Emerald

by Whitney, Phyllis A. ;

  Linda rumpled her short hair and grinned at me defensively. “You see what happens when I get into this room? I turn romantic and start making up happy endings. Which I know very well aren’t going to come about. Saxon has no idea what she’s like now. I haven’t told him, and sometimes I feel I don’t ever want them to meet again. I want to spare her that. You’ll need to watch these swampy places, too, Carol. Otherwise, you can get mired down and sink in sentiment. The reality isn’t sentimental at all.”

  She lapsed into brooding silence, and then stirred herself once more.

  “You’ll find most of your own articles in this room—the ones I’ve been able to collect. They’re in a special file under your name.”

  “My articles? Why?”

  “Because you’re related to her. Because I’ve wanted all along to get you out here. You seemed to be a part of this. Though sometimes I’m not sure, now that you’ve arrived. I’ll tell you one thing—in a showdown I’ll be on Monica’s side, not Saxon’s. Sometimes I do dream about their being together on that stage at the Annenberg, and I make up things I know can’t happen. It’s just daydreaming. She’s such a lost, unhappy lady, and perhaps a lot of this is his fault. Never mind. Let me show you a few other things.”

  She went to a shelf and brought out a file of clippings. “There are some good Photoplay articles about Monica here. That magazine was one of the more accurate ones. Though I love the old gossipy things too, since they were seldom unkind to her. Here’s one you’ll like.” She found a clipping and held it out to me. I read the schmaltzy words:

  “Hooray! Hooray! That darling Saxon Scott (don’t you adore him in New Wine?) has finally popped the question to his beloved Monica Arlen. I’ve seen the curiously carved emerald ring he’s given her—I must know more about that! They’ve both promised that I’ll be the first to know when they set a date. Then of course you’ll be the first to know what I know. I must say it’s about time for our favorite romantic lovers.”

  Linda smiled. “That’s Louella, of course. Hedda didn’t gush as much, but she could be nastier if she got mad at anyone. There was a time when she had a feud with Monica. You must ask Monica about that.”

  “I want to know especially about what Monica was like when she wasn’t on screen. What she thought and felt, and cared about. What happened between her and Saxon that made her give up everything, throw over her career and wreck her life?”

  “Neither one will tell you that.” Linda sounded positive. “Anyway, this book ought to be a record of Monica’s successes, what she thought about her craft, her art. What she and Saxon created together in their films.”

  “Of course that’s important. But it wouldn’t make a book of any substance by itself. I want to know about the struggles and defeats, even those failed marriages. Whatever their magic was on screen, it grew out of what they were. A man and woman in love, perhaps falling out of love. Pain is part of that story. There’s very real human tragedy here, but, before I can write about it with any understanding, I need to know a whole lot more. All that seething, hidden emotion—how do I get at it, so I can feel? Linda, I need to be strongly involved in what I put on paper, and right now my feelings about Monica are pretty mixed.”

  Linda’s antagonism and her resistance were growing. “I can’t help you,” she said.’

  I tried to explain further. “In this sort of writing there needs to be a strong human thread—a feeling for real people. That’s what readers relate to. Not just how many movies she made, or how good or bad they were. Besides—and this is personal—in understanding Monica, perhaps I’ll come to understand myself a little better. In a strange way, she’s been part of me for so long.”

  In her look of unswerving, stubborn disapproval, Linda could resemble her brother—unshakable in her private convictions, unswayed by reasoning. She would approve of what she wanted to see in my book about Monica, and not what I was talking about.

  “I don’t want to hurt her,” I said. “Have you ever considered that it might be better for her? You know—if she opened everything up and then worked through those painful memories until she could free herself of them.”

  “No! She’s too old to tear herself apart all over again. I wish she hadn’t given you that ring!”

  I stared at my hand, startled. “I told her it was only a loan.” I pulled the emerald off my finger. “Here—you can give it back to her, if you like.”

  Linda shook her head, refusing the ring. “It’s up to her. You’ll have to give it to her yourself.”

  I was putting the ring back on my finger when Ralph Reese appeared in the doorway.

  “So this is where you’ve got to!” he said. “What happened? Did her majesty throw you out? Did one of the cats scratch you?”

  Linda stared at him angrily, and I broke in. “What happened down at the gate?”

  “Plenty.” His manner was only a shade short of insolence. “I found out about the man in the blue Chevy. His name’s Gack, and he works for your ex, Mrs.—uh—Miss Hamilton. He’s a tough hombre, and you’d better watch your step.”

  Anxiety swept back in an instant. Owen had insinuated himself into this house without ever setting foot in it, and I was helpless to keep him out. “What does this fellow want?”

  “Just to talk to you.”

  “I’ve no intention of seeing him.”

  Ralph was clearly enjoying this. I suspected that he would be entertained by any animosities he could discover or stir up.

  “He says you snatched Mr. Barclay’s son and took him away from New York without letting his father know.”

  I had no need to defend myself to Ralph, or explain anything, but my sense of helplessness grew.

  Linda came to my rescue, advancing so determinedly from behind her desk that Ralph stepped backward in mock alarm. “Just get out and leave us alone,” Linda told him. “You’ve done what you were asked to do, but if you cause any trouble for Miss Hamilton, I can make it hard for you with Miss Arlen. You understand that, don’t you?”

  Ralph shrugged and went off, managing another sly look for me.

  “How I’d like to get rid of him!” Linda cried. “But even if Monica knew everything he’s been up to, she might not let him go. She needs a man around to make her believe she’s still Monica Arlen. How different she must’ve been when she was young—before everything was spoiled for her. I wish I could have known her then. Now all I can do is try to protect her, save her from—from marauders. Are you a marauder, Carol?”

  The sudden challenge was disturbing. “I hope not. I’m sorry if you believe that.”

  Linda went on, musing to herself. “If I tell her too much about Ralph it will only hurt her. And besides, then I wouldn’t have anything left to threaten him with.”

  “What are you holding over him?”

  “Pilfering. Theft. He’s taken pieces of Monica’s good jewelry. When I caught him, he said she’d given him the jade ring, and I expect he’s sold it by now. Just the same, he got a bit nervous when I threatened to talk to Monica. At least he agreed not to tell her you were here until I could manage it myself. That was the trade-off. She’s already missed the ring, and perhaps she even suspects. Though the loss of a little jewelry wouldn’t be enough to send her into one of her retreats. The phone call from Saxon did that.”

  “I don’t like Ralph’s talking to one of Owen’s men.”

  “Nor do I, Carol. At least he did it outside the gates. Gack can’t get inside. You know I’ve warned the guards again about strangers. They don’t like Ralph and they’ll report to me if he tries anything.”

  I could make no pretense of concentrating on the clippings I’d been leafing through. Again the present loomed too dangerously close. Every minute that passed played into Owen’s hands. By this time, all sorts of schemes would be fermenting in his brain. He never left anything to one point of attack.

  “I still don’t know what to do, Linda. Keith and I can’t hide here forever, yet the moment we step outside, we�
��re right where Owen wants us.”

  “Perhaps you could at least tell the police chief about Gack?”

  I had gone to the police more than once before, when Owen had threatened me or been abusive, and I had no confidence in gaining their help. Unless a real crime was committed, their hands would be tied.

  “The police don’t like to get mixed up in child custody cases,” I said. “Especially not when a man as powerful as Owen is involved. I’m not breaking any law. The courts gave me the right to take Keith anywhere I please. But what good does that do me when Owen will simply override the law?”

  “You need a change. Maybe the ranch will do you good.”

  “I don’t know. It’s not safe to take Keith outside the gates.”

  “Jason will work it out. Though I’m a little surprised that he’s invited you.”

  “Surprised?”

  She sighed. “I suppose I’d better tell you. Then you can go out there with your eyes open.”

  This sounded ominous and I waited.

  “Jason was divorced last year, after being married for a number of years to a perfectly dreadful woman who fooled him completely. Someday there’ll be an inheritance for both Jason and me. That’s what she married him for in the first place. The money. She’s even admitted it, thrown it in his face.”

  “How awful,” I said. It was awful for anyone who had to go through the pain and betrayal of a broken marriage.

  Again Linda hesitated. “This is the hard part to tell you. They have a child—a little girl named Gwen. She’s only a year or so older than your Keith. Beryl, Jason’s ex-wife, has taken her away, though Jason has custody, and she and Gwen have been moving from state to state for more than a year. There’s a man in the picture somewhere who’s helping her out.”

  I felt sick with shock as I listened.

  Linda saw my expression. “Take it easy, Carol. It’s better for you to know all this. Laws differ everywhere, so Jason hasn’t been able to touch her, or get Gwen back. Beryl won’t even talk to him. By the time he finds them, if he ever does, Gwen may be grown up and poisoned against him. Perhaps damaged for life. Beryl’s psychotic enough to make her own child the victim in order to punish Jason.”

  How well I knew what that was like. I could feel Jason’s pain as I’d felt my own when Keith had been taken from me by his father a few months ago. Now I could understand Jason’s feeling against me. From the first, I’d sensed not only his disapproval, but at times a real hostility, though I’d put this down to my relationship to Monica Arlen. It was a lot stronger than that. How could Jason help but be automatically on the father’s side in a divorce case? To him, I would be duplicating his wife’s behavior.

  Yet even as I understood and sympathized with Jason’s viewpoint, a small core of resentment started to grow in me. I wasn’t like Beryl, and if Jason judged me without a hearing, he was being totally unfair.

  “You’ll still go to the ranch, won’t you?” Linda asked.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it.”

  She seemed suddenly eager. “Of course you must go. He asked you himself, and that means he’s had second thoughts about you. Besides, Keith really does need the trip.”

  Her words sounded a little too urgent. The “tune” was somehow wrong, and I wondered uneasily if there might be some reason Linda wanted me away from the house.

  I hated to distrust her. “I’m glad you told me,” I said as I moved toward the door. “I wouldn’t want to go out there blindly. Right now all I want is to breathe a little fresh air. Maybe I’ll take the boys outside.”

  I left her putting away scrapbooks and folders, and looked into the dining room. Keith and Jonah were squabbling in normal small-boy fashion over the end of a game. At least this was progress from the solemn, withdrawn state my son had been in for so long.

  “When can we go for a ride, Mom?” Keith asked. “Jonah wants to show me where he lives.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t drive anywhere right now.”

  His disappointment was clear, and in the face of it, my resentment against Jason increased. I understood perfectly well how he felt, but I hated it that his own mistaken reactions should cut Keith off from an interesting experience. I had to face the issue.

  “We’ve been invited to visit Jason Trevor’s ranch tomorrow, Keith. I wasn’t sure we should go, but if you want to we will. Do you think Jonah would like to come too?”

  Both boys were immediately excited over the idea, and their pleasure strengthened my determination. Even though Jason had invited us, I’d sensed at the time that he’d half regretted the gesture. That was his problem. I would simply ignore his misconceptions and prove him wrong when the chance offered.

  In the kitchen I stopped to speak to Jonah’s grandmother, and she gave her permission readily, so the trip was set.

  The boys came with me outdoors and ran ahead to climb the steps leading up to where the smoke tree grew. I lingered for a moment on the narrow strip of brick walk between house and mountain, staring up at the formidable peak that cut into the sky directly above. What I saw up there caused me to freeze in apprehension.

  Near the crest of the shoulder, two men in bright shirts were climbing the mountain’s rocky side. There was a moment when they looked down and I looked up, and though they were tiny figures, I sensed an awareness between us. Of what I didn’t know.

  “Linda!” I called. “Linda, come here!”

  She came out of her office at once. Above us, the two men were climbing toward the top.

  Linda wasn’t upset. “They’re probably just kids. There’s not much rock climbing around here—too crumbly and dangerous. Mostly backpackers go up the canyons, or follow trails on top of the mountain. But you know kids like to test themselves. That’s all those two are probably doing.”

  “Couldn’t they climb right down here into the garden?”

  “Not without killing themselves. They’d have to use ropes. That’s sheer rock rising straight above this house. I’ve told you—at night our alarm system is turned on and no one can get inside the house. Monica’s as edgy about that as you are, Carol. If you worry about everything, you’ll go out of your mind! Now run along and play with the boys. It will do you good.”

  After she disappeared inside, I stood for a moment longer staring up at the spectacular peak. The slope above me didn’t reach the mountain’s highest point, but it was high enough, and that was a long way up. Which might mean nothing to experienced climbers. Ropes were easily come by, and Owen could hire anyone he chose. Rock climbers, cat burglars, kidnappers!

  The two men had disappeared over the crest and nothing moved up there. I could hear birds in the garden, and faint sounds from the town below. Loudest of all was the thump of my fast-beating heart.

  Restlessness drove me for the rest of the day. I let the ranch trip stand, though I felt increasingly unsure about everything else. Once I’d thought that anger would sustain me. But anger was never enough. Owen would move, as I knew very well. He was already having me watched. But from what direction would the real attack come?

  Before Keith went to bed that night, I taught him Monica’s phone number. I made him repeat it over and over again. He was good at memorizing, and he knew how to dial. This was one more small protection, if ever he became separated from me. Though I prayed he’d never need to use it.

  When he was asleep I returned to the upper garden. A few lights from the house showed me the way. My need was to be quiet and alone. High above me the mountain stood silhouetted against dark blue silk, and a sliver of moon was pinned against the sky. The moon and all those stars seemed more brilliantly close here in the desert than I’d seen anywhere before.

  When I reached the pool I stretched out in a chair and closed my eyes, willing myself to be still, to empty away all tension. It was no use. Even with my eyes closed, an inner panorama flowed endlessly through my mind, and the questions wouldn’t be quiet. How was I to find answers that would enable me to order my li
fe and protect Keith? Right now, all I seemed to do was live from day to day, from hour to hour, and this was anything but satisfying. How was I to plan for the future when the next minute might be filled with peril? Tonight the emerald ring weighed heavily on my finger, and I turned it absently.

  The touch of it brought more questions—about whether I could ever write the book about Monica Arlen that should be written. Questions about what she was really like now—and not only in the past. Since she was angry with me, perhaps nothing would come of this book anyway.

  Night doubts. How disturbing they could be, with answers always moving farther away than ever.

  After a time, I left my chair to stand beside the pool, watching a reflection of the slim moon in rippling black water. Up on the mountain the wind had risen and shrubbery in the garden swayed and sighed. Once more I searched the dark crest far above, but nothing stirred against the sky, and all the rest of the mountain was as softly black as the pool itself, deep beneath that gilding moon. Anything could hide up there. Once a tiny shower of stones slid on the slope above me, as though some night animal-had struck them loose. Or had they been kicked by a stealthy foot?

  Such thoughts were unsettling, and I circled the pool and stood with my back to the summer house, still staring upward. If it hadn’t been for the mountain sounds and the soughing of the wind, I might have heard a step upon the tiles as someone left the summer house. I was still searching the black slope, however, trying to make my eyes penetrate whatever secrets the mountain held. I had no warning at all when something struck me violently in the back, and thrusting hands shoved me headfirst into the water.

  Stunned with shock, I went under completely. When I recovered the power to move, and my head broke the surface, I realized in horror that something dark swam in the pool beside me. Before I could strike out and escape, hands clasped around my ankles. In an instant I was pulled to the bottom of the pool. With all my strength I tried to break free and swim, but the awful weight crept up my legs and wrapped around them like chains, once more pulling me down.