Mother Elizabeth had seen what it was doing to her, and so far hadn’t been able to help her. She had offered to send her on a retreat, or for therapy, and Hattie had refused both.
“What would that change?”
“Even those of us in religious orders are human, Sister Mary Joe,” she reminded her. “We make mistakes. They made a big one when they destroyed the records. They thought they were protecting everyone involved.”
“They were protecting the Church, not the people in it. And so many people got hurt as a result. My sister was almost one of them.”
“You did a wonderful thing for her, and for your niece, but you can’t lose your vocation because of it. That’s too high a price for you to pay.”
“And what if my vocation was motivated by the wrong things from the beginning? Maybe that’s what’s coming to the surface.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your vocation, my child.” But there was so much she didn’t know that Hattie didn’t believe her. “You’ve been here for eighteen years. If there was a flaw in your vocation, you’d have discovered it a long time ago.” But Hattie knew that Fiona Eckles had been even older when she asked to be released from her vows. She couldn’t forgive herself for her part in what she had done. Hattie had other things on her conscience.
“I’d like to go back to Africa one day,” she said wistfully. “I was happy there, and serving a useful purpose.”
“I can sign you up for service there again, but you need to find your footing first. When you feel your vocation is secure, I’ll see what I can do to recommend that.”
“I’d like that,” Hattie said, her eyes brightening. For the first time in months, she felt hopeful. Going to Saint Blaise’s had been a dark experience which shook her faith in everything she believed in. It was a cover-up, like others the Church had committed to protect their own. Hattie didn’t want to be part of an institution that did that, no matter who was to blame. She saw the Church as an evil force now, which was what Fiona had said to her too. But what would she do if she left? Where would she go? After eighteen years, she had no other life now. She could go to her sister in the Berkshires for a while, but then what? No matter where she looked, she saw no meaningful future for herself. The only thing she wanted to do was return to Africa, but that didn’t seem likely either. And it was a form of running away too.
She drove up to see Melissa the week before Thanksgiving, and they spent the day together. There was snow on the ground, and they went for a long walk in the orchards. Melissa could sense that her sister was troubled and her spirits were down, and asked her about it. Hattie hadn’t seemed all right to her since she’d come back from Ireland, despite the victory it had been for her.
“It shook my faith,” she confessed to Melissa, “in everything I believe and have dedicated my life to. It was so dishonest, and hurt so many people.” The cover-up of the rogue priests was a scandal the Church was still reverberating from too. And what if there were other things? “I told Mother Elizabeth I’d love to go back to Africa. She said she could recommend me, but I have to get my feet on firm ground first. I keep thinking of Fiona Eckles leaving the Church because of what happened at Saint Blaise’s.”
“You wouldn’t give up your vows, would you?” Melissa looked startled. She hadn’t realized how deeply shaken her sister was.
“I don’t know,” Hattie answered. “I’ve thought about it. I’m not sure my vocation was ever for the right reasons.”
“Of course it was,” Melissa tried to reassure her. “And I don’t want you to go back to Africa. I just got you back a few months ago, I don’t want to lose you.”
“You never will.” Hattie smiled at her. “This isn’t about us. It’s about what I believe in, and why I’m there. It’s complicated.”
“Life is complicated. People are complicated. And churches are even more so.”
“If I’m not sure of my vocation, I don’t belong there,” Hattie said firmly.
Melissa was worried about her when she left. Things were going so well for her now, and she could see that her sister was suffering. It was almost as though Saint Blaise’s was cursed, and everyone who went there paid a terrible price. It was exactly what Melissa had said about it when she was there. It was hell on Earth. Her own faith had been restored when Hattie had found Michaela, and now it seemed as though Hattie was losing hers. She had never heard her question her vocation before. She was going through a very dark time, her own private hell, just as Fiona Eckles had described. Hattie wrote the ex-nun a long letter when she got back to the convent that night, asking her advice. But she could already guess what it would be.
* * *
—
Norm spent a quiet Sunday with Melissa, the day after her sister’s visit. They watched a movie on TV and went to bed early that night. She was making coffee in the morning when he brought the paper in, and the front page on The Boston Globe was a photograph of one of the most important movie producers in Hollywood. He was in his sixties, and the headline was that a major actress was bringing criminal charges against him for sexual assault. It was a shocking story and Norm read it as she handed him a mug of coffee. When he finished, he passed the paper to her.
“Wow, that’s a shocker,” Norm said. He was one of the most respected producers in the business. The actress, who had two Oscars to her credit and a Golden Globe, claimed that he had raped her five years before, slapped her around afterward, broken her nose, and then sodomized her. She hadn’t reported him because she didn’t want to lose the starring role in the movie that won her her second Oscar. She had produced photographs, which the producer insisted had been falsified. The victim claimed that he had lured her to his office, and she had been coerced into having sex with him once before, when he promised her another starring role, but only if she let him sodomize her. She said she had finally spoken up because she claimed he had recently tried to coerce her again. He denied all of it, and Melissa finished reading the story and looked at Norm.
“Do you believe her? Maybe she was mad at him about something. Why would she wait five years to report it?”
“Afraid for her career? I think a lot of that must go on in Hollywood. The casting couch, to varying degrees.”
“This sounds pretty violent,” Melissa commented.
“It’s going to have a big impact if someone as big as she is accuses someone as important as him. This is right up at the top of the ladder out there, out in the stratosphere,” Norm said.
“It happens in a lot of fields, maybe not as extreme as in this case. There’s some of that in publishing, and in business.”
“Politics isn’t exempt,” Norm added. “There’s always some old perverted congressman or senator being accused of trying to trade sexual favors for promotions, or chasing some young intern around a desk. It’s as old as time.”
Melissa turned on the morning news on TV after he left for work, and it was all they talked about, and the morning talk shows were full of it. The producer in question had just come out with a major movie that was expected to be a huge box office hit. And by the end of the day, the latest bulletin was that the film had been pulled from theaters across the country. The actress accusing him had released copies of the photographs of her after he raped her. The producer was not available for comment, the LAPD was pressing felony charges, and his new movie was history. Theater owners were refusing to show it, which was going to represent a colossal loss of money to everyone involved. It had taken enormous courage for the actress to come forward after so long.
Norm and Melissa talked about it over dinner that night. The next morning, two more major actresses had made similar accusations against him. And a famous director had been accused as well. Hollywood was in an uproar, as women were coming forward to accuse other producers of similar acts. All claimed they had been coerced into having sex with producers and directors and studio executi
ves in order to secure important starring roles.
It was mesmerizing watching the entertainment world crumble. Like a soap opera in real life. And some of the actresses involved were so famous, and the producers, that it didn’t seem real. It was Hollywood drama. Some other actors were named, and two talk show hosts lost their shows.
“It’s an avalanche, isn’t it?” Norm said, fascinated by the list of names of men who had been accused, and it all had the ring of truth. Networks were canceling shows left and right, stars were being replaced, sponsors were pulling out. None of the other men accused were denying the claims being made against them. Two famous actors and a producer made tearful apologies on television.
“This is like a bad movie,” Melissa said, but it was all too real. She was leaving the next day for L.A., and wondered if Marla Moore would talk about it when she met her at Thanksgiving, or if the subject would be taboo. It was rapidly turning into a witch hunt, but the witches and warlocks were coming out of the bushes in droves, pursued by their irate victims, who felt the safety in numbers and were finally having the courage to speak up. Many minor actresses were making the same claims, and several young gay men. But on the whole, the victims’ voices were being heard. Most of them were women.
She was sad to leave Norm over the holiday, so early in their budding relationship, but he was going to his brother’s home in Boston, to spend Thanksgiving with them. She was excited about seeing Michaela again, and sharing the holiday with her family. She had pulled out of her closet an old brown velvet Chanel suit she’d forgotten about to wear to their Thanksgiving meal.
She drove to the Boston airport, and left her car in the lot there, and everyone was reading about the sexual harassment scandal on the plane. Hollywood had been blown wide open, and Melissa guessed that men in the entertainment field all over Hollywood were shaking in their shoes, worrying about who would be accused next. There were dozens of men already implicated after just three days. It was as though someone had pulled a plug, or the dam had broken, and the floodgates were open wide.
When they landed, Melissa took a cab to the Beverly Hills Hotel, and called Michaela after she settled into her room. She was going to their house for dinner that night, and had ordered flowers for them that they could use on the table for Thanksgiving lunch the next day. Michaela said that dinner that night was going to be informal. David was going to barbecue on their patio. Marla would be joining them the next day. She was back from location, but still working on the film, and she didn’t like going out when she was shooting. It made her tired the next day. Melissa was planning to be in town until Sunday. She was really looking forward to it. She hadn’t even celebrated the holidays for the past four years, and had no one to spend them with. She preferred to read or watch old movies and forget it. But not this year. She had a great deal to celebrate and be thankful for. She was sorry that Hattie wasn’t there too, since she had made all their joy possible.
Melissa took a cab to Michaela’s address at six o’clock, and the children were running around and excited to see her.
“Grandma Mel!” they squealed as though they had known her all their lives. She had brought Thanksgiving coloring books and a box of crayons for each, a pilgrim doll for Alex, and an Indian headdress for Andy, and a cowboys and Indians board game.
“You don’t have to spoil them, Mom,” Michaela said, sounding natural as she said it, and Melissa smiled. She loved hearing the word. No one had called her “Mom” in six years.
“I have a lot of years to make up for, especially since I didn’t get to spoil you at all,” Melissa said gently. “And a couple of coloring books won’t spoil them. We’ll discuss it when it’s time for Andy’s first car. That’s ten years away, so we have time.” Michaela laughed, and Melissa went out to see her son-in-law at the barbecue. He was flipping burgers for the kids, and making ribs and chicken for them, wearing jeans and a dark blue sweatshirt. They had a big backyard, and an attractive single-level house, with a big living room, a dining room, and a playroom, four bedrooms, and a three-car garage. It was in a high-end area of Beverly Hills, and David said they had bought it when Andrew was born. David did very well as an agent.
The meal was delicious, and when they finished eating, the children went to the playroom and took their coloring books with them. They both had iPads to play games on, which Melissa noticed. Robbie had loved his too. It had kept him occupied at the hospital for hours when he had chemo treatments. She still had his tucked away in a drawer with his favorite games on it.
When the children had left the room, Melissa thanked David for a delicious dinner, and asked them both what they thought of the sexual harassment scandal that had everyone riveted. The first story had broken two days before, and the avalanche of claims was gathering momentum.
“I don’t think it’s news to anyone in the industry, but no one has ever spoken up before, and now everybody is,” Michaela answered. “Every day there are new names on the list. A lot of TV shows are being canceled, even some really big ones, and movies are being pulled from the theaters. Marla said they had to replace two people in the cast of the one she’s working on, and the director is really pissed. They have to reshoot all of the scenes they’re in with new actors. Everyone is taking it very seriously. No one is denying that it’s real. Maybe it was time that it happened.”
“Two of my clients have been accused,” David added. “We referred them to criminal lawyers. We don’t handle those cases. And I’ll bet there are going to be a lot more.”
“It sounds like it,” Melissa commented. “It happens in a lot of industries. But maybe not as blatantly as it does in Hollywood.” Some of the stories they were hearing were seriously offensive, and tragic in some cases when children and adolescents and very young actors were involved. It had ruined some lives, and was going to destroy a lot of careers. A number of actresses were saying that they had lost parts in important films when they wouldn’t agree to play along. “It’s all over the news in New England, and the East, and it must be an even bigger deal here.”
“It’s all anyone is talking about,” Michaela confirmed. “Marla says they deserve it. They’ve gotten away with it for a long time.”
Michaela’s adoptive mother was much on Melissa’s mind, since they were meeting for the first time at lunch the next day, and Melissa was still terrified by the prospect. Norm had done all he could to encourage her before she left. But her mind wouldn’t rest until the first encounter was over, if it went well. Michaela was sure it would.
Melissa left early after dinner and went back to the hotel. She watched the late news and more names had been added to the list, some of Melissa’s favorite actors, and she was sorry to see it. More and more victims were feeling empowered to speak up. It was a frenzy, but many of the claims were well founded. Only a few sounded bogus, trying to exploit the current trend. Almost all of them sounded all too real and credible. She turned off the TV and went to bed, and got up early the next morning. She was invited to be at the Fosters’ at noon, and lunch was at one. Michaela had said that David was making the turkey and the stuffing, and she was doing everything else, all the vegetables and the pies. They did a traditional Thanksgiving at their house every year, and Christmas at her mother’s, which she had catered by a restaurant. According to Michaela, Marla couldn’t boil water and never tried. She had a full staff to provide whatever she needed. But Michaela liked cooking with her husband. It reminded Melissa of Norm. It was too late to call him with the three-hour time difference when she got back to the hotel. She knew he’d be asleep, and was driving to his brother’s in Boston in the morning.
* * *
—
Melissa had coffee and toast at the hotel. She didn’t want to eat much, since she already knew that they were serving a big lunch. She was nervous about meeting the woman who had raised her daughter and stood in as her mother for thirty-three years. She wondered what she
would have thought if they had met when Michaela was born, if she would have liked them, and wanted them to raise her daughter. She’d had no say in it, and they’d never met. It was all handled differently then. Birth mothers didn’t stay in their children’s lives, show up for holidays, or come to birthday parties. In those days, they disappeared out of the baby’s life. And they had no voice in who adopted their child. That was all much more recent. Melissa still felt strange about spending Thanksgiving with Marla and having lunch with her. And she was such a huge star.
She put on the brown velvet suit and it looked a little out of date, but not too much so. And she was wearing one of the pairs of high-heeled shoes she’d bought in New York. She had brown and gold earrings that looked like leaves that Carson had given her. They were antique topaz and he’d bought them in London. She was carrying an old brown alligator purse of her mother’s that she had saved but never used. She felt a little too proper when she looked in the mirror. She looked like her mother when she went to play bridge with her friends. But she wanted to look respectable and motherly, and didn’t want to embarrass Michaela.
She arrived right on time, and the children looked all clean and shined. Alexandra had on a pretty pink smocked dress, and Andy was wearing brown corduroy pants and a white shirt and red sweater, and his Superman sneakers. Michaela said he was supposed to be wearing loafers but he refused, and she went back to the kitchen to keep an eye on the Brussels sprouts. David was basting the turkey, and there was football on the TV.
The doorbell rang and no one answered, so Melissa got up to help. She told Michaela she’d get it, without thinking who it might be. She opened the door and found herself looking into the huge blue eyes of an older blond woman, with perfectly cut hair to her shoulders, diamonds on her ears, in brown velvet slacks and a cream satin blouse, high heels, and a huge gold bracelet on one wrist. She had a flawless figure and a perfect smile, and in an instant Melissa registered who it was. It was Marla Moore, who came in drifting a cloud of Chanel No. 5 behind her. She looked Melissa over appraisingly from head to foot, as Melissa felt her knees begin to shake.
Finding Ashley Page 15
