Baby On His Hollywood Doorstep

She shook her head. “No, thank you, I’m fine.”

She didn’t look fine to him. Not so much as a hint of color had returned to her cheeks. Something inside him, an instinct of sorts, said it wasn’t Florida that had sapped the life out of her.

“I’m going to get you that glass of water,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Chapter Three

Jack kept one eye on her until he was at the doorway, then he hurried down the hallway to get a glass of water.

Secrecy was just one of the games played in Hollywood. It was played by almost everyone, and was also the one that no one wanted to get caught playing. For the most part, he’d never played that game himself. Hadn’t needed to.

He did recognize it though, and there was more to Helen Hathaway than she was letting on.

He could make some phone calls, see if he could locate Joe and question him about the woman’s accusations. But that was unnecessary. Would be futile, too. If Joe had married someone, and cared about her, or the baby, he wouldn’t need to be searched out.

On the other hand, if it wasn’t true, if this Helen Hathaway was looking for something else, Joe might know what that might be.

Jack clamped his back teeth together. He’d put nearly everything he had into this movie. Others had put up a good amount of money, too—not the Broadbents, real investors, and he was determined that not a hint of Joe’s name would be tied to this movie. Los Angeles was a big town and the movie industry was growing daily. In many ways. Good and bad. Corruption had already burrowed its way deep inside and studios were walking a fine line.

The powers that be who’d put themselves in charge of the industry wanted all of America to believe Hollywood was the pinnacle of this nation. Where dreams came true, streets were lined with gold, and beds made of rose petals.

It was all baloney. The billboards who put themselves in charge had more skeletons in their closets than those they were blackballing—like his brother. But that was the way it was, and would remain, until a few legitimate studios rose high enough to knock the big five off their pedestals.

And it would happen. Others were getting wise to the way the big companies had taken over theaters. Buying them up across the nation and monopolizing the movies that could be shown in “their” theaters. Only their movies. For every big hit, they forced the theaters to show dozens of their low-budget movies, controlling the payouts other films could make.

That was all about to turn around. Which is precisely what he was counting on happening. His new film could be the one that really changed things. It was a good script. With solid actors and a story line that would drive people into the theaters by the droves—theaters that would have the right to show whatever movies they chose. It was all lined up. If he made it with this film, finally he’d have secured his place in the movie industry. Finally he’d have the security he’d wanted for more years than he could count. And he’d have done it his way.

If nothing went astray.

An abandoned baby could cause that to happen. Cause trouble he couldn’t afford.

He got the water and headed back to his office.

She was still sitting on the couch, but now had one hand on the baby.

There was something about her that struck him deep inside. Had since he’d seen her unique blue eyes, and her nervousness made him curious to know exactly what she wanted, what she was hiding.

She glanced up and, as he’d seen her do several times, tilted her chin downward to look over the top of the glasses. Why would a woman wear a pair of glasses that she couldn’t see through? The glasses didn’t take away from her beauty, but they did disguise it slightly. So did her clothes. They were loose fitting and drab. Almost as if she didn’t want to stand out in any way. Here, in Hollywood, her getup did the exact opposite—they made her stand out like a sore thumb.

He carried the water across the room. “Feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.” The smile she offered was forced and she barely took a drink of the water before handing him back the glass.

He set the glass on a nearby table.

“Here.” She held up the envelope.

Jack took it, folded back the flap and pulled out a picture. It certainly was Joe smiling back at the camera. The woman beside him was surprising. There was nothing vibrant about her. She was cute, but, well, average. A dime a dozen. Certainly not the type that Joe had been drawn to his entire life.

And certainly not the woman sitting on the couch, either.

Jack tucked the picture back in the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper. It was a marriage license. The signature at the bottom was one he knew. Joe had spent hours practicing flamboyant ways to sign his name and had perfected one that he’d used for the last ten-plus years. Ever since both of them had played roles in the traveling shows their parents had forced them to perform in across the nation. Joe had loved it. He hadn’t.

Jack put the paper back in the envelope with the picture. “What proof do you have that the baby is this woman’s?”

Her glasses had slid down her nose, allowing her to gaze over the top of the rims without dipping her chin. “I was there when Grace was born.”

“So, you are friends with her?”

“I was. As I said, Vera died three weeks ago.” She glanced at the baby for a second, then back at him with a tenderness in her eyes. “That was her name Vera. Vera McCarney.”

He gave a slight nod of respect. It wasn’t his job to judge this woman, or the woman Joe had obviously married, but in the end, he was the jury, the only member, who would have to decide what to do about the situation at hand. In order to do that, he needed all the information he could get. “Had the two of you been longtime friends?”

Once again, she glanced at the baby before answering. “No. I met her a short time before Gracie was born.”

There was tenderness in her eyes and sadness. Refusing to let what he saw affect him, he walked over to his desk and set the envelope down. “Where?”

“In Chicago.”

“But you never met Joe?”

She shook her head.

He pointed to the envelope on his desk. “This may say that my brother married a woman named Vera Baker last year in Chicago, but it in no way provides any proof that that baby is either Vera’s or Joe’s.”

“I was there when she was born.”

“You’ve said that, but I still have doubts that she is my niece. The burden has been put upon you to provide me with the information that might lessen that doubt. Do you have any other information that can do that?”

Her shoulders rolled back as the deep breath she took filled her lungs. She held the air in. He waited, half expecting her to pop like the rubber balloons they used for props.

She didn’t pop. As the air slowly seeped out of her, her shoulders dropped. “Vera wrote to Joe, and this is where she sent the letters.”

That, he could prove wrong. He crossed the room, to the closet where he kept the gunnysack. Upon opening the door, he picked up the sack and then carried it to the couch. “This bag,” he said while setting it on the floor by her feet, “is full of letters to Joe at this address.”

Her eyes grew as wide as her glasses. “Oh, my.”

She could be shocked by the mail, or by the fact he too had proof. Proof she was lying. He opened the sack and pulled out a handful of letters. “You’re welcome to sift through them, find one from Vera.” He dropped the envelopes back in the bag. “If you truly believe there is one in here.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “I know there is more than one. I mailed several for Vera.”

A shiver tickled his spine at the possibility that she was telling the truth. The entire truth. Then what was she hiding? It had to do with Chicago. A veil had clouded her eyes, and she’d grown stoic both times she mentioned the town’s name. He contemplated that for a moment before asking. “Why didn’t Vera mail them herself?”

“She was too weak. Carrying Grace and then giving birth wore her down to skin and bones. She never recovered.” She was digging in the bag, pulling letter after letter out, and setting them aside after a quick glance. “She just kept getting weaker and weaker.”

He didn’t know this woman. For all he knew, she could have kidnapped that baby from someone. His stomach clenched, letting him know that no part of him believed that she was a kidnapper. Not even in the hidden corners of his subconscious. She was hiding something though. Those glasses were proof of that. They were a disguise, he just didn’t know for what. Flustered, he grabbed a handful of envelopes and sifted through them, looking at the return addresses. “Vera, you say?”

She nodded. “Vera McCarney.”

Before long, they were both sitting on the floor, with the bag between them, sifting through the stack of mail.

“Found another one,” she said, tossing an envelope toward at least a dozen other letters with the return address hosting Vera’s name.

His skepticism had disappeared after the first letter. Now he had more questions. What was he going to do about it? If he could locate Joe—and that was a big if—he knew his brother. Responsibility was foreign to Joe. Stardom could be to blame, or maybe life in general, the way they’d been raised, traveling from town to town.

Jack withheld the heavy sigh building inside him. He’d like to think differently, but highly doubted even a baby would make Joe change his ways. A child would never fit in Joe’s lifestyle.

A hard knot formed in Jack’s stomach. A baby wouldn’t fit in his life, either. Not even a niece. Not right now. He’d invested every spare cent in this movie. It had potential. The potential to put Star’s Studio in the running to be one of the top players. Doing so would take all of his efforts. All of his time.

He looked at the envelope in his hand for some time before setting it aside. It had been the last one. The bag was empty, and two piles sat before them, a large one, and a smaller one. Letters from Vera.

Helen sifted through those and picked one up. “I wrote this one,” she said. “Vera was too weak. It was the day before she died. I wrote exactly what she wanted me to. That I would bring Grace here, to this address. To Joe.”

He took the envelope but didn’t open it. Couldn’t. It wasn’t addressed to him. So that’s how it would remain. Unopened. The less he knew, the better off he was. Even in this situation.

As far as the mail went.

“How did you meet Vera?” He set the letter aside. “I’m assuming it was after she married Joe?”

“Yes.” Her gaze went to the baby.

“Where did you meet her?”

“In the alley behind the grocery store where I worked.”

At some point, she’d removed her glasses and he clearly saw the tears welling in her eyes. She blinked and twisted to discreetly wipe at them with one finger.

A part of him didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to think his brother would have left a woman destitute, but it certainly appeared that way. “What was she doing in the alley?”

“Looking for food.” She looked him straight in the eye, was utterly serious. “She was penniless. Had been kicked out of the place she’d been staying. She was so ill. Coughing.” She shook her head but didn’t attempt to hide the tears forming again. “I took her to my apartment. She was so weak she could barely walk up the steps. She got better. A little, in the weeks that followed, but then...”

Compassion filled him and he reached over, took ahold of her hand and squeezed it gently. “You did what you could.” He looked at the baby. Grace. His niece. “Most likely saved Grace’s life.”

She nodded and then removed her hand from beneath his and started filling the bag with the letters not from Vera. “Grace is a good baby. Has been from the moment she was born.”

Heaviness filled his lungs, his heart, at the idea of a woman searching for food.

If anyone knew what it was like to do that, search for food, to be hungry, it was them. Him and Joe. Nothing during the past ten years had chased away the feelings he’d known as a child. Of being hungry. So hungry the pain had been strong enough to make him cry. As he got older, those same pains made him angry. So angry he swore he’d never become an actor. Never traverse the countryside in a dilapidated wagon singing and doing comedy acts for pennies that never totaled enough to feed them for more than a week at best.

Yet, here he was. In the same business he’d always been in. Times had changed though. And he wasn’t acting. Never would act again. Joe had been the actor and had loved it. He’d found work as soon as they’d arrived in Los Angeles.

“Can you contact your brother. Tell him Grace is here?”

Jack didn’t look her way. Couldn’t right now. She wouldn’t like his answer. He didn’t like it, either.

He let out the air that had grown stagnant inside his lungs. “You’ve taken care of Grace since she was born?” He already knew the answer, but was trying to figure out his next steps. Steps that were completely foreign to him.

“Yes.”

“And paid to bring her here?”

“Yes.”

“What did your family think of that?” Another thought formed. “Or Vera’s family?”

There was that flash in her eyes again. A mixture of sadness and fear. “Neither of us have any family. Vera had worked for the circus. That’s how she got to Chicago. And she didn’t have any family to return to.”

Jack wanted to know about her. Helen. But a gut sense said she wouldn’t answer any questions about herself. He stood up and picked up the bag once again full of mail. “Is the circus how she met Joe?”

“Yes. He was a magician.”

Jack had already known that as well. Joe had perfected several magic tricks over the years, and had used them to land more than one job. After opening the closet, he set the bag inside. “Had he continued on with the circus? Left when it moved on?”

“No. Vera said they both stayed in Chicago. That Jack had gotten a job at one of the playhouses for a short time, but then had to return here and said he would send for her. That’s when he gave her this address and said she was to contact him here if she needed anything.”

Of course Joe did. That’s what he’d always done. Passed the buck.

Jack closed the door and stood there for a moment. The baby had started to fuss and Helen was scooping her off the couch. That baby was his niece. Joe’s baby, and as inadvertent as that may be, Grace was now his responsibility.

The mess with the Broadbents was nothing compared to this. What the hell was he going to do?

“I’ll pay you,” he said as the thought formed.

“Excuse me?”

It might not be the ultimate answer, but it would do for now. “I’ll pay you to continue to take care of Grace.”

She glanced at the baby, and then up at him. Sorrow filled her eyes as she sadly shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Why? You have been since she was born.”

“Because I promised Vera I’d bring her here. And I have.”

She had all right, and that could open a can of worms that could take him down. It would be all the Wagner brothers needed to convince the owners of the new theater to break his contract and go with them.

Right now, it was just the two of them, Julia and Miss Hobbs who knew about Grace. He had to keep it that way.

“Just until I find Joe.” Then he could send them to Florida, or to wherever Joe was. Let his brother take responsibility for his own actions this time.

She glanced down and the smile she provided the baby might very well be the most precious and beautiful smile he’d seen to date. But then, she closed her eyes and bit her lips together. When she lifted her lids, looked at him, tears had welled in her eyes again. “I wish I could, but I can’t.”

Money. It had to be the money. Traveling here had probably taken all she’d had. He didn’t have much to spare himself, but he did have a bank account that he’d been depositing any royalties owed to Joe from past projects, knowing Joe would return some day and want it. Expect it.

He hadn’t used that money to pay the Broadbents because Joe had sold them shares in future projects, not past, but he would use Joe’s money for this, his daughter. And not feel guilty about it.

He had no idea what it cost to take care of a baby, so merely said, “Whatever it costs, I’ll pay you.”

She kissed the baby on the head. He let out a sigh of relief and pulled his billfold out of his pocket. To his shame, he had only a few dollars on him. Pulling them out, he said, “I’ll go to the bank and get more tomorrow.”

She laid the baby back down on the couch and picked up her purse. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. For Grace’s sake, I can’t.” Turning about, she started for the door.

“Wait! You can’t leave!” He started after her, but a crunch beneath his foot made him pause. Her glasses. He’d broken them. She was already out the door. “Wait!”

* * *

Tears once again blurred Helen’s vision. This time it wasn’t just heartache, there was anger inside her, too. Anger that her life would never be her own. No matter where she went. She couldn’t continue to put Grace in danger. That’s all there was to it.

A baby’s cry—Grace’s—made her feet stumble, but she forced herself to keep moving forward. Down the hall. In Chicago, after leaving her cousin’s house, she’d gone to the edge of the city, where she thought the lack of large businesses would make the mob not as prevalent. That hadn’t been true. The neighbor of Amery’s grocery store hadn’t been run by the Outfit. It had been a smaller mob, one that oversaw little more than the bootlegging of whiskey to the area speakeasies. But nonetheless, they’d been there. Mobsters in big fancy cars, their mugs on street corners.

It was there, late at night, looking out the windows of the grocery store that she’d concluded that there was no getting out. Not for her. Any one of those thugs could have been a stool pigeon for her uncle.

Grace was still crying, and Helen balled her hands into fists as she neared the door of the studio.

She’d created many disguises for herself over the past two years, everything from a young boy to an old woman, but hadn’t been able to carry much besides Grace all the way to the railroad station. Therefore, she’d left most everything behind. Other than the drab dresses, head scarves and her glasses.

Her glasses. She’d taken them off because it had been too hard to see the writing on the envelopes. Spinning about, she hurried back toward the hallway.

She told herself it was to get the glasses, that she had to have them, but the moment she stepped into the office door, she knew the real reason. Grace was still crying and Jack stood next to the couch. The bottle in one hand, a can of milk in the other.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he said, looking at her hopelessly.

Helen hurried forward. “You start by picking her up.” She did just that, and snuggled Grace close to comfort her. “Once she’s calmed down, you can see to what she needs, whether it’s a diaper change or a bottle.”

“How do you know the difference?” he asked.

She shrugged. “If her diaper is dry, you fix a bottle. If it’s wet, you change her.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do this. I can’t.” Holding up the can of milk, he added, “I don’t even have a can opener.”

“There is one in the bag,” Helen said, carefully laying Grace down on the couch. The baby was no longer crying but a diaper change was definitely in order. The bag and most of its former contents were spread out on the floor near her feet. After picking up a clean diaper, Helen asked, “Where is the powder room?”

“Next door down the hall, on the right.” He met her gaze. “Thank you for coming back. Thank you very much.”

Earlier, while sitting on the floor next to him, she’d caught herself staring at him. More than once. Couldn’t seem to help it. He was extremely handsome, with his blond hair that flopped over his forehead and his dark eyes.

He had the kind of handsomeness that made people stop in their tracks and take a second look. She’d heard about that more than seen it. In fact, she may never have seen it, and truly only heard about it from Vera. That’s how she’d described Joe McCarney. Stop-in-your-tracks handsome.

She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts, and bent down to pick up Grace. “We’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here.”

She found the powder room and as she saw to changing Grace, she couldn’t help but wonder who would see that the diaper was properly washed, or that the bottles and nipples were cleaned after each use, or all of the other things that needed to be done to see to the care of a baby. She hadn’t known any of those things in the beginning, but did now, and had cherished doing all of them.

It had been a long time since she’d had someone to love. Grace had filled that hole since the moment she’d been born. She’d told herself from the beginning that Grace wasn’t hers to love, that her only duty to the baby was to find her father.

She hadn’t done that.

She hadn’t fulfilled her promise to Vera. The promises she’d made to Grace.

Despite her fears, she couldn’t leave. She’d tried twice, and couldn’t do it. Giving Grace a hug, she whispered, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, no matter what, I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

She left the powder room with more resolve than she’d had in a long time. Jack was still in the office, had returned all of Grace’s items to the bag and had it sitting on his desk.

“Thank you,” he said again as soon as she entered.

The relief on his face was so evident she had to bite her lips to keep from smiling. There was no denying that the idea of staying with Grace a bit longer filled her with joy.

“I had no idea what to do,” he said. “She started crying as soon as you stepped out the door.”

“I heard. Your shouting probably scared her.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been around a baby before.”

“I hadn’t, either,” she admitted. That had been frightening at first, but had quickly turned into joy. More joy than she’d known in a very long time.

“I’ll pay whatever you want, for you to take care of her until I can find Joe.”

Helen held her breath for a moment. Could she do it? Stay with Grace? “I came back for my glasses,” she said, needing a bit more time. She was nearly out of money, so wouldn’t get far, if she did leave.

“About those.” He glanced down at his desk. “I stepped on them by accident.”

She looked down, saw the crushed frames and broken glass.

“Why do you wear them? You don’t need them.”

“Yes, I do.” Not to see with, but to hide behind.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.”

It was almost as if the smashed glasses were a symbol, one that told her she couldn’t hide for the rest of her life. She already knew that, just hadn’t known how to get out. How to get far enough away that she wouldn’t have to hide. That had been her goal, why she’d saved every penny she could. Yet, until Grace, she hadn’t had the courage to leave.

That’s why she’d stayed put, in the little apartment above the grocery store, stocking shelves, scrubbing floors, reading newspapers every night, and wishing she could go outside, enjoy the sunshine, the rain, even the snow and wind, every day.

“Tomorrow. I’ll buy you a new pair, tomorrow.”

Helen pulled her eyes off the glasses. A new pair wouldn’t make a difference. Tomorrow would be no different from today. She took a moment to think back over the past few days. Traveling on the train she’d experienced a small amount of the freedom she’d sought the past two years. Before then in another sense. Guilt arose when she thought about that. How she’d wanted out when she should have been thankful her family had been alive and well.

She hadn’t been thankful about that, not enough, and today, she’d been so worried about herself, about getting away again, that she’d left Grace with someone who didn’t have the ability to care for her. Jack could learn. She had, but that wasn’t the issue. The true issue was whether she was really willing to let her past, her fears, have so much control over her that she was willing to let Grace suffer while Jack learned to take care of her. Is that who she was? Who she’d become?