Sins of Omission. Fern Michaels
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would the small statue feel like in his hands? he wondered. Solid, most likely. Would he keep it at home or in the office? An honor, one the Motion Picture Academy said he deserved for all his contributions to the industry throughout the years. If you counted the blood, sweat, and, yes, the tears he’d shed for the business, then he certainly deserved the award. But without his friends, would he be standing here now, waiting for the precious gold statue to be placed into his hand?
He peeked through the curtain at the cheering audience. There were people out there who thought he had it all—a beautiful wife, handsome children, the presidency of Fairmont Studios, loyal friends who’d die for him. Was that having it all? No, it wasn’t. Reuben realized then, in one split second, that, honor or not, he didn’t care about the award because the one person in the world he really cared about wasn’t there to share in his happiness. No, he didn’t have it all.
Exhaling, he tossed his cigarette away, watched it fall to the wood floor with a small spatter of sparks. Absently he crushed it out with his shiny black dress shoe. Any minute now they would call his name and he would walk out onto the stage—Reuben Tarz, president of Fairmont Studios. For one crazy moment he knew he would chuck it all, his mansion in Laurel Canyon, his title, the studio, even his family and friends, to be a winemaker in France. His eyes burned as he strode onto the stage the moment his name was called. For some reason he hadn’t prepared himself for the blinding lights. He knew his friends and family were out there in the audience, in the second row just a few yards from the podium where he was standing, but he couldn’t see them. Maybe that was good. He’d stare into the blinding light and say whatever came into his head. A minute and a half, ninety seconds of thanks to those sitting in the second row. She should be here, but she wasn’t. He had to pretend she was.
“And now for a special award for all his many valuable contributions to this industry. For a man whose list of accomplishments is so long and prestigious he made me promise not to bore you by listing them. Suffice it to say we all know what this man has done for all of us in Movieland…. Here, then, to accept the honorary Oscar for Special Contributions to the Industry…Reuben Tarz, president of Fairmont Studios!”
Alice Simpson, resplendent in a swirling silver dress, floated over to him, statue in hand. She kissed him lightly on both cheeks, then handed him the gold statue. Reuben watched as she undulated off stage in a cloud of winking silver.
Aware then that he was the sole focus of countless pairs of eyes, he cleared his throat and stared out into the audience he couldn’t see. The deep huskiness of his voice surprised him, and he had to clear his throat a second time. Ninety seconds. He began with a wry “This is quite an honor for a guy from Brooklyn….” The audience roared and cheered. When they settled down he continued. “I want to thank the members of the Motion Picture Academy for honoring me this evening. So many people…one in particular…gave me my…”
Max was sitting next to Daniel and Rajean; at least that’s what Daniel had told him earlier backstage. Jane was there, with one of her gentlemen friends, and then Bebe, Simon, and Dillon.
“…gave me the encouragement I needed to barge into this business and make it a better place for all of us. If I’ve succeeded”—he held the statue aloft—“and I think someone’s trying to tell me I might have in some way…I want to thank those dearest to my heart, for without them I might be a panhandler in Brooklyn instead of standing here tonight.” Obviously he couldn’t mention Max by name because of his underworld connections, but he had to thank him somehow. Arthur—that was Max’s middle name, thank God he’d remembered it…. “My friend Arthur and his…support gave me the confidence to leap ahead while he watched the road behind me; Daniel Bishop, my lifelong friend, who is more brother than friend, deserves more than just thanks; Jane Perkins, for being there when I needed a friend; and, of course, thanks to my wife, Bebe, for her support. Sol Rosen also deserves my thanks for giving me a chance to prove myself.” Say it now, Reuben, acknowledge Mickey and what she’s done for you. Say the words out loud for the world to hear. Your speech will be printed in all the morning papers, Mickey will see it sooner or later…. Say the words.
He placed the statue down on the podium but held it tightly before he went on. “There is one other person I have to thank. Without her help, her encouragement, and her love, I don’t know where I would be. She isn’t here tonight, in fact she’s half a world away.” He raised the golden statue again this time, high and proud. His eyes burned brightly with unshed tears. “This sign of my achievement should bear the engraved name of…”
Chapter One
Soissons, France
October 1918
Sleet pelted the tall windows of the hospital at Soissons, which sat upon a gentle rise of countryside about fifty kilometers from Paris. Reuben Tarz attempted to disguise his limp as he passed between the neat rows of cots, his watery gaze searching out number twenty-seven, his friend, Daniel. Reuben’s heart gave a sickening lurch when he saw a strange man in Daniel’s assigned bunk. Disoriented and fearful, he spun around, hardly recognizing the savagery of the sound that erupted from his throat. “Daniel.”
“Can’t get enough of this place, eh?” Daniel’s even, steady voice came from somewhere behind him.
Reuben whirled at the familiar sound, forcing his eyes to focus on the row of hospital beds beneath the gallery windows. “How did you know it was me?” he asked curiously. “Why did they move you over here?” He tried to keep the anxiousness out of his voice.
Daniel made a sound deep in his throat, almost as though he were laughing. “Because they’re supposed to take the bandages off my eyes tomorrow. The cast comes off my shoulder, too. I knew it was you because I heard you make the same sound when we were gassed. What are you doing here, Reuben? I figured once they’d patched up that leg of yours, you’d be long gone, back to the front, or to the States. I never expected to see you again.”
“You aren’t exactly seeing me,” Reuben said wryly. “And why in hell would you think you’d never see me again? Do you think I saved your blasted life so I could take a powder? We’re friends, we’ve been to hell and back. That means something, doesn’t it? Besides, you’re just a dumb kid and someone has to look out for you. I have a plan.” Reuben dropped to his knees to whisper. “Or should I say Marchioness Michelene Fonsard has a plan?” He waited to see if Daniel’s excitement would rise to the level of his own.
“Madame Mickey? The lady who brought me flowers from her own greenhouse?”
“The same. She’s come up with a way for both of us to go to her château for some R and R. What that means is that we’re out of this fucking war. We’re going to get fresh eggs, good red meat, and lots of strong red wine. What d’you think?”
Daniel didn’t answer for a long time, and when he did, Reuben had to bend over to hear him. “What if I’m blind, Reuben? We both came to Soissons at the same time, and you were as blind as me from the gas. You’ve been out for two weeks, but I’m still…here. And what is it we have to give to get all this good country living?”
“You, my friend, don’t have to give anything. I’ll be doing the giving, or the taking, however the case may be.” Reuben’s grin broadened at Daniel’s expression of awe.
“You mean…she wants…you’ll do that? Jesus! One of the nurses told me about Madame Mickey. They say she’s old, around forty. That’s twice as old as you!” Daniel flushed a brilliant scarlet, which only added to Reuben’s amusement.
Reuben changed positions to ease his injured leg. “I look at it this way. Madame Mickey has everything any other woman has, plus a heart as big as all outdoors. If she wants to be our benefactor, why not? We certainly have nothing to lose. You don’t want to go back to the front, do you? I sure as hell don’t. This war can’t go on forever, and I intend to outlast it. I want the same for you. Madame Mickey has some influential friends in the War Office. Did you know that Captain Eddie Rickenbacker stayed at her house in Paris when he had leave?” Reuben watched Daniel’s face at the mention of Rickenbacker, hoping the name