Stars Over Sunset Boulevard

by Susan Meissner

  The nurse raised an eyebrow. “That’s up to the doctor to decide.”

  Violet put out her arm to stop the nurse. “She doesn’t want anything to make her sleepy. Tell the doctor that.”

  The nurse frowned at Violet as the orderly parted the double doors. Audrey looked quickly over her shoulder to catch Violet’s gaze. Thank you, she mouthed.

  “I’ll be right here,” Violet called out after her.

  And then the doors closed.

  • • •

  Audrey remembered being terribly afraid when her first child was born. Of her second delivery, she had no memory at all. She wanted to hold on to every bit of the last hours this baby would be hers, even the worst moments. The memory of pain stayed with a person; she already knew this. She didn’t want to forget even a snippet of the brief amount of time she would be this child’s mother. She was grateful that the doctor had agreed to let her deliver without the mask and its mystifying gas that made a person forget what mattered to her.

  The moment her body granted the baby its freedom was as sharp and distinct as a knife blade. She could feel the separation as the baby wriggled away from her into the doctor’s waiting hands, eager to take a breath and cry out to the world, I am here!

  “You have a little girl, Mrs. Kluge,” the doctor announced.

  For a second the world seemed to cease its spinning. All Audrey was aware of was those five words echoing in her head.

  You have a little girl. You have a little girl.

  She strained to get a glimpse of the wailing child as the doctor and nurses hovered over her at the foot of the delivery table.

  “Is she all right?” Audrey said.

  “She’s perfect,” one of the nurses said. “Small, but perfect. We just want to get her cleaned up a little for you.”

  She hadn’t told the nurses while she labored that she wasn’t going to keep the baby. That information could wait until tomorrow. For now, Audrey wanted to hold this baby, shower kisses on her, whisper endearments over her.

  “Do you have a name picked out?” a second nurse said.

  Audrey could see the baby now in the nurse’s arms, as the doctor readied himself for other matters related to Audrey’s body that were of no concern to her. She wanted only to hold her little girl.

  “Elaine.” Audrey whispered the name Violet and Bert had chosen, and tears were suddenly coursing down her cheeks.

  “That’s a beautiful name,” said the nurse closest to Audrey as she patted her arm. “I am sure Mr. Kluge would have loved it. Would you like to hold her before we take her to be weighed?”

  Audrey nodded, unable to speak.

  The crying child, wrapped in a yellow hospital blanket, was placed in her arms. She seemed as light as a handful of cotton. Her perfect little cherub face was contorted into an unhappy wail.

  “There, now, princess,” Audrey cooed. “There, now. You are safe. You are safe, my darling.”

  The baby stopped crying and gazed at Audrey.

  “Yes, yes,” Audrey whispered. “You know who I am, don’t you?” She tasted salt on her tongue from her tears sliding down into her mouth.

  “All babies know their mommy’s voice,” the nurse said cheerfully.

  Audrey knew that the nurse would be taking her child to the nursery, and that soon Violet would be told the baby had been born, and the terrible release would slowly begin. She would hold on to this moment for as long as she could. The next time she saw this child, everything would be different.

  The nurse turned away to fetch something and Audrey pulled her daughter closer, their eyes still tight on each other. “Don’t forget me, my little girl. Don’t forget how much I love you.”

  Time seemed to lose its meaning in those seconds she held her daughter and their gazes were only on each other. And then the baby was lifted out of her arms.

  Audrey fell back on the pillows, exhausted by physical exertion and grief.

  “Mr. Kluge would have been very proud of you today,” the nurse said softly.

  Audrey drifted into sleep.

  • • •

  When she awoke, morning light was creeping in through the slats in the blinds covering a window. A wall clock revealed that it was a few minutes after seven in the morning. There were two other beds in the room, but both were empty. The door to the room was half-open and she heard hospital sounds on the other side of it: nurses’ shoes on linoleum, a faraway elevator bell, gurney wheels, and a distant moan of pain.

  Audrey gingerly rose to a sitting position. She swung her feet over the side of the bed and noticed that her robe from home was lying across the footboard and her slippers were arranged right below it on the floor. A vase of pink tulips was at her bedside. Violet had been there.

  She tested her footing and then reached for the robe and put it on. She took a few careful steps and then walked to the door and pushed it open. In one direction was a long hallway lined with doors like hers on either side. In the other were a few more doors, a nurses’ station, and a windowed viewing area that Violet was standing in front of.

  Audrey made her way slowly to her friend, passing the nurses silently so that she would not be shooed back into bed.

  She had nearly reached the nursery window when Violet looked up.

  Audrey smiled and laid a finger across her lips.

  And then she was at Violet’s side. Beyond the glass, her daughter lay sleeping in a bassinet, wrapped in a cloud of blankets. Two other infants were in the room. One slept, and the other was being bottle-fed by a nurse while she sat in a rocker. The nurse looked up at Audrey, smiled, and then returned her attention to the baby in her arms.

  “I can’t stop looking at her,” Violet said, tearful.

  Audrey laid her head on her friend’s shoulder.

  “They made me go home last night after you had her and told me I could come back during visiting hours this afternoon. I couldn’t wait.” Violet put her arm around Audrey’s back. “I told them I was your only family, which I know is a lie. But I just couldn’t stay away. They let me put the robe and the flowers in your room when I got here at daybreak. They think I’m nuts.”

  “You’re not nuts. She’s enchanting.”

  “She’s so beautiful.”

  The two friends stood in silence for a few seconds as they stared at the fairylike child.

  “I told the nurses her name is Elaine,” Audrey said. “You and Bert haven’t changed your minds about that, have you?”

  “No.” Violet whispered the word as if oxygen were in scarce supply.

  Audrey looked at Violet with glistening eyes. “That’s how I feel when I look at her, too. She nearly takes my breath away. I’m so glad you and Bert get to have her and love her and raise her. So glad.”

  Violet opened her mouth but no words came out. Her eyes were shimmering now, too.

  “Do you want to hold her, Vi?” Audrey said.

  Violet hesitated for a moment. “If I hold her now I won’t want to let go.”

  The instant Audrey heard these words she knew she must leave Santa Barbara the second she could. Her breasts would soon be aching to nourish the child that would not be hers. She couldn’t be near the baby when the tender agony of that denial began. She needed to get back to Hollywood and her life as Audrey Duvall. Now. Today.

  “Where are my clothes from yesterday?” she said.

  “In the little closet in your room, I think. Why?”

  Audrey pressed her hand against the nursery window and gazed at her daughter. “We’re leaving.”

  “We are?”

  “Yes.”

  Audrey turned from the glass to head to the nurses’ station. An older woman in a white cap looked up, surprised to see Audrey out of bed.

  “Why, Mrs. Kluge, you should be resting,” the nurse said, wide-eyed.

  “I
prefer to rest at home. We’d like to leave now.”

  She looked from Violet to Audrey. “But the doctor hasn’t made his rounds yet. You just had a baby.”

  “I had a baby last night. My third. Both of us are fine. So if you could just draw up my discharge papers?”

  “Mrs. Kluge, this is highly irregular! And you haven’t filled out the form for the birth certificate yet.”

  “I’d be happy to do that. Give it to me and I will do it right now. And then I want you to draw up my discharge papers.”

  The nurse stared at Audrey for several seconds before reaching into a file that had already been readied for later and pulling out an official-looking form.

  Audrey read the top line: Certificate of Live Birth, County of Santa Barbara.

  “And a pen?” she said, urgency in her tone.

  A pen was handed to her, and Audrey hurried through the form as if she were underwater and couldn’t draw breath until she was finished with it.

  Father’s Name: Bert Redmond.

  Mother’s Name: Violet Redmond.

  She would’ve run to her room to change into her clothes had her body allowed it.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Christmas Eve 1942

  Violet extracted the gingerbread-men cookie cutters from the cloth bag that Delores had kept them in since Bert was a baby and tossed them into the sink. Delores had so badly wanted Bert to have his favorite gingerbread men for his Christmas homecoming that Violet felt compelled to use the remainder of the month’s sugar ration to make them, even though she would’ve rather been in the living room with Bert and the baby at that moment.

  She ran some hot water into the sink to rinse off the cutters and cast a glance over her shoulder into the other room. Delores was sitting in her favorite chair, listening to Christmas carols on the Victrola, while Bert was on the sofa, cuddling his infant daughter. In the far corner of the living room, a Norwegian white pine bought at the Boy Scouts’ tree lot had been decorated with ornaments from as far back as Bert’s childhood. Presents that would be opened in the morning lay underneath it. Lainey was smiling up at Bert, and he was making silly noises to encourage her grins. Bert had been home for only two days and already Lainey had taken to him as though he had been there for the entire duration of her seven-week existence. It had been nothing short of wonderful having Bert home to share the joy and work of parenting an infant.

  Violet had supposed that life took on new meaning when a woman became a mother, but she had no idea just how much. Lainey was a good baby, but she was still a sweet little bundle of demands—morning, noon, and night. And as much as Violet had always wanted to be a mother, she had little experience with infants. She missed not being near her own mother and resented that Delores was so frail that Violet could not leave her to go home to Montgomery. The past seven weeks had almost been like taking care of two helpless people.

  And yet she still loved her reinvented life. The only thing her wonderful new universe had lacked was Bert’s presence. He wrote every week and called on Sundays, but this was what she had longed for: seeing him cuddling Lainey on the couch and loving the child like Violet did.

  She wished it could be just the three of them for Christmas.

  Violet turned back to the cutters in the sink, pulling them out a bit savagely and tossing them onto a towel to dry them off. She wished Delores had gone to be with one of her daughters for the holidays and, yes, she wished Audrey wasn’t coming. Violet hadn’t actually invited Audrey; she’d just telephoned earlier that month and asked if it wouldn’t be too much trouble if she came. She’d said she’d get a hotel room, since with Lainey now sleeping in the nursery, there wasn’t an extra bedroom for guests. The sofa in the living room was the only other option and Violet hadn’t offered it.

  It wasn’t that Violet didn’t want to see Audrey; it was just that this was their first Christmas, Bert’s and hers, as parents. And they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. She also didn’t think that it was wise for Audrey to be around Lainey right then. It had been so hard for Audrey when she left Lainey with Violet the day after she had given birth to her. Audrey had called a couple of times to see how Violet was and to inquire if she needed anything, and Violet had heard the longing in Audrey’s voice when she asked about Lainey. Audrey surely needed more distance. It wasn’t like Lainey was going to remember Aunt Audrey had been there, anyway.

  But the real reason Violet wished Audrey wasn’t coming was that Violet still dreamed from time to time that Audrey had changed her mind and wanted Lainey back. She tried not to dwell on that dreadful thought during her waking hours, but it kept sneaking up on her. Violet already loved Lainey like she was her own flesh and blood.

  She couldn’t bear it if Audrey were to try to get Lainey back.

  Violet forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand: rolling out the gingerbread dough, carefully cutting the shapes, and using a floured spatula to slide them onto the cookie sheet. The dough smelled spicy and sweet as she worked with it, and the aroma teased her into believing it was Christmas and therefore all was well. She opened the oven and put the first dozen inside and then began working on the second batch. As she was carefully cutting the last man for the next tray, Violet heard, from the open window over the sink, a car pulling up outside.

  Audrey emerged from the vehicle with shopping bags brimming with beribboned presents. She was wearing a scarlet dress with white trim and shiny black pumps, and her long, coffee brown hair was pulled back with a wide crimson ribbon. She bore no trace of having had a child a little less than two months earlier. The black belt at her waist was cinched tight, and as she moved away from her car and began to walk up the narrow cement path to the front door, she looked like she was stepping out of a Vogue photo shoot.

  Instinctively, Violet reached up to smooth back the hair from her face and then wiped floured hands on her dark green apron. Ghostlike images of her palms appeared on the fabric.

  She moved to the entrance to the living room, and Bert looked up from the cooing baby in his arms.

  “Is she here?” he asked.

  Violet nodded and Bert got to his feet. She turned and reached for the doorknob, but before she could turn it, three knocks landed on the other side. When Violet opened the door, Audrey was framed in a halo of light, just like she had been the last time she’d arrived from Hollywood in the late afternoon.

  “Merry Christmas, Audrey!” Violet said brightly, forcing a happy smile.

  Audrey stepped forward across the threshold, plopped the bags down on the floor, and wrapped her arms around Violet. “Oh, Violet. It’s so good to be in this house again! Thanks so much for letting me come.”

  “Of course!”

  Audrey broke off the embrace and said a cordial hello to Delores, still sitting in her armchair. Then her gaze traveled to Bert standing behind his wife. Audrey’s eyes misted over in an instant at the sight of the infant in his arms.

  “Oh, my! Look how big she is!” Audrey whispered, her voice as fragile as lace.

  Bert took a few steps forward. He seemed a bit tentative, too, Violet noted, and she was glad of it.

  “Hello, Audrey.” He leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on her cheek. Lainey in his arms prevented him from embracing her.

  “Bert,” Audrey said as she blinked back tears that refused to be quelled. “You look different. I don’t know if it’s because you’re a father now or because someone is trying to make a soldier out of you.”

  Bert’s grin in return was genuine and full. He was happy to see his old friend. Happy to have her in his home. The baby lifted a little fist out from under her blanket as if to say she, too, was happy to welcome Audrey.

  The odor of something charred suddenly filled Violet’s nostrils.

  She turned toward the kitchen. Tendrils of smoke were curling out of the vents in the oven door. Her gingerbread men were burning.
r />   “Oh!” Violet dashed into the kitchen, grabbed two hot pads, and pulled open the oven door. More smoke billowed out. She reached inside for the tray of blackened cookies, yanked them out, and tossed the hot sheet onto the tile counter. She opened the window fully and coaxed the smoke outside with the hot pads. When she finally went back to the living room, only Delores was looking in her direction. Bert and Audrey were gazing at the baby and smiling, completely unaware, or at least undisturbed, by the fiasco in the kitchen.

  Violet strode toward Bert, Audrey, and Lainey.

  “Did you burn them all?” Delores asked as Violet walked past her armchair.

  Violet pretended not to have heard her. She reached Bert, put an arm around his waist, and leaned into him so that the amalgam of father, mother, and child couldn’t possibly be missed.

  “She’s so beautiful,” Audrey said, smiling up at Violet.

  “Well, of course,” Bert replied. “How could she not be beautiful?”

  Audrey smiled at the veiled compliment.

  Violet was about to ask Audrey if she’d care to sit down and make herself comfortable when Bert asked if she’d like to hold Lainey.

  Audrey looked from Bert to Violet to Bert again. “May I?”

  Bert waited for Violet to answer. It was almost as if he could tell she was hesitant.

  “Of course,” Violet said after a moment’s pause.

  Bert extended the baby toward Audrey. She took Lainey into her arms effortlessly, without the slightest awkward jostle.

  “Hello, little angel,” Audrey murmured as she walked slowly to the sofa and sat down with the baby close to her chest. “My, how you’ve grown. And look at you smiling already!”

  Bert returned to the couch and sat down next to Audrey. “Violet said she just started doing that a few days ago.”

  Audrey bent down to snuggle Lainey and Bert laughed.

  “Did you burn all the cookies, Violet?” Delores asked again from her armchair.