Kaleidoscope Part 3

"Fine." He pointed to another bracelet in the case, indicating for the salesgirl to take it out. "We'll take two of them."

"Ah, non, Sam! Quand meme ooyons! Quand meme ooyons!" Since returning to Paris, she had slipped back into French again, and it pleased her to hear Hilary speaking to people easily. She spoke only French with the two girls, and Hilary was completely bilingual. Alexandra didn't speak yet at all, but when she would, she would speak French too. In some ways, Solange had not totally renounced her homeland. And it felt good to be back again. There were places and memories that still warmed her heart and as they walked into the Place Vendome at night, with the lights and the statue of Napoleon, she felt her heart soar in a way that it hadn't since she'd left Paris.

They had dinner at Maxim's that night, and at La Tour d'Argent the following day, and the day they left Paris, Sam gave her both diamond bracelets, and a new ring. Solange tried to discourage him, but she knew it was hopeless, and as they sailed back to the States, she thought about what a lovely trip it had been. It had felt good to go back, and good to go home again as they returned. New York was home now. She had lived there for nine years and it meant a great deal to her. They had an apartment on Sutton Place now, with a spectacular view of the river, and lovely rooms for the girls. It was a duplex that allowed them to entertain lavishly, and Marilyn Monroe had an apartment nearby. She was a good friend of Sam's, and always spent time with him when she was in New York, but Solange knew they had never had an affair. And she liked Marilyn very much, she was an amusing girl, and she kept telling Solange she should be in movies, which only made Solange laugh.

"One star in the family is enough!" she always said, with her still noticeable French accent.

Sam was offered a part in a new play that fall and he turned it down. He didn't think it was challenging enough for him. And he surprised everyone by agreeing to make a movie. They went to Hollywood for the film, and Solange found it a completely amazing place, filled with remarkable people who couldn't tell the difference between fantasy and real life. They lived in a "bungalow" at the Beverly Hills Hotel, with another smaller one for the children and the nurse, and for a year it was a totally unreal existence. Solange thought the movie was very good, but Sam was not pleased and he was relieved to get back to New York and start rehearsals for a new play in January of 1956. He became totally involved in his craft again, and within two months he was also involved with his leading lady. And this time, Solange was seriously annoyed. She had lunch with Arthur regularly, and more often than she liked, she found herself crying on his shoulder. His marriage was in form only. Marjorie was always occupied elsewhere, and his mother had died while they were in California the year before. He seemed terribly alone suddenly, just as alone as Solange felt, despite Sam's denials and constant gifts, and he was always especially nice to his daughters when he felt guilty.

"Why? Why do you do this to me?" She waved the gossip column at him one morning at breakfast.

"You're imagining things again, Solange. You do this every time I start work on a new play."

"Ah ..." She threw the paper in the sink, "it's because you sleep with your leading lady every every time you start work on a new play. Do you have to work on the leading lady too? Couldn't one of the other actors do that? Your understudy perhaps. Couldn't that be one of his duties?" time you start work on a new play. Do you have to work on the leading lady too? Couldn't one of the other actors do that? Your understudy perhaps. Couldn't that be one of his duties?"

Sam laughed at her and pulled her close to him, pulling her down on his lap and nuzzling the mane of resplendent red hair that was more beautiful than ever. "I love you, crazy one."

"Don't call me crazy. I only know you too well, Mr. Walker. You cannot fool me. Not at all!" She wagged a finger at him, but somehow she always forgave him. He drank too much, and when he did was sometimes hostile and threatening when he came home. It was impossible for her to stay angry at him. She loved him too much. Too much for her own good, Arthur said, and maybe he was right. But it was the only thing about Sam she would have changed. His other women. The rest she loved just as it was. That spring she got pregnant again, and the baby was born just after Christmas when Sam was in California. It was another little girl and they named her Megan. Once again Arthur took her to the hospital and it took Solange two days to track Sam down in California. She had heard the rumors again, and she knew what he was doing in Hollywood. And this time she was fed up and she told him so when he came back to New York, when the baby was three weeks old. She even threatened to divorce him, which was totally unlike her.

"You humiliate me to the entire world ... you make a fool out of me, and you expect me to sit here and take it. I want a divorce, Sam."

"You're out of your mind. You're imagining things. Who've you been talking to again? Arthur?" But he looked worried.

"Arthur has nothing to do with this. And all you have to do is read the newspapers. It's in every column from here to L.A., Sam. Every year, every month, every movie, every play, it's a new showgirl, a new leading lady, a new woman. You've done it for too long. You've done nothing but play, and you're so impressed with yourself that you think you owe it to yourself. Then fine, okay, but I owe myself something too. I owe myself a husband who loves me and is willing to be faithful too."

"And you?" He tried to turn the tables on her, even though he knew how desperately devoted she had been. "What about all your G.o.ddam lunches with Arthur?"

"I have no one else to talk to, Sam. At least he won't call the papers and tell them what I say." They both knew that everyone else would. She wasn't wrong. She was Sam Walker's wife after all. And he was a star now. "At least I can cry on his shoulder."

"While he cries in your soup. You're the most pathetic pair I've ever heard of. And remember what I told you, Solange. I will not give you a divorce. Period. Amen. So don't ask me again."

"I don't have to ask you." It was the first time she had openly threatened him.

"Oh no?" There was a thin trace of fear in his voice, carefully masked, but she knew it.

"All I have to do is have you followed. I could have divorced you fifty times by now."

He had slammed out of the house without saying another word, and he had left for California again the next day. It had delayed rehearsals of his play by a month, but they always forgave Sam Walker.

When he returned things were just as stormy with Solange. She knew whom he had taken to the West Coast and she was finally fed up with him. When he returned one night she was waiting for him. When she confronted him their fighting was so loud that it woke Hilary. Alexandra's room was farther down the hall, and Megan was only eight months old then. But Hilary was eight years old. And she remembered everything. The ambulances and the police ... the sirens ... and her mother being taken out in a sheet ... she remembered what they had said ... and her father crying as they led him away. He hadn't even seen her standing near the door, watching. And then she remembered the nurse calling Uncle Arthur.

He had come almost at once, his face gray. He couldn't believe what they had told him. There had to be some mistake ... had to be ... it wasn't possible. He knew they had been having problems for a while, but Sam adored her, just as she loved him. It was a love that had often gone well beyond reason, a love that forgave him everything, a love that had led him to follow her doggedly down the rue d'Arcole right from the beginning. It was a love that touched everyone who came near them ... a love that ... He just couldn't understand it as he sat in their apartment as the dawn came and the doorman brought the paper upstairs and knocked discreetly on their front door. But it was all there, as Arthur held out a trembling hand and took the paper. It was all there ... the end of a dream ... the end of a life ... Sam had killed her.

PART TWO.

Hilary

Chapter 5.

The door to the holding cell slammed hard behind Arthur as he waited to see him. Sam was being held at the 17th Precinct on East Fifty-first Street and it was after noon before they let Arthur in to see him. They had interrogated him until then, for hours and hours, although they had no need to. He had admitted everything. He had sobbed. He had stared gla.s.sy-eyed ... he had remembered every minute of those first hours in Paris. He didn't understand why he had done it ... he knew he'd been drunk ... she had frightened him by saying she was leaving. But still ... he couldn't understand why he'd done it except that he didn't want to lose her and she had said ... she had said ... With a look of despair he stared up at Arthur when they led him in. And Sam seemed almost not to see him.

"Sam ..." Arthur's voice was hoa.r.s.e. He had been crying all morning. And he reached out to touch Sam's arm, as though to bring him back from the edge of the abyss. Sam looked as though he wanted to die himself. He stood in the center of the room after they left him there and just stared at Arthur.

"I killed her, Arthur ... I killed her." He seemed almost not to see him ... only her face when he strangled her ... the red hair he loved so much ... why? ... why had he done it? ... why had she said all those terrible things to him? He looked blindly at his friend as the tears began to roll down his cheeks again.

"Sit down, Sam ... come on." He gently helped him into one of the room's two straight-backed chairs, facing each other over a narrow, battered table. "We have to talk." Sam seemed barely coherent, but they had to talk. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Sam only stared at him. It was all much too simple. "I killed her."

"I know that, Sam. But what happened before that? Did she provoke you?" He had to find him a good defense attorney, and before he did, he had to know what they were up against. Now Sam was not just his best friend, he was indirectly a client. "Did she strike you?"

Sam shook his head, his eyes distant and vague. "She said a lot of terrible things ... she was very angry."

Arthur suspected why, but he asked anyway. "Why was she angry?"

Sam stared at the floor, remembering Solange's fury. He had never seen her like that. He knew he had pushed her too far this time. And he was desperate not to lose her. But he had anyway ... the only woman he loved. ... He looked up at Arthur in despair. "She knew I was having an affair again ... it didn't mean anything ... it never did ..."

"Except to Solange, Sam." His voice was quiet, and he had to remind himself that it was Sam he was defending, not Solange now.

Sam looked at him strangely in answer, and he was silent for a long time.

"Did she threaten to divorce you?"

He nodded, and then he had to clear the air. He had to ask him. He had to know. It was, in a sense, why he had killed her. Except that he was also drunk and had lost control and the things she said were so terrible, and he was terrified that she meant it and he would lose her. "She said you and she were having an affair. Is that true?" His eyes pierced his friend's, and Arthur looked back at him with sorrow.

"What do you think?"

"I've never thought about it before. I know you were close to her ... you two used to go to lunch a lot ..."

"But did she ever hide it?" like all good lawyers, he knew the answer before he asked the question.

"No ... she always told me ... at least I think so ..."

"Don't you think she was just trying to get back at you by saying that, for all the pain you'd caused her, and how else could she?"

Now, in the clear light of day, he knew that. But the night before, in the heat of pa.s.sion Sam had believed her ... he had gone crazy ... and he had actually killed her. The thought of it made the panic rise in his throat like a hand reaching up from his guts to strangle him, and he knew he deserved it. He deserved to die for what he had done to Solange. He began to cry again and Arthur held his shoulders.

"What's going to happen to the girls now?" He suddenly looked up at Arthur with fresh panic.

Arthur had been thinking about it all morning. "I'm sure you have enough money to take care of them while all this is pending." And there was the nurse, and a maid in the apartment. They lived extremely well at the apartment on Sutton Place.

Sam looked bleak as he stared at his friend. "How much is all this going to cost me?" It had cost Solange her life, and now ... Arthur had to fight his own feelings again and again. How could he have done this to her? And yet, Sam was his friend, more than that, he was almost his brother. They had survived the war side by side, Sam had carried him across the mountains, and to the medics when he was wounded near Ca.s.sino. They had liberated Paris and Rome ... Paris ... and the rue d'Arcole where they had first seen her. It was all so tightly interwoven, and now it wasn't just a matter of Sam and Solange, there were their daughters to think of. Hilary, Alexandra, and Megan. But Arthur tried to force his thoughts back to answer Sam's question. He wanted to know how much his defense would cost him.

"It depends on who you hire to defend you. I want to think of who to recommend. But you should have the best. This is going to be a very big trial, and there will be a lot of sympathy for Solange. You've had a lot of press with your lady friends in recent years, Sam, and that is not going to help you."

But Sam was shaking his head with determination. "I don't want someone else. I want you to defend me." He looked up at Arthur and Arthur almost visibly shuddered.

"I can't do that." His voice was a croak in the room full of echoes.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm your friend. And I'm not a criminal attorney."

"I don't care. You're the best there is. I don't want anyone else. I want you." His eyes filled with tears, it was all so horrible, it was beyond belief, but it was happening, it was was real. He had made it real. He had made reality from a nightmare. real. He had made it real. He had made reality from a nightmare.

Arthur's face was suddenly covered by a thin film of perspiration. This was bad enough, but to defend him on top of it. He just couldn't. "I don't think I can do it, Sam. I don't have the experience in this field. It would be a tremendous disadvantage to you. You can't do this ..."... to either of us ... Oh G.o.d, please. He wanted to cry. But Sam was adamant as he looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"You have to. For me, for the girls ... for Solange ... please ..." For Solange? Christ, he had killed her. But the worst of it was that Arthur knew Solange would have wanted him to do anything Sam wanted. He knew better than anyone how desperately she loved him.

"We'll both have to think it over, but I am convinced it would be a terrible mistake. You need the best best, Sam, not a tax attorney you drafted into this out of some misguided allegiance. I can't can't do it! I just do it! I just can't can't!" It was the most emotional Sam had ever heard him, but he still wanted Arthur to defend him. "But more importantly right now, is there anyone you want me to call for the girls?"

Sam thought about it and shook his head. There was no one they were close to, except Arthur, and the thousands of acquaintances they had had in the theater. But Solange had had no close friends. She had been totally involved in Sam's life, his children and his career. She never had time for anyone else, nor any particular interest.

"Any family I should call?" He knew he should know that after the years they spent in Europe together, but suddenly he couldn't remember. He knew Sam's parents were dead, but he couldn't remember if there was anyone else, some remote relative he should call, but Sam only shook his head.

"No one who would be important to the girls. There's my sister in Boston, but for G.o.d's sake, don't call her."

"Why not?"

"I haven't seen her in years, not since before Hilary was even born. She's a real tramp. Just forget her."

But Arthur couldn't afford to forget anyone now. Maybe an aunt was just what the girls would be needing. "What's her name? Just in case. You never know in a situation like this ..."

"Eileen. Eileen Jones. She's married to an ex-Marine named Jack. And they live in Charlestown. But believe me, you'd hate them." Sam stood up, and walked across the holding cell to stare out the barred window.

"I'm not planning to invite them down for the weekend, for chrissake, but right now a relative or two might come in handy." He had three daughters, two of them practically babies, and he had no one in the world to take care of them except a nurse and a maid ... and Arthur ...

And then Sam turned to face Arthur again. "Can I see them?" His eyes filled with tears at the thought ... his little angels ... his babies ... how could he have done this to them? He had robbed them of their mother, a mother who would have a.s.sured them of a happy childhood and a perfect life, a mother who never failed them in any way, who was always there for them, who gave them every kiss, every hug, every bath, played every game, read every story, and whispered with them when she put them to bed at night, with giggles and tickles and cuddles, and now ... the very thought made him shudder. He wondered if he could even take care of them himself when he got out. But there was no point thinking about it. He would have to.

But Arthur was looking at him now. "Do you really want to see them here?"

"I guess not." Sam's voice was the merest whisper. "I just thought ... I wanted to try and explain ... to Hilary at least ..."

"You can do that later. Right now, we have to get you out of this."

"Do you think you can?" It was the first time Sam had asked him that, and Arthur didn't like the prospect.

"I think someone else would have a better chance of doing it for you than I would."

"I don't care. I already told you, Arthur. I only want you to defend me."

"I think it's going to be a tough fight ... for anyone ... to be honest with you, Sam." He hated to say the words, but he owed him the truth after all. "You'll have to plead insanity ... crime of pa.s.sion ... you've admitted everything. It's all pretty cut-and-dried, and in the past few years you've gotten yourself a h.e.l.l of a reputation." It was true, they both knew that, and Arthur had always wanted to tell him what a d.a.m.n fool he was, but for a different reason. He had hated him for hurting Solange, and so needlessly, but on the other hand, they were friends, and Sam's success had come so fast and hard that Arthur suspected it was difficult for him to deal with. He was only thirty-five now, and he had become a big star when he was only in his twenties. It was a lot to digest and a lot to live up to, and he had paid a price for it ... but so had she ... more than Sam ever knew. There was a lot about Solange he hadn't noticed, he was so wrapped up in himself and his career that in recent years he had become self-centered, and spoiled. Even his daughters seemed to know that. Alexandra had even said to Arthur recently, "We have to make a big fuss about Daddy when he's home, or he gets very angry. Our Daddy needs a lot of attention." It was true, and Solange had explained that to them, teaching them how to stay out of his way when he was tired, or having them bring him little treats, like the chocolates he loved, or a plate of fresh fruit, and something cool to drink, or sing a little song she had taught them just for him. The entire household had been trained to revolve around Daddy.

And now they had lost both Solange and Sam. Arthur thought about it all the way back to the office that afternoon, after he left Sam. And on his own, he decided to call their G.o.dparents and see if he could arouse any interest. With Sam in jail, and Solange gone, they had no one now except Arthur. But the G.o.dparents they had chosen had been chosen for their important names and pretty faces, well-known actors most of them, and none of them had any real interest in the children. They were much more interested in talking about the news with Arthur, why had Sam done it, had he gone crazy, had Solange done something to provoke him, what was going to happen now, when was the trial ... but absolutely nothing about the children, which left him right back where he started, as the only person they had to depend on, in Sam's absence. He was going to hang on to their aunt's name, just in case, but in the meantime, he was going to follow Sam's instructions and not call her.

The next thing he did was to check into Sam's bank accounts, so he could handle his affairs. And he was horrified at what he found there. The balance was infinitely less than he had expected. Sam spent everything he made, mainly on his life-style and his girlfriends. In fact, he had already borrowed ahead against future salary in his next play, and aside from the small amount of cash in his checking account, he was in debt up to his eyeb.a.l.l.s. There was barely enough to pay the maid's and nurse's salaries over the next few months, until the trial was over. It was a h.e.l.l of a spot to put the children in, and Arthur remembered Solange saying as much to him years before. She had always wanted Sam to think of the girls, and save some money. But instead he bought her diamond bracelets and fur coats, and G.o.d only knew what he spent on his other women. He was known to be a generous man, and he had never skimped on anything, once he could afford to. But now it left him with ten thousand dollars in the bank and ten times that in debts. It was amazing how little one knew about one's friends, and Arthur wished he had talked to him more sternly years before. He had never realized that Sam was irresponsible to this extent, and now it represented disaster for his children.

Arthur had tried to talk to Marjorie about it, bemoaning the children's fate, and hoping to stir her sympathy for them. But he was disappointed to find she only had harsh words for them, making comments about their undoubtedly being gypsies like their parents. She seemed to have no compa.s.sion whatsoever for them.

But in the next few days he barely saw his wife. He had his hands full with Sam and the girls, the press constantly badgering all of them, even the children, and he had to make the funeral arrangements for Solange. There was no one else to do it.

The funeral was set for three days after Sam had gone to jail. She lay in state for two days, and on the third day, they held the service. And it was amazing to Arthur how many people came, mostly out of respect for Sam, but there were a great many people who had known and liked her. "She was a lovely girl ..." he heard countless people say, "... absolutely beautiful ... didn't know how lucky he was ... should have been an actress too ... always wanted her to model for me ... wonderful with her kids ... h.e.l.l of a girl ... lucky man to have a wife like that ... she was French to her very soul ... incredible girl ... don't understand why he did it ... she was crazy about him ..." It went on and on, and Arthur sat in the front row, with the girls and their nurse, trying not to cry as they closed the lid of the coffin. Hilary sat very stiff next to him, and once she walked right up to it and stared down at Solange, and then she kissed her, and returned to her seat with a wooden look of grief, as though she were numb from the immensity of her pain, but she wouldn't let Arthur touch her. In fact, she wouldn't let anyone close to her. She only held tightly to Alexandra's hand, answering all her questions about why Mommy was sleeping in the box covered with white roses. Arthur had paid for all the flowers himself, he hadn't wanted to deplete their funds any further, even for their mother's funeral service.

Alexandra thought Solange looked just like Snow White after she ate the apple, and she kept asking Hilary when she was going to wake up ... and if Daddy was going to come and kiss her.

"No, she's going to go on sleeping like that, Axie." Her voice was very quiet as the organist played the Ave Maria in church.

"Why?"

"Because she is." She shushed her. "Now be quiet." She tightened her grip on her sister's hand, and her face went dead white as she watched her mother's coffin roll slowly past her. She stood silently, and then suddenly reached out and pulled two white roses from the heavy blanket of flowers that covered the casket, and handed one of them to Alexandra. Alexandra started to cry, and whispered that she wanted Mommy to wake up, and she couldn't breathe like that with the box closed. It was as though she knew her mother was dead, but none of them could face it. Even little Megan had begun to cry, as though she understood too, and the nurse had to take her outside where she could wail in the winter sunshine. It seemed incongruous to bury her on such a pretty day, but perhaps not ... everything about Solange had always been filled with light and flowers and sunshine, from her flaming red hair to the brilliant green eyes to the lithe body that was always in motion.

Arthur took the children back to the apartment in the limousine, and then went to the cemetery himself to see that everything was attended to. And then he went to see Sam at Rikers Island. He brought him one white rose from the casket, like the one Hilary had given Axie.

Arthur looked very tall and thin and pale, as he entered the holding cell in his dark suit with his homburg in his hand. He looked like the messenger of Death, and in a way he was, as Sam looked up at him and trembled.

"I thought you'd want this." He held out the white rose, and with a trembling hand, Sam took it.

"How are the girls?"

"They're doing very well. Hilary is keeping them all intact. It's as though she's taken on Solange's role, as their mother."

Sam dropped into a chair and put his head in his hands, still clutching the rose Arthur had brought him, but it had the smell of death, and sadness, and funerals. There was no joy left in his love for her, or his life, he felt as though everything were over. And in an important way it was. He lay in his cell day and night, and thought only of Solange. Even his daughters seemed remote now. He wondered how much they would hate him in later years, when they discovered, and fully understood, that he had murdered their mother. It would make any kind of relationship with them impossible. Everything was impossible now. And life was no longer worth living. He had already said as much to Arthur, who told him he had to think of the girls now. He owed them everything. But what did he have to give? His debts? His guilt? His bad habits? His overwhelming remorse for killing the one woman he loved ... he was certain they would never understand that.

"I've been thinking about the girls, Sam." Arthur cleared his throat, praying that Sam wouldn't fight him. "I'd like to sell all of Solange's jewelry so that they have a little money to fall back on, and you're going to need quite a lot for attorney's fees, particularly if I can convince you to get another attorney. In my case, all we have to do is satisfy the firm for my time. I don't want anything out of it personally or directly." The last thing he wanted was to make money for defending Sam. But he still didn't want to do it at all. Sam had killed the only woman he had ever loved and admired, in fact almost worshiped, and no matter how close they were, or how great the bond, it was going to be almost impossible for Arthur to defend him. He had tried to explain that to him, but Sam didn't want to hear it.

"What do you think about selling the jewelry?" He looked down at Sam, who turned to him with a deathly pale face covered with beard stubble.

"Fine. If it'll help the girls, get rid of it. Do you want the keys to the safe deposit box at the bank?"

"I already found them. Solange kept everything in remarkably good order."

Sam only nodded, unable to answer him. It was hardly surprising that she had. She was a very remarkable woman. But they both knew that. And it didn't matter now ... she was gone ... in the box Arthur had watched them lower into the ground only hours before. The thought of it was still with him, and like the aura of sorrow around him, Sam could feel it.

"I'll take care of it this week." He wanted as much money as possible on hand, for the girls, and Sam's defense fund.

The trial had been set for the following June, which was still months away, and Arthur wanted to be sure that there was no problem for the girls. And they were going to need money too for extensive psychiatric evaluations of Sam, Arthur was going to plead temporary insanity, which was the only possible defense, given the circ.u.mstances and his confession.

It was an endless period of time. The nurse they had was not particularly pleasant to them, Solange had never selected her nurses with great care because she was around all the time anyway, and it was she who took care of the girls whenever possible, so the charm and skill of the nurse was never very important. Christmas itself was a ghastly day. With both parents gone, the children already seemed like little orphans.