of
course.”

Did Betty really understand? Because Eliza
couldn’t understand her sister’s way of thinking. Did Betty really
believe a woman was to blame for a husband’s choices and men were
not to be held accountable? Were men not capable of being kind and
considerate out of mutual respect? Had Betty forgotten their
father? He not only showed kindness to Mama, but love and
affection. Was Papa a rare exception?

Betty took Eliza’s plate and carried it to
the kitchen.

Eliza didn’t join her. Forget love and
affection. Was it too much to ask for simple kindness or a little
approval once in a while?

The intensity of her own emotions shook her
more than she thought possible. Too long had those feelings
festered. Too deep had the pain been driven.

Will this anger and hurt ever go away, or
will it keep bursting out of me again and again? Will I ever be
free of this?

Ed returned to the dining room, followed by
Odella with a tray of coffee. Ed was probably trying to think of a
good excuse to take Eliza to the bus stop early, and she couldn’t
blame him.

Odella offered Eliza a cup, which she
accepted with a slight tremor in her hands.

“
So how’s work these
days?” Ed said. “I hear you’re doing some kind of book
collaboration.”

Betty returned to the table and took her
seat. Her blue eyes were dark and rimmed in red.

Eliza’s heart sank.
I bet they’re glad I came. Happy Thanksgiving,
everyone.
She eased out a smile. “I’m
collaborating on a memoir.”

“
Memoir?” Betty tried to
smile, but her eyes weren’t joining in. “How interesting. So you’re
typing someone’s diary?”

“
No, Betty,” Ed said. “A
memoir is particular events in someone’s life, told with a point. A
lot of famous people write them.” Ed turned to Eliza. “So who is
he? Don’t tell me—Winston Churchill.” He chuckled.

“
As a matter of
fact
…”
Eliza
said. This was it, now or never. “I’m working on the memoir of
Johnny Devine.”

Betty’s eyes widened.

Ed stared. Then he
laughed. “Funny, for a minute I thought you said Johnny
Devine
, as in the famous
movie star.” Still chuckling, he shook his head.

Eliza nodded. “That’s the one.”

Ed’s face sagged, losing
all traces of mirth. “You can’t be serious.
The
Johnny Devine? That guy was all
the rage. Legendary ladies’ man. What’s writing his story
like—copying notes written on ladies’ undergarments and cocktail
napkins?” He laughed at his own joke.

Fingering her pearls, Eliza tried to keep
calm. After all, Ed didn’t know John. Which made his flippant
remark all the more aggravating. People could be so callous, so
quick to assume and judge people they didn’t even know.

Was this the kind of reception John’s book
would get when it went public? Now, more than ever, she wanted the
book finished and filling the shelves of every bookstore in the
country.

“
That would be some trick,
wouldn’t it?” Eliza mustered a weak smile. “No, I transcribe notes
taken from dictation. I edit the notes as needed and then type the
manuscript.” She stole a glance at her sister.

Betty caught her glance
and held it, her churning thoughts almost visible on her face.
“And
who
takes
dictation from him?”

“
I do.”

More shocked stares.

“
Jiminy,” Ed said, his
face thoughtful. “Looks like we’ll have a celebrity in the family,
Betty.” His eyes lit up. “Your name’s going on the cover, right?”
He leaned forward on folded arms. “What kind of, uh … royalties are
you going to be pulling in?”

“
Well, it doesn’t work
that—”

“
Where?” Betty said. “I
mean, where does this
dictation
take place?” She said the word as if it fouled
her tongue to say it.

Here it
comes
. Eliza met her sister’s questioning
stare head-on. “We work in the library at his gated home. There’s a
maid and a gardener there at all times.”

Betty reddened. A thick silence settled over
the table.

Ed’s gaze shifted between Eliza and Betty.
He looked as though he’d just stepped into a nest of something best
left undisturbed.

“
Darling, I don’t mean to
be negative,” Betty said, tone cautious, as if Eliza’s previous
outburst had been a lesson to her. “But are you aware of this man’s
reputation?”

“
Yes.”
As a matter of fact, I hear it, write it, read it, and type
it. Every day. You could say I know him by heart now.

“
Should you really be
working for a man like that?”

Eliza studied her hands in her lap. No
wonder John had a hard time forgetting his past—no one else could.
“He’s perfectly professional, Betty. He treats me with utmost
respect. I can assure you he has never, nor will he ever, make a
pass at me.” A dull ache settled deep into her chest. “And what you
don’t know—at least, not until the book comes out—is that he’s
changed. That’s the reason he’s writing—”

“
Changed? Please. He’s
an
actor
, Eliza.
It’s an
act
.”

Eliza broke from Betty’s gaze to avoid
another scene. One outburst per holiday was Eliza’s limit, and her
earlier tirade would be remembered for holidays to come.

All she had to do was keep her wits about
her for another half hour, then she’d be on a bus back to
Oakland.

“
Betty,” Eliza said as
evenly as possible, “may I remind you that I was desperately in
need of a job. This one pays me well enough to put away a tidy
little nest egg.”

“
And may I remind
you
that you wouldn’t
have to work if you would only—” Betty clamped her lips.

“
Get married? Yes. You’ve
reminded me.”

Odella moved through the dining room without
making a sound, coffee urn in hand. “More coffee, ma’am?” she asked
Eliza.

“
Oh yes, thank you,
Odella.” As the woman poured, Eliza turned to her. “By the way,
Odella, do you have a family?”

Odella didn’t make eye contact. “Yes,
ma’am.” She concentrated on the urn.

“
Are they waiting for you
to get home so you can have Thanksgiving dinner
together?”

The woman’s gaze lifted slowly until it met
Eliza’s. “Yes, ma’am.” With a sideways glance at Betty, Odella
collected dishes on her tray and left the room.

Betty spooned three lumps
of sugar into her coffee with a clang each time her spoon hit the
cup. “Of course, you could just
marry
Johnny Devine. Then you would
never have to work again.” She stirred her tea with a vengeance and
picked up her cup without meeting Eliza’s gaze.

Marry John?
Her sister must have pinned her curls too tightly
and pinched her brain. “Don’t be ridiculous, Betty. He doesn’t see
me that way. At all. He’s an award-winning movie star with scores
of fans who swoon over him and smart, glamorous friends whose
beauty would take your breath away. I’m nobody.”

As the last two words left her lips, they
tore something from her, leaving a hollow ache.

Betty set her cup down and leaned closer,
blue eyes flashing. “Good. I wouldn’t marry that skirt-chasing
gutter trash if he were the last man on the planet. There. How’s
that for not letting a cheater off the hook?”

Anger seized Eliza’s lungs. “You’re wrong
about John,” she said with all the calm she could muster. “That’s
not who he is. Not at all. Not anymore.”

Betty studied her long and hard. “Oh,
Eliza,” she said, shaking her head. “You’d better watch yourself.
You’re treading on very dangerous ground, in more ways than one.
You need to end that situation pronto. I see nothing but heartache
on the horizon for you.”

Don’t I know it.

A c
onfession can be made to one person or to many, but either
way, dark deeds must be exposed to the light and acknowledged for
what they truly are.

~
The Devine Truth: A Memoir

The first thing Eliza noticed when she woke
Friday morning was that her favorite clock had suffered some kind
of malfunction. Even though Kit-Cat’s tail and eyes were moving
back and forth in unison, the time read one thirty. Eliza rolled
out of bed, stumbled to the bureau, and checked her watch.

The clock was right. She’d slept into the
afternoon. Good thing she had the day off.

A heart-stopping rattle on her door made her
realize this wasn’t the first time someone had knocked.

Eliza closed her eyes with a groan. No more
questions. No more insinuations. No more trying to defend herself
and her parents to people who would not listen.

“
E-
liz
-a? You alive in there?” Joan’s
voice carried through the door.

Tucking back a stray curl, Eliza went to the
door and opened it a crack. “I think so.”

“
Good. I know you said no
calls, but it’s a gal. Says she’s your sister.”

Was there some rule in
Emily Post’s etiquette book that said she
had
to take her sister’s call? Eliza
sighed. “Thank you, Joan, I’ll be right down.” She wrapped her robe
around her and belted it, stepped into her slippers, and tiptoed
down the stairs, praying no one would see her. Pressing the
receiver to her ear, she tried to smile and failed. “Hiya,
Betty.”

“
Do you know what you’ve
started?” Betty’s voice squeaked.

Eliza’s head pounded. Aspirin. No, coffee.
With two lumps of aspirin. “What’s wrong?”

“
I was just paid a visit
from a
friend
of
yours from the house of UN-American something or other. We’d left
the picture of Papa in uniform on the coffee table, and the man
questioned me about him. At length!”

“
What?” Eliza shook her
head, only making it hurt more. “You let him in your
house
?”

“
Of course I let him in,
Eliza. I have nothing to hide.”

“
What did he say?” Heels
clicked down the stairs, and Eliza pressed herself closer to the
wall. Apparently the other girls in the building had the day after
Thanksgiving off too.

“
I don’t remember, he
asked all sorts of questions. About the red star on Papa’s uniform,
which the man said was the uniform of Lenin’s Red Army. He also
insisted on seeing my birth certificate. How did he know about
that, Eliza?” The pitch of her voice bordered on
hysteria.

“
I don’t know, Betty.
Probably the same way he knew how our parents died. How do these
people know anything?”

“
I don’t know. You tell
me.” A huff rattled across the line.

“
What—you think
I
told him?”

Silence.

This was too much. With her only living
family member against her, there was no one on Eliza’s side.

“
He insisted I tell him
why all the lies and secrecy and what subversive activity this
family is hiding.” A muffled sob. “My children had to hear
that.”

This was not good. If Sue Ellen and Eddie
Jr. were nearby, they were probably afraid their mother was losing
her marbles. “Betty, where’s Ed?” Eliza asked gently, hoping her
tone would calm her sister.

“
I can’t reach him. He’s
at a big lunch meeting with a bunch of engineers.”

Eliza tried to think. There wasn’t really
anything she could do for Betty in this moment. The harassment
needed to stop, that was all there was to it.

But the only way to end it
was to find some kind of proof that she and Betty were not involved
in anti-American activity. If only there
was
such proof.

“
Betty, I’m sorry this
happened. I know you’re upset. But I’m sure he won’t be back. Just
try to calm down.”

“
Calm
down
? He said I should be prepared
to go to their headquarters in downtown Berkeley for questioning.
Why? I haven’t done anything, and I don’t know anything. I
shouldn’t have to endure all this questioning, Eliza. I’ve worked
too hard to have a good standing in the community. Whatever you’ve
gotten yourself into, you need to drop it. It’s upsetting my family
and I won’t have it.”