“Don’t you dare talk about my parents like that!” Furious, Amy sat up in bed. She felt her face flame. If she’d had anything to throw besides the lemonade glass, she just might have thrown it.
“Why not? They’ve been dead for years, and anybody would think they’d already done their worst, but they haven’t. Why, they just ruined your life!” Karen sounded angry, too.
“How dare you say such a thing! You don’t know anything about it!”
“I do, too! I know you! If this is what your parents made of your by their bumbling, then I hope they’re roasting in hell!”
“My father was a minister!” Amy was appalled to hear her voice shake with rage and tears.
“I don’t care what he was! If he’d had the sense God gave a gopher, he’d have left you in some civilized place in the care of somebody with a brain instead of taking you to God knows where to do God knows what so you could watch him and your mother die of improper food and inadequate medical attention!”
“That’s not fair!”
“It is so fair!”
“No. You’re wrong!”
“I’m not wrong! My God, Amy, do you realize what you’re doing? You’re willing to give up a man who would treat you like a precious treasure—who’d treat you the way your parents should have treated you—because your parents abandoned you!”
“They didn’t mean to!”
“Of course they didn’t mean to. But any idiot would have known to take precautions. Evidently, they were absolutely alone on their iceberg, except for you, a little girl, to take care of them. What kind of planning was that?”
“They couldn’t help it.” Tears had begun to trickle from Amy’s eyes, although she tried to stop them. She was furious and she didn’t want Karen to think she was weakling enough to cry. Unfortunately, she was a weakling, and she was crying. “I can’t help it, either.”
“Bosh! You’re no milksop, Amy Wilkes, whether you want to pretend you are or not. And you’re not a fainting maiden. You’re not a little kid any longer. You’re a strong, accomplished woman, and you have the ability to take control of your life, which you couldn’t way back then. Can’t you tell the difference between you then and you now?”
Through a film of tears, Amy glared at Karen, wishing she’s just go away. She didn’t like hearing these things form her friend. “I know I’m not a little kid, Karen Crenshaw.”
“Well, you’re still acting like one!”
“That’s not fair!”
“Bosh! For heaven’s sake, Amy. You’re an adult female American citizen. If Charlie Fox ever did anything to hurt you—which he won’t, because he worships the ground you walk on—you can get up on your hind legs and leave him. You have friends and family who can help you if something goes wrong. You’re not all alone in the world and too young to make decisions anymore Can’t you tell the difference?”
Yes, Amy could tell the difference. She could not, however, control the panic that welled up inside of her when she considered doing what Charlie had asked of her. She cried harder, feeling trapped between two intolerable options. “But ... but, Karen, I’m ... I’m scared.” Her throat was so tight, the words were almost indistinguishable.
“Oh, Amy!” Karen rushed over to the bed, thrust the photograph aside, and took her friend in her arms. “I’m so sorry.”
Karen’s sympathy was the only thing Amy needed to complete her demoralization. She collapsed, weeping piteously, and ashamed of herself for doing it.
“I know you’re scared, Amy. Anybody would be after going through what you went through when you were only a kid. But you’re not a kid any longer. And the world’s a different place now than it was back then. And you live in the great state of California, not the Yukon Territory or wherever Alaska is. We have telephones and doctors and medicine and streetcars and automobiles, and all sorts of things you and your parents didn’t have. And you’re all grown up. If you or Charlie or one of your kids gets sick, you can take care of it. You don’t have to die for lack of medicine and freezing cold and starvation and stuff like that.”
“I know,” stumbled wetly from Amy’s aching throat.
“I’m sorry I was so mean to you.”
Amy shook her head, knowing Karen had only spoken the truth, no matter how hard it had been for her to hear it. But, oh, how was she ever to overcome this blind panic that throttled her and rendered her immobile every time she thought about starting out in married life with nothing!
“Here,” Karen said, her own voice sounding suspiciously thick. “Blow your nose. We need to talk some more.” Karen handed Amy a handkerchief she’d hastily snatched from a bureau drawer.
Amy blew her nose. “Oh, please, no,” she mumbled, sure she’d die if she had to go through any more of these hateful truth-revealing sessions. “I can’t talk anymore.”
“Oh, please, yes, you can so,” Karen said, after blowing her own nose in another of Amy’s hankies. “Knowing what you’re doing isn’t enough, you know.”
Indeed, Amy knew. Quite well, in fact. She only nodded, still weighed down by the feeling that all was lost and could never be found.
“I mean, it’s all well and good to know that you’re reacting like a seven-year-old to an adult situation, but there are still the terrible memories and fears that lurk behind everything and keep you from making sensible decisions.” Karen gave her nose another hearty blow.
“There’s no need to be horrid to me,” Amy said shakily.
“I’m sorry. I’m always blundering around and saying things I probably shouldn’t. I try not to, but it always happens.”
“Hmph.”
“I think what you need to do is develop some sort of strategy to deal with your feelings. I mean, there’s no law that says you can’t be scared of something—after all, you did go through a pretty awful time—but there’s also no reason for you to let fear keep you from a happy marriage with a man who loves you and whom you love.” She eyed Amy hard. “You can’t deny it. I know you love him.”
“Yes,” Amy said humbly. “I love him.”
“Well, then, what you need to do is develop some sort of coping strategy.”
Hmmm. There was a novel notion. Holding the handkerchief up to catch her dripping tears, Amy stared at Karen, curious. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that you need to overcome your fears.” She bounced up from the bed and began pacing with her old vigor. “I mean, I’m sure you’ve read over and over again about stage fright.”
“You mean when actors get scared before they go onto the stage to perform in a play?”
“Exactly! In other words, they’re scared, but they don’t let their fear stop them. They might perform scared, but they perform, and pretty soon they get involved in the role and the fear disappears.”
“Merciful heavens.” How intriguing an example, particularly since Amy had spent her first several days on the Peerless lot performing scared, and her fear had eventually disappeared. Could she do the same thing with other aspects of her life?
Why not?
By the time Karen left Amy’s tent, the two women had discussed the matter nearly to death. Karen was thrilled, and Amy was so exhausted she barely had enough vitality to turn over and go back to sleep.
She was no longer feeling abandoned and alone, however. Nor was she unhappy any longer. She still harboured a vague sensation of uncertainty. Everything hinged on whether or not Charlie Fox would be attending Peerless’s premier of One and Only in Chicago.
* * *
It was a much cheerier Amy who arrived at her uncle’s health spa two days later, pulling up in Martin’s huge and luxurious automobile, with Karen seated next to her. All the guests at the Orange Rest rushed outside to see who could possibly be arriving at the spa in such a grand manner.
“Amy!” Aunt Julia rushed out to give Amy a gigantic hug. It hurt her various bruises, but Amy didn’t even say Ow.
“It’s so good to be home!” she cried, and gave her aunt a s
macking kiss on the cheek. “Let me introduce you to my new best friend, Karen Crenshaw, who lives in Altadena and works for Madame Dunbar—”
“Mercy!” Julia slapped her hands to her cheeks as if the news of Karen’s employer had stunned her. “Madame Dunbar! Why, she’s famous.”
Karen grinned and held out a hand for Aunt Julia to shake. “How do you do, Mrs. Wilkes. Amy and I had a wonderful time on the set of One and Only.”
“Oh, I’m so glad.” Julia shook Karen’s hand enthusiastically.
“And you already know Mr. Tafft,” said Amy, directing her aunt’s attention to Martin. “He was kind enough to drive Karen and me home today.”
“My goodness, Mr. Tafft, it’s good to see you again. Thank you so much for taking such good care of our Amy.”
The three picture people exchanged a significant glance. Martin said, “Miss Wilkes proved to be a wonderful actress, Mrs. Wilkes. She performed her role to perfection.”
It wasn’t true, and Amy knew it, but it pleased her to hear Martin say so.
He continued, “After the final editing of the picture’s been done, the case will be going to a special premiere of the picture in Chicago. If you can clear your schedules, I’d like to invite you and Mr. Wilkes to attend with Amy.”
“Oh, my!” Aunt Julia went pink with pleasure.
“Thank you, Martin!” Amy exclaimed. “How very kind of you.”
“He just wants to make sure you don’t back out,” Karen said in her humorous, downright way.
Amy frowned at her. Martin laughed.
“Won’t you please come in for a few minutes and take a glass of orange juice?”
Karen and Martin looked at each other. Martin shrugged. Karen, grinning, said, “You know, I really want to get home, but I can’t resist such an appealing offer. Amy’s been extolling the virtues of her aunt and uncle’s orange juice ever since she arrived on the Peerless lot.”
Aunt Julia looked pleased.
Amy wrinkled her nose at Karen. “She’s saying I was a dead bore, Aunt Julia, but don’t you believe it.”
They all laughed, and Martin carried Amy’s bag up to the big white pavilion of the Orange rest Health Spa. Julia, noticing all the inmates staring, straightened her shoulders proudly. Amy grinned inside. She knew exactly what her aunt was thinking. After all, it wasn’t every family in Pasadena that boasted a moving picture star.
Not that she was a star.
She was, however, truly glad to be home. She couldn’t wait to drink a tall glass of orange juice, carry her bag up to her room and unpack, and be among familiar surroundings.
Amy Wilkes was not an adventuress at heart. And that was putting it mildly. She’d had an adventure once, and it had killed her mother and father and almost killed her. Adventures could be disastrous, and she didn’t trust them one little bit. She was, however, willing to attempt one last adventure in her life.
Now all she had to do was convince Charlie Fox that, although she might be uneasy, and although she’d already hurt the both of them, if he was willing to be patient with her, she was willing to try something new with him.
This was, of course, provided they ever saw each other again.
Chicago. He had to be in Chicago. Amy pinned her heart and hopes on Chicago.
Twenty
Charlie looked at himself in the mirror and wasn’t sure it was him. The face bore a slight resemblance to the Charlie Fox he’d known all his life, but the rest of him looked sort of weird.
But his duds were new and well cut and had cost him a whole lot of money. Martin had gone with him to pick them out, and since Martin always looked as if he’d just stepped out of a gentlemen’s magazine, Charlie trusted his opinion on sartorial matters.
So he guessed he probably looked good. What did he know? The only thing he knew for sure was that he wanted Amy to like what she saw—if she could recognize him beneath all this finery. He was ill at ease in city clothes, but Martin had told him that as long as he pretended not to be, he’d be all right. That was what he’d done in the pictures, Charlie supposed, so Martin must be right. That was what actors did, after all. And since Charlie had just finished acting in his second Peerless picture, The Lone Cowboy, he guessed he qualified as an actor.
Not that he’d spent the entire two months since the finish of One and Only playacting. Far from it. Charlie Fox was only acting for money. His real life belonged on a ranch, and he’d spent the rest of his time in Southern California fixing that up.
Now, if he could only persuade Amy to join him in his new ranching endeavour, he’d be a happy man. If she wouldn’t be persuaded, he’d at least be a successful one; he was determined of that.
He flowered at himself in the mirror and told himself not to thing negatively. He needed to project confidence.
One good thing about this Chicago trip—besides the possibility of trying to win Amy over to his side—was that Horace Huxtable wouldn’t be there.
“Thank God he’s off making a picture in the South Seas. Another studio shipped him off to some island somewhere, and they aren’t allowing liquor anywhere near him. They’re hoping he’ll shape up and do a good job for them.” Martin sounded doubtful.
“As long as I never have to see the bastard again, I don’t care what he does or what you tell folks.”
But Martin was worried. “We can’t let the picture-viewing public know what an ass he was to Amy or they’ll never go see another Peerless picture.”
“They don’t have to know that part,” Charlie assured him.
“Right.” Martin peered into the mirror and caught Charlie’s eye. “Say, Charlie, are you sure you don’t want to travel with Karen and Amy and me? Her aunt and uncle will be on the same train, so there will be lots of people around.”
Just what he needed, Charlie thought glumly: a passel of fascinated folks to watch his wooing. Provided he could get close enough to Amy to do any wooing. “No, thanks, Martin. I have some business to finish up in Los Angeles, and then I’ll catchy the train the next day.” If he had to share passage with Ay, and if she refused to talk to him or anything like that, Charlie feared he’d just throw himself under the train and be done with it.
Dang it, there went that negative thinking again. He shook himself mentally. “But I’ll see you all in Chicago.”
“All right.” Martin didn’t look as if he approved of Charlie’s travel plans.
Charlie laid a hand on Martin’s shoulder. Six months ago he’d never have made such a gesture, but he’d been around picture people so much lately that he hardly thought about it twice. “Don’t worry, martin. I’ll be there. I wouldn’t let you down.”
“I know, Charlie. It’s only that I ... well, I’d been hoping for a while that during the filming of One and Only that you and Amy would pair up. You ... you seemed happy together.”
Charlie heaved a huge sigh. “Yeah.” He’d believed they were. Then Amy had told him she didn’t want a poor man who hadn’t established himself, and his whole life had gone straight to hell. That was before Karen Crenshaw tracked him down. He felt an almost imperceptible lightening in his heart.
Good old Karen. And what she’d told him made sense. Sort of. Charlie figured it was worth another try, anyhow, and he was going to give it in Chicago.
* * *
A balmy breeze blew through the Ocean Rest Pavilion, gently scenting the air with the heavenly aroma of honeysuckle. Everything around the pavilion was green and gorgeous, and it was a practically perfect July day in Pasadena, California.
It would be perfect altogether if Amy Wilkes weren’t dreading the job she had steeled herself to do. She knew she had to. She’d been putting it off like the coward she knew herself to be, but Karen had given her a pep talk the day before, and Amy was determined.
Thanks to Karen, too, Amy had also concluded that it wasn’t shame that propelled her. True, she felt odd about having slept with Charlie Fox when she was all but affianced to Vernon, but she wasn’t ashamed of it. Sleeping
with Charlie had been an expression of deep and abiding love, and she cherished the memory. If she had her way, she’d have the opportunity innumerable times to experience the exquisite sensations he’d evoked within her.
There was, however, no gainsaying the will of Providence, and Amy might not get her way. The notion made her insides cramp painfully. Nevertheless, she aimed to do what she had to do, and she aimed to do it now.
She fingered the sash at her waist nervously and bowed her head. She sat up very straight in the white wicker chair, because Vernon approved of good posture. She knew very well that she was going to irk him plenty, and she owed it to him not to look slouchy as she did it.
“I’m terribly sorry, Vernon, but I can’t marry you.”
She sneaked a peek at Vernon and immediately bowed her head again. She didn’t want to watch him get furious with her; listening to him was going to be bad enough.
“Amy! How can you say such a thing to me?”
“Not very easily,” she told him honestly. “But it wouldn’t be fair to you if I agreed to be your wife.”
“And why not? Do you think some other, more knightly man is going to come along on a white charger and carry you away to a castle somewhere?”
“Please don’t be sarcastic, Vernon. This is difficult for me, too.”
He huffed.
Amy licked her lips and tried to explain without bringing Charlie Fox into the room with the two of them. In this case, three would definitely be a crowd. “You see, I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I’ve come to understand that I could never be the sort of wife you need.”
“I believe I am the best judge of that,” Vernon said coldly.
“You’re the best judge of what you want in a wife, Vernon, but I don’t believe I’m it.”
“Nonsense.”
“Oh, dear.” Amy had expected him to be upset, but he was clearly outraged, which was more than she’d bargained for. She guessed she’d forgotten that Vernon didn’t like to lose. And, although Amy doubted that he loved her, he’d assuredly be angry about losing her. “I’m so sorry about this. But after pondering it and praying over it and worrying about it for weeks, I feel I must put an end to your hopes for a marriage between us.”
Cowboy For Hire Page 30
