No Greater Love (42 page)

“You fell in love with him, didn’t you?” Alexis asked on the second day, and for a long time Edwina stared out to sea and didn’t answer.

“He was a cousin of Charles’s.” But that still didn’t answer the question, and Alexis knew it. But she knew now also, and had learned at great price, that some questions are better left unanswered.

“Do you think George will know, about Malcolm, I mean?” She looked genuinely scared, and Edwina thought about it carefully.

“Maybe not, if you’re very discreet, and the children don’t tell him.”

“And if they do, or someone else does?”

“What do you really think he can do?” Edwina asked, addressing her as an adult for the first time. “He can’t do anything. Whatever harm that was done, was done to
you, in your heart, your soul, whatever part of you that truly matters. If you can make your peace with that, then you’ve won. You’ve learned some hard lessons, and put them behind you. All that really matters is what you got out of it. The rest is just noise.” Alexis smiled in relief, and Edwina patted her hand as Alexis leaned over and kissed her.

“Thank you for getting me out of it.” The truth was, it had done them both good. Edwina had learned some valuable lessons too, and she was grateful.

“Anytime.” She smiled and then lay back on her deck chair, eyes closed, and then opened them rapidly again. “Well, not exactly ‘anytime.’ Let’s not do that again, thank you.”

“Yeah, let’s not.” Alexis laughed.

They kept to their cabins most of the time, read, played cards, slept, talked, and got to know each other better as adults. Alexis claimed that she was serious about a movie career, and Edwina told her she thought she should wait until she was at least eighteen and could handle it a little better. And Alexis agreed. Her experience with Malcolm Stone had frightened her about the kind of men she’d meet, and she said she always wanted Edwina there with her from now on, for protection.

“You’ll be able to handle it next time.” But Alexis was no longer so sure, and she talked about how lucky Fannie was, wanting nothing more than a home and children one day, and nothing more exciting in her life than making dinner for her husband. “Big challenges aren’t for everyone,” Edwina said. “Just a rare few. And the people outside those magic circles never really understand it.”

They made a few friends on the way home, and were both relieved when they docked in New York. Some bad experiences die hard, and they both knew that that one would always be difficult for them. And as they stepped
off the ship, Edwina still missed Patrick. He had sent her flowers on the ship with only “I love you, P.” on the card, and those he sent to the hotel in New York said,
Je t’aime…
.
Adieu
, and she stood looking at them for a moment, touched the bracelet on her arm, and put the card in her wallet.

They stayed in New York for only one night, called Fannie and Teddy, only to learn that George had called twice and Fannie had rather ingeniously told him both times that Alexis was out, and Edwina had terrible laryngitis. Sam Horowitz had called too, and she had told him the same thing, and other than that, “the coast was clear,” and the children were thrilled that all was well with Alexis. She spoke to them herself, and they all cried, or at least the girls did. And four days later, they were home, amid jubilant hugs and kisses and tears and Alexis swore she would never leave them again, not even to go to Hollywood, and Edwina laughed as she heard her.

“I’ll make you eat those words one day,” she teased, just as the phone rang. It was George. They had gotten back to Hollywood that day, after a glorious honeymoon, and when she talked to Helen afterward, she whispered to Edwina on the phone that she thought she might be pregnant.

“You are? How wonderful!” And she was surprised at herself when she felt a pang of envy. Helen was ten years younger, had just returned from her honeymoon, and had a husband who adored her, unlike Edwina, who was alone again, and back to taking care of the children.

And he got back on the phone when Helen was through to ask solicitously, “How’s your throat, by the way?”

“Fine. Why?” And then she remembered Fannie’s story. “Oh … perfect now … but what a dreadful cold that was. I was afraid it was going to turn into a bad
case of flu, or pneumonia or something, but it never did.”

“I’m glad. I had the oddest dream about you one night.” He didn’t tell her that he’d imagined her on a ship, he knew it would have upset her too much, but it had unnerved him so much that he’d woken Helen. And Helen was convinced that was the night she’d gotten pregnant. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re alright. When are you coming down to see us?”

The very thought of going anywhere again filled Edwina with dread. She had just come back from halfway around the world, but of course he didn’t know it. “Are you coming home for Thanksgiving?” she asked, but George had another idea.

“Sam was thinking that we could take turns. He could do it at his place this year, and you could do it next year.” He had promised Helen he would put it to Edwina that way, but he had also warned her that if it upset his sister not to host Thanksgiving herself as she always did, they would have to go to San Francisco.

And at her end, Edwina thought about it for what seemed like a long time, and then slowly she nodded. “Okay … that might be fun for a change. Even though poor Fannie wanted to do her special turkey.”

“She can do it at Sam’s,” George suggested with a smile, patting Helen’s still flat tummy. “Helen wants to help with the cooking too, don’t you, dear?” he teased, as she groaned. Helen didn’t know one end of the kitchen from the other.

“I guess that’s why Sam called,” Edwina said pensively, she hadn’t even had time to return his call yet.

“Probably,” George assumed. “Well, we’ll see you in a few weeks then.”

She told the children they were going to Los Angeles for Thanksgiving, to start a new tradition with Helen
and George and Sam, and everyone seemed pleased, even Alexis.

“I thought you were never going to let me out of this house again.” They had grown closer since their big adventure, but the others seemed not to mind. Teddy and Fannie were almost like twins, and they were happy to have Edwina and Alexis home again, and it was odd, Edwina thought to herself as she went to bed that night, everyone seemed suddenly grown up now. And as she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help thinking of Patrick. It all seemed like a dream now, the ships, the trains, the trip to Ireland, the incident with Malcolm and Alexis, the diamond bracelet, the champagne, the poetry, the visit to Lady Fitzgerald. There was so much to think about that Edwina felt as though she were still sorting it out in her head when they went down to Los Angeles for Thanksgiving.

Helen and George looked well, and by then Helen had confirmed to everyone that she was pregnant. Sam was ecstatic over it, and put in a request for a grandson. And Fannie made her “special” turkey for everyone and asked Helen if she could come to Hollywood for a few months and help her with the baby. The idea took Helen by surprise, but it was due in June, and Fannie was going to be out of school for summer vacation.

“And what am I supposed to do all summer while you change diapers, Fan?” Teddy complained, but George was quick to intervene.

“I thought you might like to work as a grip at the studio next summer.” He had been meaning to suggest it anyway, and Teddy was almost hysterical with joy as they ate the pumpkin pie Fannie had baked. She was a remarkable cook and Sam complimented her on everything, which touched Edwina’s heart. He was sweet to all of them, as though they were his family now, too, and that meant a lot to her. And she tried to thank him for it
later, when Alexis was talking to George about a new film, and Fannie and Helen and Teddy were playing cards, and she and Sam decided to take a walk in the garden.

“Thank you for being so good to them. It means a lot to me,” she smiled.

“You’ve given up your life for them for a long time. But they do you proud.” He looked down at her with wise eyes and a gentle smile. “What are you going to do when they grow up, Edwina?”

“Same thing you do now, with Helen.” In her eyes they were of the same generation, but in truth, they weren’t. She was thirty-two years old, and Sam Horowitz was fifty-seven. “You wait for grandchildren. I wait for nieces and nephews. Same thing really.” She smiled gently, and he shook his head.

“No, it isn’t.” He spoke quietly in the night air, as they walked, exercising off their dinner, but she felt very comfortable with him, as though they had always been old friends and could say anything to each other. She liked Helen’s father, she always had, as much as she liked Helen. “I had a whole life a long time ago, with a woman I loved, and who hurt me very badly. You’ve had much too little in your life, except a bunch of kids you love and give everything you have to give to. But when do you get yours? When is it your turn? What happens when they’re gone? That’s what I meant … nieces and nephews aren’t enough … you need a lot more than that. You should be having kids of your own.” He sounded serious and she almost laughed at him.

“Why is everyone saying that to me these days?” Patrick … Lady Fitzgerald … now Sam … “Hey, I raised five children as though they were mine. Don’t you suppose I’ve done enough?”

“Maybe. But it’s not the same. At least I don’t think so.”

“I think it is.” She sounded serious with him. “I’ve loved those five children as though they were mine.” She hesitated before she went on. “I almost think I loved them more than my mother did.” … She didn’t love them enough to stay alive for them, to leave her husband for them … but as Edwina thought of it now, after talking about it with Patrick, after all these years, she was no longer angry. And then she decided to ask Sam something about what he had said, since they were being so open with each other. “Why did you say that your wife had hurt you so badly? I thought she’d died.”

“She did.” He looked soberly at his young friend with the wise heart and kind eyes. “She was running off with another man when she was killed in a train wreck. Helen was only nine months old, and she doesn’t know that.” For a moment, Edwina was stunned into silence.

“That must have been awful for you,” she said, impressed at his never having told his daughter. He was a kind and decent man, which was only a small part of why she liked him. She had admired and respected him from the first, and she valued his friendship.

“It was awful. And I was angry for a long time,” Sam went on. “I kept it all inside until it almost ate me up. But one day, I just decided it was too much trouble to carry around anymore, so I gave it up. She left me Helen, and maybe that was enough. In fact, now I know it was.” But Edwina thought that it was sad to think he had never remarried. That had been twenty-one years before, and it was a long time to be lonely. She knew he went out with some of the most important actresses in Hollywood from time to time, but she had never heard of him being seriously involved with anyone, and neither had George. Sam Horowitz lived for his business, and his daughter. And then, he stunned Edwina with his next question. “How was Europe, by the way?” She
stopped walking and turned to look at him in amazement.

“What makes you think I was in Europe?” Fannie had said that when he called she told him the same laryngitis story she had told her brother.

“I called a couple of times to see how you were. You were so sweet to Helen on her wedding day, you were like a mother to her, and I wanted to thank you. And little Fannie just lied her little tail off, about how you had this terrible cold, and just couldn’t talk, and had this dreadful laryngitis,” he did a perfect imitation of Fannie, and Edwina laughed as she looked at his strongly chiseled face and his white hair shining in the moonlight, and she realized as she had before that he was actually very handsome. “Anyway, I figured something was wrong, so I did a little careful checking around, and discovered that not only had Malcolm Stone disappeared out of town, but so had Miss Alexis. And then I figured out where you’d gone. I thought of coming after you at one point, but then I decided that if you needed me, you’d call, or at least I hoped you would have. I like to think that we’re friends.” He looked at her cautiously. “I was actually a little disappointed that you didn’t call me.” And then he looked down at her very gently. “You got on a ship all by yourself, didn’t you?” She had, but she hadn’t stayed that way for long. “That took a lot of guts,” he continued, as she nodded. “And you found her. Where was she?”

“In London.” Edwina smiled, thinking of the scene when they’d found them, and “the magistrate,” Patrick.

“She was with Stone?”

Edwina hesitated and then nodded. “But George doesn’t know, and I promised her I wouldn’t tell him.” She looked worriedly up at Sam, and he shook his head with a rueful expression. She was still impressed that he
had known and hadn’t told anyone. Sam was smart, and discreet, and incredibly caring.

“It’s not up to me to tell either my son-in-law or my partner what his sister’s been up to. As long as you have it in control, I respect that. Where is Stone now, by the way?”

“I think he stayed there. I don’t think he’ll be in a hurry to come back to Hollywood. He’s too afraid of George.”

“Smart man. I think your brother would kill him if he knew. My late wife taught me a few tricks I could have lived without, which is why I suspected Alexis had left town, but she seems to be behaving herself now.”

“She is, and she wants to come back to Hollywood in the spring when she turns eighteen, to do another picture. I think maybe George will let her by then, if she still wants to.” But Edwina was sure she would. All she talked about was her career as an actress.

“And you?” he asked pointedly. “What are you going to do now?” His eyes met hers and they held for a long time. There were many things he wanted to ask her, things he wanted to tell her about himself, things he wanted to know about her.

“I don’t know, Sam.” She sighed. But she seemed happy. “I’ll do whatever they need me to do, go along, stay at home, whatever …” She wasn’t worried about it just then. She had been following them around for eleven years and she had nothing else to do. Besides, she loved them, but Sam was getting at something else, something he wasn’t sure how to broach with Edwina. Something he had been thinking about for a long time, but he didn’t know where to start, and for the first time in a long time he was frightened.