The Property of a Lady - Elizabeth Adler [218]
“They took him to hospital and shot him full of the new wonder drug—penicillin—but he didn’t improve. I sat by his bedside holding his hand and I knew he was dying. We had known each other for thirty-four years and had been married for twenty-three of them. The happiest years of my life, even with all their problems.
“They put tubes in his throat to help him breathe but they could not cure him, and it only made him more distressed because now he couldn’t speak. I knew what he wanted to say and I said it for him. ‘I love you too, Zev,’ I told him. ‘We will always love each other.’
“I took his body back to Hollywood and buried him there, the place where he had found himself as a man. It was where he belonged. His death rated a headline in Variety and a long obituary listing his achievements, and they were charitable enough to say that he had retired from his role as Magic’s Chairman for ‘health reasons’ and not mention Jakey’s takeover. But he had always been a man who shied away from publicity, and his death didn’t merit more than an odd column in the international press. I thought the ceremony would be a small one but I was astonished how many people showed up. Zev was well respected and liked, and he had more friends in the business than he knew. I still think if he had fought Jakey his friends would have supported him and he would have won. But Jakey Jerome was a street fighter and he knew exactly how to kick a man where it hurt him most psychologically.
“I was left a fairly rich widow, and I sold the vineyard and bought a small, rambling ranch-style house in the suburb of Encino in the San Fernando Valley. I bred borzois and played bridge and involved myself in charity work. And I tried to keep Azaylee out of trouble.
“She had always been so professional and the rumors were cruel, they said that without C. Z. and Magic behind her she was no good. They said she was drinking—but it wasn’t true, she was just Azaylee again, instead of Ava Adair. She drifted between her two personas, and the studios never knew what to expect from her. One day she would be fine, the next she couldn’t even remember what she was supposed to be doing. But she was still very beautiful and there were always men. And in bad times, the clinic.
“She was in the Valley Loma Clinic when I went to see her one day in 1959. She had not worked for several years, and I always took care of her medical expenses. I didn’t want Azaylee to be burdened with money worries on top of everything else. She had been in and out of the clinic on an almost monthly basis that year, fluctuating between bouts of riotous living and deep depression.
“She was sitting in a wicker chair on the porch and I sat beside her. She smiled at me as I gave her the roses I had brought and said, ‘Hello, matiushka. Guess what? I’m pregnant.’
“I thought: Oh, my God, now she has really gone mad, now she thinks she’s pregnant. At forty-four years old when she knows she can never have children.
“‘Of course you are not pregnant, Azaylee,’ I said as calmly as I could. ‘You know the doctors said it was just not possible.’
“She grinned at me, her face full of mischief. ‘They were wrong,’ she said triumphantly. ‘The test was confirmed today. You are to be a grandmother, matiushka. At last.’
“The clinic confirmed it and said they must keep an eye on her; she would either have to stay there or come and live with me. I took her home right away and she was happier than I have ever seen her. She was determined to do everything right: She ate the right foods, gained weight, took all her vitamins, exercised, walked, and swam. Her baby was going to be the best baby in the whole world. But if she knew the identity of the father, she wasn’t telling me. She just shrugged and said it could be one of half a dozen but I needn’t worry, they were all nice,