“I’ll take care of that,” Jason said. “For these yahoos, anyhow. If you’d take over Miss Devorak, she wants some kind of a job. You reckon you could talk Mr. Porter into findin’ somethin’ for her?”
“Why, I’ll sure try,” Priscilla smiled. “You come along with me, Jolie. You can use the shower in my dressing room to clean up.”
As Jolie followed the golden-haired woman, she looked back at Peter almost with fear. He caught the look and said, “Go along. We’ll see you in a little while, Jolie.”
“Have you known Pete long?” Priscilla asked as she led the girl to her dressing room.
“No, ma’am, not very long.”
“Well, he’s a handsome thing, isn’t he? Even if he is my own brother.”
“Yes, ma’am, I guess he is.”
When they reached the dressing room and stepped inside, Priscilla grew very busy. “Here’s the shower. There’s the soap and towels. I’ll leave you alone so you can clean up. While you’re doing that I’ll go talk Mr. Porter into giving you a job.”
“Do you . . . think you can, Miss Winslow?”
Priscilla looked at the girl and saw the fear in her blue eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said gently. “We’ll work out something. You just enjoy a good hot shower.”
Priscilla left the dressing room and went at once to Mr. Porter’s office. She burst in and said, “Mr. Porter, you’ve got to do me a favor.”
Surprised by her intensity, Porter put down the pen he was using and stood up. “What’s wrong, Priscilla?”
“It’s my brother Peter. He just got here, and he’s brought a young woman with him. We’ve got to help her.” She went on to explain what little she knew, and finally she came over and smiled at him. “Just any kind of a job. She could help me with my clothes, and we’re always needing someone to carry notes and clean up and, well, there’s lots of things she could do.”
“How old is she? Eighteen or nineteen?”
“Not that old,” Priscilla admitted. “I doubt if she’s over seventeen, but it looks like she needs help, and Peter’s asked me to do something. Couldn’t we please give her some kind of a job? I’d be glad for you to take her pay out of my check.”
Porter grinned suddenly. “I bet you always showed up at home with sick kittens, didn’t you?”
Priscilla laughed. “As a matter of fact, I did. I was the despair of my mother, but could you please do this, Mr. Porter?”
“I don’t see why not, but we won’t take her pay out of your check. We do need more help around here, and I suppose you could use her. I suppose Lily could use her, too.” Lily was the wardrobe woman and was constantly complaining about being overworked.
“Oh, that’s wonderful! I’ll go tell her that she’s got a job.” Priscilla left Porter’s office but did not go back to her dressing room right away. She wanted to give the poor girl some privacy and a chance to get cleaned up.
Stan Lem came by, and she told him what she had done. Lem grinned lazily. “Well, that’s what we need, some more folks that don’t know what they’re doing around here.”
“You be nice to her, Stan,” she said. “It looks like she’s had a hard time.”
The two stood there talking for some time, and finally Priscilla went back. When she stepped inside she found the girl wearing different clothes. Jolie had on a pair of men’s trousers and a shirt, but they were clean, and her dark hair was beautiful as it fell around her shoulders. Priscilla noticed the girl kept her face turned away to hide her scar, but she determinedly ignored that. “You’re hired, Jolie. For one thing, you’ve got to help me keep up with my things, and you can help Lily, our wardrobe lady, too. There’ll be plenty for you to do around here.”
Jolie had been waiting nervously, fully expecting Priscilla Winslow to come back and tell her that there was no job available. Now relief washed through her and she suddenly trembled, her hand reaching up to cover the scar. “Thank you very much,” she whispered. “I’ll do the best I can, Miss Winslow.”
****
By the end of the day, Jolie felt much more at home. She had met all the members of the cast and had been able to grasp some of the instructions that Lily Doe, the wardrobe woman, had given her. Priscilla had disappeared to do a riding scene, and she had not seen Peter until late that afternoon.
Priscilla came back and found Jolie, saying with a smile, “Peter and Easy are waiting for you. I’ll see you in the morning.” She gave the girl a quick hug and said, “It’ll be good to have you here, Jolie. You’ll be a lot of help to me.”
“Thank you, Miss Winslow” was all Jolie could say. She moved outside the set and found Peter waiting for her.
“Follow me,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“Don’t ask questions. Just take orders,” he laughed. “Did you make out all right? I hear you’re working for Imperial now.”
“Oh, your sister was wonderful!” Jolie’s thin face glowed, and for one moment her lips looked full and vulnerable as she spoke of Priscilla in glowing terms.
Peter listened and helped her into a studio car he had borrowed and shut the door. Getting in beside her, he said, “That’s like Priscilla. She’s a great one.” He started up the engine and drove away from the studio, raising a cloud of dust.
Jolie said nothing, but when he pulled up in front of a store on the edge of town, she looked up and said, “Why are we going in there?”
“Got to get you some working clothes,” Peter said cheerfully as he got out.
“But I don’t have any money!” Jolie protested.
He opened the door, however, and reached in and took her hand and pulled her out. “I got an advance from sis on our pay. We’re going to buy some clothes.” He led her into the store and a saleslady came over.
“Yes, sir, may I help you?”
“This young lady wants to buy a couple of outfits. She’s right choosy, and so am I. I don’t know if you got anything good enough for her,” Peter said, raising his eyebrows.
The saleslady, a tall woman dressed in gray, smiled and said, “Oh, I think we can please you, sir. If you’ll come along with me, miss.”
Jolie never forgot the next hour. She tried on several outfits, and each time Peter would examine them closely. She was terrified at the prices, but he waved that aside. “You can’t work for Imperial Pictures dressed like a bummer. You’ve got to look nice. No more men’s clothes,” he said, “except when you’re on your own.” After a while he chose two outfits: one a white cotton blouse with ruffles at the high neck and down the front, a saffron yellow skirt edged with green ribbon, and tan silk stockings; the other was a dress made of a silvery gray cotton trimmed in a white piping around the neck, sleeves, and the bottom of the ankle-length skirt.
Finally they left the store loaded down with bundles, and Jolie said, “I’ll never be able to pay for all this.”
“Sure you will. You’re in the motion picture business now, Jolie,” Peter said, helping her into the car.
When he started it up she said, “Where we going now?”
“To the boardinghouse. I’ll be staying at the bunkhouse with Easy and Jase, but you’ve got to have a room. Priscilla told me about this one right around the corner here. It’s close, so you can walk to the studio.”
He drove to a large Victorian-style house two and a half stories high. The house had wood siding painted a subdued salmon color. It was trimmed in a dark blue-green around the large sash windows, with a steeply pitched black shingle roof. There was a round corner tower at one end of the house that reached high into the sky, with a pinnacle on top of the conical roof. A large veranda wrapped around the front of the house and down both sides, and wide steps led to the front door that had a beautiful stained-glass window in an oval shape. Peter carried the packages for her as they walked up the steps. When they knocked on the door, it was answered by a matronly-looking woman who introduced herself as Mrs. Bell.
“This is Miss Jolie Devorak,” Peter said. “S
he’s working for Imperial Pictures. She’ll need a room for some time—a nice one.”
“Why, of course,” the woman said. “I have something that should be just fine. Please follow me.”
The room Jolie found herself in on the second floor was beautiful. She waited until Mrs. Bell disappeared and then looked around with apprehension. “It’s . . . too nice for me.” The large room had two floor-length windows rising high on the walls, almost to the top of the twelve-foot-high ceiling. They were covered with green chintz and had lace overskirtings, which allowed the sunlight to filter through in a muted way. The walls were covered with a shiny white paper, bordered by pink ribbons and bows that gracefully dropped into the corners and encircled the area over the fireplace, and the floor was covered with a pink and green rose-patterned carpet. Pictures in silver antique frames covered the walls and the fireplace mantel. The four-poster bed, with swagged bed draperies of the same fabric, had been covered with a bedspread in a rosette-patterned fabric. A rosewood bureau sat along the wall just inside the door, and a small oak table, with a brass and enamel cloisonné light, took its place beside the bed, both covered with a swatch of antique lace.
“No it’s not!” Peter said. He tossed the packages on the bed and looked around the room. “Well, they serve dinner here. I’ve got to get back to the lot. How about if I come for you in the morning, and you and me and Easy will eat breakfast. Just The Three Musketeers.”
“All right, and . . . and thanks, Peter.”
“It’s all in the lodge,” he said. He reached out, and when she put her hand out, he closed his big fingers around hers. “The Three Musketeers, remember?” He laughed and left the room. She could hear him whistling “I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy” as he went down the hall.
Jolie moved around the room, touching the curtain, the bedspread, stopping to look at the pictures. Never in her life had she seen so many beautiful things. It felt like a dream to her, and she thought fleetingly of the rough life she had had. She went over to the window and looked out, watching as Peter drove off with a roar of the engine. When he disappeared from sight, she suddenly felt weak. She made her way to the bed, sat down on it, lowered her head, and began to weep. A weakness came over her, and she finally rolled over on the bed and buried her face in the pillow as her shoulders shook. She wept as she had not wept since she was a small child.
****
After three days, Jolie had learned to do her job well. There had been much for her to do, and everyone had been kind. She saw Peter and Easy every day, and the three of them went to supper together at different restaurants every night.
Jolie had relaxed considerably. She was quick and picked up things very easily. On the morning of the third day as Priscilla was brushing her hair in her dressing room, she turned to Jolie and said, “Mr. Porter’s very pleased with you, and so is Mr. Lem. They both say you are doing a fine job.”
“Oh, thank you, Miss Winslow.”
“Did Peter tell you about tomorrow?”
A puzzled look crossed Jolie’s face. “What about tomorrow?”
“Why, it’s Thanksgiving. We’re all going to an early service at church, and then we’re going out to my brother Cass’s house.”
“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to do that. I’d—”
“We’re not asking you,” Priscilla smiled. She reached out and tugged at Jolie’s lustrous black hair. “You’re a part of the family. You’ve got to go, so make up your mind to it.”
Jolie said no more, but the next morning she got up and put on the best of the two outfits she had bought. She worked her hair carefully, but as she looked in the mirror, the sight of the scar disturbed her. She turned her head to one side, but the thought came to her, No matter how nice a dress I wear, I’ll always have this scar. She went outside, and ten minutes later a big car pulled up, with Peter behind the wheel and Priscilla beside him. Easy got out of the backseat and held open the door, saying, “Jump in, Jolie. Time to go to church.”
As the car chugged along, Jolie said nothing, nor did Easy. Finally he whispered to her, “Actually, I ain’t much on church, Jolie.”
“Me either, but we’ve got to go.”
“I reckon so.”
****
The service seemed strange to Easy and Jolie. They sat together near the front, with Peter on Jolie’s left. Neither of them knew any of the songs that were sung, but both were stunned by the large, opulent auditorium. When the preaching started, Easy said, “I didn’t really want to hear no sermon. I heard a few when I was in the pen, but I don’t think it’s for me.”
Jolie did not answer, but when the preacher began to speak, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from him. His name, she had been told, was Reverend Nolan Cole, and once Peter leaned over and said, “Good-lookin’ egg for a preacher. Everybody says he ought to be an actor.”
Jolie did not answer. She was listening intently to the sermon. Reverend Cole spoke of a time when Jesus went to Samaria and met a woman at a well. Jolie had not read the story, but she followed the reading from a Bible Peter had produced as the Scripture was read. She had never known such stories were in the Bible. She was ignorant of that book, but the preacher made it come alive for her. She listened entranced as he told of how Jesus spoke to the woman. Jolie was surprised when she found that the woman was not a good woman but had had five husbands. The preacher explained how none of them were really her husband, just men she lived with. Jolie did not take her eyes off of Reverend Cole’s face. Somehow the words had a power beyond the magnetism of the speaker’s voice.
As they were leaving the church, Peter asked, “Did you like the sermon?”
“I guess I did. Was Jesus really like that?”
Peter was astonished. He had grown up under good preaching, and although he was not a Christian himself, he had a firm conviction that Jesus Christ was the answer. “Why, of course He was. Haven’t you ever read that in the Bible?”
“I’ve never read the Bible.”
“You haven’t? Do you have one?”
“No.”
“Well, take this one,” Peter said.
“Oh, I couldn’t take your Bible.”
“Of course you could. Maybe we could study a little together. Not that I’m a scholar, but Priscilla—now, she is. She’s a good Christian.”
“Are you a Christian, Peter?”
Peter seemed disturbed by the question. “No. Not really. My folks are, though, and Cass and his wife, Serena, are. I guess I’m the black sheep of the family.”
“I guess I’m a black sheep, too, Peter.”
“Well, it’s something to think about,” he said. Then he changed the subject. “You’ll love my sister-in-law, Serena, and those kids of theirs are something.”
When they finally arrived at the Winslow house, Jolie was received with great courtesy by Cassidy and his wife, Serena. Neither of them asked questions about Jolie’s past, and she suspected that Priscilla and Peter had already told them something about her.
They sat down to an enormous dinner of turkey and dressing with giblet gravy, and vegetables, including candied yams, which Jolie had never eaten before. She sat next to Easy, and the two of them did more listening than talking.
In the middle of the meal, Cass suddenly said, “Reverend Cole is a fine preacher, but some of the elders are not sure he’s the man for the church.”
Priscilla looked up with surprise. “Why, I thought he’d be perfect.”
“So did I,” Cass shrugged. “But some of the men just aren’t sure.”
“Well, who do they want, Cass?” Priscilla demanded.
“They don’t know, but I made a recommendation to them.” He grinned across the table at Priscilla and Peter. “How’d you like to go to a church where the pastor’s name was Winslow?”
Peter had raised a forkful of English peas to his lips, but he put it down and stared across the table. “What are you talking about, Cass? A preacher named Winslow?”
“We’ve already
got a preacher in our family, if you’ll remember our cousin Andrew Winslow.”
“Why, of course, I’d forgotten Andrew,” Priscilla said. Andrew was her first cousin, the son of Mark and Lola Winslow. “I’ve heard him preach a few times. He’s a marvelous speaker. As good as Brother Cole, I think.”
“Well, he may have his chance. I told the elders about him, and two of them had already heard of him. One of them even heard him preach back east. They fired off an invitation for him to come to the church to try it on for size.”
“Do you think he’ll do it?” Peter asked. “I thought he was involved with missionary work.”
“Well, he is,” Cass said, “but I got a letter from his dad not long ago. Uncle Mark says he’s getting tired of traveling around and would like to settle down and stay in one place for a time.”
“I wish he would come,” Priscilla said. “That’d be nice to have more of our family here. I don’t know his wife very well. How many children do they have?”
“They’ve got two. One of them just a baby, a boy,” Cass replied. “I don’t know his wife, either. I understand that she’s an attractive woman, but we just haven’t been around them much. They’ve been on the go with their missionary work.”
Jolie took all this in, not understanding much of it. Later she insisted on helping with the dishes, and she found Serena Winslow to be as warm and receptive as Peter had said. Serena stood beside her for a while, washing as Jolie dried, and gently inquired into her background. She listened carefully as Jolie spoke about her life, though the young girl left out much of the suffering her stepfather had caused her. Jolie turned to Serena and said, “I don’t know what I’d have done if it hadn’t been for Peter and Easy. I was getting pretty low on the limb.”
“But you’re doing fine now, Jolie,” Serena said. “Priscilla and Peter tell me you’re doing well at the studio.”
Serena’s words warmed Jolie, and she continued with the dishes when Serena left to put the children down for a nap. She was standing there drying the last of the dishes when she heard voices floating toward her. She glanced out the window and saw Cass and Peter, who had walked slowly to a point almost beyond her sight. Their voices were clear, however, and she was shocked to hear her own name mentioned. She leaned forward and heard Peter say, “Why, it’s all right, Cass. I can handle it.”
The Silver Star Page 10
