Chapter 41 Ada
Ada
The return trip to California is spent in overwhelming silence. If Ada doesn’t speak of it, not even to Vince, she can pretend
nothing is different: not her life, not her career, not her sister.
Not herself.
Pretending will not return everything she’s lost.
Moments like this are when she longs for her sister’s guidance, her comfort, her support. She doesn’t have her anymore. Perhaps
she never will again after the things Ingrid has done, the things Ada said to her. When did they become two people who deliberately
hurt one another?
“Your sister. Not your cousin,” Vince says when the car takes them from the airport to Gordon’s. When she doesn’t reply, he
runs a hand across his jaw. “Right, who was I to think we could have a conversation?”
“Don’t make it sound as if I’m the one being difficult when you’re the one pressuring me.”
“I’m not pressuring you, Ada. I’m trying to understand why you lied. Why can’t you trust me?”
If she could reassure him with her touch, her words, she would.
If accepting his safety and security were as simple as that, she would.
Instead, acceptance is too easily overwhelmed by brokenness, fear, everything that leaves her unable to entrust every part of herself to him.
Even after all this time. Even as much as she wishes she could.
When she says nothing, Vince averts his gaze to the window. The silence forces them apart, further and further, until Ada
is certain she will lose him completely. She sidles closer, weaves her arm through his, and nestles her head against his shoulder.
All she can offer by way of reassurance, of how much she wishes she could bring herself to explain everything.
“We’re twins. We lost touch during the war,” she murmurs at last. “For the sake of privacy, we agreed to say we were cousins
rather than siblings as a way to explain our resemblance. Then I gave my exclusives, and sharing more about myself might have
led to eventually sharing more about Ingrid with those close to me, but I suppose part of me wanted the truth to be ours alone.
To keep my sister to myself. Until I learned none of it was real.” Hearing the words aloud brings tears to Ada’s eyes, so
she forces them down. “Darling, please don’t make me dwell on it anymore.”
Vince rests his hand on her thigh in consolation, then kisses the top of her head. Dear, patient Vince. Soon she will share
everything with him, once all this is over and they can simply be. No concern for their careers, no buried pasts, simply the
life they create together.
Assuming theirs will be a life they create together after what’s happened, and after he knows the entire truth about who she
is—sister to a private investigator for HUAC, daughter of a former fascist.
When they reach Gordon’s house, she leaves Vince with a long, lingering kiss, pouring all her love and appreciation into the
gesture. For accompanying her to the hearing, for his understanding, for being who he is.
Inside, she coddles Sowerby, then proceeds through the empty house.
If the papers haven’t already reported what happened at her hearing, she must tell Gordon before the news breaks.
She finds him by the pool with an empty bottle of champagne and a second one in an ice bucket, a half-empty glass, and a newspaper.
Suddenly Ada can’t approach, can’t bring herself to look at the article he’s reading. But she must. She steps to his side.
The image is from the Caucus Room—first a picture of Ada on her feet and gripping the microphone, then a picture of Ingrid’s
horrified reaction. She doesn’t need to read the headline to know what it describes.
As her shaky breaths break the quiet, Gordon doesn’t look up. “No secrets, kid. A sister working for HUAC is a pretty damn
big one.”
“I should have told you we were siblings. I wanted to tell you. I—” She falters. “I swear I didn’t know she was an investigator.”
“You brought her into our lives. You brought this”—he waves the paper—“into our lives, and now it’s bad. Really bad, and getting worse, judging by the phone calls I’ve received
this week alone, pulling jobs from both of us.” He throws the paper down and stands. “Did you tell Ingrid everything she wanted
to know? Name names with or without proof? Not that it really matters, since I’m sure she’s already given the committee plenty.”
“Of course I didn’t. She built a false case against me with false evidence, never told me her real purpose for being here,
and if I’d known—” She grips his forearms, though the scowl he gives her is worse than if he had refused to meet her gaze.
“You know I would never intentionally hurt you.”
Except hurting him is exactly what she’s done.
Gordon turns his back. Walking away. Or, rather, being driven away. It should not ache as it does; she should expect it by
now. It’s what she’s done to nearly everyone in her life: forced them away somehow or another. First Ingrid, then Vince, now
Gordon.
“Please tell me what I can do.” She swallows hard. “Do you want me to leave?”
“I don’t really give a damn.” Then he gives a cynical laugh.
“Actually, no, that’s not true, is it? I’m not going to throw you out of my house, or let the media crucify you, or tell you and your witch-hunting sister to go straight to hell.
” He picks up the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket.
“Even after all these lies and everything you’ve caused, I still give a damn about you, Ada. And that’s what I hate the most.”
As does she. That these people—good, kind people—care when she and Ingrid have proven their incapability of caring in return.
Two women who come from destruction can try to escape, to move forward, to become different people, but in the end they will
create what they come from, what they know, what they are.
A faint breeze chills the moisture on her cheeks long after the door closes behind Gordon. He is right, of course. She caused
this, and she will fix it—or at least control the damage. Even if she’s left with no one in the end, regardless of her efforts.
She might know a way, though. Ada and Vince aren’t the only non-Communists in the entertainment industry who are dissatisfied
with the way HUAC is handling these hearings. Maybe if they come together, they can do something about it.
Over the next few weeks, more members of the entertainment industry are subpoenaed. Meanwhile, Ada goes through her list of
Star Society attendees, contacting anyone who might be interested in joining her and Vince to take a stand against HUAC’s
methods. As luck would have it, screenwriter Philip Dunne, actress Myrna Loy, and directors John Huston and William Wyler
had the same idea. And thus the Committee for the First Amendment was born.
Maybe Gordon is hardly speaking to her. Maybe Ada hasn’t spoken to Ingrid since the hearing. But now she has a committee to raise a voice against the way HUAC is handling these proceedings and to support the Hollywood Ten, a group of men refusing to testify. At least she has a purpose.
One evening, Ada slips into an empty table at Lucey’s. When Beverly notices her, she hesitates, then gives a curt nod. Ada
pushes her menu aside, indicating she’s not here to order.
“Come to our meeting—the Committee for the First Amendment. With all this confusion and concern over HUAC and the trials—”
“Stop, stop it!” Beverly interrupts in a hiss, glancing around. “Why would I want to join a Communist group, and why would
you ask me about it in my workplace? Go, before you get me fired.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s me, Vince, and others who feel like HUAC is overstepping. These concerns over Communism are
valid, of course, but the attack on the entertainment industry has gone too far, and shouldn’t these hearings be based on
fact rather than speculation? That’s the point we’re trying to make. The group is not Communist, nor does it contain a single
Communist member,” she concludes for emphasis.
Beverly falters. “You mean you’re not . . . ? The Star Society isn’t . . . ?”
“No, I’m not, and I’m not operating a bloody front organization.” And if she’d bothered to read Ada’s statements or ask her
directly, Beverly would have known as much. With some effort, Ada softens her tone. “Think about it. We might travel to Washington
in October to protest the hearings, so if you want to learn more, you’re welcome to attend the next meeting.”
Beverly appears too stricken to respond, and it’s nearly time to close, so Ada excuses herself. Outside, she lights a cigarette,
enjoying the quiet evening. Whatever Beverly’s decision, at least Ada has assured her that rumors of the Star Society being
a subversive group are false.
Ada has just stubbed out her cigarette when she hears the door to Lucey’s open, then she notices Beverly hurrying down the street toward a parked black automobile.
One similar to those Ada often notices lurking outside Gordon’s house.
She swallows the sour taste in her mouth.
Beverly is climbing into the back seat beside a second figure, then the door closes.
Streetlamps illuminate her path as Ada approaches, eyes narrowed to make out the faint silhouettes. If either has noticed
her, they make no indication—and as she nears, one climbs onto the other’s lap.
So that’s what this is.
Beverly straddles a man while he hitches her skirt and grips her thighs. Ada can’t see his face—buried in Beverly’s neck—so
before they can proceed, she slaps an open palm against the roof of the car. The loud clang is disruptive enough. They look
up, chests heaving. Beverly, as expected, and Archie Stribling.
Ada simply can’t get rid of him.
He opens the door and pushes a messy lock of hair from his eyes. “Hop in, doll, we’ve got room for one more.”
By the looks of her scowl, Beverly appreciates that invitation as much as Ada does. She doesn’t give him the courtesy of a
reply and instead glares at her friend.
“You’re working with the G-men?”
“Some of us don’t book as many acting jobs as others,” she replies pointedly, buttoning her blouse as she steps out, followed
by Mr. Stribling. “Selling gossip pays my bills, and working with Archie protects my reputation.”
She’s hardly the first in Hollywood to sell gossip, yet upon her second admission, Ada grabs her shoulders. “Did you give
my name to the committee? And Gordon’s?”
“All I did was tell the truth.” Glaring, Beverly pulls out of Ada’s grasp. “Maybe I don’t have much of a career yet, but I
still don’t want it ruined.”
An informant among her own circle of friends. How have they fallen this far? To use one another, betray one another, all to protect themselves.
Exposing Beverly’s collaboration to everyone in Hollywood is not worth the potential repercussions, though allowing her to
continue might be just as disastrous. But Ada doesn’t want to condemn Beverly if it means others might ostracize her—a feeling
Ada is beginning to know. They are not on opposite sides. They are simply two people whose industry is facing challenges,
ones no one knows how to approach. They know only confusion and fear as they search for solutions that may or may not be the
right ones.
“Excuse us,” she says pointedly to Archie, who settles into the back seat. After he closes the door, Ada leads Beverly a few
steps away. “You and Archie? How long?”
“Since your party. Just sex until I told him I was worried about the industry, then he told me about his real job and said
we could help each other.”
Ada swallows hard, her voice quiet. “We’ve been friends ever since Gordon introduced us. If you were worried about my parties
being a front, why didn’t you talk to me?”
“Because I didn’t want to speak with anyone except a government official, and I didn’t want anyone to falsely accuse me of
Communist sympathies.” A moment of tense silence, then Beverly sighs. “Look, I didn’t expect it to get so out of hand. I asked
Archie to set up a meeting for me, and when the investigator asked if I knew any confirmed or suspected Communists, I gave
my honest thoughts. I read your exclusives, but I wasn’t sure what to believe, so I wanted to be thorough, especially given
my own involvement with the Star Society, so I . . . I guess I panicked and named anyone I could think of.” She swallows hard
and looks down. “And now I realize I did to you exactly what I didn’t want done to me.”
If Beverly named Gordon and Ada, then Ingrid is not solely responsible—an idea that is somehow deeply unsettling and strangely comforting.
They would have been summoned to hearings regardless.
Despite Beverly’s false assumptions about Ada’s position, Ada doesn’t fault her for taking precautions.
She places a hand on her arm, and her friend offers a rueful smile.
Beverly is not the only one who wishes she had handled matters differently.