All the Stars in the Heavens Read online

  “But I love him. He needs me.”

  “He is not free to love you, nor are you free to love him in the eyes of the church.”

  The woman began to weep.

  “Whatever happiness this love affair gives you is fleeting. This man belongs to another, and he has a family. Years down the line he would look at you with contempt for forcing him to break his vows, leave his children, and abandon his faith. You must end it now.”

  “Please, Father.”

  Father McNally leaned into the screen. He recognized the voice, but before he could say her name, Loretta Young pushed the door open and exited the confessional. Mrs. Belzer had already come to him and asked him to speak to Loretta. Gladys believed Loretta needed a father figure, someone with a different point of view, one more practical and less romantic than her own.

  Usually, after confession, Loretta knelt before the shrine of the Blessed Lady and recited her rosary, but she was too upset to stay inside the church.

  Loretta was turning to go when she saw Spencer, his back to her, kneeling in the first pew before the altar. Loretta couldn’t face Spencer, so she slipped out the back of the church.

  Spencer Tracy turned and saw Loretta leave. He thought about going after her, but he didn’t want to make a scene. He helplessly buried his face in his hands. Tracy resented the constraints of his marriage, career, and religion. It seemed that there was no solution to his dilemma, which over time had become a conundrum that he could not solve to his own or anyone else’s satisfaction. He never seemed to get what he wanted on this side of heaven, and he knew that would probably be the case for the rest of his life unless he made the changes necessary to pursue personal happiness. He was a fatalistic Catholic, but he was also becoming a movie star, and that meant he would soon have all the things of this world that he desired.

  He loved Loretta. He would press Louise for the divorce and pursue the annulment from the church that Loretta would require. Surely that would clear the path for the sacrament of marriage, and satisfy the priest and Mrs. Belzer. Tracy could not predict whether his plan would suit Loretta or be too great a sacrifice for her, but he was willing to do whatever it took to find out.

  The Cocoanut Grove was a homestyle pot roast and banana cream pie restaurant in a fantasy Hollywood setting. The decor was inspired by the colors and landscape of the South Seas, while the kitchen was an homage to Grandma’s home cooking. The fronds of papier-mâché palm trees tickled the ceiling, their trunks obscuring dark booths convenient for trysts. Murals of marine life draped with glittery nets decorated the walls.

  “The Grove is the perfect place to get caught in the nets,” David Niven had said. “If you want your wife to catch you with your girlfriend, book a table at The Grove.”

  Loretta drove to dinner that night, straight from the studio. She’d had a stomachache all day. She hadn’t seen Spencer since the priests denied her absolution, and she couldn’t bring herself to discuss it with him over the phone.

  Spencer had suggested several nights out, but she’d begged out of all of them, using her heavy work schedule as an excuse. Spencer was intuitive, and he knew he was getting the bum’s rush.

  Loretta knew something had changed when she slipped into the seat next to him in a booth.

  “How was work?” He looked at Loretta, but she could not look him in the eye.

  “Long day. How about you?” She studied the menu.

  Spencer could have spent the entire evening looking at her, saying nothing. He was enamored of her beauty, but his feelings were deeper. Her presence sustained him. Even sitting in silence near her replenished the deepest wells of emotional need within him. She had him, and he knew it.

  “I did my share of bad acting today,” he offered.

  “I doubt that.”

  “I was distracted. And I think you know why, Gretch.”

  The waiter came by for their order.

  “What are you having?” Spencer asked.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m starving.” Spencer ordered a rare steak and a baked potato. “Bring the lady a bowl of soup. Whatever you got that’s plain. Consommé.”

  The waiter left them alone. Spencer took her hand.

  “Come on, Gretch. Look at me. You look pale.”

  This had been her first real romantic relationship, despite her short-lived marriage. Loretta was prone to crushes on her costars, feelings that built to a fever pitch and went nowhere.

  “Spence, my mother is worried.”

  “About what?”

  “She heard around town that you drink.”

  Spencer chuckled to himself. “Have you ever seen me drunk?”

  “Never. I told her. I thought maybe they were mixing you up with Lee Tracy.”

  “Let’s hope he’s not getting offered the same roles,” Spencer said wryly.

  “You know Grant Withers had a drinking problem, and I couldn’t take it.”

  “Which is why I’ve never had a cocktail around you.”

  “Is that any way to live? You behave a certain way around me?”

  “I believed I was being respectful and thoughtful.”

  “You would.” Loretta shook her head.

  “Let’s talk it out, kid,” Tracy said softly.

  Loretta looked into his eyes, but she loved him so much that she had to look away.

  “What’s the problem?”

  “You know what the problem is,” she said quietly.

  “And I’m working it out.”

  “We can’t work it out.”

  “Why not?”

  “I went to see the priest, and he refused me absolution.”

  “You’re not the one who’s married.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m keeping you from Louise and your family.”

  “We’ve been through this.”

  “It isn’t right.”

  “I was separated when I met you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. You know this isn’t right.”

  “I could never say that about you.”

  “You know what I mean. You’re a man of faith. You’re a believer, and that comes with a responsibility. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

  “You can’t have redemption without sin.”

  “I’m your sin?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But I am. Do you want to be with me and lose your faith?”

  “You’ve shored up my faith, Gretchen.”

  “Do you want me to give up mine?”

  “I’m not asking you to give up anything. Together we’re strong, we’re better. You know that.”

  “There’s no absolution for us. Even if you got an annulment, even if we could start over, we still know the truth. We’d have a brand-new life based on a lie. I can’t do that to you.”

  “I don’t want to say good-bye.”

  “You love your wife and family. They need you more than I do.”

  Spencer put his arm around her. “Gretch, it’s a little more complicated than that. I’m in love with you. You’re the most magnificent girl in the world, but it’s more than your pretty face, which, if I’m honest, has sustained me through a lot of dark hours. But all that aside, I can talk to you. It isn’t that way with anyone else. Maybe it’s our situation—maybe because I can’t have you, I feel the loss more deeply when we’re apart. But the truth is, you get me. I can share my feelings. It’s very simple. I can’t face life ahead without you. I don’t want to, and I don’t think you do either.”

  “I don’t want you to leave your wife.”

  “I’ve already left her.”

  “Go back.”

  Spencer sat back in his chair. “You’ve fallen out of love with me.”

  “No, I haven’t,” she said quietly.

  He pulled her close and kissed her. “That would be the only reason I’d let you end this. Gretch, let me handle this. I’ll go see the priest. I’ll explain. I’ll tell them I met you months after leaving Louise.”<
br />
  “It doesn’t matter. It’s still wrong.”

  “Will you let me work this thing out?”

  Loretta didn’t want to argue with him, not ever. She had seen his temper before; his anger didn’t frighten her, it pained her. She especially didn’t want to break his heart. She knew it had happened to him before, in so many ways, as a man, a husband, and a father. Loretta had seen the dark corners where Tracy hid. She understood his torment, empathized with his suffering, and observed how he prayed for serenity, something that had eluded him all of his life. She didn’t have to be told he was an alcoholic. She knew something was wrong. Tracy handled conflict by burying it, and temptation by yielding to it and then punishing himself for having indulged. Spencer Tracy was at war with his needs. Loretta could see it was a hopeless struggle.

  Still, they had such glorious connections. Tracy loved her family, understood her work, and shared her faith. And now she had the memories they had made during Man’s Castle. She reached out to him when she had problems with her role, and with simple, clear directives, he worked her through the script. If she had a tussle with her sisters, he said just the right thing. There was more than romance at stake; underneath the mutual attraction was an abiding friendship based on common interests. She didn’t spend hours on the phone with any other friend, male or female, but Spence was different. Just as he was an actor who listened, he listened in life. Loretta strengthened her resolve.

  “I want you to pretend that I’m not me, and that I’m coming to you with a problem. Our problem. What would you say to a twenty-one-year-old woman in this circumstance?”

  “I’d tell her to say good-bye and don’t look back.” Spencer leaned back in his chair, resigned. “Even if it hurts.”

  “And it does, Spence. It hurts.”

  “You know, I’d only let you go if I knew you could find happiness without me.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it tonight.” Loretta’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m older, and I know your sadness will pass. I’m the one who will drag this ending around with me for the rest of my life. You’ll be all right.”

  “I wish I didn’t care about doing the right thing.”

  “Naw, that’s what I admire about you. You have standards. Principles. They say good roles are rare in Hollywood, but a moral compass is almost impossible to find.”

  “I will miss you. I’ll miss how innocent we were when we were palling around. Why did I have to fall in love with you?”

  “You know what the worst part of this thing is? You go your whole life looking for this exact thing, and you swear you’ll never find it, and then you do, and then you can’t have it. It is parceled out to everybody else, so you see it and recognize it, and patiently you wait for your portion, and by the time your turn comes, there isn’t enough to go around. Hell of a thing.”

  “If it helps, you’re not alone, Spence.”

  “It makes it worse, actually.”

  Loretta leaned against Spencer’s shoulder, a place that had given her comfort in ways that delighted her and strengthened her since they met. She wanted to remember this moment, his scent of bergamot and cedar, his hands that enveloped her own and made her feel safe. She closed her eyes and was still. She waited for the answer to come, the one she hoped for, the one that would tell her to fight for him. But instead of an answer, she saw Louise in her mind’s eye. She pictured that day at the baseball diamond, when Louise placed her head on Spencer’s shoulder. Loretta had seen with her own eyes what Spencer meant to Louise, and together, what their son Johnny meant to both of them. She could not in good conscience take him away from them. She couldn’t live with him, knowing she had hurt Louise and his family. She lifted her head off his shoulder.

  “Are you all right, Gretch?”

  “Eat your dinner,” she said. “It’s getting cold.”

  Alda sat at Loretta’s messy desk in her bedroom, which was piled with pages torn from her scripts, gum wrappers, receipts, fabric swatches, and reminder notes. She sorted the papers into neat piles. She found Loretta’s retainer under a stack of party invitations. She took the retainer into the bathroom, rinsed it, and placed it in its container on the sink.

  Alda returned to the desk to finish straightening. When she got to the bottom of a stack, she found a letter that Loretta had written in draft form several times. It was her final farewell to Spencer. She was breaking off their relationship for good.

  The practice letters, with misspelled words and jumbled letters, were marked with the same symbols she used on her scripts. Loretta had taken to using dictation for all her correspondence, and Alda was getting pretty good at it. But this time Loretta had done the composition herself. As Alda continued to organize the desk, she found the finished letter, in Loretta’s simple cursive penmanship, tucked into an unsealed envelope. Alda held the letter, remembering one that she had written. Letters that end a love affair are always short, each word selected carefully, for exact meaning.

  Alda placed the envelope on top of the desk. She collected the practice letters, the scraps of notes, and went to the fireplace. She threw the papers on to the grate, lit a match, and burned them. As they burned, they turned the deepest red, the color of roses.

  5

  Loretta sat cross-legged by the swimming pool at Sunset House. The late-afternoon sky over Bel Air was faded coral as the sun slipped behind the Hollywood Hills. She dipped her fingers in the satin waters, spelling out the name Spencer Tracy with her index finger, then erasing the letters with a splash.

  “Stay away from the edge. You’re a horrid swimmer, Gretchen.” David Niven stood near the shallow end, in a proper suit and hat. “I cannot possibly save another woman from herself today.”

  “Mama said to tell you that they fixed the heat in the pool house.”

  “It’s about bloody time. October can be cruel in California. It’s so cold in there, I’m storing oranges in my sock drawer.”

  Niven sat down beside Loretta. “Bad day?”

  “The worst.”

  “You can cry on my shoulder.”

  “The suit is Savile Row. The wool is Italian. No, thank you. You can’t afford the shrinkage. You’re a working actor, remember?”

  “Sort of.”

  “You need your suit.”

  “I saw the paper.”

  “Nicely worded, don’t you think?”

  “They’re going to call you Saint Loretta in print from now on. You were generous, contrite, and absolute. Maybe for once Mother Publicity got it right. The Iron Butterfly—that’s you, darling—can actually fly. Maybe you are a saint after all.”

  “Hardly.”

  “You know I don’t believe in a chaste romance.”

  “How do you know it was chaste?”

  “I live in the pool house. I never once saw you scale the tree at midnight and sneak back in at dawn. Never saw Spencer climb the same tree up to your window. Never saw you roll that pathetic roadster of yours down the drive in neutral so Mrs. Belzer wouldn’t wake at the sound of that dreadful engine. Never caught Mr. Tracy in the hedges.”

  “And you never will.”

  “Poor dear. You got all of the aggravation of a love affair with none of the fun.”

  “We had fun.”

  “All right, then. Let’s be sensible. If you want him this badly, convert. Join the jovial Protestants who clutter up the Church of England. It’s all the familiar bells and whistles and incense of the Holy Roman Church with the option of divorce. You can have your Spencer Tracy and wedding cake too.”

  “There’s a thought. Hop around until some church gives me permission.”

  “Many died in the Crusades for less. Besides, it’s better than being miserable.”

  “I guess.”

  “Do you really love the man?”

  “David.”

  “No, seriously. I think if you truly loved him, no church could stand in your way.”

  “I don’t know what love is anymore. I thought I kne
w, but clearly I have no idea.”

  “I rather think you wanted to save him.”

  “Isn’t that what we do when we fall in love?”

  “Not generally. The saving comes later, if at all. When in love, we frolic and play and go at it like rabbits.”

  “Where do I sign up for that?”

  “For starters, pick someone who doesn’t drink.”

  “I never saw Spencer drunk.”

  “That’s because he was on his best behavior around you. Take it from an occasional tosser. He’s a tosser.”

  Loretta grew wistful. “We could talk for hours.”

  “We talk for hours.”

  Loretta managed a smile. “It’s not the same.”

  “You’re telling me. I’ve never so much as gotten a passing snog off of you.”

  “You’re my pal.”

  “The price of friendship! No one tells you.”

  Loretta laughed. “Thank you, David.”

  “Now you go upstairs and get out of those unsightly jodhpurs and put on one of those dresses with the cancan ruffles and tell the gaggle of geese—yes, I mean those obnoxious sisters of yours on the second floor—to do the same. Lipstick, powder, and hairpins, man your stations, girls! Make sure Alda sparkles—that girl has a grim side. I’m taking you all out to dinner. I have a yearning for the brisket at the Clover Club. I’m in the money. I took Mr. Chaplin out on the boat, and who knew, he’s a lousy fisherman but he’s a big tipper.”

  David stood up, extended his hand, and helped Loretta to her feet. “Now, no weeping. It’s bad for the skin. We don’t need you turning into a grizzled hag over an unrealized love affair.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “You need to work, Gretchen. That’s what you tell me, and now I am happy to throw your own advice back in your lovely face.”

  “I just took a job.”

  “Splendid!”

  “The Call of the Wild with Clark Gable.”

  “I adore the man!”

  “You know him?”

  “I’m his swabbie on cruisers in Del Rey. Motorboats on Monterey. And his caddy in Pebble Beach. Whenever he needs me.”