Part 19 (1/2)

Johnny smiled because she had fallen asleep with the last word. He looked up as a shadow fell across him.

It was Peter. He looked down at them gently. ”She's asleep?”

Johnny nodded.

”I didn't answer your question,” Peter said.

”What question?” Johnny asked.

”Why I didn't let you know where I was going to be today,” Peter replied. ”I didn't remember it was the anniversary of my father's death until after I left the house this morning.”

”Oh,” Johnny said. ”I'm sorry I asked. I was just excited at the time, I didn't mean to be rude.”

”And you're calm now?” Peter smiled gently.

”Of course,” Johnny answered.

”Then maybe you'll take off your yamalke?” His hand brushed over Johnny's head and came off with a little black skull cap.

Johnny's mouth fell open. ”You mean I've worn that since we left the synagogue?”

Peter nodded.

”Why didn't you tell me?” Johnny asked.

Peter smiled again. ”I liked to see it there,” he said gently. ”You looked like you were born to it.”

A week later they were in a car going out to the Santos farm. Johnny and Peter sat up in front with the driver. The road on both sides was lined with orange trees as far as they could see. They came to a crossroads. A small sign stood there.

”What does it say?” Peter asked Johnny. He still refused to wear gla.s.ses.

”Hollywood,” Johnny answered. ”I guess this is where the Santos place is.”

”It's just down the road a piece,” the driver ventured.

Peter looked around him. ”California,” he said in a disgusted tone of voice.

Johnny looked at him.

Peter was muttering to himself. ”No shooting script. Cost twenty-five hundred dollars. No leading man. Cost six thousand dollars.” He sniffed the air. It was filled with the scent of orange blossoms. ”Phooey!” he said aloud.

Johnny began to smile.

Peter became aware that he had been overheard. He smiled in spite of himself.

”What am I supposed to make a picture with?” he asked, holding out a hand and pointing. ”Oranges?”

AFTERMATH.

1938.

WEDNESDAY.

I looked at my wrist.w.a.tch. It was almost five o'clock. The gray of the morning was slowly turning to gold. I turned to Doris, ”Isn't it about time you tried to get some sleep, sweetheart?”

Her eyes were dark blue and shadowed. ”I'm not sleepy,” she answered, but the lines in her face belied her words.

”Yuh gotta get some rest, baby,” I said. ”You can't keep this up forever.”

She looked at me. A faint shadow of a smile flickered across her face for a moment and was gone. Her voice was lightly mocking as she answered: ”You tired, Johnny?”

It was an old joke of the family's. It had started a long time ago when Peter used to come into the studio at almost any hour of the day or night and used to find me there.

”Johnny never sleeps,” he used to say, laughing. ”He's got money in the bank.”

I smiled at her. ”A little,” I admitted, ”but you're the one that needs the rest. Things are tough enough around here without you falling flat on your face.”

The smile on her face bloomed; its warmth spilled over into her eyes. ”All right, Uncle Johnny,” she said in a small girl's voice, ”but you'll promise to come and see me tomorrow?”

I caught her to me and held her close. ”Tomorrow and every day the rest of my life when this is over, if you want it.”

Her voice was rich in my ear and full of promise as she answered: ”I never wanted anything else, Johnny.”

I kissed her. I liked the way she held my face close to hers, her hands cupping the back of my ears and extending round the back of my head. Her touch was light, yet firm with the knowledge of an old pa.s.sion. I liked the soft touch of her face against mine, the light smell of perfume that rose from her neck and shoulders, the crinkling soft sound that her hair made when I stroked it.

She stepped back and looked at me for a moment, then she took my hand and we walked into the hall. Silently she helped me into my topcoat and watched me put on my hat; then we walked to the door.

At the door I turned and faced her. ”Now you go right upstairs and get some sleep,” I said sternly.

She gave a small laugh and kissed me. ”Johnny, you're sweet.”

”I can be mean too,” I said, still trying to keep my voice stern, but not quite succeeding, ”and if you-”

”If I don't go up to bed, you'll spank me like you did once,” she said with a mischievous smile.

”I never did,” I protested.

”Oh yes you did,” she insisted with the same smile still on her lips. She c.o.c.ked her head to one side and looked at me speculatively. ”I wonder if you would if you were angry enough. It might be fun, at that.”

I put my hands on her shoulders and turned her away from me. I pushed her toward the stairs and gave her a light pat on the rump as I did so. ”I'll beat you with a stick if you don't go right to bed,” I told her.