Once in a Lifetime (29 page)

"Ready, ladies?" Daphne nodded and Barbara simply stared and they followed him to the enormous commissary building, where they found themselves with cowboys and Indians, two southern belles and a whole army of German soldiers, as well as two midgets and a flock of little boys.

Barbara looked around and started laughing. "You know what? This looks like the circus!" And suddenly Justin and Daphne were laughing too. They ate hamburgers that tasted like rocks and the ketchup looked like red paint, and then Justin brought them both apple pie and coffee. And it seemed only moments later when they were back on the set, and Justin had disappeared into his dressing room.

Barbara pulled up a chair beside Daphne, and as they waited for the action to begin, Barbara found herself thinking about Justin. It was easy to discern that he was attracted to Daphne, but despite his good looks, Barbara didn't think she liked him. There was something childlike and self-centered about the man, and she had noticed that every time they passed a mirror or window in which he could see himself, he ran a hand over his hair, or looked himself in the eye. It annoyed her, but she also had the unmistakable feeling that Daphne liked him.

Before she could say anything to Daphne, Justin had emerged from his dressing room in a long white terry cloth hooded bathrobe and Swedish clogs. There was something beautiful and mysterious about him, and almost monklike beneath the white terry cloth hood, which he slipped off his head with a toss of the blond mane and a smile. And then a moment later he shed the terry cloth robe entirely and strode onto the set wearing nothing but his lean, long, beautifully muscled flesh and limbs. Maureen Adams followed him onto the set a moment later, and dropped a pink satin bathrobe on the edge of the set, walking around, holding the script, and running a hand through her hair. But it wasn't Maureen who held everyone's attention. It was Justin. Aside from his obvious physical beauty there was an incredible electricity and excitement about the man. Daphne tried not to look impressed, but it was so long since she had seen a man naked that she found herself spellbound by his raw beauty and the long athletic-looking limbs. "I hate to say it," Barbara confessed at last, "but he really is absolutely incredible looking." But when she glanced at her employer, Daphne hadn't heard her. She was staring at Justin in a way that made Barbara nervous. But who could blame her? He simply was what he was. Justin Wakefield, king of the screen.

The scene as he played it was spellbinding, and after a time both Barbara and Daphne forgot that he was naked. Daphne sat riveted as she watched the scene she had written come to life. He twisted it and moved it and wove it around him like a rich brocade cloth, covering his nakedness with his genius, and several times he even brought tears to her eyes. The scene was spellbinding for everyone who watched. The man was not only beautiful, he was masterful with his craft. And then, as deftly as he had shed it, he picked up the white terry cloth robe and put it around him again, covering his head with the hood and slowly turning toward Daphne. He looked older than he had at lunch, and very tired, and very open, and his wide green eyes found her as though he had to know what she thought more than any other.

"I loved it. It was exactly what I meant when I wrote it, only more so. It was as though you took what I had in mind and you went deeper and farther." He looked enormously pleased that she was so impressed.

"That's what I am supposed to do, Daphne." He sounded kind and wise, and she liked what she saw in his eyes now. "That's what acting is all about." She nodded, still impressed with his performance. He had actually brought her book to life.

"Thank you." It was going to be a sensational movie. And he was a sensational man. And she felt something tingle deep within her just from the thrill of having watched him.

For the next week Daphne watched Justin Wakefield in total fascination, spinning his web of magic around them. She and Barbara ate lunch with him every day in the commissary, and once or twice some of the others joined them, but it was rapidly becoming obvious that Justin Wakefield wanted to get close to Daphne. They talked about her books and his movies, her deeper intentions for some of the characters, her philosophies about the plot. They talked a great deal about Apache, and he insisted that what she told him helped him each day on the set, that it was she who made the difference, who brought something out of him that he didn't know was there before.

"It really is you, Daff." They were sitting on the set and sharing a can of strawberry soda, a disgusting concoction they agreed, but the only thing the machine still had in it, and they were both dying of thirst. It was a hot day and they had already spent long hours on the set. "I couldn't do this without you here. It's my best performance. Ask Howard, he'll tell you. I've never been able to dredge up this much before, not day after day like this." He looked at her then with those intense huge green eyes of his. "I mean it. You do something wonderful to me, Daphne." She wasn't quite sure what to say.

"You're doing something wonderful to my book."

"Is that all?" He looked disappointed, as though he had wanted her to say something more. But he didn't know Daphne, how cautious she was, how high the walls were built around her. And then he surprised her. "Tell me something about your little boy." It was as though he sensed that in talking about her son, perhaps she would let some of her guard down. And he wasn't wrong. She smiled, and thought of Andrew, so damnably far away.

"He's wonderful, and bright, and very special. He's about this tall"--she held up a hand to indicate his height and Justin smiled--"and I took him to Disneyland a few weeks ago when he was here."

"Where is he the rest of the time? With his dad?" He thought it unusual for a woman like Daphne to give up custody of her son, and his voice showed his surprise.

"No. His dad died before he was born." It was easier to say that these days. "He's in New Hampshire, in school."

Justin nodded as though that made sense, and then he looked into Daphne's eyes again. "You were alone when he was born?"

"Yes." Something pulled at her gut as she said it, a lonely memory she had fled long ago.

"That must have been rough on you."

"It was, and ..." She didn't really want to tell him, about discovering that Andrew was deaf, and those ghastly lonely years. "That was a pretty tough time."

"Were you writing then?" It was the first time Justin had asked her questions about herself. They had talked about Apache and her other books, and his movies, all week.

"No, I didn't start writing until later. Until Andrew went away to school."

"Yeah. I'll bet it's tough to be creative with kids around. You were smart to send him away to school." Something pulled taut in her gut as he said that. He couldn't possibly know what she felt for the child or what it had been like to tear herself away from Andrew. And his comment reflected a selfishness that she abhorred.

"I sent him away to school because I had to."

"Because you were alone?"

"For other reasons." Something told her not to share the reasons with him. She still had a deep need to protect Andrew. And she suddenly had the sense that Justin wouldn't understand. Maybe he wouldn't even try to, and she didn't want to find that out. "I had no choice." She suddenly felt very tired and old. What did this man know about that kind of heartbreak? "You don't have children, Justin?"

"No. I never felt the need for that kind of extension of myself. I think that's an ego trip for most people."

"Children?" She looked shocked.

"Yes, don't look so shocked. Most people want to see themselves reproduced and continued. I have my movies for that. I don't need to make kids." It was an odd way to look at it, she thought, but maybe for him it made sense. She tried to understand his viewpoint. He wasn't an insensitive man, after all. He couldn't be, not the way he'd been living out Apache for the last week. And if he had different views from hers, she would listen. She at least owed him that.

"Have you ever been married?" She was curious about him now. Who was he? What made him the way he was, so able to interpret someone else's feelings, as he had hers in her book?

He shook his head. "Not legally, at least. I've lived with two women. One for seven years, one for five. In a way, that was really no different from being married. We just didn't have the papers. It doesn't make much difference in the end. When someone wants out, they go, papers or no, and I wound up supporting them both after they left." She nodded. After all, that was what she had had with John. But she suspected that eventually they would have gotten married. They might even have had children, although John had had no great need for children either. He had just wanted her. And Andrew, of course.

"Are you living with someone now?" She felt rude for probing, but they already knew so much about each other now. They had almost lived together, fifteen hours a day for the past week. It began to feel like being on a desert island or a ship, thrown together in an intimate way.

But again Justin shook his head. "I haven't lived with anyone for a while. I've been involved with someone on and off for the past year, but it's mostly off, she doesn't understand the rigors of this business, and God knows she should. She's an actress, but she's a twenty-two-year-old kid from Ohio, and she just doesn't understand where I'm at."

"And where's that? Or am I prying?" Daphne's voice was cautious but he smiled, he didn't mind the questions, he liked them. He liked her, and he wanted her to know what he was about.

"You're not prying, Daff. By the time we finish this movie, we'll all know each other inside out." He hesitated for a moment, thinking of her question. "I don't know how to explain it to you, but I just don't want to tie myself down anymore to someone who doesn't understand this business. It's exhausting having to defend yourself all the time. She's insanely jealous, and I can't answer to anyone night and day. I need space. I need time to think about what I'm doing, where I'm going, what I am and think and feel. I'm better off alone than with someone who stifles that." It was easy to agree with what he was saying and Daphne nodded, and then he laughed and shook his head. "Loosely translated, I think that means 'she doesn't understand me.' You've heard that before?"

"Yup." She took a drag on their shared soda and laughed. "I have. I think that may be why I stay alone too. It would be damn hard to explain to anyone why I work eighteen hours a day, then crawl into bed at six in the morning feeling like I've been beaten. It gives me sustenance, but it's not likely it would do the same for someone else. I wouldn't have it any other way. Yet no sane man would put up with that."

"I doubt it." He smiled, feeling a certain kinship with her. "Except someone with the same habits. Sometimes I read all night, until the sun comes up. It's a great feeling."

"Yes, it is." She smiled too. "I love that. You know, maybe one gets to a point in life when it's better to be alone; I didn't used to think that, but I do now. It works for me anyway." She handed him the soda and he finished it and set it down.'

"I don't think I agree with that. I don't want to be alone forever, but I don't want to be with the wrong person. I think I've finally gotten to the point where I'd rather be alone than with the wrong woman. Yet I still believe, must believe, that there's someone out there who would meet my needs and make me happy. I just haven't found her yet."

Daphne saluted him with the empty can. "Good luck."

"You think it's impossible to find?" He was surprised. Certainly her writing didn't suggest that. She seemed to believe in love and happy unions. Yet she had a clear understanding of unhappiness and loss.

"I don't think it's impossible, Justin. I found it twice."

"And? What happened?"

"They both died."

"That's a bitch." He looked sympathetic.

"Yes, it is. And I don't think you get more than two chances like that."

"So you've given up?"

They were in the mood to be honest, so she was. "More or less. I've had everything I wanted, now I have my work and my son. That's enough."

"Is it really?"

"It is for me. For now. It has been for a long time. And I have no desire to change it." That was not entirely the truth. There were times when she longed for someone to hold her, but she was too desperately afraid of an eventual loss.

"I don't believe you." He was searching her eyes but not finding the answers he wanted.

"What don't you believe?"

"That you're happy like that."

"I am. Most of the time. No one is happy all the time, not even if you're madly in love."

"You can't be happy alone forever, Daff. It's not healthy. You lose touch with life."

"Have I? Is that what you read in my books?"

"I read a lot of sorrow in those books, a lot of sadness, a lot of loneliness. Some part of you is crying out."

She laughed softly then. "You sound just like a man, Justin, unable to believe that a woman can survive alone. You told me that you're happy by yourself, why shouldn't I be?"

"For me, it's temporary." He was being honest.

"For me, it's not."

"You're crazy." The whole idea annoyed him. She was a beautiful, vibrant, intelligent woman. What the hell was she doing, determined to be alone for the rest of her life? "The whole thing is nuts." And it was also a challenge. He couldn't stand thinking of what she had done to her life.

"Don't let it upset you. I'm perfectly happy."

"It just pisses me off to think of you wasting your life. You're beautiful, dammit, Daphne, and warm and loving, and you have a brilliant mind. Why have you shut yourself off?"

"I'm sorry I told you." But she didn't look particularly upset and she wasn't. She had accepted her life. And she was relatively happy.

And with that, Howard Stern called them all back to the set for another six hours of work, and when they left the set that day, Justin had to meet a friend for a drink, and Daphne left with Barbara without seeing him again. They went back to the house, and Daphne took a shower and then went out to swim in the pool in the balmy night air, and Barbara came out to tell her that she was going to see Tom.