“What is it?”
“Right now, while I’m making this movie and getting it out to the public, I can’t have word spread that I’ve taken in Joe’s abandoned baby. This is Hollywood. The rules change daily. That could be enough to have me blackballed for still associating with my brother.” His own words sickened him. “I know that sounds selfish, but it’s the truth. I can’t argue for it or against it, it’s just what it is right now.”
“So you want me to pretend like Grace is my baby?”
He didn’t want to face her, but did. “I want you to go on taking care of her, not saying anything, one way or the other.” He wasn’t proud of this, but he had to think of his future, of what this movie meant, perhaps even more now than ever. He had Grace to think about. Her future.
Helen couldn’t move, not even breathe. Her entire life had been full of not saying a word one way or the other. And she’d been pretending Grace was her baby. Right down to her heart. Right from the beginning.
Then her heart began to pound, her mind spun, but it wasn’t all because of her, or Grace. It was because of him. She could relate to his predicament. She didn’t know anything about making a movie, had only seen a couple in her entire life, but she could relate to being put in a situation without any control or any way out. He wasn’t seeking a way out, just some time to get things in order, so he could take care of Grace.
“You and Grace can stay at my apartment,” he said. “I’ll pay for everything. Milk, food, clothes.”
Could she do it? Take care of Grace for another eight weeks? That part would be easy. No different from what she had already been doing. Others had helped her during her desperation, despite the dangers that may have put them in. Especially Mr. and Mrs. Amery. They’d let her live above their grocery store, brought in a doctor for Vera.
Maybe this was her chance. A chance to see if she had gotten far enough away. The thrill that stirred in her stomach surprised her, as did how fast she made up her mind. “That won’t be necessary. Julia said Grace and I could stay with her.”
The look of surprise on his face made her lips tremble. They wanted to smile. She wanted to smile.
A twinkle sparked in his eyes and a dimple formed in one of his cheeks as a grin formed. “You mean you’ll help me?”
“Yes. I’ll stay. Take care of Grace for eight weeks.”
He grimaced slightly. “Maybe nine? Depending on how filming goes?”
Her smile broke free, but she was able to contain the rest of the emotions fluttering in her stomach. “We’ll see. I can’t promise how long Julia will need a dishwasher.”
He frowned. “A dishwasher?”
“Yes, she offered room and board in exchange for washing dishes.” Julia had said the deal still stood, and Helen sincerely hoped it would last for at least eight weeks.
“How will you be able to take care of Grace while washing dishes?”
“I’ll manage just fine.” Now that her mind was made up, she was anxious to get settled. An excited anxious, which hadn’t happened in some time. Securing her hold on Grace, Helen stood. “This little girl will need to eat soon.”
“I found the can opener,” he said while walking toward his desk. “But wasn’t sure if I should open the milk or not.”
“I’ll feed her at Julia’s and get her settled in for the night.”
He glanced at his watch. “The diner is already closed for the night. I’ll walk you over to the house.” He picked up the bag and nodded toward the door.
The diner was only across the street, yet she didn’t protest his offer.
He shut off the office light and walked beside her down the long hallway. “We start filming first thing in the morning, but I’ll make time to get to the bank.”
Money was a necessity, she’d understood that for years. It was that it was earned fairly that she was concerned about. “I won’t accept money from you for taking care of Grace, but I will accept a case of canned milk for her, and more when that’s gone. That’s all we’ll need.”
He looked at her quizzically, but didn’t respond as they crossed the front room of the studio. At the door, he opened it, waited for her to step outside and then shut off the light. He also locked the door after closing it.
She didn’t know what time it was, but darkness had settled, the street quiet. So quiet it echoed in her ears.
A moment later, her steps faltered as a shiver rippled her spine. “What was that?” she asked, referring to a strange sound. Like a yip and then faint howl from a dog.
“Haven’t you ever heard a coyote before?”
She tightened her hold on Grace. “No. Never.” The sound came again, and it was unnerving.
“Don’t they have coyotes in Illinois?”
“Possibly, but not in Chicago.”
“You lived there your entire life?”
“Yes.”
“And never left the city?”
“No.”
He took her elbow and stepped into the street. “Well, Los Angeles isn’t as big as Chicago, yet. It’s growing though, every day more land surrounding the city is bought up and developed. That growth is invading on the coyotes’ and other critters’ native hunting grounds.”
Another shiver rippled through her. “Native hunting grounds?”
“Yes.”
That sounded so primitive, and made her wary. “You’re just saying that to scare me.”
He frowned. “Why would I do that? I have no reason to try and scare you. This area has always had coyotes. It was cropland and orchards at one time. Julia still has a large plot of land behind her place that grows produce. The crops bring in the rabbits and the rabbits bring in the coyotes.”
That made sense, but didn’t make her feel any more comfortable. Neither did the darkness. She’d never been overly brave when it came to that. Junior had always called her a scaredy-cat because she’d refused to go anywhere in the dark alone. She’d overcome some of that, but those yipping sounds were enough to make a grown man quiver.
Not Jack though. He didn’t appear nervous at all.
He was tall, much taller than her, and broader. His white shirt showed the thickness of his arm muscles, and that did provide her a small sense of comfort. “Do they attack people?”
“Coyotes?”
“Yes.”
“No, they are more afraid of you than you are of them.”
She doubted a coyote, or any other animal could ever feel the same amount of fear toward her as she did toward them. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
They stepped up on the curb in front of the diner and then walked along the front of the building. There were no streetlights here, no light except for the moon, which wasn’t nearly as bright as she wished it could be. “How? How do you know that?”
“Because unlike humans,