Unwilling to explain, Priscilla said, “You wait here. I’m going to get dressed.”
“Where we going?”
“We’re going to get Jason out of jail, of course. We can’t leave him there.”
An hour and a half later, Priscilla, Jason, and Peter emerged from the city jail. Jason was sullen, and one side of his face was swollen. Priscilla turned to Peter and said, “Go get in the car, Peter. I want to talk to Jason alone for a minute.”
“Okay, sis.”
As soon as Peter was out of hearing distance, Priscilla said, “I’m sorry this all happened. It was really my fault, Jason.” She put her hand on his arm to turn him around, and she saw an infinite sadness in his eyes. “I’m really sorry,” she whispered. “I guess there was enough truth in what you said to make me angry. It wasn’t you as much as myself.”
“You been having second thoughts about acting?”
Priscilla hesitated. “I think I can handle it. I won’t do those scenes over again with Blakely, or anybody else, and I won’t take a script that has anything in it that will offend me. I’ve been struggling with fitting my faith into my profession ever since I was saved. Now I’m seeing that I must put my relationship with Christ first and live as He would want. My life, including my acting, will have to line up with that.”
“You can’t do that, Priscilla,” Jason said slowly. “You’ve been around actors and directors long enough to know that you have to give the public what it wants, and evidently that’s what it wants.”
“Let’s not talk about it anymore tonight.”
“No, I guess not, or tomorrow either.” Jason hesitated, then shook his head. “I’ve decided to leave. I can’t take it anymore. Watching you every day and not being able to put my arms around you.”
Priscilla felt a sudden jolt. “But, Jason, you can’t leave.”
“Yes I can, and I will. You think you can handle this, Priscilla, but I don’t. I’ve been watching actors now for about a year. Something about it gets into people’s blood. It sucks out what they really are and makes them into something different up on a screen.” He had thought a great deal about this, and though he was not a philosophical person, Jason had arrived at some definite conclusions. “After a while, you’ll become what’s up there, and you’ll lose that sweetness and purity and . . . goodness that’s always been what I loved about you. You can’t handle it, Priscilla, but I know you won’t leave. So I’m going back to Wyoming. I have to get away from all this.” He waved his hand toward the studio in disgust.
Priscilla knew that Jason Ballard was not a man easily swayed. “Don’t leave right away. Wait a while. We’ll talk,” she pleaded.
She leaned against him, and as she touched him, Jason wavered. He could never refuse her anything, and now he said, “Well, maybe not tomorrow, but I can’t stand this anymore. I feel like a starving man outside a glass window with a restaurant inside and people eating food. When I look at you, that’s how I feel, Priscilla. I want to marry you so much, and I can’t have you. Not like you are.”
Priscilla did not know what to say. She had a deep affection for Jason Ballard, but she did not know how deep it went. Her experiences with Eddie Rich had been so painfully humiliating and terrible that she was still struggling with it. Now she merely said, “Come on, Jase, we’re both tired. Let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow night just you and I will go out for a ride in the country. Maybe drive out to see Cass and Serena. I’m tired of the studio, too.”
“I’d like that. Come on, I’ll see you home,” Jason said quietly. He took her arm, and they turned and made their way down to the car.
****
“Hey! It’s ready, Easy! I never thought it would be.”
Peter Winslow stood back and admired the car that stood before the pair, proud of what they had accomplished. “We didn’t have much to start with, and now look what we’ve got,” he said.
Easy wiped his hands on a greasy rag and nodded. “It looks good, but how will she run?”
“I’m gonna take her out right now for a spin and try her out. Do you want to go?”
“Naw, I like to work on ’em, but you’re liable to break my neck.” He added thoughtfully, “Why don’t you go ask Jolie. Didn’t you promise her a ride?”
“Hey, that’s right. I’ll zip right over and pick her up.”
“Well, don’t break her neck. You know what you did this morning?”
“What do you mean?”
“You went in the front door of the house and came out the side door. Don’t you know that’s the worse kind of thing to do? It breaks your luck for a long time.”
“Oh, baloney! There’s no such thing as luck. A man makes his own way.”
“You watch what I tell you. You’re in for a hard time. A person always ought to go in and out the same door. I thought everybody knowed that!” Easy said, shaking his head.
Peter ran inside the bunkhouse, washed, shaved, and put on some new clothes he had been saving. He pulled on a pair of brown striped pants with cuffs on the bottom, a plain white shirt, and a short, brown single-breasted jacket with patch pockets. Leaving the house, he leaped into the car and gunned it out of the yard, yelling at Easy. “I’ll be back to give you a report as soon as I’ve tried her out in the open!”
He held the speed down until he got to Mrs. Bell’s boardinghouse. Seeing Jolie up on the porch with young Ziegler, Peter left the engine running, locked the brakes, and jumped out without opening the door. Taking the steps two at a time, he said, “Hey, Jolie, I’ve got a surprise for you!” He waved his arm toward the car that he and Easy had painted a brilliant fire-engine red. “The car’s ready!”
“I see it!” Jolie looked up from her books with interest. “It looks fine. How does it run?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out. Come on. You get to take the first ride.”
Jolie blinked and said with an apologetic tone, “I can’t do that. We haven’t finished our lesson yet.”
Peter’s jaw dropped. He had thought that Jolie would be ecstatic over the race car, as happy as he was. She had been interested in the construction of it, and more than once had asked him to take her out when it was finished. Now, however, she merely sat there with a book open before her, saying only, “I wish I could go, but we’re right in the middle of a lesson.”
Peter wanted to say, “Forget the lessons! Come on and let’s go!” He gave Ziegler a hard look, and the young man dropped his eyes. Then Peter said, “Okay. Keep your nose in the book!”
He whirled and headed down the steps toward the car.
“You really ought to go with him, Jolie,” Ziegler said, urging her quietly.
“Oh, I know I was wrong.” Jolie jumped up and whispered, “We’ll have our lesson day after tomorrow, Tom.”
“All right.”
Jolie caught up with Peter when he was even with the car. When he turned around, his face was cloudy and he did not speak.
“I don’t know what was the matter with me, Peter. I was right in the middle of a hard part of arithmetic. I would like to go with you if you still want me to.”
Her face was turned up, and as usual, she kept the scarred side away from him. However, the rest of her complexion was clear and pure, and her lips trembled a little. He saw that she was near tears. “Aw, sure. You can go. Come on. Get in.”
Jolie quickly got in the car, and when Peter seated himself, he turned and smiled at her. “Look. Don’t get too smart. You won’t want to ride around in a heap with a dummy like me.”
His smile was warm, and Jolie took a deep breath of relief. Some people kept grudges forever, but Peter Winslow did not. She smiled at him and said, “I’d never do that, Pete. Now, let’s see what this thing will do.”
****
Dorothy looked at the elephant and then smiled at Phillip. “What do you think about that beast?” she asked.
Phillip’s eyes seemed as large as half-dollars. He whispered, “He’s so big.” He moved back behind his mot
her’s skirts and peered out fearfully at the monstrous animal.
Amelia, on the other hand, was standing right up beside Nolan Cole. Nolan had bought a small bag of peanuts and was handing them to Amelia, who fed them in turn to the inquiring trunk of the elephant.
“Look! His nose is all hairy!” Amelia cried with delight. Fearlessly she reached over and ran her hand on the rough hide of the elephant. “Feel it, Mr. Cole.”
Obediently, Nolan touched the trunk and laughed. “Pretty rough, all right. Do you like him?”
“Sure, I’d like to ride on him.”
“Well, I think they offer elephant rides. Maybe you and I could do it.”
“Could we?”
“Don’t see why not.” He turned and called back, “Amelia wants to ride the elephant. Would that be all right?”
Dorothy smiled a little nervously. “Do you think it’s safe?”
“Well, if he falls on us, he won’t do it but once,” Nolan laughed. “Sure, it’ll be all right.”
“Well, go ahead.” She watched as Nolan spoke to the trainer. The man nodded and then led the elephant to a platform. A smile turned the corners of her mouth up as she saw Nolan take Amelia’s hand, and the two of them settled into the basket that was tied on the elephant’s back. The elephant trainer walked slowly in front, leading the beast on. Amelia laughed and giggled as they went around and around.
As soon as they got off, some of the other youngsters from the group that Dorothy and Cole had brought along clambered for rides, but Dorothy was firm. “You can’t ride an elephant without your parents’ permission. Next time you bring a note, and we’ll see.”
Cole came back laughing. “First time I ever rode an elephant. It’s quite an education, this ministry you’ve gotten me into.”
Dorothy had started up a program for the younger children to give some of the working mothers half a day off, and even those who didn’t work. It had been a tremendous success, but she could not have done it without Nolan Cole’s aid. He planned the trips, arranged for the transportation, and chaperoned the children with a patience and fondness that Dorothy admired.
“I don’t know how you’re so knowledgeable about children,” she said, shaking her head as they made their way back to the carriage. “You’re so wonderful with them.”
“Well, I was a kid once myself, you know.” Nolan was wearing a dark gray woolen single-breasted suit with fine stripes, a white shirt, a dark blue tie, a pearl gray fedora, and a short topcoat of black cloth. He grinned at her and said, “You’re not bad yourself. We make a pretty good team.”
“Yes, we do. The youth work is going wonderfully. I wish the church appreciated all you do, Nolan. You never speak of it.”
“Want me to toot my own horn? Hey, look at me! Nolan Cole the Wonder Boy!”
“Oh, don’t be silly,” she laughed. “But you might let me say a word.”
“No, don’t bother. The Lord knows about it, and that’s enough.”
Dorothy gave him an approving look, and all the way back to the church, where they delivered the children to their parents, they talked about the next outing they would have with the children.
After all the children had gone home with their parents, and her own had been taken home by Helen, their part-time maid, the two went into Nolan’s office, where they made more detailed plans. Finally looking up with surprise, Nolan said, “Why, it’s seven o’clock, and we haven’t had a bite to eat. Are you hungry?”
“Oh, I could eat a sandwich, I suppose.”
“Well, let’s go and get something.”
“That would be nice, Nolan,” Dorothy said.
Opening the door for her, he waited until she was seated, then went around and got in on the driver’s side of his oversized car. He drove a short distance to an elite restaurant. Going inside, the head waiter led them to a table. Instead of a sandwich they both ordered a full meal. As they waited for their dinners to arrive, they discussed how much they enjoyed working together on the youth ministry. It was a pleasant time, and Dorothy’s cheeks glowed. “It’s hard work,” she said, “but it’s good for me.”
“It’s good for the kids, and good for the church,” Nolan said, smiling at her.
The waiter arrived with their dinners then, and Nolan asked a short blessing. As they ate, they continued to speak, but suddenly Dorothy lifted her eyes and started. She was facing Mrs. Harriet Simmons, a widow who faithfully attended their church. Mrs. Simmons was a straight-laced lady of sixty who spent a great deal of her time surveying the lives of the church members with great care. Dorothy saw now the woman’s brows furrowed with suspicion, and her eyes were staring at her almost harshly. She met the woman’s gaze defiantly, then turned to see that Nolan Cole had seen her also.
“That old biddy watches everybody like a hawk,” he sighed. “Well, are you ready to be gossiped about?”
“It’s ridiculous!” Dorothy snapped.
“Yes, it is. The poor old woman hasn’t had much of a life of her own, so she tries to mind everybody else’s business.”
Dorothy was ready to leave then, and Nolan paid the bill and escorted her to the door. One last glance showed that Harriet Simmons was still staring at them and already talking to another woman who had come to join her.
By the time they reached the parsonage, it was dark outside.
“I suppose Andrew is home by now,” she said.
“No, don’t you remember he had a meeting with the executive committee?”
“Oh yes, he did.” Dorothy’s voice was flat.
Nolan said, “Well, it was a wonderful day, wasn’t it? I hate to see it end.”
Dorothy put her hand on the door handle, reluctant to open the door and say good-night. Before she could make up her mind to thank him and go inside, Nolan looked up suddenly and said, “What a beautiful night. Look! There’s Orion!”
“Orion? Where?” Dorothy asked as she stepped closer to him and searched the sky. “The only thing I know is the Big Dipper.”
“Right over there. See? It looks kind of like a dressmaker’s dummy—the stars, that is. The shoulders, and the skirt out at the bottom, and the waist nipped in. See?” He turned her around and put his arm over her shoulder and pointed at the sky.
Following his gesture, she whispered with delight, “I see it! I never knew that! Now I know the names of two constellations and where to find them!” She started to move away, but he put his other arm on her shoulder, and they found themselves standing in a half embrace, the moonlight filtering down over them as they turned and faced each other.
Strange sensations ran through Dorothy Winslow. One side of her mind and heart was saying, “Move away,” but the strength of his arms, and the approving light in his bright blue eyes seemed to hold her. She was a woman who needed attention, who longed to be told she was pretty and desirable—something Andrew had not done in a long time. She stood there waiting, transfixed by the moment, her face tipped up expectantly. He leaned slowly forward, hesitantly at first, and kissed her lips. He did not grab at her but merely increased the pressure, drawing her against him. He was the first man she had kissed in years except for Andrew, and she found herself yielding to him without even thinking about what she was doing.
Nolan stepped back and laughed. “Well, there’s one kiss Reverend Winslow won’t get.”
“You . . . you shouldn’t have done that!” Dorothy said, suddenly coming to her senses.
“I know I shouldn’t, but you’re such an attractive woman, Mrs. Winslow. So pretty and sweet. I just couldn’t help it. Blame it on the moon up there, or on Orion’s gentle persuasion.”
Dorothy fumbled for the door handle and said abruptly, “Good night, Nolan. I . . . I really must go in now.”
Seeing the look of anguish on her face, he tried to make light of the situation and soothed, “Don’t worry, Dorothy. It was just a kiss. It won’t happen again.”
“It mustn’t happen again!”
Nolan Cole grew serious. He studied
her face for a long moment, then shrugged. “I can’t guarantee that. Good night, Dorothy.” He turned quickly and walked back to the car.
She stood and watched him as he drove away, and even then she did not move. Slowly she lifted her eyes overhead, found Orion, and studied it for a moment. She was more disturbed than she had been in a long time. Something in him had reached out to her, and aside from the kiss itself, she felt his admiration. “It mustn’t happen again,” she whispered, then turned and entered the house.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jolie Fails the Test
“Hey, Pete! I think I’ll run down to the store and get us some red soda pops,” Easy said.
Peter Winslow was stretched full-length under a graciously curving palm tree, his hat pulled down over his face. The July sun had baked him a golden brown, and sweat stained the faded cotton shirt that he wore open to the waist to catch the breeze. Thumbing his bill cap back, he cracked one eye open and muttered, “Get a quarter’s worth of bologna and a box of soda crackers—and get some cheese, too.”
“Right.”
As Easy sauntered away, Peter turned his head lazily and viewed the car, thinking how much of his hard work and sweat had gone into its creation. “You’ve got more different breeds of car in you than a yard dog has ancestors,” he muttered. He and Easy had robbed parts from every conceivable make and model of automobile so that the original ancestry of the vehicle was impossible to determine. Now as it sat there gleaming, its fire-engine red radiating a color that almost hurt the eyes, the racing car looked fast even standing still—at least to Peter. He eyed the machine with satisfaction. “Wish we could’ve found a redder paint. It just doesn’t stand out enough as it is.”
“Doesn’t stand out enough?”
Peter, startled by the sound of another voice so nearby, sat bolt upright. Jolie had silently walked up and was looking down on him. “If it got any redder, it’d look like it was straight out of the infernal pit.” She smiled, her eyes laughing at his expression. “What’s the matter? You got a guilty conscience? I never saw a man jump up so quick.”
The Silver Star Page 20
