Secrets Read online

  She opened one big blue eye and peered out from under her hat to make sure the children were all right and then went back to dozing in the sun. She wore no jewelry save a narrow gold wedding band and simple gold hoop earrings, yet the house had a definite look of substantial suburban opulence and there was a Mercedes station wagon in the garage, which she drove, a Volvo for the maid and kids to drive, and her husband had left for work in his Mercedes sedan. And the pool was large, even by Pasadena standards.

  Hey ' over here ' you guys!' come on! ' The ball flew out of the pool, landing near her chair, and she bounded up with almost childlike grace, adjusting her bikini top with one hand as she ran to get it, and the young men in the pool found themselves staring at her as they always did, while her son glowered at them. It always annoyed him when his friends stared at her as though she were one of them. Thank God she wore enough clothes to cover herself most of the time. She wasn't given to low d+!collet+!s or slits in her skirt. Most of the time she looked respectable, in old Oxford shirts and wraparound skirts and espadrilles. She appeared unconscious of her striking looks. And once her body was out of sight, the rest of her looked quite unremarkable. She was a nice-looking woman with a pretty face and warm smile she shared with everyone. She had red hair and freckles on her chest and arms, and big blue eyes that seemed filled with innocence, as she threw the ball back to the children.

  Ready for lunch? she called out to them, but they were already involved in the game again by the time she sat down. She always made trays of sandwiches for them, and kept the refrigerator filled with the sodas they liked and ice-cream sandwiches. After eighteen years of motherhood, she knew the things they liked best. Jason was going to UC Santa Barbara in the fall, and both girls would be in high school that year. Alyssa would be a freshman finally, after what seemed to her a lifelong wait, and Alexandra a junior, angling heavily for her own car. She claimed the Volvo was too big and too old and she wanted something racier, like the car Jack Adams had given his son the month before when he turned eighteen. Jason would be driving a Triumph to Santa Barbara in September. Alexandra thought that might be a nice car for her too. And their mother smiled to herself as she stretched out again. They were such typical teen-agers, and it was such a far cry from her own youth in Buffalo. She had almost frozen to death getting to the high school, until she turned sixteen and ran away. She got to New York and was terrified, and worked there just long enough to make the money she needed to get to L.A. ' Los Angeles ' Hollywood ' land of her dreams ' and it was there that she had won her first crown as beauty queen. She had been seventeen ' there had been modeling jobs ' and a thousand different jobs serving hamburgers at drive-in eateries ' and finally a small part in a horror film. She had honed her screams to perfection and she was doing well, she thought, when she met Jack Adams. She had been only nineteen. And she had fallen madly in love with him. Mr. All American. He had gone to Stanford, and was working for his father in his brokerage firm, and he had been twenty-three. She had never seen a man as beautiful, she thought, or so clean-cut. He had taken her home to meet his folks on their fourth date, and he had told her what to wear and what to say and how to act. It was better than acting in horror films, and a lot more fun. They had a beautiful brick house on Orange Grove, and Jane had been in awe of them, and of Jack, so grown up and mature, and wonderful in bed. He was the sweetest man she'd ever known, until he started pressuring her to give up her acting career. But acting was everything she'd always dreamed and she knew that if she hung in long enough she'd get somewhere and really make it. But Jack wanted no part of it. He hated the place she lived, her friends, the movies she made, hated everything she did, except the way she made love to him. He had never known anyone like her, and as he buried his head between her legs in the golden nest of curls she shared so generously with him, he knew he'd never give her up, no matter what his parents said. They thought she was a tramp, his mother even dared to call her a whore, but only once. And he refused to give her up. He forced her to give up her dreams instead. He made her careless in a way she'd never been before, and she was not quite twenty-one when she found out that she was pregnant. And that was the end of it. Jack wouldn't let her get rid of. She had gotten the name of an abortionist in Tijuana, and she sobbed the whole story out to him. He proposed to her that night, and they were married two weeks later at a small church near his parents' home, and that was the end of the horror films and her career. She became Mrs. John Walton Adams III, and Jason was born six months afterwards, a bouncing, smiling baby boy with a shock of her red hair that stood straight up for the first year. He was so sweet, and Jack was so good to her that she barely missed the world she'd given up. She hardly had time to miss it for the first five years. Alexandra was born when Jason was two, and Alyssa two years after that. Alexandra looked like Jack, and Alyssa like no one at all, except, Jack's mother thought, an aunt of hers. They were the perfect family, and Jane was happy taking care of them. They kept her busy all day long, and Jack kept her busy all night. He never seemed to get enough of her. He hungered for her night and day, and sometimes took her in the bathroom for just long enough to come between her breasts while the children were watching TV at night, or eating dinner. He could hardly wait for her to come to bed, and they made love every night even if she was too tired to think or talk or eat after a day of running around with the kids and satisfying him. She sometimes felt as though she had no time for herself, but she didn't really care. She wanted to be the perfect wife, perfect mother and keep everyone satisfied and happy. She rarely, if ever, thought of herself. She was just grateful to have come so far from Buffalo, and she loved being Mrs. Jack Adams. It was the best role she'd ever had, and it was only when the children went to school that she began to long for all that she'd given up for him. She was twenty-seven by then, but she didn't look much different than she had ten years before, especially when she swam naked in their pool. Jack would watch her there, late at night, and he would turn off the lights, and slip in after her. She didn't have to worry about the children seeing them then. She didn't have to worry about anything. He took care of everything for her, their bills, their life, he told her who to see, what she could do, what to wear. He molded her into his perfect fantasy, and the only thing that wasn't part of it was the love she had for the work she'd done. Sometimes she'd talk longingly about going back to work again, but he would hear none of it.

  You don't belong there anymore. You never did. His voice was harsh when he spoke of it. That's a world of tramps and leeches. She hated when he talked like that. She'd loved the world of Hollywood, she still missed some of her friends, and he never let her see them. All of her old roommates had drifted away, and when he saw her writing a Christmas card to her agent once, he threw it out. Forget it, Jane. That's all over now. He wanted it to be. Desperately. He wanted her to forget all of it ' even the parts she'd loved ' the people she'd known ' the dreams she'd had' . Alyssa was only three when a man in a supermarket had handed her a card. He was a talent scout for some agency, and it was like the old days of Hollywood. He invited her to come to his office for a screen test, and she laughed. She'd heard plenty of that in the old days, especially when she first got to L.A. But she was surprised at how insistent he was, but she never called him, and threw away his card eventually. But he had stirred forces in her she had quelled for too long. She called her old agent one day, just to say hello, to see how he was, and he begged her to come back. He said he could find work for her. And six months later, when she was shopping in L.A., she dropped in to see him, just for the hell of it. He threw his arms around her, and begged her to let him take some photographs. She even sent him a few other snapshots after that, and then the big decision came, four months afterwards. He had a part for her. On a soap opera, he said. It was perfect for her. She tried to laugh it off, but he wouldn't let her off the hook. He begged her to audition for it, just for practice he said, for old times' sake, for the hell of it ' for him ' for yourself ' for all that hard work you did te
n years ago ' She lay in bed at night, thinking about it, wishing she could try out, worrying about what Jack would say. She tried to mention it to him, but there was nowhere to start, no way to explain the emptiness she felt, the loneliness with the children at school. But all he wanted from her was between her legs. He wouldn't listen to her. He never talked to her. No one did. And ten years later, he was as hungry for her as he had been when they first met, and she knew she should be grateful for it. Her friends complained that their husbands paid no attention to them, never wanted to make love, had no interest in them sexually ' and here she was with a man who was insatiable, he whispered things like I'm gonna fuck your brains out tonight ' over the children's heads, and she was always terrified they would hear. But she couldn't talk to him. He had no idea what was in her head, her heart ' her soul ' but her agent knew too well. He had seen it all in her eyes the day she'd dropped in on him in L.A., and he wasn't going to let her go again. She had something he knew he could sell, always had had, and it was more than sex appeal. There was a humanity to Jane, a decency, a warmth, she was motherly and yet the sexiest broad he'd seen in years, like Marilyn Monroe with kids, she appealed to women and men, and he'd never met anyone who wasn't drawn to her. She had a kind of inner warmth that drew people like babies looking for a teddy bear ' and what a teddy bear, she made the term tits and ass sound bleak. There was so much more to her.

  She went to the audition, finally, on a hot day in June, although they were trying out for a different part by the time she went. And she insisted on going in a black wig she'd bought. When Lou saw her afterwards, he whistled and then erupted in a big happy grin. She looked like a sexier, richer, younger Gina Lollobrigida. And she got the part. They didn't even question the black wig. They wanted her. Immediately. And Jane sat in Lou's office in tears.

  Now what am I going to do?

  Go back to work. That's what. He could feel his heart pounding, just looking at her, not with desire, but with the excitement of having gotten her the job. He knew that, given the chance, he could do great things with her. She had an appeal like no one else in Hollywood, if he could just get her to get rid of that jerk she was married to.

  What'll I tell Jack?

  Tell him you want to go back to work. But it wasn't as easy as that. She had lain in bed, sleepless, for over a week, and finally turned down the part. There was no way she could explain it to him. None at all. He wouldn't listen to anything she said. He just cooed and groaned as he made love to her, and every time she tried to say something, he turned her over, and made love to her again. It was almost like a joke. It was his way of not listening to her. All he wanted was for her to sleep with him, take care of his children, and entertain his clients over dinner. But the producer of the show just thought she was being coy. They doubled the money, and Lou called her five times a day. She was terrified Jack would answer the phone, and once he did. Lou was smart enough to say it was a wrong number and hang up, and finally she gave in. Trembling, terrified, she put the black wig in a bag and went to the studio in Burbank to talk to them. She signed the contracts that afternoon, terrified at what she'd done, at what Jack would do to her. He had said, more than once, that if she ever went back to acting, he'd throw her out. And she knew he would. He said he'd keep the kids, the house, everything. And the only thing she gave a damn about were the kids ' and the show ' the worst of it was that she fell in love with it. She played Marcia on Our Secret Sorrows in a black wig. She worked from ten to four thirty every day, and got home every afternoon in time to listen passionately to what the children had done all day in school. She cooked at night, baked for them, drove them to school before she went to work. And everyone, including Jack, thought she was doing volunteer work in a hospital. She even told them stories about it. The hospital became her life ' but in truth it was the show. She loved the people, the excitement, the atmosphere ' and everyone was crazy about her. She worked under the name of Janet Gole, her real name from long ago from Buffalo before she came to Hollywood, and miraculously no one ever knew. She shunned all publicity, and although the show got top ratings every year, no one she knew ever seemed to know or care how much she looked like Janet Gole, on Secret Sorrows. It came on live at noon every day, and she had never been happier. Other roles came up, and some important opportunities, but she turned them all down. She couldn't afford to lose her anonymity, and she knew on other shows she would. Not everyone would cater to her idiosyncrasies about no press, no interviews, no publicity. And for ten years on Secret Sorrows she managed to hang on both her anonymity and her black wig. She even paid her taxes under the name of Janet Gole, and had a separate social security number, so Jack never knew anything. No one did. The secret was perfectly kept.

  Until the phone rang as she lay by her pool, watching the kids play volleyball. She had just lain down again, after throwing them the ball, when she heard the phone ring. They were on hiatus for two months, which worked perfectly for her. She could hang around with the kids, and they were all going to La Jolla for two weeks, as they did every year. She walked into the house and picked up the phone.

  Hi, beautiful. It was Lou. He often called her, sometimes just to say hello. He took good care of her. He was sixty years old and he had always been kind to her. She respected him a great deal, and he respected what he called her craziness about keeping her career from Jack. He was as careful as he had to be. He didn't want to screw up what she had. But the new director on the show had done that anyway.

  Hi, Lou.

  Enjoying your holiday? His voice sounded strange to her, but she figured he was under a lot of pressure. He was most of the time, working with a handful of stars, and an army of hungry actors desperate for work, and badgering him night and day.

  I always love the break. It gives me a chance to be with the kids. Jane and her family. It was all she talked about. That and her house, and her cooking. Christ, it was just as well she didn't give interviews, he always thought. With that body of hers, no one would believe she was for real.

  What's up?

  He paused, searching for the words. He knew it was going to hurt. A lot. But he had to tell her before she found out on the set. Not such great news. He decided to plunge right in. He hated doing it to her. They're going to write you out after the break.

  What? It was a joke. It had to be. Her face went white beneath the tan, and the big blue eyes filled with tears. Are you serious?

  I'm afraid I am. The new director wants a new look for the show. He's writing out four of you in a car crash on the first day. They're giving you a gorgeous severance, of course, I saw to that, but it looks like ' He didn't have to say more, as tears coursed silently down her cheeks. It was the worst news she'd ever had. Sorrows was her whole life, that and Jack and the kids. She'd been on the show for almost eleven years ' eleven years' .

  It's been ten years of my life and he's going to' It happened all the time, particularly on soaps. But it was devastating to her. They were like her family. Can't you change his mind?

  I tried everything. He didn't tell her that they were bringing in a younger girl to take her place, and three of the director's gay friends. There was no point in telling her that. All that mattered was that she was out. They want you back for the first day after hiatus and then that's it.

  My God! ' She sat crying openly at the kitchen table when her oldest daughter walked in and looked at her in surprise.

  Something wrong, Mom?

  She shook her head silently, smiling valiantly through her tears, and Alexandra shrugged and helped herself to a 7-Up before going outside again to rejoin her friends, with never a backward glance toward Jane, as she started to cry again.

  I just can't believe it.

  Neither can I. And personally, I think he's a damn fool, but there's nothing we can do. It's their right, and I guess you should be happy you were on for ten years. Yeah, but now what? She knew she'd never find anything like it again. No other soap would let her keep her anonymity, and she couldn't let J
ack find out.

  I feel as though someone died. She laughed sadly. Me, I guess.

  Screw 'em, we'll get you something else.

  She began to sob, and at his end, Lou cringed. I can't do something else ' you know that ' this was perfect for me' .

  So we'll find you another daytime soap that needs a sex bomb in a black wig. She had twelve of them by now, in different styles and lengths from the last ten years. But she was inconsolable, as the tears flowed and she blew her nose in a paper towel she found near the sink. I don't know what else to say, babe. I'm sorry. I really am. And he was. He hated seeing her hurt. She didn't deserve a rotten break like that.

  What am I going to do? She blew her nose again, as the tears dripped from her cheeks to her chest, and were absorbed by her bikini top.

  Give in gracefully. There's nothing else you can do. Go to work for one day and say good-bye. He knew it would be a ghastly scene, and as he talked to her, he jotted a note down on his calendar. He wanted to send her flowers that day, anonymously, as he always did. And I'll see what else is around.

  I can't do anything else, Lou.

  Don't be so sure. Leave it to me. I'll call you in a day or two.

  She hung up and blew her nose again, feeling as though the world had come to an end. And in a sense it had. And just as she hung up the phone, the teen-agers came thundering in, eleven of them. Jason, Alexandra, Alyssa, and their friends.

  What's for lunch? Jason smiled at her, seeing no evidence of the tears she had just shed. He looked almost exactly like Jack when they'd first met. And Alexandra looked a lot like him too, although they both had her red hair. But other than that, none of them looked even remotely like her.

  Turning her back to them, so they couldn't see her damp eyes, she took the tray of sandwiches she'd made out of the refrigerator. There was ham, bologna, turkey, several combinations, and half a dozen BLTs, and carrying handfuls of them and three six-packs of Coke, they all disappeared again, as she sat down at the kitchen table with a sigh. It was over. All over for her. Jack had won in the end, and he didn't even know it. And then, as though just thinking of him had made him materialize, she heard a car in the drive, and glanced out the window to see his familiar silver Mercedes grind to a halt as he bounded out. He still looked like a very young man, and his blond hair hid the gray she knew was there. He was athletic and in good shape, and looked far less than his forty-three years, but there was something unkind about his eyes, and a hardness to his mouth, that hadn't been there years before. He had good looks, but he lacked warmth, and even now, as he came through the kitchen door, he didn't smile at her, didn't see the grief so obvious in her eyes. In fact, he never really even looked at her.