Kaleidoscope Part 2

"And her father didn't come after you with a butcher knife?"

Sam shook his head quietly. "Her father and brother were killed by the Germans. Her mother died of tuberculosis. She's alone."

Arthur looked impressed. They really had had a conversation. "Are you seeing her again?"

Sam nodded, and then smiled knowingly at his friend. "Yes, I am, and she doesn't know it yet, Patterson, but after the war, we're going to get married."

Arthur's jaw almost dropped as he stared at his friend, but this time he didn't even bother to tell him he was crazy, because the crazy thing was that he suddenly sensed that Sam meant it.

Sam and Solange met again for dinner that night, and this time, she told him what it was like living in Paris with the Germans. In a subtler way, it was worse than what he'd been through, and she had been defenseless. She'd had to live by her wits, avoiding being arrested or tortured or merely raped by the Germans who felt they owned Paris and all the women in it. And after her father had died, she had had to support her mother. They had had hardly any food, and she had given almost everything to her mother. They had lost their apartment eventually, and her mother had died in her arms in a rented room, the room she still lived in now, filled with its ugly memories and sad ghosts, but she had nowhere else to go now. And after what she'd seen during the war, there was no one left that she trusted. Her brother's betrayal had been the final blow to any feeling she had once had for France or her fellow Frenchmen.

"I'd like you to come to America one day," he said as though testing the waters, as he watched her eat. He kept ordering food, and was gratified that she ate it.

She shrugged in answer to his invitation, as though it were an impossible dream, not even worth thinking about. "Very far ..." She gestured and then explained in French, "C'est tres loin." In every possible way was what she was thinking.

"Not so far."

"And you? 'Arvard again after the war?"

"Maybe." If it even mattered anymore. It was hard to imagine going back to school again. Maybe he would try acting after all. He and Arthur had talked about it a lot, at night, in the foxholes. It made sense there. But it was hard to know what would make sense once they got home. Things would be very different. "I want to be an actor." He tried it out on her, to see what she would say, and she looked intrigued by it.

"An actor?" And then she nodded, as though it made sense to her, and he wanted to kiss her. He smiled at her and she wasn't quite sure why, and then he ordered a bowl of fruit for her, which was the first she'd had in months, or even dreamed of. His generosity embarra.s.sed her, yet in another way it seemed very natural, as though they were old friends. It was difficult to imagine that this was only their second dinner together.

Their friendship seemed to flourish as they took walks along the Seine, and stopped in little bistros and cafes to talk and eat and finally hold hands. Sam had hardly seen Arthur in days, and when they met over breakfast, Sam didn't like what he had to say. Patton crossed the Meuse two days after their victory parade down the Champs-elysees, and the week after was at Metz on the Moselle on the way to Belgium. It was unlikely that they would be allowed to languish in Paris for much longer. And on September third both Brussels and Antwerp were liberated by the British.

"They're going to have our a.s.ses back out there any day, Sam, mark my words," Patterson said gloomily over coffee, and Sam knew he was right, but he was desperate to stay with Solange now. And on the day Brussels had fallen to the British, he had gone to her room, and he had gently pulled away the old blue dress that had been her mother's and made love to her for the first time. And to his amazement, and delight, he had discovered that she was a virgin. She had lain in his arms afterward with tears of happiness washing her cheeks as he kissed her. And Sam had fallen more desperately in love with her than ever.

"I love you so much, Sam." Her voice was husky and gentle as she carefully p.r.o.nounced the words.

"So do I, Solange ... so do I...." He couldn't bear the thought of leaving her now, and he knew she hated the thought too. She seemed so much more dependent on him now, more trusting and open. But two weeks later, he got his orders. They were moving on to the German front, there was a war to fight after all, and at least the end was in sight now. Everyone was certain that with the rest of Europe liberated, Germany would fall quickly ... maybe even by Christmas, he promised her late one night, as he sculpted her exquisite body with hungry fingers. She had flesh of a satin he had never touched before, and hair that fell past her shoulders and over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s like benign fire as he kissed her.

"I love you, Solange ... oh, G.o.d, how I love you." He had never known anyone like her. Surely not in Boston, or anywhere since then. "Will you marry me when the war is over?" Her eyes were full of tears when he asked her, and she didn't answer. He forced her to look at him, and the tears spilled slowly down her cheeks as though she knew something he didn't. "What's the matter, sweetheart?"

She could hardly force herself to say the words, and it was even harder for her in English. "Many things change in war, Sam...." He loved the way she said his name, he loved the way she breathed and spoke and smelled. He loved everything about her with a pa.s.sion that seemed to sweep him right into the heavens. He had never before felt any of the emotions she brought him. "You go to 'Arvard again ... apres apres ... and ..." she shrugged helplessly, "you will forget Paris." What she really meant was that he would forget her, and he stared at her in amazement. ... and ..." she shrugged helplessly, "you will forget Paris." What she really meant was that he would forget her, and he stared at her in amazement.

"Do you really think I could forget this? Do you really think this is some kind of soldier's sport? Dammit, I love love you!" For the first time, she saw him angry, and he made love to her this time with a vengeance. "I love you. Do you understand that? you!" For the first time, she saw him angry, and he made love to her this time with a vengeance. "I love you. Do you understand that? This This is what's important! And when the war is over, I'm taking you home with me. Will you come?" is what's important! And when the war is over, I'm taking you home with me. Will you come?"

She nodded slowly, still unable to believe that he would really want her when the war was over ... if he even lived through it. She could not bear the thought of that. She had lost everyone in the war, and perhaps now she would lose him too. It was enough to make her fearful of loving him, and yet, like him, she was unable to stop it. It was a pa.s.sion greater than both of them.

Sam felt as though his soul was being torn from hers. On the day he left Paris she had come to say good-bye, and she and Sam were both speechless with tears when he finally left her. Arthur had never seen him like that as the troops marched out of the Porte Saint-Cloud. Sam had to force himself not to look back again, or he might have deserted. He couldn't bear seeing her standing there as he marched away She was sobbing the last time he saw her.

When they reached the Ardennes, Sam fought with an even greater vengeance than he had before. It was as though the harder he fought the quicker he could get back to Solange and take her home with him. But by the end of September, the dream was beginning to fade, not the dream of Solange, but the dream of seeing the war end by Christmas. The Germans were not as weakened as everyone had thought, and they fought ruthlessly. It was only at the end of October that Aachen fell, restoring some hope to Sam and Arthur and their comrades. In Arnhem, they weren't as lucky, and by then winter had set in, and the bitter winds and freezing cold began to remind Sam and Arthur of the previous winter they had spent in the Italian mountains.

From October to December they fought in the bitter cold and snows and felt as though they were getting nowhere. Hitler had added new Panzer brigades, and the tanks just seemed to keep on coming forever.

"Christ, do you believe this s.h.i.t?" Sam looked exhausted as he and Arthur sat in the dark one night, their hands frozen, their feet numb, their faces tingling in the cold, and it was the first time Arthur had seen him so discouraged. All he talked about was spending Christmas with Solange, and it was long since obvious to all of them now that that was not going to happen.

On December 16, the Battle of the Bulge began, and for a solid week the Germans pounded the Allies. It wasn't until the skies cleared on the twenty-third that the Allies were able to begin pushing them back, and even then victory for the Allies was uncertain. It was even more disheartening to learn that on December 17, ninety prisoners of war had been killed by the Germans at Malmedy, in a singularly heartless gesture that violated all of the ethics of war, if any such thing still existed.

And on Christmas Eve, Arthur and Sam sat side by side in a snow-filled foxhole, trying to keep warm and sharing their rations.

"I don't know, Patterson ... I think the turkey was better last year. Think we should look for a new chef?" But despite the words so typical of Sam, his eyes were glazed with exhaustion and he wore a week's beard on his thin cheeks. He seemed to have aged ten years since he left Paris, perhaps because he had so much at stake now.

Their sergeant had been killed crossing the Ardennes, and suddenly Sam found himself missing him ... Solange ... even his sister in Boston, from whom he had still heard nothing.

"I wonder what she's doing in Paris." Sam said the words almost to himself, thinking of Solange, and if Arthur hadn't been so bitter cold to the bone, he would have smiled at him.

"Thinking about you probably. Lucky b.a.s.t.a.r.d." He still remembered how beautiful she was, and wished he had been as persistent as Sam in speaking to her. He spoke French after all, but ... that was silly. She was Sam's girl now.

"Care for some chocolate cake?" Sam held out a piece of rock-hard biscuit he'd been carrying around in his jacket for a week and Arthur declined with a wry face. "Waiting for the souffle? I don't blame you."

"Cut it out, you're making me hungry." But in truth, they were too cold to eat, too cold, and too tired, and too frightened.

The Germans didn't begin to fall back until two days afterward, and the Battle of the Bulge was finally over. In March, they took the bridge at Remagen near Bonn, and in April they met the Ninth Army at Lippstadt and then went on to take 325,000 German prisoners near the Ruhr, and it finally looked as though the end was approaching. And on April 25, at Torgau, they joined forces with the Russians. Roosevelt had died two weeks before, and the news had saddened everyone, but the men on the front were intent on winning and getting home. The Battle of Berlin had begun, and on May 2, Berlin was silent at last. On May 7, Germany surrendered, and Arthur and Sam stood looking at each other, with tears running down their faces. Was it over? Could it be? From North Africa to Italy to France, and now Germany, it felt as though they had crossed half the world, and they had. They had freed it.

"My G.o.d, Sam ..." Arthur whispered to him as they heard the news ... "It's over ... I don't believe it." They embraced like the brothers they had become, and Sam had an odd feeling of nostalgia that that moment would never come again, and then a moment later he was grateful that it wouldn't. He threw his helmet in the air, and gave a tremendous whoop, but it wasn't Arthur he was thinking of now. It was Solange ... he was going Home! And just as he had promised her eight months before, he was going to take her with him.

Chapter 3.

The army had given him three days leave before shipping him back to the States in May of 1945, and Sam had headed straight for Paris, and he had found Solange there just as he had left her. There was such relief on her face when she saw him that it was easy to read what her feelings were, and the three days flew by faster than either of them could have dreamed.

And she cried copiously this time when he left her at the station to return to Berlin, and from there back to the States for his discharge. He had thought of marrying her before he left Paris, but there was too much red tape, and it would be easier to marry her in the States. He had promised to send for her by the end of the summer. But he had to make some money first. He had already decided not to go back to Harvard, and he wanted to try his luck as an actor. But he was willing to do anything to make the money he needed to pay Solange's pa.s.sage. He was going to have her come to the States on a tourist visa, and marry her the minute she arrived. He could hardly stand the thought of the months ahead without her.

In New York, Arthur had talked him into moving in with him until Sam found an apartment, and all Sam could think of was getting settled.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. I promise ... no later than September." That gave him four months to get everything organized and have enough money to support her. He was twenty-three years old, he had survived the war, and he had the world by the tail now.

"I love you, Sam!" She shouted as the train pulled away, and she waved for as long as he could see her.

"Cute girl you got, Private," an admiring sergeant said as they settled down on the train, and Sam only nodded. He wasn't anxious to discuss Solange with anyone, and he wasn't particularly keen on the other soldiers' constantly admiring glances. She was a beautiful young woman, but she was more than that. She was his now.

The train pulled into the Berlin station at midnight, and Sam made his way back to his quarters to look for Arthur. Arthur had been keeping himself busy with the German girls, and he seemed to have a decided preference for tall blondes. He was in seventh heaven in Germany, and Sam teased him about it constantly, but when he came in that night, Arthur wasn't there, and Sam went to bed, his head filled with thoughts of his bride-to-be, and the life they would share in New York. And before he knew it, it was eight o'clock the next morning. He left Germany two days after that, with Arthur scheduled to come home two weeks later.

Sam was flown to Fort Dix, New Jersey, to muster out, and he took the train to New York from there, and as he stepped off the train in Penn Station, he felt as though he had landed on the moon. After three years in Europe, fighting in the filth and the mud and the rain and the snow, it seemed incredible to be home and see people going about their normal lives. He could hardly adjust to any of it, not even the little hotel where he stayed on the West Side, and he was desperately lonely for Arthur and Solange as he pounded the pavement, going to agents and acting schools, and looking for jobs that would help him keep body and soul together in the meantime.

The army had given him one hundred and fifty-four dollars when he was discharged and his funds were dwindling rapidly. It was a huge relief when Arthur came home two weeks later and Sam could move in with him and his mother. He hadn't wanted to impose on her before that. But it was a joy to be with him again, not just because of the money he was saving but because at last he had someone to talk to. They talked for hours in the bedroom they shared, like two kids. Although Arthur's mother often complained that she could hear them, and she wore a disapproving look whenever she spoke to Sam, which was not often. It was as though the war had somehow been Sam's fault, and their laughter and remembered tales only helped to prove that they'd been having a good time, and had stayed away just to cause her anguish. She seemed to view Sam as a constant, unhappy reminder of a difficult time and it was a relief when Arthur found a place of his own, and let Sam stay with him there. By then, Sam had a job as a waiter at P. J. Clarke's on Third Avenue, and had enrolled in an acting school on West Thirty-ninth, but he hadn't been offered any parts and he was beginning to wonder if it was all a hopeless dream, when someone finally auditioned him for an off-Broadway show. He didn't get the part, but he felt a little closer than he had before, and he knew where he had gone wrong. He discussed it at length with his acting coach, and when he auditioned a second time in late July, this time he got a walk-on part in an off-Broadway show, and he wrote about it to Solange as a major victory. But it was far more exciting to both of them when, in September, he finally sent her enough money to come over. It was just enough for her fare, and a few extra dollars to buy some clothes, and he had explained at length to her that they would be living on his waiter's salary and tips, and the going would be rough for a long time. But there was no doubt in his mind that he wanted her with him.

She arrived on September twenty-sixth, tourist cla.s.s, on the De Gra.s.se De Gra.s.se, which was still the only ship sailing out of Le Havre since the war had ended. And Sam stood staring at the decks with a pair of binoculars Arthur had given him. He searched every face he could see, and for a moment he panicked, fearing she hadn't made the journey ... and then ... on a lower deck, he saw a white dress, and a small white hat, and beneath it the red hair he loved so much and the face he had longed for. He waved frantically, but there were too many people on the dock and he knew she hadn't seen him.

It took hours for Solange to clear customs as he waited impatiently. It was a brilliantly sunny day, and it was warm on the docks, with a gentle breeze. It was a perfect day for her to come home to him, and then suddenly she was free and she flew into his arms, her hat askew and tears pouring down her cheeks as he kissed her and held her in his powerful arms as he cried too. It was the moment he had wanted so desperately, as he laughed with relief and joy and kissed her.

"Oh G.o.d, Solange, how I love you." It was a pa.s.sion almost beyond reason or measure. He couldn't bear to tear himself away from her, he missed most of his acting cla.s.ses after she first arrived, and he could hardly stand going to work every night at five o'clock. He had found a tiny studio apartment for them in the East Forties, under the elevated train, and every night, no matter how cold it was, she would walk him to work. And at two-thirty, when he came home, he would bring her food, and she was always waiting up for him. They would eat after they made love, sometimes at four o'clock in the morning. And then finally at Christmas, she insisted that he had to get serious about his career, and start thinking seriously about his acting. It still seemed like a remote dream to him, and she was far more real, but he knew she was right. Sometimes she would go to acting cla.s.ses with him, and she was struck by how talented he was, as was everyone in the cla.s.s. But his teacher was merciless, and demanded more and more from him. In the mornings, he would read plays, and scan the papers for auditions.

They saw Arthur from time to time too, but less than Sam would have liked. It was difficult because Sam worked at night, and Arthur now had a steady girlfriend. A girl who had graduated from Va.s.sar before the war, with a nasal voice, and smooth blond hair that she wore in a pageboy. She did not seem particularly amused by Sam, and always seemed to find an opportunity to mention that Sam was a "waiter." What's more, she made it obvious to everyone that she hated Solange, much to Arthur's embarra.s.sment. And when they were alone, she always referred to Sam and Solange as "the gypsies." Her name was Marjorie and she was not touched by Arthur's tales of the war, or by the fact that Solange had survived the occupation of France and lost her entire family, having spent the war doing volunteer work for the Red Cross and the Junior League, which she felt sure was far more n.o.ble. And it was obvious that at twenty-eight, she was terrified of never getting married. There were a lot of girls like her after the war, girls who would have gotten married years before, if all the best men hadn't been overseas, as they claimed. And she was working hard on Arthur to change her status. But Arthur had problems of his own. His mother hadn't been well, he told Sam, and it worried her to think of him getting married to Marjorie. He was back at his old law firm, and doing well, but he was afraid to upset his mother, who thought he should find someone a little younger ... or different ... or never. Sam had seen her for what she was when he stayed with them, and he felt sorry for Arthur and the pressures he let everyone put him under. His mother wanted him to herself so she could keep a grip on him and live vicariously through him. And she saw all the women in his life, and even his male friends as compet.i.tion. She wanted her son to herself, and she tried to make him feel guilty for every moment he didn't spend with her.

"Le courage lui manque," Solange had said bluntly about Arthur after she came to the States, waving her hands as they chatted one night, over one of their three A.M. A.M. dinners. "He has ... no ... guts...." She looked victorious over finding the right word. "No heart ... no ... courage." dinners. "He has ... no ... guts...." She looked victorious over finding the right word. "No heart ... no ... courage."

"He has a lot of heart, Solange. He's just not as forceful as he could be." And his mother had a hold on him like a vise, but Sam didn't say that.

"Voila." She agreed. "No courage. He should marry Marjorie if he wants to or say au revoir, or perhaps," she said mischievously, "he should beat her." Sam had laughed at the thought and he couldn't disagree with her. "And he should say to his mother ... merde! merde!" Sam laughed even harder at that one. They got on famously, in bed and out. They shared most of the same views, she had a heart of gold, and she was fiercely devoted to him, and she was even very fond of Arthur, which meant a lot to Sam. He had been the best man at their wedding at City Hall three days after she arrived on the De Gra.s.se De Gra.s.se, and he had taken care of all of Solange's papers. She called him her grand frere grand frere, her big brother, and looked at him lovingly with her huge green eyes, and he always looked as though he would gladly die for her.

But in the end, Marjorie got her way, and in the spring of 1946, they had a small wedding in Philadelphia, where she came from. In Sam's eyes, Arthur had traded one difficult woman for another, but he didn't say so. Arthur's mother was too ill to go, she said her heart was simply not strong enough to allow her to travel, and she had stayed home on the advice of her doctor. Solange and Sam hadn't gone either, but in their case it was because they were not invited. Arthur had explained endlessly that it was a tiny wedding, only family, only Marjorie's very closest friends, too far ... too complicated ... sure they wouldn't have liked ... he had agonized over it every time he saw Sam, but Solange saw the announcement in the papers. It was a wedding for five hundred guests in St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Philadelphia, with a reception at the Philadelphia Club. Arthur had seen the notice too and prayed that the Walkers hadn't seen it.

"That was not nice of him, Sam." Solange was hurt, and disappointed for Sam, but Sam seemed surprisingly understanding.

"It's Marjorie's fault, not his."

"Quand meme..." Still ... it only confirmed what she had previously said. Arthur had no guts, and Sam suspected that Marjorie was going to seriously hamper their friendship.

Time did not prove him wrong, and he and Arthur met for lunch, sometimes with Solange, but their meetings did not include Arthur's wife, who had announced, now that she had his ring firmly on her left hand, that she wanted to go to law school, and did not intend to have any children until much later. Arthur was still reeling from the blow. He had hoped to have children as soon as possible, and she had nurtured that hope during their entire courtship.

But Sam and Solange had enough to fill their own lives, without worrying about Arthur and his bride. Solange was totally involved in Sam, night and day, and encouraging him constantly now to get serious about his acting. By the fall of 1947, she knew every play on Broadway, had wormed her way into rehearsals whenever possible, and read every trade paper and notice available, while Sam went to acting school every day and went to all the auditions she directed him to. It was a joint effort which bore fruit, sooner than they expected.

His big break came just after Christmas. He got a leading role in an off-Broadway play, and got extraordinarily good reviews that won him the respect of the critics. The play closed in four and a half months, but the experience had been invaluable. And that summer he did summer stock at Stockbridge, Ma.s.sachusetts, and while they were there, he decided to look up his sister. It was embarra.s.sing to realize that in the three years since he'd been home from the war, he had never tried to find her, and Solange scolded him for his lack of family devotion. Until she met Eileen and Jack Jones, and then she understood a little better why he had preferred to ignore her. He tracked her down from the old neighborhood and found her married to an ex-Marine, who greeted them with a constant flood of lewd jokes. Eileen said very little and she was probably more than a little drunk as they sat in her living room on an ugly street, in an ugly suburb of Boston. Her hair was still bleached blond, with dark roots, and her dress was so tight she might as well have worn nothing, which would obviously have pleased her husband. It was difficult to believe that she and Sam were even remotely related and it was a relief when Sam and Solange finally left their home, and Sam took a deep breath of fresh air and looked at his wife with a rueful grin mixed with disappointment.

"Well, darling, that's my sister."

"I don't understand ... what happened to her?" It still amazed Solange, who had grown more beautiful as she grew older, and dressed beautifully in spite of their limited funds. She looked like an actress herself, or a very successful model.

"She was always like that," Sam explained. "We never got along." He sighed. "To be honest with you, I never liked her."

"It's too bad." It was a relief to get away from them. And they both knew she was no loss in their lives. But the loss of more frequent contact with Arthur was one they both regretted. He came up to see Sam in summer stock once that summer, and was greatly impressed by his performance. And of course he made all the appropriate apologies for Marjorie, who felt terrible not to be able to join them, but she had supposedly gone to visit her parents at their summer home near Philadelphia. She was entering Columbia Law School in the fall, and was anxious to get a vacation before beginning the school year. And of course Solange and Sam didn't question him any further.

But in September, Arthur and Marjorie became a great deal less important. Sam got an offer for his first big part and Solange was so excited, she went out and bought a magnum of champagne which they drank in total abandon together. It was for the leading role in Wilderness Wilderness, and promised to be one of the most important plays on Broadway. It was a fabulous part for Sam, and both of them were hysterical with excitement. Arthur handled the contracts, Sam told P. J. Clarke's he wouldn't be coming back that fall, and they went into rehearsal almost immediately. The play was handsomely backed, and produced by one of Broadway's most successful producers. Sam Walker's career was launched, and he was going to be in good company that winter. Rex Harrison was going to be appearing in Anne of the Thousand Days Anne of the Thousand Days at the Schubert, with Joyce Redman. Henry Fonda and David Wayne were already in at the Schubert, with Joyce Redman. Henry Fonda and David Wayne were already in Mister Roberts Mister Roberts at the Alvin, and Anne Jackson was opening on October 6 in Tennessee Williams's at the Alvin, and Anne Jackson was opening on October 6 in Tennessee Williams's Summer and Smoke Summer and Smoke at the Music Box Theater. This was going to be a year they would always remember. at the Music Box Theater. This was going to be a year they would always remember.

Arthur took them both to lunch at "21" to celebrate. He explained that Marjorie was already busy with law school and couldn't join them, and Solange had an announcement of her own. She had already told Sam the night before, and he was flying high. Suddenly, they had everything they wanted. He and Solange were going to have a baby, it was due in April, and by then Sam would have settled into the play. Everything was just perfect, and Arthur looked at them wistfully over lunch. He was only thirty-two years old, but lately he seemed much older. He had wanted children too, but by the time Marjorie finished law school she'd be thirty-three years old and anxious to start on her career. Realistically, he knew he would never have a child now, and for some reason it made Solange and Sam's baby seem even more important.

"I envy you both." Not only the baby, but everything they had, the love that was so obvious, the excitement over Sam's career. Everything seemed to be beginning for them. Sam was twenty-six years old, and Solange was twenty-three. It seemed light years from the day they had first seen her, after the liberation of Paris. She was so elegant and sleek, she was even more beautiful now, and she seemed so constantly full of life and excitement.

And the excitement didn't dim that fall, as Sam rehea.r.s.ed the play night and day, and honed it to perfection. He came home exhausted at night, but never too exhausted to make love to Solange, or tell her about the cast, or the changes in the play. His leading lady was Barbara George, a major star of Broadway, and she was teaching him a great deal, all of which he told Solange with fire in his eyes and the laughter that made her love him.

They opened on December 9, the day after Rex Harrison in Anderson's play, and Sam's reviews were even better than those he'd had before. It was difficult to believe ... more than that ... incredible. ... He had made it!

Chapter 4.

The baby was born while they were still riding on the high of his enormous success on Broadway. Solange timed it perfectly, she went into labor after the curtain came down on Sat.u.r.day night, and the baby was born at ten o'clock the next morning at Doctors Hospital on East End Avenue. It was a natural birth, and they had a little girl, she was nestled in her mother's arms, with her father's dark hair and her mother's green eyes the first time that Sam saw her. He was overwhelmed by how pretty she was, and how beautiful Solange looked, tired but proud, as though she knew an important secret now, and had worked hard to learn it.

Arthur was their first visitor the next day, and his eyes grew damp as he looked through the window at the baby. They had named her Hilary, and Solange loved the name even though it was difficult for her to say it. She had never mastered the American h h, and she called her "Ilary," and whispered to her in French when they brought the baby to her to nurse her. They had asked Arthur to be her G.o.dfather, and he was deeply touched, but instead of Marjorie, Sam had asked his leading lady, Barbara George, to be the baby's G.o.dmother.

The christening was at St. Patrick's Cathedral with full pomp and circ.u.mstance. The baby wore a beautiful lace gown that her G.o.dmother had bought her at Bergdorf Goodman. And Solange was wearing a new mink coat and a diamond ring that Sam had bought her for having the baby. Their circ.u.mstances had greatly improved since his role in Wilderness Wilderness, and they moved to a larger apartment on Lexington Avenue, which wasn't luxurious, but it was a great deal nicer than the one they'd had under the Third Avenue El. The baby had come home to her new room, overlooking a little back garden, and Sam and Solange had a cozy room of their own, and a s.p.a.cious living room to entertain their friends. There seemed to be a constant flow of people in their apartment now, new friends, actors mostly, and people in Sam's play. Solange didn't mind having them around, on the contrary, she liked it.

The play ran for a full year, and closed after Christmas of 1949. Sam had many offers within a month, and when he finally chose one he liked he barely had time to catch his breath with Solange and Hilary before he went to rehearsals. Hilary was nine months old by then, and crawling everywhere. She turned up at his feet in his bathroom, when he was shaving, and under the breakfast table in the morning as he drank his coffee, with a constant chorus of "Da Da Da"s which delighted him. He wanted to have another child soon, hopefully a boy, but Solange wanted to wait. She was content with little Hilary and wanted to give her her full attention. She was a devoted mother, and she seemed even more loving with Sam now since the baby had been born. It was as though it had increased her supply of love for him tenfold.

And motherhood certainly hadn't harmed her looks. She was an incredibly beautiful girl, even more so now, and the press had begun to talk about her increasingly as Sam Walker's fabulous-looking wife. She had been interviewed more than once, but she always directed the attention back to Sam, and talked about what an important actor he was. And the critics agreed with her more than ever after the opening of his new play. It ran for two years, and when it finally closed, Sam decided to take some time off, and Solange almost immediately got pregnant. And nine months later, another daughter, redheaded this time, like her mother was, born on the opening night of Sam's new play. Solange had to rush to the hospital with Arthur just after the curtain went up. She felt terrible not to see Sam's opening night, but she barely made it to the hospital, squeezing Arthur's hand, as he begged the driver to go faster. Alexandra was born ten minutes after they arrived, on a gurney just outside the delivery room, as the baby gave a l.u.s.ty cry, and Solange lay back with a soft moan spent with the effort. Arthur came to see her as soon as she was put in a room, and he teased her about their going back in time for the final curtain with the baby. Solange loved the idea and wished she could actually do it. Instead, she made him promise to bring Sam back with him afterward, and Arthur left promising to see her the next day.

Sam didn't get to the hospital till the next morning. He explained that he'd been tied up with endless cast parties, and he pretended not to see the hurt look in her eyes. She had waited for him all night and he hadn't even called her. He brought her a spectacular emerald bracelet, but still, she had silent questions about where he had been, and she was desperately hurt that he hadn't come to see her. He was so much less attentive these days, because the play was a demanding one, he said, and she knew this part was the most difficult of all, but still ... to her, their baby was more important. But all he could talk about was his leading lady. He seemed obsessed with her. And it was Arthur who took Solange and Alexandra home from the hospital while Sam was at rehearsal. He seemed to be out constantly and she didn't say anything to Sam when he came home late at night, but she always noticed. She particularly noticed the heady scent of another woman's perfume, and although she didn't say it to him, she knew that lately their marriage was different. She felt a void in her own life as a result, an emptiness that was a constant pain, and only Arthur seemed to understand it. He was the only one she could talk to. He had his own problems as well. He still wanted children, and Marjorie wouldn't hear of it. And for his own part, Arthur thought Sam was a d.a.m.n fool, but he never said so. He only did his best to bolster Solange's spirits during their frequent lunches. It wasn't fair to hurt a woman who was so much in love with her husband. And he often found himself wishing that he had won over Sam, years before, but it was too late now. Solange was married to Sam, and she adored him.

"And you, Arthur, what about you, are you happy? No, of course not," she answered for him and he didn't disagree. How could one be happy, with a woman like Marjorie? She was a selfish, ambitious iceberg. "You should force her to have babies if you want them." She looked serious and he laughed. It was impossible to force Marjorie to do anything she didn't want to do. Impossible for him anyway. He wasn't that kind of person.

"You can't force a woman to have a baby." He smiled ruefully. "You'd only have an unhappy mother and eventually an unhappy child. Not like yours." They were perfect little cherubs, her children Hilary and Alexandra, and he adored them. Hilary was still as dark as Sam, with big green eyes, and Alexandra had bright red hair and big blue eyes. He smiled at Solange then, and saw the sadness in her eyes. She knew what Sam was up to, just as everyone else in New York did, she had heard the rumors, and there were constant items about him in the papers.

"He's a d.a.m.n fool. He's thirty-one years old and he's got the world by the tail ... and a wife most men would give their right arm for."

"What would I do with a right arm?" She smiled at him philosophically, looking very Gallic. "I want his heart, not his arm ... or all that expensive jewelry. I always know when something is wrong, he comes home with boxes full of diamonds."

"I know." Arthur frowned. He still advised Sam on his business affairs, and for some time now he had been urging Sam to save money. But Sam was still playing, and enjoying the initial impact of his success. He was buying and buying and buying ... toys for the girls ... furs and jewels for his wife ... clothes for himself ... and expensive presents for the women he got involved with. There had been several Arthur knew about, and he disapproved of them all, and he always hoped that Solange knew nothing about it. But he sensed that this time was different. This was the first time he'd had the feeling she was really unhappy.

"I don't know what to do, Arthur. I don't know if I should make a scene, tell him I know what's going on, or sit back quietly and wait for it to be over. Because it will be over soon. It always is with Sam ... and then he comes home to me." She smiled a smile that would have brought Arthur to his knees, if he'd been standing, and if it had been meant for him, but it wasn't.

"You're a very sensible woman, Solange. Most Americans aren't. Most women in this country go crazy if they think their husband is having an affair. They hire detectives, sue for divorce, take him for everything he's worth ..." She was amazing.

But she only smiled at him again, that wise little smile that said she was a thousand years old, even if she only looked twenty. "I don't want 'things,' Arthur. I only want my husband." It was obvious that she adored him. And Arthur envied his friend, though not for the first time. He had always wondered what would have happened if he had pursued Solange, if he had spoken to her that day on the rue d'Arcole ... what if? ... it was something he would foolishly ask himself for a lifetime. And it didn't matter now. Sam was the lucky one. Luckier than he knew. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"I suppose he'll quiet down again." Solange sighed and finished her wine. "With each leading lady now we have a little problem, and then eventually he gets tired of them. It's hard for him, he becomes so involved in the play ... the theater is a hard life for him. It's so extremely demanding." She looked as though she genuinely believed what she said, but Arthur shook his head.

"It's not that demanding. He's spoiled. Spoiled by success, by the women he meets ... and by you, Solange. You treat him like a G.o.d for heaven's sake."

"He is ... to me ... He means everything to me." Her huge eyes reached out to Arthur as her words cut him to the quick.

"Then sit tight. He'll come home again. He's just playing, Solange. As long as you understand that, perhaps it isn't so important."

She nodded. It was good advice. And she was always prepared to sit it out. She would rather have died than lose him.

The affair went on for six months finally, and then ended brutally, with the attempted suicide of his leading lady. After which she left the play, for reasons of "ill health," and Sam's life returned to normal. It was callous of him in some ways, but Solange was relieved to see it. For now, the threat was over. It was 1954 by then, and he stayed with the play for another year and as usual returned to his wife and children. It was the longest run he had ever had in any play, and they were both sad when it was over. He took her and the girls to Europe after that for a summer in Saint-Tropez. It was something he had always talked about. He had been there during the war, though only for a day, and he had always wanted to go back there.

They sent Arthur a postcard from Saint-Tropez and another from Cannes, and then they went on a little pilgrimage to Paris, and Solange showed the children where she had lived as a child. It was emotional for her going back. It was nine years since she had left, and there were painful memories for her there, but happy ones too. Hilary was only five years old, but Solange hoped she would enjoy the trip, and Alexandra was still only a baby. They had brought along a nurse to help them with the children. It was a far cry from the way Solange had left France, with her steamship ticket in her pocket and barely enough money to eat. She had left owning three dresses and two pairs of shoes, and the hat on her head, and an old worn-out coat that had been her mother's. And now here she was with trunks of clothes. They had arrived traveling first cla.s.s on the Liberte Liberte, and they stayed at the Ritz in Paris. Sam took her to Givenchy and Chanel and Dior to buy her clothes, and to Cartier where he insisted on buying her a new diamond bracelet.

"But I don't need it, Sam!" she protested laughingly as he forced it on her arm. He was as loving as he had always been, and he had been spoiling her as though she were a new mistress. He had gotten some expensive habits in recent years, and sometimes it frightened Solange. Like Arthur, she wanted him to start saving money for their children.

"Every girl needs a diamond bracelet, Solange."

"But I have three!" She pulled her arm away with a grin and shook her head. "Non, cheri! Je ne le veux pas! I want you to save our money." He looked momentarily annoyed as he glanced at her. I want you to save our money." He looked momentarily annoyed as he glanced at her.

"You sound just like Arthur."

"Well, he's right. We have to start thinking of the children."