“Well, you can’t. Daddy said he’d shoot any burglar that tried to take it.” Prue laughed.
“Are you ready for our triumph at the prom?” Mark asked.
“Have you got a tux?”
“I’m afraid so. I hate those monkey suits, but we’ll have a good time.”
They did have a good time at the prom. They stayed until the last dance, then he drove her home, and as they approached the outside of the house, he said, “I’ve got your graduation present for you. If you’re sweet, I’ll give it to you now.”
“I’m always sweet,” Prue said, looking up at him. “It must be small if you have it in your pocket.”
“No, it’s the biggest present you’ll ever get.” He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out an envelope. She opened it and saw two tickets. “It’s a ticket to Disneyland in California.”
“But I can’t go to California.”
“I’ll bet you can,” Mark grinned. “Your parents have a present for you too. A graduation present. They told me I could give it to you, but you’ll have to be sweeter than you have been to get it.”
Prue reached up, pulled his head down, kissed him firmly on the lips, then drew back. “There,” she said breathlessly, “is that sweet enough?”
He reached out and said, “Now, that was nice, but say something sweet to me.”
Prue’s eyes crinkled as she grinned. She leaned forward and whispered, “Marshmallow!”
“All right, I see I’m not going to get any more goodies. Your parents are giving you a trip to the coast. You’ll be staying with your great-aunt Lylah, and I’ll be covering the Republican Convention there; Ronald Reagan thinks he’s going to win the nomination.”
“Oh, Mark! Not really?”
“Your parents will tell you about it, but it shows what a strong, upright fellow I am, that parents would risk their daughter in his care all the way across the country and back.” He laughed at her expression and said, “It’ll be fun. You’ll get to see Mickey Mouse, and I’ll get to see Ronald Reagan. Right after graduation we’ll leave.”
Prue said, “It’s the best present they could have given me, and you too, Mark.” She leaned forward, kissed his cheek, and said, “You are sweet. The sweetest man I know,” then she turned and went into the house, her face flushed, and Mark laughed.
“That’ll be a down payment,” he called out as the door closed quietly.
11
“I DON’T HAVE A LIFE!”
The trip from her home in the country to Los Angeles was a pure delight for Prue Deforge. Just packing was an exotic adventure for her. She had never been on an airplane before, and when the airliner took off, she reached over and grabbed Mark’s arm, watching the ground disappear beneath her.
Laughing, Mark patted her hand. “You’re cutting off my circulation, Prue! Just lean back and enjoy it.”
Prue watched with fascination as the earth seemed to move away from the airplane, rather than the other way around. “Look at how small the houses are,” she whispered, “and the cars; and the people look like little ants.” Finally she accustomed herself to the motion of the plane and was highly entertained by the in-flight movie, an Alfred Hitchcock thriller called Torn Curtain. She sat with her eyes fixed to the screen and whispered, “Isn’t that amazing? Seeing a movie this high up in the air!”
They arrived at the John Wayne Airport in Los Angeles, and as the plane landed, Prue’s hand gripped the armrest until her knuckles were white. Mark laughed. “Let her down easy, Prue. That pilot needs all the help he can get.” After the touchdown Prue relaxed, and the two got off the airplane and were met by Adam Stuart, who shook Mark’s hand firmly, then turned to Prue and smiled. “I’m glad to see you, Prudence. Mother’s been looking forward to having you. We’ve got a full schedule planned for you. Congratulations on your graduation.”
“Thank you, Adam,” Prue whispered. She had always been fascinated by Adam Stuart, having been told of his feats of daring in World War II, and also because he was the natural son of the famous Baron von Richtofen. She allowed herself to be escorted into the limousine and soon found herself at the home of her great-aunt Lylah Stuart. The house was in an exclusive neighborhood, but the grounds were more impressive than the home itself. It was set off away from the main highway, shielded by huge shrubbery and towering palm trees, the likes of which Prue had never seen before. The house was California style—white stucco, modernistic, with a flat roof—and the inside was luxurious.
After welcoming her, Lylah said, “It’s a small house. Only four bedrooms. I believe Doris Day’s has fourteen bedrooms.”
Adam laughed. “Who would want to have thirteen guests? Let Doris handle it. You’re staying with us, Mark,” Adam said. “Come along, and we’ll let these ladies begin their gossiping sessions.”
Lylah smiled but shook her head. “I haven’t noticed that women gossip any more than men,” she said. “Now, you get along! Remember, you’re all coming over here for supper tonight.”
Adam shook his head. “Are you sure you want those two lively teenagers too?”
“Of course, dear; bring them along.” After the men left, Lylah said, “Come along out on the deck. We’ll get some sunshine.” They moved outside, and Prue was charmed by the view. The house had been set to get a view of the ocean, and she took in the green waters, the blue sky, and the fleecy white clouds. “It’s so beautiful! Could I go swimming in the ocean?”
“Well, I can’t go with you, my dear,” Lylah said, “but I’m sure Mark would be glad to take you. I don’t know what you’ll wear though. These swimming suits they’re selling now are a disgrace.” She shook her head in disgust, saying, “They’re like the movies and some of the television shows just beginning to come on. I’m embarrassed to watch some of them. Here, sit down, and we’ll have some iced tea, or would you rather have a soft drink?”
“Tea will be fine, Aunt Lylah.”
For the next hour Lylah entertained her young guest. She had been briefed by Dent and Violet on some of Prue’s problems: that she had not done well in school, and that she considered herself too tall and not at all pretty. Now as she examined the young woman, she thought, She doesn’t know how attractive she is. The day of the tall woman is here. All the models dwarf ordinary women in height. She examined Prue’s dark hair and her sleek figure and finally said, “I wish your parents could have come with you. I love to have family around, and Dent and Violet need a vacation. Maybe we can plan for it later on in the summer.”
“That would be wonderful. Mom would love it, and so would Dad. They haven’t gotten around much. They’ve never been to California, I don’t think.”
“I’ll call them and see if we can’t fix something up. I don’t see why we couldn’t have the reunion out here sometime, but then, everyone’s so stuffy about traditions.” She sighed, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes. “But I’m the same way. It’s been the joy of my life, those reunions at Christmas.”
After a time Lylah said, “You must be tired. Why don’t you go take a shower and lie down for a while. Adam and his family won’t be here for a few hours.”
“How old are his kids now?”
“Suzanne’s eighteen, a grown-up woman almost. And Sam is sixteen, an outlaw if I ever saw one. Oh, he’s not really mean. Just so full of life that it’s hard to keep him down. They’re the pride of my life. I’d be terribly lonesome without them.” She smiled, saying, “Go along now. You’ve got a heavy dinner date tonight, and tomorrow, I understand, Mark’s taking you to Disneyland.”
“That’s right. I’ve heard so much about it. I’m excited about going.”
The dinner that night was fun for Prue. She had always liked Adam’s wife, Maris, although she had not been around her except at the reunions, and Suzanne and Sam were charming. Sam had greeted her with an exclamation, “You sure are tall, Prue!”
At one time Prue would have been terribly embarrassed, but now she said, “There’s six whole feet of m
e. I hope you’ll be this tall in a few years.”
“I want to be as tall as Mark,” Sam announced.
Mark enjoyed this, and after dinner he and Prue played board games with Sam and Suzanne. When Mark left with Adam and his family, he said, “I’ll be around at about ten in the morning. Wear comfortable clothes, Prue. It’s a job seeing Disneyland.”
The next morning Prue obeyed Mark’s injunction and wore a pair of white shorts, a deep blue T-shirt, and a pair of white socks with her white Adidas walking shoes. She had a pair of dark sunglasses, forced on her by Lylah, and a white straw hat tied under her chin. “You’ll need it to keep the sun off,” Lylah said. “Have a good time.”
As Prue walked inside the huge park, Mark gave her a breakdown on the operation. “Disneyland opened in 1955,” he said. “That first year four million visitors checked in here at Anaheim, and they’ve been coming ever since.”
“It’s so big!” Prue exclaimed, and as they began their journey she could not see enough. She took a ride down an African jungle river, rode a rocket ship to the moon, and went on a submarine journey, which reminded her of the Disney film Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea.
She loved Sleeping Beauty’s castle, the pirate ship flight to Peter Pan’s Never Never Land, and the trolley cars on Main Street.
Every corner of the park was filled with something, and Prue was dazed by the food facilities suited to the contrived themes with waiters dressed in period costumes, wastepaper baskets—painted to look like part of the landscape, and menu language designed and adapted to the particular fantasy being spun.
Finally, after her feet had grown tired, they stopped to eat hamburgers. The restaurant was an idealized Tom Sawyer’s island as a Mississippi riverboat plied its way through muddied waters. “The food’s not much,” Mark said. “No better than fast-food stuff, but you can’t beat the setting.”
Afterward they visited a Wild West saloon complete with chorus girls and cowboys shooting up the bar, and in Tomorrow Land the architecture blended into a futuristic, spaceport setting.
At the end of the day they wearily made their way back to the car Mark had borrowed from Adam, and as Prue leaned back, shutting her eyes, she exclaimed, “I’ve never seen anything like it, Mark! It was the most fun I ever had!”
“I’ve been trying to write a story on Disneyland,” Mark said. “Interviewing the kids who work there, the people who run it. Why do millions of people like to go to that place?”
“Why, the kids like going on the rides and seeing Mickey Mouse.”
Mark turned and grinned at her, his deep tan making his teeth look very white. “That’s too simple for a story. There’s got to be some deep, psychological reason why we all like to play Tom Sawyer or go through an African jungle. At least in my story it’ll be that way.” He grew serious and said, “I think it’s escapism like so many other things, most of the movies and the plays we see, the songs we listen to. We Americans can’t stand ourselves, that is, to be alone. Have you ever noticed that you never go into a room with somebody just sitting there, no radio, no television? Just sitting there?”
“I do that sometimes.”
Mark turned to look at her with surprise. “So do I, but we’re in the minority. Anyway, that’s what the story will say.” He drove her home and said, “Tomorrow another treat. We’re going to see Bobby. He’s making another movie, and we’ve got permission to go watch him.”
“Oh, that would be interesting.”
Mark pulled up in front of Lylah’s house, got out and opened the door, and said, “You go in and get a good night’s rest. You haven’t started yet.” He reached out and ruffled her hair, for she had taken her hat off and was holding it in her hand. “Don’t get too close to any of those talent scouts. They might make a movie star out of you. I wouldn’t want to lose my country girl.”
Watching the making of a film was intriguing to Prue. Mark had seen some of it before, and he spent his time watching Prue’s expression.
When Bobby first appeared and greeted them, then turned to go to makeup, Prue glanced at Mark, saying, “He looks so much older.”
“It’s a hard life. It puts the miles on pretty quick.”
Prue nodded. “When I saw him in his last movie he didn’t look over twenty-two or twenty-three. He’s actually about thirty-one or two. He does look bad, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. His parents must be pretty worried about him. Have you seen them?” Mark asked.
“Not since the reunion at Christmastime. His dad talked pretty straight about Bobby. No trouble with Richard, of course. We’ll see him too, doing his street work ministry. Aunt Lylah made arrangements for us.”
“Oh, I’d like that.”
They spent most of the day watching a musical number being filmed. On-screen Bobby was filled with life, and his eyes flashed, and he seemed young. But afterward, as they sat in his dressing room and he invited them out, he moved almost like an old man. “We’ll go out and party a little bit. Maybe meet some movie stars,” he said.
Mark shook his head. “Maybe another day, Bobby. We’ve got a date to go out and see Richard’s work. Have you been out there?”
Bobby shook his head. “No,” he said briefly, and made no other comment. The question seemed to offend him, and he grunted and shrugged. “Give me a call while you’re here.” Turning to Prue, he smiled and seemingly could turn on the charm at any moment. “You’ve grown up into a mighty handsome woman, Prue. Maybe I can get you a screen test.”
“No thanks, Bobby,” Prue said. “I guess I’ll just keep on being a country girl.”
As they left the studio and made their way to the rougher side of Los Angeles, they talked about Bobby, and when they arrived at the two-story building that housed Richard’s ministry, they saw a big sign that said “Jesus Saves” boldly plastered across the front. “The American Civil Liberties Union tried to get them to take that down, but Adam hired a fancy lawyer and made ’em cry uncle. I was at the trial. He made those New York lawyers look pretty sick,” Mark said.
“Well, I’m glad,” Prue said angrily. “The very idea! Telling someone they couldn’t put up a sign about Jesus!”
“It’s going to get worse than that, I’m afraid. That ACLU is the worst thing that ever happened to America. They’re for liberty for anybody who’s godless and hates righteousness.”
They found Richard inside preparing to go out and preach on the streets. He was wearing typical California laid-back clothes and looked thin but healthy. He greeted them warmly, then insisted they come with him.
Prudence had never seen any such thing as street preaching, but when they got there several of Richard’s co-workers began to sing, accompanying themselves with guitars. Where they came from, Prue didn’t know, but a crowd gathered, most of them dirty and rough looking, indeed. When Richard got up to preach, she could see little effect, but it did not bother him. He preached as if he were in Madison Square Garden.
When the sermon was over, many of the street people stayed for prayer, although some mocked and laughed. Prue watched as Richard and his wife, Laurel, prayed with a prostitute who was so eaten up by drugs that she could do nothing but sob. Finally Richard came over and said, “We’re taking Eileen home with us to stay at the shelter for a while.”
“Do you think you can help her?”
“Jesus can,” Richard said. He asked about Bobby, and listened to their report with pain in his eyes. “It kills me to see him going down the drain the way he is. All the money he makes has blinded him. And that Hollywood glitter, it’s destroyed so many people.” Tears came into his eyes, and he said, “I guess I’ve prayed a million prayers for my brother, and I’ll pray a million more, but somehow God’s going to come through on him.”
Prue’s time in California sped by quickly, and to her surprise, she enjoyed the Republican Convention. Mark was there explaining what it all meant, and to her shock, she was introduced by Mark to the candidate himself. “Mr. Reagan, this is a fine you
ng Republican from Arkansas.”
Reagan’s eyes crinkled, and he extended his hand; somehow Prue felt that he had closed all the rest of the world out and was looking only at her. After asking which part of Arkansas she came from, he said, “Oh yes. I’ve been at Jasper. Floated the Buffalo River once. Beautiful country! Arkansas produces the best-looking young ladies in the country, I always say.”
Afterward Mark said, “Boy, he sure got your vote, didn’t he?”
“He’s so—so natural, Mark. Why, he’s just like anybody else. Not like a big movie star or a politician at all.”
“You know, I think you’re right, and he’s going to beat some folks bad, although nobody much believes it. Ronald Reagan may not have been the greatest movie star in the world, but I’ve got an idea he’s going to turn America around someday.”
Finally, on June the third, after Prue had bid Lylah farewell, she was standing in the airport saying good-bye to Mark. She was tired, for he had kept her going every minute, but now she was saddened, and something about her silence showed it.
“You hate to leave the big city, Prue?” Mark asked.
“It’s just—well, I don’t know what I’m going to do, Mark. I’m not really fit for anything. I don’t have a life.”
“Don’t be silly! As for being fit for something, you can cook, and clean house, and make a man feel good when he’s low. You can be a wife, and that’s the biggest job a woman can have.”
“Do you really think so, Mark?”
“Sure, I think so.” A voice said, “Flight 426! Last call for boarding!” and he reached out and hugged her, whispering in her ear, “It’s been swell. I wish I could go back with you, but I have to cover the convention. I’ll be coming down your way before you know it.” Then he kissed her on the cheek and stepped back.
Prue walked back on the plane sadly, the thrill of flying gone. She knew that somehow the business and excitement of Los Angeles had affected her, and although she loved the farm, and the woods, and her pets, still she saw nothing in the future. A pang came to her as she realized that even Kent Maxwell was gone now, and he had played a big part in her life. As the plane sailed over the fleecy clouds, she sat back and closed her eyes, wondering what in the world she would do with herself for the rest of her life.
Dawn of a New Day Page 13
