Page 13 of A Map to Paradise

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Melanie stood nearly frozen in place as Alex helped the little boy in the back seat climb out of the vehicle. He turned to smile at her.

Wearing faded blue jeans and a button-down shirt the color of apricots, Alex looked the same and yet completely different. Older, certainly, but it wasn’t just the passing of time that had altered her brother. Alex had been changed by years of experiences that Melanie had no knowledge of.

And was one of those becoming a father?

A second later, Alex, while holding the boy’s hand, was taking Melanie into a one-armed embrace, the tin of cookies unyielding between them.

“Nellie! Look at you. You look great!”

He smelled of lime, Lava bath soap, and salt. His light brown hair, just touching his collar and longer than she had ever seen him wear it, was scented with sea air, as if he’d just come up the hill from a lazy afternoon on the beach. He felt warm and solid against her.

Melanie finally found her voice. “I can’t believe it’s you.”

He released Melanie, stepped back, and laughed. “We never thought we’d get here!” He looked down at the little boy. “Did we, Nick? Longest drive ever!”

“He’s…Nick is—”

“He’s my kid, your nephew, and he couldn’t wait to meet you. It’s all he talked about on the drive down from San Francisco. I showed him your picture in Photoplay when your movie came out. He insisted on cutting it out and putting it in his pocket. Carried it with him for days.”

Melanie glanced down at the child. His hair—wavy and long for a little boy’s—was the same honey brown as Alex’s, and he had the same nose and sprinkling of freckles that Alex did. His eyes, though, belonged to someone else: a woman Melanie did not know. Not even by a photograph.

The boy was looking up at her with a shy grin.

“You had a baby?” Melanie had so many questions. So many.

Alex let out another laugh. “And here I thought I’d lost all the baby weight.”

“No, I don’t mean that. I’m just…I’m so…”

“I know. I’m just kidding with you. I was surprised, too, when I found out I was going to be a dad. But we’ve had a good time of it, haven’t we, Nicky?”

The boy said nothing, but his shy grin expanded and he leaned into Alex’s leg.

“Okay if we come in?” Alex asked casually. “I really need to take a piss. Nicky does, too.”

“Of course. Absolutely.”

“And hey. You don’t mind if we crash here, do you?”

Melanie felt numb with equal parts both shock and elation. It took her a second to answer. “Not at all. I’d love to have you. For as long as you want.”

“Terrific. Let me just get our stuff.” He turned to the boy. “Stay here with Auntie Mel while I get our things, Champ.”

Alex peeled his hand away from the little boy and walked swiftly back to the car. He reached into the back seat for a suitcase, a canvas grocery bag full of what looked like toys and stuffed animals, and a battered black guitar case plastered with stickers.

No violin.

A momentary ripple of disappointment pulsed through Melanie at the notion that the surprise visit was going to be short. The suitcase wasn’t that big, little more than an overnight bag. Alex hadn’t brought much with him—unless what he had in his arms now was all he had? No matter if it was. Whatever Alex or his son lacked, Melanie would find a way to get it for them. She looked down at the little boy.

“Hi, Nicky. It’s very nice to meet you.”

He smiled at her then, big and wide, and held up his right hand with all the fingers spread out. “I’m five!”

Alex was laughing as he returned to them. “Tuck in that thumb, Champ. You’re not five until February.”

Melanie reached for the toy bag to lighten Alex’s load. “I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t even tell you how much.” The isolation from earlier that day was already falling off like a tossed shawl. Tears of joy were pooling in her eyes. Yes, she had a million questions. But Alex was here. Alex.

She blinked the tears away as she led them inside the house and apologized for there being only one guest room.

“I can take the couch in the living room if you want to sleep in my room and we can give Nicky the guest bed,” she said.

Alex waved the offer away. “You don’t have to do that. Nicky and I can sleep in the same room. We have lots of times.”

The suitcase, guitar, and bag of toys were brought into the pristine guest room, and Melanie turned on a bedside table lamp and noticed the stickers on the guitar case were from places around the world: London, Edinburgh, Amsterdam, Paris, Frankfurt, Lisbon, Rome, Florence, Madrid. So many places.

“Pretty nice digs, Nellie,” Alex said, breaking into her thoughts as he surveyed the room. “Is the person who owns this place rich or something?”

Melanie didn’t know much at all about the Gilberts other than they were in Cairo. Maybe Mr. Gilbert did have money. She didn’t care if he did. There was more important information she was craving at that moment.

“Alex, where have you been? Where’s BJ? And how did you find me?”

The questions would have kept coming if Alex hadn’t held up a hand.

“How about if we have a bite to eat and I’ll tell you everything. We’re starving, so I hope you’ve got food in the house. We’d be happy with peanut butter toast. Or just the toast. Anything, really.”

“Sure. Of course.”

“Okay. Just show us where the bathroom is and we’ll be right out.”

Melanie led them to the guest bathroom down the hall and then went into the kitchen. She pulled out the beef-and-noodle casserole that Eva had put together earlier that day for her supper and put it in the oven, and then opened a bottle of red wine. She was setting the wine bottle and two long-stemmed glasses on the kitchen table when Nicky and Alex, carrying a cigar box brimming with plastic soldiers, joined her. They took seats at the table and Alex dumped the soldiers on the floor by their feet so Nicky could play while they sipped the burgundy and waited for the casserole to heat up.

“California is amazing,” Alex said as he leaned back in his chair and kicked off his sandals. “Seventy-five degrees the week before Christmas! This is like paradise. I actually saw someone watering their lawn here.”

“Yes, it’s often warm here in December,” Melanie said absently. She did not want to talk about the weather. “There is so much I want to know, Alex. I don’t even know where to have you begin.”

“Well, first off, you won’t believe how I found out you were here,” Alex began. “Get a load of this. I was in New York last week—no, more like the week before that—and I was already wondering how I was going to find out where you were living. I’d called the house where I knew you were before and—was it a Norine who answered?”

“Nadine.”

“Yeah, so she answered and said you’d moved out and she didn’t know where you were. Not back to Omaha, she knew that. Anyway, so I’m in New York because an actress friend of mine has a part in a play on Broadway. So she gets me a ticket and I go, and guess who’s starring in the same show she’s in? That Carson Edwards fella you made the movie with.”

Melanie had been about to take a sip from her wineglass but she paused with the rim an inch from her lips. “You saw Carson?”

“What? No. I didn’t see him. But I did see my friend after the show and we went out for drinks and she told me she’s stayed over at his place a couple times and—”

Melanie set the glass back down on the table, a little too hard. A blip of crimson sloshed out of it and landed on the table. “She’s stayed over at his place a couple times?”

“I guess so. Anyway, this Edwards guy told my friend you’re hiding out in Malibu. I figured this beach town can’t be that big so I decided I’d come out and drive around ’til I found you. It’s bigger than I thought. But we found you!”

Melanie pressed a paper napkin to the splash of red wine and concentrated on repeating the words It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter in her head. She didn’t love Carson; he didn’t love her.

She still wanted to kill him.

“You drove here all the way from New York?” Melanie said evenly, hiding her annoyance well, she thought.

“Oh, no. Nicky and I flew to San Francisco. I’ve got a buddy there and he loaned me his car. We drove down. Pretty drive but, damn, it’s a long one.”

“So you just decided”—Melanie didn’t know how to finish the sentence—“that you wanted to see me? After all this time?” She couldn’t hide from her voice the sting of the lost years.

“Hey. I’m really sorry about all that, Nellie. It’s not like it’s what I wanted.”

“What exactly did you want?” It had been too many years since Alex had ditched college, run off with BJ, and practically dropped off the face of the earth, and Melanie still didn’t really know why.

“What I wanted,” Alex replied matter-of-factly, but gently, too, “was to live my own life and not someone else’s.”

“I don’t understand. Whose life were you living?”

“I was living the life of that kid from Omaha who could play the violin. The kid from Omaha who was supposed to graduate with a music degree on a full-ride scholarship. The kid from Omaha who was supposed to wear a black tux the rest of his life and sit first chair at the New York Philharmonic. That’s who.”

“But did you have to leave the way you did?” Melanie knew her own wounds were showing through. “Did you have to leave me the way you did?”

Alex looked down at his wineglass and ran a finger gently around its pedestal. “I’m sorry about that, too. I was young and frustrated and if I were to do it now I would do things differently, but I can’t go back and change what I did or how I did it. I knew Mom and Dad were going to flip. What they wanted for me wasn’t what I wanted for myself. I didn’t want to live with their huge expectations anymore and I definitely didn’t want to live with their huge disappointment.”

“They were heartbroken, Alex. They love you and they’ve missed you very much. We all have.”

Alex looked up at her. “This isn’t about love, Melanie. This is about liberation. You can love a bird but still keep it in a cage when all it wants to do is fly free. Birds are born to fly. Even the ones you love.”

“But for seven years? You couldn’t come back to us? To me? Not even to visit?”

“Look, I knew what I had done. I knew how much I had hurt people. How much I hurt you. I didn’t want to face it. It was easier to pretend I hadn’t hurt anybody and just stay away.”

So you were a coward—that’s basically what you’re saying? Melanie wanted to say, but she also didn’t want Alex to respond by grabbing his things and disappearing again. It seemed a distinct possibility.

“And your little boy?” Melanie said softly instead, motioning with her head to Nicky, who was oblivious to their conversation and setting up an elaborate pyramid of soldiers standing shoulder on shoulder. “You couldn’t have told us about him?”

“Don’t you get it? The longer I stayed away, the harder it was to share that. The way you’re looking at me right now is one of the reasons why I didn’t.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“Is he BJ’s, too?” Melanie asked.

“He is. But I’m not. I haven’t been for a while.”

Melanie waited in silence for her brother to continue.

“BJ walked out on us when Nicky was just a year old,” Alex said easily. “And by that time I was fine with that. The person Nicky thinks of as his mother is named Regina. I met her when I was working at a nightclub in Chicago. We got married when Nicky was two.”

“And where is Regina?”

Alex took a sip from his glass and set it down. “I have some ideas.”

“You have some ideas?” Melanie echoed.

“Yes, I do.” Alex’s voice was confident. “But enough about me, Nellie. I want to hear all about you! You were in a big movie with a Hollywood heartthrob! You were terrific, by the way. I saw it. I knew you’d make it to the big time.”

Melanie shook her head and laughed lightly. “That movie is not exactly what I’m known for right now.”

“Oh, that.” Alex laughed and flicked a hand like he was swatting away a fly. “You can’t possibly be a communist.”

It was such an absurd statement that Melanie laughed, too. “I’m not even sure what one is. I wasn’t paying attention when Dad went on and on about how awful the Soviets are.”

Alex laughed harder. “Well, do you know any? I hear there’s a whole bunch in Hollywood.”

“Apparently there used to be. I don’t know where they all are now. Converted or in hiding or out of the country, I guess. And no, I don’t know any. Not that I’m aware of anyway. It’s not like the subject came up in conversation at the Trocadero or Chasen’s, at least not when I went.”

“So, you’re just going to hide out here at the beach while you wait for the hysteria to end? Don’t you think it might take a while?”

“It wouldn’t if I agreed to name names. But I’m not going to do that.”

Alex reached for his wineglass. “Names? What names?”

“If I want the studios to take my name off the blacklist, I have to testify before this ridiculous congressional committee and name every person I ever saw Carson with.”

“That guy is a commie? Also hard to believe. He seems kind of too full of himself if you ask me. Hard to be a socialist if all you care about is yourself.”

“I don’t know what he is. He dated a Party member ages ago. Went to some of the meetings with her. He told me he was just trying to impress her. But because he went to those meetings, these government men think Carson’s a communist, and if he is, then his friends and acquaintances must be communists, too, or communist sympathizers. That’s what they suspect I am.”

“Why would they think that? Just because you were in one movie with the guy?”

“Because Carson and I were dating. We were seen together. Photographed together. A lot.”

Alex thought for a moment. “Okay, but don’t you think his closest friends could be sympathizers? Seems to me they could be if he was once one.”

“I don’t know who his close friends are! That’s the point. It’s not right to pretend I know something when I don’t know anything. And turning on fellow Hollywood people just because I once saw them drink a martini with Carson or they once shared a table with us at the Brown Derby or stopped by his dressing room to say hello when I was there? I’m not going to do it.”

“Ah. I get it now.” Alex nodded as if in understanding. “That’s why I was able to find out which house was yours when I was down at the beach, trying to find somebody who knew where you lived. A bunch of people didn’t know who I was talking about when I asked about you. But there was somebody sitting at a booth in a little restaurant down the highway a bit who did. I’m not sure who it was. I think he’s been in the movies. His face was familiar but I just couldn’t place him. But he knew you were here and he told me he and others in the Colony—that’s what he called it—respect you for how you’re handling this, especially since he’s convinced you’re innocent. He told me where you were living.”

Melanie was shocked into silence for a few seconds. “Wait. What?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’ What part didn’t you hear?”

“I heard it all. You don’t know who he was?”

“I don’t. I was never into movies like you were, Mel. Sorry.”

Melanie shook her head in disbelief. “I didn’t think anyone in the Colony knew—or cared—I was here.”

“Well, I could tell he’s impressed with you. And he knows you’re trying to stay out of the limelight. He only told me where you lived because I said I was your brother.”

The timer for the oven beeped. As Melanie rose to dish up their plates she felt an odd sense of relief. She was so sure she’d been forgotten by everyone in Hollywood except those who’d put her out of a job. The thought that someone down at the Colony was in her court was wildly affirming. It was the first bit of good news about her prospects for acting again that she’d received in a long while.

It was turning out to be a good day after all.

Alex grabbed two thick books off bookshelves from the study beyond the living room and set them on a chair to boost Nicky’s height, and they ate the savory dish that Eva had made. Afterward, as they sat on the sofa with a fire going and third glasses of wine, Alex filled Melanie in on where life had taken him since he’d dropped out of college.

He and BJ, who’d aspired to be a news photographer, had run off to Paris together when she inherited a tidy sum from her grandmother. Alex, ready to shed every scrap of his previous scripted life, sold his violin, bought the musical instrument that he’d always wanted to play instead—a guitar—and played on street corners for francs and compliments. Before long, he started getting invitations to entertain at dinner parties. It was 1949 and Paris was still in the process of being reborn, like all of Europe was after the hell of war. When he and BJ tired of Paris, they hitched a ride to Amsterdam, and then West Germany, and then Spain and Italy and everywhere in between. When the money ran out, they returned to the U.S., first to Baltimore, where BJ was from, and then to Richmond because Alex had friends there, getting odd jobs so they could earn money to go back to Europe. But then BJ got pregnant. He wanted the baby; she wasn’t sure she did. He told her she’d probably feel differently when she actually became a mother, but he was wrong. After Nicky was born, she felt only resentment. A child wasn’t going to let her pursue her career. A professional photographer needed to be able to travel, to live out of a suitcase, to be able to drop everything and go to where the action was. A photographer was not a good candidate for motherhood.

When BJ left, they were in Chicago. Alex rented a room in a friend’s house for himself and Nicky, who’d just turned one. He met Regina, as assistant accountant who worked in the Palmolive Building while he was headlining a musical act at a nightclub. They married the day after Nicky’s second birthday, and then left Chicago for Buffalo when Nicky was three. And now Nicky was four—almost five—and Regina was probably in Mexico. Most likely.

Perhaps Texas.

Nevada was a distinct possibility.

“Has she left you?” Melanie asked. “Is that why you’re here in California? Or did you leave her? Is that why you don’t know where she is?”

“It’s complicated. But I’m not leaving her. Not exactly. I don’t think she’s left me. But…like I said, it’s complicated.”

Clearly Alex was unsure how much to share with her, and Melanie didn’t want to press. Perhaps in a few days he would feel better about telling her what was going on between him and his wife.

By this time, it was well after nine. Nicky had crawled up into Melanie’s lap and had fallen asleep as she held him.

“I knew he’d adore you,” Alex said, smiling at his son nestled in Melanie’s arms. “He was so funny with that photo of you, showing his auntie Nellie to everyone he met.”

“So you’ve taught him to call me Nellie, too. When you know I don’t like it.”

Alex grinned. “You were Nellie to me for such a long time. Even when I could finally say your name, I didn’t want to. I liked Nellie. And what was it you called me? Biscuit?”

Melanie grinned, too. “Something like that.”

Melanie lowered her head to rest it against her nephew’s. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d held a child like that. Maybe the last time she babysat. When was that? A decade ago in Omaha?

A lifetime ago, it now seemed.

“When are you going to tell Mom and Dad they have a grandson?” Melanie murmured.

Alex sighed and stroked Nicky’s socked right foot. “I don’t know. They’ll be mad I didn’t tell them. They’ll be mad I wasn’t married to his mother. They’ll be mad they didn’t get to hold him when he was a baby.”

“And then they will get over it,” Melanie said. “Actually, I don’t think they’ll be mad, Alex. They’ll be sad they missed his first four years but they will get over that, too. In time.”

“I know but they just…everything has to be their way. You know? And only their way.”

Melanie shrugged. “I guess.”

“You guess ? Mel, you know it’s true. Were they happy you came to California? Were they happy you gave up college to become an actress? Did they send you flowers and champagne when you got that movie role after, what, years of auditions and bit parts that paid you next to nothing? Are they happy now about everyone here thinking you’re a commie? Are they happy you’re here instead of there?”

The barb went a little deep. Alex didn’t seem to notice.

“No. They didn’t want me to come here,” Melanie said.

“See? You do know it’s true.”

Melanie had always thought her brother disappeared because he didn’t care about what his parents thought or wanted. But now she understood so clearly that not only did he care about what his parents thought, he cared too much. And damn it all, she did, too. “It matters to you what Mom and Dad think. That’s why you’ve stayed away. It’s why I don’t like going back there, either. We both care. Maybe more than we should.”

Alex didn’t say anything.

A moment later Nicky stirred and Alex abruptly stood up.

“I should get him to bed.” His tone was impossible to interpret.

“I’m sorry I said that,” Melanie said.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No. I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have said it.” Though she knew what she’d said was true.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I should get to bed, too. Long day.”

“We can talk more tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

“Or, better yet, how about we go into Santa Monica and get a little Christmas tree and some decorations? Wouldn’t that be fun? Maybe get a few presents to wrap up for Nicky? I’d love for you two to stay for the holidays. Or longer.”

“That sounds nice. Nicky would love that.”

Alex picked up his sleeping son and Melanie followed him into the guest room to turn down the bedspread.

“If you need anything during the night, I’m just down the hall,” Melanie said as she turned to leave the room.

But Alex reached for her, pulled her into a hug, and squeezed tight. “Thank you. It’s really good to be here. I’m glad I came.”

Melanie returned the embrace. “I am too. So glad. Sleep tight.”

She closed the guest room door behind her and went back into the living room. The fire was dying. It wasn’t even ten o’clock, early for her, but she turned out the lights, made sure the doors were locked, and went into her own room. She put on a nightgown, got into bed, and picked up the novel she was reading that Irving had checked out for her at the Los Angeles library. Peyton Place , a book about, she’d gathered so far, all the turmoil that lies beneath the surface in a picture-perfect town, and three women, each with a secret to hide. Irving’s wife had loved it.

Melanie read until midnight and then turned out the light.

In the morning she awoke with a start to the sound of a child’s voice.

A little boy.

She snapped open her eyes and then remembered. She had houseguests: her long-lost brother and her nephew.

Melanie rose, used the master bath toilet, washed her hands, and splashed water on her face. She ran a quick comb through her hair, grabbed a robe, and then headed out to the main room. Every toy from the canvas bag was out and strewn about. She heard Nicky’s voice in the next room and made for the kitchen.

Her nephew was seated at the table eating scrambled eggs. He smiled at her.

Melanie turned to say good morning to her brother but it wasn’t Alex who was also in the room. It was Eva.

Of course. Eva. Today was a Wednesday and it was after nine in the morning. Of course she’d be there.

“I see you’ve met my nephew,” Melanie said. “Thanks for making him breakfast.”

“It was no trouble. He was hungry.” Eva looked pensive. “I think…I think he had been up for a while.”

“Oh. My brother is still asleep?” Melanie headed for the percolator and a coffee cup.

“I don’t think anyone else is here.”

Melanie turned back around. “Beg your pardon?”

Eva looked from Melanie to the boy to Melanie again. She picked up a folded piece of paper on the kitchen table and handed it to her.

Melanie unfolded the note and read:

Nellie, I’m really sorry to do this to you, but there’s something I need to do. It involves finding Regina and it won’t exactly be safe or enjoyable for the kid to tag along. I will be back for Nicky. I promise. Just not sure when. You’re the only person I trust to care for him while I am gone. It’s obvious he’s already smitten with you, just as I knew he would be. You’ll be fine with him, I know it. I’ll call when I am on my way back, scout’s honor.

Wish me luck.

Love, Biscuit

p.s. Nicky hates onions…

Melanie looked up from the note. Eva was staring at her. Nicky was happily eating his eggs.

Tossing the note to the table, Melanie ran to the front door, threw it open, and dashed out to the driveway.

Alex’s car was gone.