All the Stars in the Heavens (26 page)

Wellman sat up in his chair. Gable smirked. Oakie and Reggie looked at one another, gave a signal, and left the table. Actors never want to be part of a fight between the crew and the director.

“What is it, Chet?” Gable asked.

“I'd like to requisition a car for Seattle for the weekend.”

“So would I,” Wellman joked.

“I'm serious. We have a two-day turnaround, and I'd like to spend mine in church.”

“Doing what?” Gable wanted to know.

“Getting married.”

“Chet . . .” Wellman sighed. “That can wait until we wrap.”

“It can't, sir. I promised my fiancée.”

“You never break a promise to a woman?” Wellman shuffled the cards.

“Not yet, sir. And I hope I never do.”

“You're a prince among men, Chet,” Gable said. “But there isn't a man at this table who will give you the keys to a car to make the rest of us look bad.”

“Here's all I know. You may be able to get off this mountain, but I need you back here on Monday morning.” Wellman extended his hand to Chet, who shook it.

“Yes, sir.”

“There's a food supply truck going to Seattle in the morning. You can hitch a ride on it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Luca ran up the stairs to give Alda the news.

“Now that's love,” Gable observed. “He'd walk down that mountain to marry his girl if he had to. There's no blizzard, no river, no mountain that will keep him from marrying the woman he loves.”

“Until they do.” Wellman cut the cards, and Gable picked them up and shuffled them.

Loretta climbed into the empty food truck after Alda. They sat on the jump seat, tucking their suitcases under it. Behind them was the cold steel expanse of the storage area in the back of the truck. The metal shelves that lined the side walls were empty, as were the bins strapped underneath them, held in place by elastic bands.

“This is hardly a fairy-tale coach,” Loretta remarked.

“It will get us there.”

“It does have wheels and an engine. I would've loved to throw you a wedding by the pool at Sunset House.”

“Thank you, but this is fine.”

“You say that now, but someday you'll want to look back on this day and have a pretty picture of it.”

“Can you take a few at the church?”

“I've packed my camera, and you'll have your memories.”

Luca hopped into the passenger seat in the cab of the truck.

“Where's the driver?”

“He'll be here shortly.”

“We're bringing food back, right?” Loretta asked.

“I have the requisition right here.” Luca patted his pocket.

“They're out of everything in the kitchen,” Loretta said. “All she's got left in there is a jar of pickles and a pound of sugar.”

The driver's-side door opened, and into the leather seat hopped Clark Gable.

“You're the driver?” Loretta was surprised and immediately pleased.

“I'm the only guy on this mountain who has driven a six-wheeler in snow.” He turned to face her.

“How did it get up the mountain?” Loretta teased.

“That's a mystery. My mission is to get these two crazy kids to Seattle and get them hitched. Miss Young, are you with me on this?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then change seats with Chet. He's just the man to keep Alda warm till we get there. It's my policy to never get in the way of true love.”

Loretta climbed up to the cab as Luca climbed over her to the back.

“Who's going to keep me warm?” she wanted to know.

“I have a couple of ideas.” Gable grinned.

“I'll bet you do.”

He took off his fur coat and tucked it around Loretta. As he leaned over her, she saw that he was wearing an elegant navy blue pinstripe suit with a gray-and-blue-striped tie. The collar on his white shirt was starched.

“You brought your Sunday best up the mountain?”

“You never know when you'll need a suit.” Gable tucked the fur coat around Loretta's ankles.

“Hey. Keep those hands on the wheel and your eyes on the road, buster.”

There was no one like Gable when it came time for a lark. The destination did not have to be exotic; it could be a road trip a few miles from home that would bring out his sense of fun and adventure. He was a man who didn't like to sit still. Loretta marveled at his ability to
have fun, no matter what the circumstances. He'd throw a card game together on a whim, take Buck and a posse of pals to hike the woods, or lead the crew in camp songs after dinner. In his own way, he created families wherever he went. She smiled to herself. She could see the headline in
Photoplay
: “Gable . . . He-Man or Family Man?”

Gable's eyes sparkled as he took sharp turns down the icy mountain road, holding the vehicle steady with his massive hands, relishing the opportunity to master in his own small way the terrain that had everyone else in Washington State licked. If someone else had been driving, she would have been nervous, but it was Gable, and she believed, because it had already been proven, that no harm would come to her as long as she was with him.

As Gable drove down the mountain, she took the chance to study him. She understood, sitting close to him, why he drove women wild. He looked like a giant on the silver screen, and he lost none of that stature in life. He was over six feet tall, trim, broad-shouldered, and muscular. His profile was strong and manly, with crinkles around his eyes, deep dimples around his mouth, and a strong, square jaw. His unruly black hair made her crazy; she was always pushing it into place and ruffling it when he teased her. She even loved his ears, knowing that those ears were acts of defiance in and of themselves. They'd almost cost him his career in movies.

Darryl F. Zanuck, who stood to make a big profit on
The Call of the Wild
, had rejected Gable a few years earlier, insisting that no one with ears that large could ever be a movie star. As it goes in show business, first impressions are forgiven and snap judgments forgotten when it came time to tally the grosses. Gable was a star, and no one anywhere on Planet Earth where there was a movie house and patrons to fill it would dispute it.

Loretta liked that he was the biggest star in the world. She thirsted for the challenge to work with the best, and appreciated the wattage his starlight threw on her as his costar. They treated each other as equals, which almost never happened. As a woman who was wholly independent, Loretta didn't need Gable's money; as a fellow actor, she did not need the glow of his fame because she had her own. Together, they were combustible at the box office.

In real life, Loretta was looking for what every young woman her age craved in a romantic relationship: to feel safe and loved. Beneath the charm, Loretta saw the vulnerability of her costar. A man who liked as many women as Gable was rumored to must be afraid of the love of one good woman. Loretta believed Gable could not be tamed, not by her or anyone else. Gable was looking for the perfect woman—as long as he did not have to be the perfect man, and the lady didn't expect him to stick around.

Whenever Loretta found herself imagining something more with Gable, she pictured the hotel maid and the look on his face as he watched her ascend the stairs, and it cured her of the wild crush like a pill for a fever. But in this truck, for as long as it took to get them to Seattle, she had him to herself with a common goal, to get Luca and Alda married. The mission served her romantic nature and filled her longing heart with joy, and it was also the fulfillment of a sacrament: Alda and Luca would be married by a priest in church. For a Catholic, there was no higher honor.

Father Glenn Borman, the pastor of the Immaculate Conception Church in Seattle, greeted Alda and Luca at the side entrance. Luca was nervous, and Alda was quiet, so Loretta attempted small talk as she and Clark followed them inside.

The priest looked at Gable, and an expression of wonderment crossed his face,

“Are you Clark Gable?”

“I am, sir. And I can go one better: this is Miss Loretta Young.”

“She is indeed.” The priest shook her hand.

“It's good to meet you, Father. Alda is my secretary, and Luca is a highly respected scene painter in motion pictures.”

“We're making a picture on Mount Baker,” Gable added.

“This is a divine church,” Alda said, her eyes filled with tears.

“Don't cry,” Luca whispered.

“You're not alone, Miss Ducci. Sometimes I come and sit in the church and I'm overwhelmed by the frescoes. They were painted by a group of Jesuit priests. We're proud of them.”

“They look like the ones in my church in Italy,” Alda said. “I'm from Padua. We have frescoes by the great Renaissance artists, including Tiepolo.”

“That's high praise. Thank you.”

The priest took Alda and Luca back to the sacristy to prepare them for the sacrament of marriage. Gable took a seat in the front pew, while Loretta knelt before the altar and made the sign of the cross. She stood up and went to the grotto of Lourdes, a replica of the shrine in France where a schoolgirl named Bernadette had seen a vision of the Blessed Mother.

Loretta hoped to visit Lourdes someday. The story of the girl and the blind devotion she had to Mary the Mother of God was something she intimately understood. Loretta's faith was based upon the love of her family, upon their close relationships, and upon the ultimate respect that they had for Gladys. The rosary was said often in the Youngs' home. Perhaps the girls were more at ease appealing to the Blessed Mother, as their fathers on earth didn't do much to look after them.

Loretta knelt down and looked up at the statue of the Blessed Lady nestled in carved stone. There were votive candle holders lit on the cart below it, their blaze so bright that she could make out the beads on the blue marble rosary draped on the statue.

Gable kneeled next to her. “What's this all about, Gretchen?”

“This is a replica of a grotto in France where people who are suffering and dying go for healing, for miracles.”

“It's haunting.” Gable took in the replica of the cave, the jagged gray stone, the deep crevices lit only by candles.

“A girl in the town would go to this place and pray, and then the Blessed Mother appeared to her. Pretty soon the word spread, and everyone who had an ailment went to the grotto. A spring burst forth nearby in the ground, and they say that the water from that spring will heal anything.”

“Why does it have to be so scary-looking?” Gable whispered.

“Maybe the church is trying to make a point.” Loretta smiled.

“You believe it?”

She nodded.

“Why do you believe it?”

“If you don't believe in miracles, you might as well not believe in God.”

Alda came out of the sacristy and motioned to Loretta and Clark. They joined the priest, Alda, and Luca in the sacristy.

“Both of you are baptized in the Roman Catholic rite?”

“Yes, Father,” Gable said.

“Yes, Father,” Loretta echoed.

Loretta snapped a few photos of Alda and Luca at the altar. Alda had pinned a small bunch of violets to her caramel wool suit. She had made a hat, and wore gloves to match. Luca wore a charcoal gray suit with a lavender tie.

As Father led Alda and Luca through the vows of the sacrament of marriage, Loretta kept her eyes fixed on the priest. Gable observed Loretta, who listened so intently as each vow was spoken that it was as if Loretta were the one getting married.

Gable felt like a failure as he listened to the priest. He'd had two opportunities thus far in his life to live up to his vows, but he'd failed to do so. He wondered if this stop in Immaculate Conception was a sign, an indicator of a fresh start for him. Alda and Luca had a new life together, and Gable held out hope for his own new beginning. He wanted the chance to try again, to be a good husband, to live with the integrity he admired in others. But to have that fresh start, Gable had some old business to clean up, and it would take time.