| Subject: Chapter 318 - Part 2 (16 and above) |
Author:
KatherineG.
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Date Posted: Monday, December 03, 07:09:52am
In reply to:
KatherineG.
's message, "Chapter 307 - Part 1 (16 and above)" on Monday, October 22, 07:10:11am
She had snuck away from her own admirers, was happy for the opportunity to simply enjoy such a get together. Although it wasn't as though she never saw any of these people socially, this gathering still seemed special. After all, her own son had organized it--and proud mothers never really change.
She had two other children to be proud of now, as well, even if one of them wasn't here; it wasn't a surprise for Sophie, who was the exact opposite of her two-year-older brother, tending to jet around the world as much as humanly possible. One day, she would write to tell them that she was working with the Peace Corps in Africa; the next, she would phone to inform them that she was doing an intensive study of Japanese in Tokyo. Still, since the former of these brief sojourns had brought her face-to-face with her namesake, who had been working in a leper colony there--allowing Michael to get back in touch with the woman who had saved his life--they could never quite fault her for her wanderlust for long.
This wasn't the only reason for the couple's understanding, however. Such absolute forgiveness would have applied to her husband and Sophie, anyway--Michael apparently getting the little blonde version of his wife that he had long hoped for in the girl. But Sophie was a whirlwind--always had been, always would be. They never had any idea when she might be home again.
They didn't grudge their daughter this freedom, of course, only worried for her occasionally. Still, Nikita supposed they didn't really need to. Ackerman had long ago trained her to defend herself. It would take a *very* stupid man to try to best her for long.
This was probably the one good thing the ex-airman had done for the couple since he had come to town--getting Michael's tacit help to get into stunts. Now a stunt coordinator, the three of them never saw each other, unless they happened to be on the same film set. But filming these days tended to be a fairly rare event for either of the Samuelles.
It wasn't as though they were entirely unknown to the present generation, though. Even if they had been lucky enough not to need to take part in any of the disaster films which seemed to becoming so popular lately--not that they hadn't been asked--many of the young adults here recognized them simply from their couple of episode stint on the Adam West Batman series a few years ago. Still others had seen them in another guest appearance or two--although she still thought that each of them being remembered as a murderer on different episodes of *Columbo*, interestingly written though the roles had been, was probably a dubious sort of honor. But actual films for actors of their age group were pretty thin on the ground.
It wasn't as though Nikita and her husband were young anymore--the glamorous photos on the walls a long-ago memory. Still, they had both managed, she thought, to grow old gracefully--probably because they never tried to fight back. His hair had gone entirely white by the early '60s; her own had followed into a silver gray sometime later in that same decade. They did little to hide either wrinkles or sags, simply presented themselves to the world as they were. And, strangely, the world seemed to love them for it--so they were much better off than many of their contemporaries.
There were pictures all around her now, reminding her of the past, of so many different movies. Her own and Michael's dated well into the '50s. Still, their careers at Premier had dried up sometime around the moment that they had gone to Washington to protest against the same McCarthy hearings which had so wanted to destroy their friends and all those like them--and they had gotten damn lucky that they hadn't both been deported, as well.
There were many others who couldn't say the same thing--even great stars like Charlie Chaplin among them. And, for Nikita, it had been the beginning of her radicalization--or so they now called it. Between protests against segregation and pushing for women's rights, she had seemingly started a whole new career. When she had also written a very candid book to discuss her own early days in Hollywood, a new path for her had been sealed. Only the seedier details of Mr. Jones's part in her existence and the hints they knew of the-still-unaccounted-for Formitz's various activities had been left out, in the interests of her children's safety; she hadn't wanted to mention the latter only to discover where he was. Oh, and she had also borne one more child--who was currently standing around giggling with her favorite long-time playmate.
This sight always warmed her heart, as well as telling her that other newcomers had arrived, ones she was very fond of; her head tilted, searching through the sea of people for the right combination. Soon, she found them--the couple, and their frequent companions, all mobbed by admirers. But it was only one of them whom the fans were really paying attention to.
This fact didn't surprise Nikita, the sight of Susan Sash still a crowd pleaser. Even now in her early 50s, she was a stunner--bringing back days of youthful longing in a darkened theater to the older men and memories of happily-wiled-away afternoon reruns to the younger women. Some of them were even surprised that she was here, many forgetting that the woman who had become a major star for MGM in the later '40s had begun her time at the almost-forgotten Premier. But she was so kind to them, turning no one away--even if her elder brother still stood nearby, looking ready to take care of anyone who seemed ready to do her even a second of harm.
The siblings were still attention-getters, then, both so attractive, even Peter getting a look or two from the crowds which surrounded them--the pair each here with their partners. Although his was currently in her 80s, Angie still held his hand--or did, until her eye caught Rene's. Then, she was off across the theater to hug him, their old friendship never waning--even long after their studio days. That left just Peter, Susan, and the star's husband--but it was the inclusion of this last man in all of their lives which Nikita was still so very happy for.
She was thinking this fact over, as a shy group of admirers finally made their way over to talk; she managed to put them at their ease instinctively, even as she remembered back to the other man's arrival. She had nearly thought that her husband was having a stroke of some kind when he had answered the door, his body so still that it had scared her. When he had spoken the man's name a moment later, it was as though he were seeing a ghost. But, once she had heard it, she had realized that this was very nearly the case.
Henry stood with his wife now, seeming both proud and unobtrusive, few of Susan's admirers understanding just how amazing he was. After having saved his crew's life in the plane, he had managed to survive the ensuing crash--but only barely, the scars from his burns still, mostly, strategically covered. But that, apparently, hadn't been the worst. There had also been nearly five years in a Nazi POW camp, Henry not their favorite prisoner--especially after the "Great Samuelle" had escaped their clutches. Whatever had happened to him there, he had failed to tell Michael--although he suspected that both Susan and Peter knew. In fact, he was the only suitor whom the star's brother had allowed near her without a fight--or not much of one, anyway. He seemed to recognize in him another man of value.
This had always been the truth, even if work since the accident had been a little difficult for Sikes to get. Although Michael had helped him in what ways he could--or was allowed to--the truth was that Sikes was mostly just Susan's husband. But she was so happy to have him near her that no one ever thought of complaining.
It was partly this thought which made Nikita's gaze roam away from her new fans, who were wondering why she had never received an Oscar--a comment which she was too polite to laugh at--toward her youngest child. Now only 14 years old--an "Oops!" baby, as Michael had called her lovingly--Hettie was talking animatedly to the son of her namesake. Although Sikes had balked at the suggestion--"calling any girl 'Henrietta' is a crime," were his exact words--she had been born at nearly the same time as Susan's son, Pete. Their affection for each other--like Addy and Terrene's--had been immediate. And, even if Michael had once laughed that all of their children's relationships were a bit "incestuous," his wife had pointed out that "so are their names." They had all learned to accept it and move on.
She said goodbye to her newest admirers and accepted a few more, her mind still on other things. She supposed that the only ones among their offspring who hadn't taken up with each other yet were Sophie with Carl and Annie's son, Nick. The older couple was still with their employers all these years later, even if they had long ago moved to a specially-built cottage on the corner of the property; they seemed too happy there--and were too good at their jobs--to even suggest that they might want to live a different sort of life. Her thoughts returned, then, to the children. Of course, Sophie and Nick were 10 years apart--Sophie the older by far--making such a match less likely. Still, there were times when Nikita wondered whether some of her middle child's wandering weren't due to Nick's inability to express his fondness for her; her thoughts turned. Then again, the boy was due to become an exchange student in England soon--and Sophie had lately given some sort of murmurings about taking up residence in London; Nikita nearly laughed but managed a polite smile, instead. Perhaps there were yet more of these ridiculous, "incestuous" pairings still in the making.
She managed to bring her focus somewhat back to her fans but couldn't help the continuing flood of memories. As if the affairs of her friends' many children weren't enough to follow, her own children had also had to cope with other issues. Among these was the knowledge of their, much older, half-brother, Adam. But, like the modern Hollywood kids they were, there was very little which managed to ruffle them for long.
True, such a fact had been a bit more difficult for the two older children--Adam returning to their lives entirely unexpectedly. It had been during the war, when she--like so many other actresses--had been working at the Hollywood Canteen. It had been a true shock to turn around for another dance, only to discover that it was with her husband's son. But they had managed to keep the ties up relatively well since then.
It had been to Michael's relief that Adam had seen very little of the war--entering it only in its latter days. The passage of time, as well, had made the bonds between father and son a little easier--Adam finally, if a little grudgingly, acknowledging the man's place in his life. Both he and the rest of Elena's family had come for a visit or two, one of the more recent extended-family variety happening back when Hettie had been about six; that alone, along with their growing family, had brought on several renovations to the smaller home she and her husband had started out life in--but that was beside the point, their youngest child's insight still amazing her. Unlike both her older siblings, who had taken the eventual news of their father's youthful affair with some shock, the little blonde girl had looked up to Adam immediately and smiled, "Are you my brother?" When he had finally answered a surprised, "Yes," she had stunned him even more by jumping immediately into his arms. She had yet to stop reminding him to come visit, whenever he was away for too long.
More fans came and went, as Nikita smiled over these changes, happy with the way all these children mingled. True, Adam was now in his 50s, as was she--how Hettie had recognized him as anything but an old man amazing to her--had a wife, children, and grandchildren of his own. But he--and all of Elena's cheery brood--were still close. And the fact that all of these bonds were somehow kept up made her quite contented now.
There were more family ties than these which had been renewed, however. About three years after the war, Michael had--with her prompting--finally decided to get back in touch with his parents and siblings. To his surprise, they had all seemed happy to see him, receiving him with celebrations worthy of a prodigal son--and not solely because he was able to provide them with some much-needed financial help. His favorite sister, Monique, was still especially close. Even if they were slightly bewildered by the frantic pace of Hollywood life, she and her children were occasional visitors to this day.
Such thoughts continued to make her smile. In fact, she was only broken from this pleasant spell by catching the movement of someone out of the corner of her eye. When she turned her head slightly, she found herself nearly hissing with the discovery. To her amazement, Madeline had turned up. Although she was keeping well in the background, she was definitely here; her eye caught Kate's, before she motioned her toward the new arrival subtly. She wouldn't have wanted the woman or her child to have been caught unprepared.
In truth, Terrene barely knew her grandmother--which was definitely for the best. In fact, the days of the woman's influence were so long past that they should probably all have learned to forgive and forget. It had only been another two years or so after Michael's return before Wolfe had finally grown tired of the woman's games--dumping her at last. While she had eventually wandered over to a director at Columbia whom she had apparently been involved with long before, had faded from all of their sights when Sands had mysteriously taken her back, it was a little hard to forgive. After all, the woman had tried to aid in killing both Nikita and her firstborn. Even if her influence hadn't been eternal, hers wasn't a face any of them truly wanted to see.
There had been little in the way of communication with the woman in years, therefore--which was why Kate seemed to have softened toward her mother somewhat, going over to speak to her. In many ways, too, Madeline was a shell of the woman she had once been, had absolutely no power left. It was a pathetic sight, given her constant lust for such a trait; Nikita looked away. But she supposed that the woman had just as much right to be here as any of the rest of them.
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