{"id":1107,"date":"2019-02-12T22:52:40","date_gmt":"2019-02-13T03:52:40","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1107"},"modified":"2020-06-01T09:07:06","modified_gmt":"2020-06-01T13:07:06","slug":"the-memoir-of-johnny-devine","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/the-memoir-of-johnny-devine\/","title":{"rendered":"The Memoir of Johnny Devine"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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The Memoir of Johnny Devine<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by Camille Eide<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Love can\u2019t rewrite the pages of one\u2019s past, but it can cover a multitude of sins a page at a time.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In 1953, desperation forces young war widow Eliza Saunderson to take a job writing the memoir of ex-Hollywood heartthrob Johnny Devine. Rumor has it Johnny can seduce anything in a skirt quicker than he can hail a cab. But now the notorious womanizer claims he\u2019s been born again. Eliza soon finds herself falling for the humble, grace-filled man John has become\u2014a man who shows no sign of returning her feelings. No sign, that is, until she discovers something John never meant for her to see.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When Eliza\u2019s articles on minority oppression land her on McCarthy\u2019s Communist hit list, John and Eliza become entangled in an investigation that threatens both his book and her future. To clear her name, Eliza must solve a family<\/a> mystery. Plus, she needs to convince John that real love\u2014not the Hollywood illusion\u2014can forgive a sordid past. Just when the hope of love becomes reality, a troubling discovery confirms Eliza\u2019s worst fears. Like the happy fa\u00e7ade many Americans cling to, had it all been empty lies? Is there a love she can truly believe in?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Memoir of Johnny Devine is a dramatic story within a story of a bad boy and a good girl, both in need of reform. It\u2019s a powerful tale of love, redemption, intrigue, and the miracle of God\u2019s deliberate grace.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

October 1953<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Laurel\nDistrict, Oakland, CA<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A tiny\ncyclone of dry leaves raced ahead of Eliza as she crossed 35th Avenue, urging\nher to hurry. Or perhaps, more likely, the urge to hurry was coming from her stomach.\nThe warm, leaf-scattering breeze caught the hem of her skirt and swirled it around\nher knees, quickening her steps all the more. Her heels clicking across the\npavement sounded like a tiny horse\u2019s hooves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the entrance to Lucky\u2019s Diner, Eliza stopped and\nsearched her sweetheart handbag\u2014a gift from Betty, of course\u2014just to make sure\nthe money was still there. Eliza didn\u2019t care what today\u2019s Blue Plate Special\nwas, as long as it didn\u2019t cost more than fifty cents.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Inside the diner, her stomach groaned at the smells of\ncoffee and fried food. A waitress Eliza had not seen before worked the window\nside of the diner. Tugging off the scarf that barely kept her dark, collar-length\ncurls in order, she followed the woman\u2019s progress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The new waitress moved deftly from table to table.\nPerhaps this one would be friendlier than old Greta.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza hurried to the only empty window seat, then\nturned up her coffee cup and waited, shushing the embarrassing sounds coming\nfrom her insides.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anticipation must have awakened the sleeping beast.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As she waited, she made a quick study of the other diners.\nTwo young women, one with a toddler and the other with an infant, sat in the next\nbooth. The baby peeked over her mama\u2019s shoulder and blinked at Eliza with big,\nblue eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza smiled until the baby broke out in a toothless\ngrin. She widened her smile and waved her fingers, but the mother glared over\nher shoulder and quickly shifted the child down onto her lap. Cheeks warming, Eliza\nreturned her hands to her own empty lap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A man in a long, dark coat, seated at the counter, peered\nover his shoulder at her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She turned and focused her attention on the busy\ncrisscross of traffic outside her window. Busy was good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCoffee?\u201d the new waitress asked, carafe in hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, please.\u201d Eliza poked her cat-eye glasses higher and\nread the name Peg <\/em>on the waitress\u2019s pin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Peg handed her a menu and filled her cup. \u201cHoller when\nyou\u2019re ready to order, hon.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ll have the Blue Plate Special, please.\u201d Eliza took\na scalding sip of coffee. Black as tar and bitter as always.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Frowning, Peg watched Eliza gulp down her coffee.\n\u201cDon\u2019t you even want to know what it is?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza set the half-empty cup down and smiled. \u201cWhatever\nit is, I\u2019m sure it\u2019s divine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Peg left with her order, the jukebox blared to life.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza tapped her toes to the lively sounds of Les\nPaul\u2019s guitar and Mary Ford\u2019s voice singing about her undying love for a boy\nnamed Johnny.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Papa would have closed his eyes, tuned out the sounds\nof traffic and caf\u00e9 chatter, and focused on the sound of the guitar. After\nlistening to a song once or twice, he would practice for hours until he could play\nit note for note.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With a sigh, Eliza shelved the memory. The last time\nshe saw her parents was in 1938, just a week before her high school graduation.\nThey had looked so full of life, waving goodbye from the train as it pulled\naway from the station, promising to return with pennants from Fresno State for\nher and Betty, and with any luck, two full-time teaching jobs. Papa had been\nespecially keen on teaching again. Eliza always suspected the lean years\nfollowing the Great Crash had been harder on him than on Mama. But the only\nsouvenir Eliza and Betty got from their parents\u2019 trip was a telegram saying they\u2019d\nbeen killed in a railway accident outside of Modesto.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When her meal arrived, Eliza quickly assessed each\nitem. The gravy-coated mashed potatoes and breaded mystery meat wouldn\u2019t keep\u2014those\nshe would eat now. The dinner roll and dill pickle spear could wait. The green\nbeans were questionable, but they would also wait.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the center of the plate, as either an added bonus\nor a mistake, rested a cluster of plump, green grapes. Since when had the\nstandard bargain fare included fresh fruit? She looked up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the long galley window, a toothy grin greeted her.\nJimmy was cooking today. Of course.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza checked to see if anyone was watching, then raised\nher hand in a brief wave of thanks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jimmy waved back, still grinning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Swell. Grateful as she was for the treat, she didn\u2019t\nwant to encourage a college boy. For some reason, Jimmy didn\u2019t seem to\nunderstand that Eliza was at least ten years his senior.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She ate slowly, marveling at the way warm potatoes\ncould reach into the hollowest places. She cut the breaded mystery meat\u2014which\nturned out to be chopped beef\u2014into tiny bites and made her meal last longer\nwith two more cups of coffee, a trick she\u2019d learned from the girls in steno\nschool. When she finished her allotted portion, she pushed the plate away, then\ndrained her cup and signaled Peg for one last refill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPity you didn\u2019t eat all your dinner,\u201d Peg said,\nfilling Eliza\u2019s cup. She reached for the half-empty plate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo!\u201d Eliza grabbed the plate and pulled it close.\n\u201cSorry, I\u2019m \u2026 not quite finished with that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, that\u2019s good. Because just between you and me, doll,\nlooks like you could stand to gain a few pounds.\u201d Peg gave her shoulder a soft pat\nand moved along to the next table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza tugged four napkins from the dispenser, unfolded\nthem, and piled the rest of the food into the center of each. As she did, she\nfelt eyes on her and looked up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man at the counter was staring at her again, sending\na tingle along her spine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She wrapped up the food and stuffed the bundles into\nher handbag. Whatever the stranger had in mind, she wasn\u2019t interested.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Peg returned with her check. \u201cWill there be anything\nelse? Dessert? More coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, thank you.\u201d Eliza smiled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Peg smiled back and waited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ah, the tip! <\/em>Eliza held her smile steady but wanted to slither\nbeneath the table. She had only enough money to pay the bill and not a penny\nmore. Betty would have kittens.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Once Peg had moved on, Eliza dug like mad through her\nhandbag, searching for anything of worth she could leave the woman. Or at least\na scrap of paper to write an IOU on.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Was she really so pitiful? No. This was only\ntemporary; things would turn around soon. She just needed a break, a leg up.\nPerhaps the American Women\u2019s Alliance would offer her a regular column now that she\u2019d written a dozen articles for them, and one\nthat paid in double digits for a change.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She could just hear Betty now. Don\u2019t tell me you have no choice, Eliza. Women of our class do not scrape\nby. Forget those crazy notions of yours and get yourself a husband.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The trouble was, Eliza had already taken that\nparticular advice, but marriage hadn\u2019t been the fairy tale her sister had\npromised. Far from it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the bottom of her purse, Eliza\u2019s fingers grasped something\ncold. She pulled out a nickel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her last nickel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She could buy a cup of coffee with that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Or \u2026 she could leave a tip. Peg had to eat too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She left the nickel beside her plate, then paid her\ncheck.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man at the counter rose and paid his check also.\nHe left the diner a few steps behind Eliza.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She hurried across the street and looked back, but the\nogler must have gone another way. Eliza slowed her pace. She was in no hurry to\ntrade the clean bay breezes for her stifling one-room studio.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Since her last freelance job had just ended, the next\nthing on Eliza\u2019s to-do list was to call the employment agency. Inside her\nbuilding, Eliza ignored the peeling yellow paint in the lobby and looked around.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With any luck, the super was occupied elsewhere and\nnot hovering near the telephone eavesdropping on tenants\u2019 conversations.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She hurried to the hall at the bottom of the stairs, fully\nexpecting to wait in line for the telephone, but for once, none of the other\ngirls were using it. She gave the number to the operator and waited to be\nconnected, fingers crossed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It didn\u2019t take the receptionist at the agency long to\nanswer Eliza\u2019s query. Still no typist or stenographer work.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Not ready to give up, she headed upstairs to her\napartment for her telephone book. There were still a couple of former contacts she\ncould try again. But as she neared the top of the stairs, Eliza nearly tripped on the last step.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her sister waited at the apartment door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n

Kit-Cat\u2019s steady ticking seemed louder than usual\u2014as\nif to announce that there was an intruder in the room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Betty must have heard it too, because she looked over her\nshoulder at the clock and made a huffing sound. \u201cI positively despise that\nthing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza sighed. She happened to love that clock. It was different<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s tacky, Eliza. I hate the way the eyes move back\nand forth with the tail. It gives me the heebie-jeebies.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All the more reason to love it. Eliza hid her smile.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Betty swept a narrowed gaze across the studio apartment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why had she come? With a husband, two neatly groomed\nkids, and a picture-perfect home surpassed only by Ozzie and Harriet\u2019s, Betty\nwas far too busy for drop-in visits. She only ventured down from Richmond Heights\nwhen something she couldn\u2019t be caught dead without wasn\u2019t available there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Eliza waited, Betty continued her scrutiny, shaking\nher blonde head at the narrow sideboard just big enough for a hot plate,\nelectric coffee pot, two saucers, and a cup. She frowned at the small caf\u00e9\ntable in the center of the room where Eliza\u2019s ancient typewriter left no room\nfor eating. Which was a moot point.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Betty grimaced at the threadbare chair, the rickety\nbureau, and lastly, Eliza\u2019s twin bed. Which she\u2019d forgotten to make.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She hadn\u2019t exactly been expecting company.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Betty shook her head. \u201cDarling, you really need to\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBetty, please. Don\u2019t start.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat? I just want to see you happy. It\u2019s not too\nlate, you know. You\u2019re still young. And ten years of mourning is plenty sufficient.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mourning<\/em>? Was that what her sister thought she\u2019d been doing?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re throwing away the best years of your life,\nEliza. What\u2019s all this writing and working yourself stick-thin getting you? Not\na home of your own, that\u2019s a fact.\u201d She frowned, dark-blue eyes seeming genuinely\nconfused. \u201cWhat kind of a woman doesn\u2019t want a home of her own?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe kind who would rather have no home than a\nmiserable one,\u201d Eliza said quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Betty stared at her, barely masking her disbelief.\n\u201cJust because your marriage wasn\u2019t ideal is no reason to throw away your\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIdeal<\/em>?\u201d\nEliza stiffened. The only \u201cideal\u201d thing about her marriage to Ralph Saunderson\nwas that he joined the army the minute he heard about the war, giving Eliza a\nchance to lick her wounds in peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then the selfish\nbrute got what was coming to him.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Burning with shame, Eliza went to her bed and\nstraightened the bedding, forcing the awful thought from her mind. A good wife\nwould feel grief, not relief, at the news her husband had been killed in battle.\nBut then, a good wife would probably do many things Eliza had never mastered, like\nturning a blind eye to his cheating. Or to the fact that he\u2019d named some other\nwoman his beneficiary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Taking up her pillow, Eliza turned to her sister. \u201cI\ndon\u2019t want to argue with you, Betty.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGood.\u201d With a sigh, Betty moved closer, her brow creased.\n\u201cWhat do<\/em> you want?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza fluffed her pillow and lifted her shoulders in a\nshrug. \u201cI just want \u2026 to feel complete.\u201d She frowned. It wasn\u2019t a notion she\u2019d ever\nentertained, much less voiced aloud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, sure<\/em>\nyou want to be complete, darling. Hence the need for a husband. Isn\u2019t that what\nI\u2019ve been saying all along?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza tossed the pillow to the head of the bed, suddenly\nweary of the pressure to accept this destiny, to measure her worth by her home\nand what man she belonged to. Betty seemed so certain, and yet at times it all seemed\nlike pretense, like the silent lie Eliza had lived once and swore she would\nnever live again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think a woman should get married just so she\ncan have an automatic dishwasher and a full Frigidaire,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Betty\u2019s cheeks reddened, nearly matching her bold, red\nlips. \u201cYou make married women sound shallow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza shrugged again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPlease tell me that\u2019s not what you think of me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She looked her sister in the eye. \u201cI thought we were\ndiscussing me<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Kit-Cat\u2019s ticking\u2014which suddenly seemed louder\u2014filled\nthe room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rats, the time! Eliza needed to call her former employers\nagain, now that people were getting home from work. Best not to do that with\nBetty hovering nearby. \u201cThe drive to Richmond Heights must be a real bear,\nespecially at this time of day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Betty gasped at her watch. \u201cOh, for pity\u2019s sake, Ed\nwill be home in two hours, and I don\u2019t have meat thawing. I wouldn\u2019t have come here\nif I\u2019d known I\u2019d have to wait so long for you to show up. We\u2019ll talk soon, hon.\u201d\nShe pecked the air with a kiss and left.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As soon as Betty was gone, Eliza took the bundles of\nfood from her handbag and tucked them between the coffee pot and hot plate. Her\nstomach piqued a sudden interest in the grapes. But until she got paid again,\nshe needed to make the food last.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A buzz sounded at the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Expecting to hear one more piece of sisterly advice, she\nopened the door, but it was Ivy from across the hall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s a call on the line asking for Mrs. <\/em>Saunderson.\u201d Ivy peered beyond\nEliza as if looking for someone. \u201cSounds official.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d Eliza stepped out and closed the door\nbehind her, forcing Ivy and her curiosity to step back on the landing, and dashed\ndownstairs. It had to be the agency. It had<\/em>\nto.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHello, this is Mrs. Saunderson,\u201d Eliza said into the\nreceiver, hoping she sounded confident.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was<\/em> the\nagency. The receptionist told her about an interview for an opening. \u201cHowever,\u201d\nshe said, \u201cthe job doesn\u2019t fully suit your qualifications.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza frowned. \u201cBut you said the job is for an\neditorial assistant with typing and shorthand skills. I have extensive\nexperience in all three. It\u2019s on my profile. Why do you say I\u2019m not qualified?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The receptionist apologized. \u201cWhat I meant was it\ndoesn\u2019t match your specifications<\/em>.\nBut I know you\u2019re eager for work, so I thought you might want to hear\nabout it anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, please.\u201d What specifications had she listed on\nher profile?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe job is a long-term project requiring strong\neditorial skills.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes, I understand that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd it pays very well.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A shiver of excitement raced down her back. \u201cBut \u2026?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut the employer is \u2026 a single male, and the job is\nat his private home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ah. Her rule on that item was non-negotiable. \u201cI\u2019m\nsorry, I don\u2019t think\u2014wait, how much does it pay?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The woman gave her a figure.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPer month?\u201d It wasn\u2019t heaps more than what she\u2019d made\non her last freelance job, but was still worth considering.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, that\u2019s per week.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza gasped. \u201cPer week<\/em>?\nAre you sure?\u201d She could earn six times her rent in a month. But working for a\nman in his home? It just wasn\u2019t smart. \u201cI\u2019m sorry, but I\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The super lumbered past in his usual untucked,\ngrease-stained work shirt\u2014ironic, since he never actually worked on anything.\nWhen he saw Eliza, he rubbed his fingertips together and gave her that leering\nlook of his. The one that reminded her that the further she got behind on rent,\nthe less pleasant he could be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eliza shivered. \u201cYes, I will take the interview.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n