Priscilla laughed. “I’ll do my best, Jason, but like you always said, ‘Never was a horse couldn’t be rode. Never was a rider couldn’t be throwed.’ ”
He grinned up at her suddenly, and his broad smile made him look like a mischievous boy. “That’s right, but you hang in there. We’ll show these movie-making people a thing or two.”
Everyone was impressed with the ease with which Priscilla handled a horse. When the day finally ended, she changed out of her costume and went back to her hotel. She was too tired to do more than eat a quick supper and fall into bed. She lay there thinking of the day, and her last thought was of Jason and his open smile and the light in his eyes. “I can’t hurt that man,” she said. “He’s too good for that.”
****
The first picture went quickly. It was only two reels long, and Lem was a hard driver. When he wrapped up the picture, he came to stand precisely before Priscilla in his Prussian manner. He took her hand suddenly and kissed it. “You are not only a fine actress, you are a sweet girl. If all actresses were like you, my dear, the theater would be much more pleasant.”
“Why, thank you, Stan,” Priscilla said. She had trusted this director from the first day, for she sensed he knew his business backward and forward and respected him for it. He knew how to get the most out of his actors and actresses, and as he left she told Porter, “I hope you always keep him as my director. He’s so easy to work with.”
“Not everyone says that,” Porter grunted. “Just the good ones. He’s terribly impatient with anything less.”
During the filming of the picture, she had received two letters from Cass. He insisted that she come for a visit as soon as she could, and she was eager to do so. Jason had offered to take her, but she had said, “You’re too busy, Jase. I’ll take a cab.” She had seen the disappointment in his eyes, but he had not argued.
Rising early the next morning, Priscilla dressed carefully in a bright yellow-dotted Swiss cotton day dress trimmed in black and went downstairs and asked for a cab. A little while later, a loud automobile with a short, fat driver pulled up.
“Yes, miss? Where can I take you?”
Handing him the address, Priscilla said, “Do you know where this is?”
Glancing at it, the man nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I know exactly. I’ll get you there in no time.”
It took a little longer than the man had promised, for Cass’s orange grove was located some ten miles west of Los Angeles. They passed through several other large orange groves, and finally the cab pulled up in front of a white frame house surrounded by trees. She got out and paid the driver. “Are you sure this is it?”
“Yes, ma’am. I guess those folks are looking for you.”
Turning quickly, Priscilla saw Cass and Serena come outside, followed by Benjamin and Elizabeth. It was Benjamin who ran forward, crying out, “Aunt Priscilla!”
Priscilla reached down and caught him up, hugged him, and gave him a kiss. “I’m finally here,” she said. She put him down and then turned to greet Serena and Cass. They led her into the house and insisted that she eat breakfast with them. Cass wanted to know all about the motion picture she had just made and how Jason was doing. Sipping on a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice, she told them all the details of her new job. “And Jase is fine,” she said. “He’s awfully busy, but he said he’d be out to see you soon.”
“Will you go riding with me again, Aunt Priscilla?” Benjamin demanded. He came around and tugged at her sleeve and looked up at her with confidence. “You will, won’t you?”
“Of course I will, Ben. We’ll have to find some horses, though.”
“I keep three horses,” Cass said. “I’ve got a car, too, but that only runs half the time. I sure wish Pete were here to fix it up.”
Priscilla saw that Elizabeth was still bashful, but she had made it a point to bring small gifts for everyone. When she produced a doll with lifelike hair, it broke through all the girl’s barriers. Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide, and she grabbed it. “Her name is Prilly,” she said, looking up at her aunt with a big grin. “Like you.”
“Why, I am honored, Elizabeth. Now you and I can play dolls and house, and we’ll have a fine time.”
After the long days working at the set, Priscilla enjoyed the visit with her brother and his family that day. She and Serena hit it off marvelously well, and the children adored her. The next picture would not start for a week, so she found herself coming back every day to visit. After the lonely time she had spent in New York, it felt good to be around Cass’s family. One day Cass grinned sarcastically and said, “It’s no wonder these kids adore you. You do everything they tell you. You’re just their big toy.”
“They’re such sweet children, Cass. They’re so beautiful and well behaved. You must be proud of them.”
“Well, Ben has his moments,” Cass said with a resigned grin. But despite such comments, it was obvious by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes that Cass was indeed very proud of his children. He said to Priscilla, “Sis, I’m glad you’ve come. I’ve missed family. I wish we all lived in one town where we could see each other every day.”
“Most families aren’t like that. They used to be at one time, I suppose. But now kids grow up and leave and go off to make their own careers. That’ll happen to yours one day, I suppose.”
“I hate to think about it,” Cass said, looking down at Benjamin, who was playing in the dirt, and at Elizabeth, who was playing with her doll, giving her tea from a cup. “You’re going to church with us tomorrow, aren’t you?”
“Why . . . I suppose so.”
“You’ll like it. It’s a fine church. A little bit bigger than we’re used to, but we feel at home there already, even though we’ve only been going there a few weeks. The people are very friendly.”
“I’ll be glad to go. Is it close?”
“No, it’s right in the middle of Los Angeles, but we don’t mind the drive. Why don’t we pick you up at the hotel in the morning and we’ll take you?”
“That will be fine. I’ve missed church.” She hesitated, then said, “After I made such a mess of my life, I thought it was all over for me, Cass.” The two were sitting alone in the kitchen, and she thought about the times she had confided in him when they were growing up. Unlike most boys with younger sisters, Cass had always listened carefully and with understanding. He did so now as she told him for the first time what a horrible experience she had had with Eddie Rich.
“ . . . and so I thought I was married. Then this woman showed up one day at the apartment and told me Eddie already had a wife. Cass, it was horrible. That made me an adulteress. I couldn’t stand it—”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Cass said.
“In a way it was. I should have had more insight, but I was so naive, and I wanted to go into theater so much. Well . . . he had a way about him.”
“I’ll bet he did,” Cass growled. “I’m surprised Pete didn’t punch him out.”
“He wanted to, but I wouldn’t let him. Eddie was only interested in himself. He’s what he is, and I made a big mistake.”
“Sure, that’s what it was, sis. A mistake. We all make them.”
“Anyway, after that I hit bottom emotionally, and spiritually I was dead. But Esther helped me a lot. She taught me how to pray and how to seek after God. She led me to the Lord, and I was saved, Cass. I never was before. I went to church all my life, but it was just something I did. It didn’t mean anything to me.”
“But it does now, doesn’t it? I can see that.” Cass was studying his sister’s face, and he saw a change that had not been there before. “I can’t quite describe it. You seem sad, and yet there’s a difference in you.”
“I guess I’m still struggling. I’m a Christian now, but I don’t know how to put the past away. I try, but it keeps coming back.”
Cass moved across the room and put his arm around her. “We’ll see it through, sis,” he said. “And you’ll like the church. I know you will
.” As Priscilla smiled up at him he thought to himself, I can see you’ve changed, little sister, but you’re not out of the woods yet. I’ve got to help you all I can.
****
Faith Temple was much larger than Priscilla had imagined. “Why, this is as big as a New York City church!” she exclaimed as the car drove by the magnificent building. The front was faced with pink marble, and the spire seemed to pierce the clouds. “It’s enormous,” she exclaimed, craning her neck to see the top of the spire.
“There are a few very wealthy people who put up most of the money,” he said. “They had a fine pastor, from what I understand. People say he was a terrific preacher, but he just left a month ago.”
“Who’s the preacher now?” Priscilla asked as she got out of the car.
Serena waited until they were all out before answering Priscilla’s question. “The associate pastor is Reverend Nolan Cole. I think you’ll like him.”
“Is he an older man?”
“No.” Serena shook her head. “I think he’s about thirty.”
“That’s young for such a large church, isn’t it?”
“Well, he’s not the pastor yet. The church is looking around,” Cass said. “I expect they’ll ask him to stay on after they’ve looked awhile. I don’t know where they’d find anybody that can preach any better.”
The sound of hearty singing drifted out from the large doors that stood open. As they stepped inside the foyer, Priscilla stopped and looked around, amazed at the sight. “Why, this looks like the lobby of one of the large theaters in New York!”
“I hear tell that the former pastor believed in doing things right. He always said, ‘God’s house ought to be at least as beautiful as a theater.’ ” He looked around at the gleaming marble, the floors, and the ornate statuary that lined the walls. High overhead large windows let in yellow beams of sunlight that fell like golden bars on the surface below. “Must have cost a mint, I guess. Wait until you see the sanctuary!”
When they stepped inside the spacious auditorium, Priscilla almost gasped again. It was a very large building, made to seem even more so by the lofty height of the ceiling. “Why, it’s like the pictures I’ve seen of cathedrals in Europe.”
“It is something, isn’t it?” Serena said. “Come along. I always like to sit down close to the front.”
They made their way down the aisle to within ten rows of the front and took their seats. The building was filling up rapidly, and by the time the service started, it was almost full. Up on the rostrum a large choir clothed in white robes lifted their voices, and Priscilla found herself joining the singing.
“They always sing the old songs. I like that,” Cass whispered. “They’ve got a soloist here who could get a job with the Metropolitan Opera, I believe.”
Cass’s words proved true, for right then a young woman stepped out from the choir to the front and began singing “Amazing Grace.” Her voice was more beautiful than any Priscilla had ever heard on stage, and she had listened to some good ones. It was not just her voice that seemed to move the audience. The young woman’s face glowed with love as she poured her heart into the song.
The song service went on for some time, and it was better than any Priscilla had ever been to.
“That’s Brother Nolan Cole coming to the platform now,” Cass whispered.
Curious as to what the minister would be like, Priscilla kept her eyes fixed on the man who came to stand behind the large oak pulpit. She was surprised by his masculine good looks. He was strongly built, and his broad shoulders fit well into the charcoal gray suit that must have come from a fine tailor’s shop. He had blond hair with a slight wave in it and a very strong-looking square face. His most outstanding feature was his eyes. They were blue—an electric blue that seemed to sparkle as he began to speak. His voice was a deep, pleasant baritone that filled the room without any effort. He welcomed the visitors, his broad lips smiling as he looked out over the congregation. He made a few jokes about himself, gave some announcements about the church’s activities for the coming week, then without preamble began the sermon.
After listening for a few minutes, Priscilla realized that Nolan Cole was a better preacher than any she had ever heard in the small churches of Wyoming. She had not gone to church much in New York, but she knew instinctively that this man had the gift that most men lacked. There was an ease in his manner, and yet as he read the Scriptures, his voice crackled with energy. And he did not stand behind the pulpit as most preachers do. Several times during the sermon, he would pace back and forth. One time, when he was making a point, it looked as if he might plunge right down into the audience. He was completely filled with his message, and a few times Priscilla had the notion that he was looking directly into her eyes, speaking only to her. She knew that this was the gift of an actor. The thought flashed through her mind, If he weren’t a preacher, he’d be a marvelous actor. Better than almost any I’ve seen.
His message was simple, filled with homey illustrations, and yet he quoted from the Church Fathers, including St. Augustine, and even used modern history to illustrate his sermon. When he was finished he invited those who wanted prayer to come forward, and soon the altar was filled with men and women on their knees, praying and seeking God.
Priscilla was touched by the sermon. It had been a simple but stirring message about the love of God for those who had failed Him. The story of the Prodigal Son had formed the heart of the sermon. Reverend Cole had spoken fervently of how much the father in the story yearned for the return of the son who had gone off and offended him. At one point, Reverend Cole left the pulpit and walked across the front of the auditorium, dramatizing how the father must have risen up and squinted his eyes when he saw his son coming yet a long way off. He had acted it out—the old man going forward to embrace the wayward boy, the tears in his eyes—and his voice had sounded like thunder as he cried out, “Bring out the fatted calf! Put the best robe on him! Put a ring on his finger, for this is my son who was dead, and now he is alive again.”
Never had Priscilla been quite as moved by a message. She had a desire to go forward, for she knew her need for more of God, but she was held back by timidity. As the pastor pronounced the benediction, she promised herself, I’ll go forward the next time.
Finally the service was over, and as they filed toward the door, Serena leaned closer and whispered, “He’s almost too good-looking to be a preacher.”
“I don’t suppose that hurts, Serena.”
“I suppose not. Look at the crowd waiting to shake hands with him.”
“So I see,” Priscilla said as she noticed all the attention certain parishioners, especially the women, were giving him.
Cass insisted that they join the line to greet him. When they were finally standing in front of the preacher, Cass said, “I’d like you to meet my sister, Priscilla Winslow. She’s come to Los Angeles to make motion pictures.”
“Is that so? I’m very happy to know you, indeed, Miss Winslow.”
Priscilla felt her hand enclosed by the strong, warm hand of the tall minister. He did not squeeze hard, but there was firm pressure to his grasp. She looked up into his eyes and saw that he was smiling at her.
“I’d like to come sometime and see how those things are made. I’ve never seen a motion picture.”
“Why, I’d be glad to have you come as my guest.”
“That’s a date, and you’ll be back for the service tonight, won’t you?”
“Indeed I will if my brother agrees.”
“Yes, we’ll all be here, Brother Cole.”
“Fine. I’ll look forward to seeing you—and to my visit to see you at work, Miss Winslow. Thank you for coming.”
As they filed out the doors of the church, Priscilla was slightly dazed by the personality of the man. “He’s not like any preacher I’ve ever seen,” she said.
“I agree,” Serena said. “He’s a new sort of minister for me, too.” She grinned faintly and said, “Watch yourself, Priscill
a. In the short time we’ve been here, I’ve seen the effect he has on women. He’s better looking than some of your matinee idols.”
“He can’t help it if he’s good-looking,” Cass protested. “I can’t help it, either. Us good-looking fellows just have to do the best we can.” He grunted as Serena drove an elbow into his ribs.
As they climbed into their car and drove away, Priscilla thought, He is a different sort of preacher. I wonder what he’ll think of actors and movie making.
CHAPTER FOUR
Bummers
When Peter Winslow returned to work at the Ford Motor Company in Detroit, he was filled with enthusiasm and looked forward to learning everything there was to know about racing cars. In his mind he had tied himself to Henry Ford, the genius of the automotive world, and felt confident that he would rise in the company rapidly and become its star driver.
He received a rude shock on his first day back at work, the first week of September, when he ran head on into his new boss, Cecil Pennington. Pennington was new to the Ford Company, having been hired by Ford away from the Winton Automobile Company. He was a hard-driving man with little patience for anyone who disagreed with him. He looked more like a professional wrestler than a mechanic, standing over six three and weighing nearly three hundred pounds. He had a broad red face, small eyes deeply sunk under beetling brows, and a shock of almost white blond hair. His voice could rattle the windows, and his profanity was blasphemous beyond belief. It was perhaps this latter quality that turned Peter against him. He had never liked profanity, thinking it marked a man as incompetent with the English language. When Pennington stooped over Peter’s shoulder that first day, then shoved him aside cursing strongly, Peter had to resist the impulse to slam a wrench down over the man’s head.
“You’re going to strip these bolts off!” Pennington yelled and cursed loudly. He shouldered Peter aside and gave him a lesson that Peter did not need. And when Peter argued that he knew what he was doing, Pennington’s face grew brick red. With another blasphemous burst of profanity, he shouted, “Shut your mouth, Winslow! I’m the foreman here, and you’ll do exactly what I say! If I tell you to sweep the floor, you’ll sweep the floor! If I tell you to clean the toilets, you’ll do that, too! You got that clear?”
The Silver Star Page 5
