Star (1989) Page 6

  She blushed and shook her head, the long pale mane sweeping over part of her face, the tree casting shadows on the other side, as the sunlight caught the platinum of her hair, and both men were momentarily stunned into silence by her beauty. She looked up at her father then, and the lavender eyes were filled with shy laughter. There are too many people here ' it's not like in church '

  It won't make any difference. You'll forget them once you start. He loved to listen to her voice as they rode over the hills, her voice had the same awesome, explosive quality as a brilliant sunrise, and he never tired of her singing. Some of the men brought their guitars. Just a song or two, to liven up the party. His eyes pleaded with her, and she could never refuse him, although it embarrassed her to think of singing in front of Spencer. He would probably think she was stupid. But he added his voice to Tad's, urging her, and when their eyes met, there was a long moment of silence between them, a moment that said everything neither of them dared to say. And for a minute, she thought that it might be her gift to him, something he could remember her by. She nodded quietly, and followed her father slowly back to the others. Spencer went back to Boyd and Hiroko then, and she glanced over her shoulder once and saw that he was watching her, and even from the distance, she could feel the love in his eyes for her. The love that neither of them understood, that had been conceived a year before, and carried for a whole year until they met again. It was a love that would not go anywhere, but at Wast they had that to take with them when he left her.

  She took a guitar from one of the men's hands, and sat down on a bench as two others joined her and smiled at her in admiration. Olivia was watching her from the porch, annoyed as always that Tad had singled her out to make a spectacle of herself. But she also knew that people liked to hear Crystal sing. Even some of the women relented when they heard her sing in church. And when she sang Amazing Grace, it brought tears to their eyes. But this time, she sang her father's favorite ballads, the ones they sang together when they rode out in the early mornings, and within minutes the crowd had gathered around her and no one said a word as they listened to her strong, sure voice cast its magical spell on them. Her voice was as unforgettable as her face, and Spencer closed his eyes and let himself drift in the pure, sweet beauty of it, as the sheer power of her voice held him spellbound. She sang four songs, and the last strains seemed to soar into the summer sky like angels flying toward the heavens. There was a long silence when she stopped as everyone stared at her in fresh amazement. They had heard her sing a hundred times before and yet when they heard her again, it always moved them. There was an explosion of applause, and Tad wiped his eyes, as he always did, and in a few minutes the crowd dispersed, and they went back to their conversations and their drinking, but for a moment she had made each of them fall in love with her. And Spencer couldn't bring himself to speak to anyone for a long moment after he'd heard her. He wanted to talk to her again, but she had gone off somewhere with her father, and he didn't see her again until it was time to go, and she was standing near her parents, shaking people's hands as they thanked them for lunch and gathered up their children.

  Spencer thanked her parents dutifully as well, but then suddenly he had her hand in his own, and he was terrified that the moment between them was too fleeting. He might never see her again, and he couldn't bear the thought as he looked into her eyes and wanted to hold on to her forever.

  You didn't tell me you could sing like that. His voice was whisper soft as his eyes caressed her. But she laughed, looking young again, and embarrassed at the unexpected compliment. She had sung the songs for him, and she wondered if he knew that. You might get to Hollywood after all.

  She laughed again, the sound as musical as her singing had been. I don't think so, Mr. Hill ' I don't really think so.

  I hope we meet again one day. Their eyes grew serious and she nodded.

  So do I. But they both knew it was less than likely.

  And then, he couldn't stop himself from saying the words. I won't forget you, Crystal ' ever ' take care of yourself. Have a good life ' don't marry someone who doesn't deserve you ' don't forget me ' what could he possibly say to her without sounding like a total fool, and he could hardly tell her that he loved her.

  You too. She was nodding solemnly. She knew he was leaving for New York in a few days, and their paths wouldn't cross again. A continent, a world, a whole life would separate them forever.

  And then, without saying another word, he bent and gently kissed her cheek, and a moment later he was gone, driving away from the ranch, his heart like a rock in his chest, as Crystal stood silently apart from the others, and watched him.

  On his way home, Spencer took the turnoff before the Golden Gate Bridge, and pulled the car off the road. He needed a moment to think, to compose himself, and remember. Crystal had haunted him for a year, and now she was doing it again, only hours after he had left her. The valley seemed only a dim memory now, and all he could think of was her face ' her eyes ' the way she looked at him ' her voice as she sang the ballads. She was a rare bird and he knew he had lost her forever in the forest. There was no way he'd get back to her again. And it was crazy even to think of it. She was a sixteen-year-old girl, living in a remote California valley. She knew nothing of the life he led. And even if she did, she wouldn't understand it. It was too far from her own ken. What did she know of Wall Street and New York, and the obligations he had to live up to. His family expected a lot of him, and nowhere in their plans was there room for the country girl, the merest child he had accidentally fallen in love with. A girl he barely knew, he reminded himself. His parents wouldn't have understood that. How could they, when he didn't understand it himself? And like her dreams of Hollywood, and movie stars, Spencer had had his own dreams. But those dreams had changed when his brother died in Guam. And now he had not only his own life to lead, but he had to live up to his brother's aspirations. His family expected that of him, and at least he was going to try. And what did Crystal know of all that? She knew nothing, except about the valley she had grown up in. He knew he had to forget her now. He smiled sadly to himself as he looked out over the bay, and at the bridge, thinking of her, and he reminded himself that he was being foolish. He had been dazzled by a pretty girl, which only proved to him that he had to get on with his life now. He needed more than law school and hamburgers in Palo Alto with attractive co-eds to provide him amusement. There was a whole world waiting for him. A world with no place in it for Crystal Wyatt, no matter how lovely she was, or how taken he was with her at the moment. He walked back to his car, wondering what his father would say if he told him he had fallen in love with a sixteen-year-old girl in the Alexander Valley.

  Good-bye, little girl, he whispered to himself as he crossed the Golden Gate Bridge for the last time. He had a dinner party to attend that night. It was a duty he owed his father. He wasn't in the mood, but he knew he needed to get his mind off her. She was gone now. But gone or not, he knew he would never forget her.

  He was staying at the Fairmont Hotel for his last few days in town, and he had taken a room with a sweeping view, just to remind himself of what he'd be missing. He was almost sorry he hadn't looked for a job in San Francisco, but that had never been his plan. He had promised his parents he would come home again, and he knew only too well what was expected of him now. His father had been a lawyer until the war, when he was appointed a judge, which was as far as his own political aspirations would take him. But he had always had far grander plans for his sons, especially for Spencer's older brother, Robert. Robert had been killed in Guam, leaving a young widow and two children. He had studied political science at Harvard and politics had been his life's ambition. He had talked of being a congressman, and Spencer had dreamed of being a doctor. But the war changed all that. With four years delay, he himself couldn't imagine spending many more years studying medicine, and law school had been the right decision. Judge Hill had assured him of it, and Spencer knew his father had secret yearnings to become an appe
llate justice. Be that as it may, the burden of proof rested on Spencer's shoulders now. It was he who had to follow in Robert's footsteps. The Hill family was a solid one, his mother's forebears had arrived in Boston with the Pilgrims. His father was of simpler stock, but he had worked hard to measure up, and had put himself through Harvard Law School. And now it had been important to both of them that Spencer do something important with his life. And to them, important didn't include a girl like Crystal. Robert had, of course, married well. He had always done what they wanted, while Spencer had always been free to do exactly as he pleased. And now suddenly, with his older brother gone, he felt as though he had to make it up to them, as though he had to follow in the footsteps that had never suited him before and now suddenly had to. Going to law school had been part of that. And going back to New York now. And Wall Street ' he could hardly think of himself there, and yet he had just crammed three years of law school into two preparing for just that. But Wall Street sounded so damn stuffy. At least if he could make something useful of it!, use it as a stepping-stone to a grander scheme, maybe then he would be able to stand it. He looked out the window again as he thought of it, staring into the distance, thinking of the place where he had left Crystal. He sighed then, and turned back into the room. The carpets were thick, and the furniture was new and there was a huge chandelier hanging above him. And yet, all he could think of was the ranch ' and the hills ' and the girl on the swing. He had two more nights left. Two nights before he had to move on to the life he had so unexpectedly inherited from Robert. Why the hell couldn't he have lived? Why couldn't he have been there for them, to do what they expected, to work on goddamn Wall Street ' He strode out of the room and slammed the door with a vengeance. He was expected at eight o'clock at the home of Harrison Barclay. He was a friend of Spencer's father, a federal judge and extremely well connected politically. There had even been talk that one day he might make it to the Supreme Court. And Spencer's father had insisted that he see him. Spencer had looked him up once the year before, and had called again a few weeks ago to tell him he had graduated from Stanford and was going back to New York to an illustrious law firm. Harrison Barclay had been extremely pleased for him, and had insisted that he come to dinner before leaving. It was a command performance, but Spencer knew this was only the first of many in his life, and he might as well start getting used to it. He had returned to the hotel just in time to shower and shave and change, and he hurried downstairs to the lobby, but he was in no mood to see anyone, least of all Harrison Barclay.

  The Barclay home was at Divisadero and Broadway, and it was an extremely handsome brick mansion. A butler opened the door to him, and as he was led inside he could hear echoes of a party in progress, which depressed him even more. For a moment, he wasn't sure he could make the effort. He would have to talk and be charming, and sound intelligent with their friends, and it was the last thing he wanted to do tonight. All he wanted was to sit quietly somewhere, with his own thoughts, and his dreams of a girl he barely knew ' a girl who would be sixteen the day after tomorrow.

  Spencer! The judge's booming voice met him almost the moment he entered the room, and Spencer felt like a schoolboy who had been shoved into a roomful of teachers.

  Good evening, sir. His smile was warm and his eyes were serious as he greeted his father's friend, and shook hands with Mrs. Barclay. It's good to see you. Good evening, Mrs. Barclay.

  Judge Barclay took him instantly in tow, introducing him around the room, and explaining that he had just graduated from Stanford Law School. He mentioned who his father was, as Spencer fought not to cringe visibly. Suddenly this was the last place he wanted to be. He felt almost physically unable to make the effort.

  There were twelve guests invited to dinner that night, and one of them had canceled at the last minute. Another judge's wife had turned her ankle on the way home from her golf game, but he had come anyway. He was an old friend of the Barclays', and he knew they wouldn't mind, but Priscilla Barclay was frantic as she counted out the number of guests. There were thirteen of them, including the hosts, and she knew how superstitious at least two of the guests were. There was nothing she could do about it at this late date. Dinner was going to be served in half an hour, and the only thing she could do was ask their daughter to join them for dinner. She ran hastily upstairs and quickly knocked on her door. Elizabeth was getting ready to go to a party. She was eighteen yekrs old, and attractive in a very restrained way. She was wearing a black cocktail dress and pearls. She was going to come out at the Cotillion that winter, but before that, in the fall, she would be attending Vassar.

  Darling, I need your help. Her mother glanced in the mirror and straightened her pearls, and then smoothed a hand over her hair as she turned to look pleadingly at her daughter. Judge Armistead's wife twisted her ankle.

  Oh God, is she downstairs? Elizabeth Barclay looked cool and unruffled, far more so than her agitated mother.

  No, of course not. She called to say she couldn't come. But he came anyway. And now we'll be thirteen at the table.

  Just pretend you don't know. Maybe no one will notice. She slipped into high-heeled black satin pumps that made her instantly taller than her mother. Elizabeth had two older brothers, one in government in Washington, D.C., and the other an attorney in New York. But she was the Barclays' only daughter.

  I can't do that. You know how Penny and Jane are. One of them will leave, and then I'll be two women short. Darling, can't you help me?

  Now? She looked annoyed. But I'm going to the theater. She was going with a group of friends, although she had to admit she hadn't been looking forward to the evening. It was one of those rare times when she didn't have a date, they had decided to go as a group at the last minute.

  Is it important? Her mother looked her squarely in the eye. I really need you.

  Oh for God's sake. She glanced at her watch, and then nodded. Maybe it was just as well. She didn't want to go anyway. She'd been out until twp o'clock that morning at one of the debutante balls she had gone to almost every night since graduating from Burke's the month before. She'd been having a good time, and the following week they were moving up to their house at Lake Tahoe. All right, Mother, I'll call them. She smiled graciously, and adjusted the double strand of pearls that matched her mother's. She was, in fact, a pretty girl, but she was by far too reserved for a girl of eighteen. In many ways, she seemed considerably older. She had been conversing with adults for years, and her parents had taken great pains to include her with their friends, and in what they considered interesting conversations. Her brothers were respectively ten and twelve years older, and for years she had been treated as an adult. In addition, she had acquired the cool self-restraint that was expected of a Barclay. She was always circumspect and well behaved, and even at eighteen, she was every inch a lady. I'll be down in a minute.

  Her mother smiled gratefully at her, and Elizabeth smiled in answer. She had rich auburn hair, which she wore in a smooth pageboy, and big brown eyes. She had creamy skin, and a trim waist, and she played an excellent game of tennis. But there was very little warmth about the girl, there was only excessively good breeding, and a fine mind which had won her countless admirers among her parents' friends. Even in her own set she was both feared and respected. Elizabeth Barclay was not someone one fooled around with. She was a serious girl with an inquiring mind, a sharp tongue, and a strong set of her own opinions. There had been no doubt of her attending college in the fall. The choice had been between Radcliffe, Wellesley, and Vassar.

  She walked quietly downstairs ten minutes later, having called her friends and apologized profusely, explaining only that a minor crisis had come up land she was needed at home. In Elizabeth's life the only crisis was being a guest short for dinner, or the absence of the right dress to wear because it was out being altered. There had been no real disasters in her life, no inkling of disappointment or hardship. There was nothing her parents wouldn't have done for her, nothing her father wouldn't have smoot
hed over, or bought her. And yet she wasn't spoiled. She simply expected a certain way of life, and those around her to behave with decorum. She was unusual for a girl her age. Her childhood seemed to have ended by the time she was ten or eleven. From then on, she had behaved like an adult, someone anyone would have welcomed in their opera box or at their dinner table. But she didn't have much fun. Fun was not important to Elizabeth Barclay. Purpose was. And actions that had some real meaning.

  The guests were finishing their drinks when she came downstairs, and she looked around at the familiar faces. There was only one couple she didn't know, and her mother introduced them as old friends of her father's from Chicago. And then she saw another unfamiliar face, a very handsome one, conversing quietly with Judge Armistead and her father. She watched him briefly as she accepted a glass of champagne from the silver tray the butler held out to her, and she smiled as she walked across the room to her father.

  Well, well, how lucky we are tonight, Elizabeth. Her father smiled with faintly teasing eyes. Have you made room in your busy schedule for us? How amazing! He put an affectionate arm around her shoulders and she smiled up at him. She had always been close to him, and it was easy to see that he adored her.

  Mother was kind enough to ask me to join you.

  What good judgment. You know Judge Armistead, Elizabeth, and this is Spencer Hill, from New York. He's just graduated from Stanford Law School.

  Congratulations. She smiled coolly, and he took her in with appreciation. She was a cool number and he guessed her to be twenty-one or twenty-two. There was a polish about her that made her seem older than her years, an obvious kind of sophistication enhanced by the expensive black dress, the pearls, and the way she looked him in the eye when she shook his hand. She looked like a girl who was used to getting what she wanted. You must be very pleased, she added with a polite smile as he watched her.