Queen of Hearts
Lana Casey was to many people the undisputed queen of the silver screen. Not only was she a talented actress, but she was also a stunning beauty. Countless American servicemen stationed in Europe and in the Pacific had her picture pinned up next to that of Betty Grable, Rita Hayworth and Ava Gardner. Unlike most film stars, however, Lana led a quiet life away from the public eye. Her name never appeared in the scandal sheets, nor was she ever seen at lavish parties and star-studded premiers. There were never any rumors linking her with a leading man, a bandleader or a professional athlete. For all intents and purposes, she was one of a rare breed: a faithful wife.
Just as Lana Casey was considered a queen in Hollywood, her husband, Montague Burroughs, was considered a king. Only he reigned supreme on the East Coast as the most successful star on Broadway. Though he was more than fifteen years his wife's senior, the couple seemed quite happy. Even the long absences necessitated by their individual careers did not dampen their love or endanger their marriage.
After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Americans came together and did what they could to aid the war effort. Lana, like many other entertainers, traveled around the country selling war bonds, and when the war escalated, she joined the USO. It was there she met Lt. Jake Murdock, a handsome young officer who accompanied the entertainers as they toured war-torn countries and performed for the allied troops. In their travels from one show to the next, Lana and Jake formed a close friendship.
One night, while traveling on a train bound for London, Lana noticed Jake sitting alone, nursing a drink, and sat down next to him. Sadness clouded his handsome features.
"You look like you could use a friend," she said, "or would you prefer being left alone?"
"I doubt I'm fit company for anyone right now."
He then downed his drink in one swallow and poured another.
"Come on, Jake," Lana urged. "I don't mean to sound like a nagging wife, but don't you think you've had enough already?"
"If I don't drown my sorrows, they'll haunt me."
"If you tell them to me, maybe we can exorcise them together."
"I don't think you want to hear my problems."
"Why not? Maybe they will take my mind off my own."
Jake looked at her with a drunken grin.
"What problems could you possibly have?" he asked cynically. "You're rich. You're beautiful. You're talented."
A cloud of sadness hovered over Lana.
"Here's a news flash for you, soldier. The entire world is at war. Every day I perform before thousands of sailors, soldiers and marines who may never make it to their twenty-fifth birthdays. I've toured hospitals and seen young boys broken physically and mentally."
"The war is everyone's problem, not just yours."
"Okay, you want a personal problem?" she asked. "I'm lonely."
The lieutenant nodded sagely.
"When did you last see your husband?"
"Two and half months ago."
"Why don't you fly home and see him? I'm sure the army can arrange transportation for you."
"No. Monte is starring in a new play that opens next month. He'll be rehearsing sixteen hours a day, and I'd only get in his way."
"I envy you," Jake said sadly, looking down at his empty glass. "It must be wonderful to have a marriage that can weather the storms."
Lana surmised what was bothering him.
"It's your wife, isn't it? Is she leaving you?"
"I don't know. She hasn't said anything to me yet. I got a letter from my brother today. It seems he wanted to break the news to me gently."
Jake was reluctant to continue, so Lana had to coax him.
"How bad is it?"
"There's someone else, but my brother doesn't know just how serious the relationship is."
"There you go," Lana said, trying to cheer him up. "Perhaps it's nothing. Look at you and me. We've become fairly close these past few months, yet there's nothing romantic in our relationship, nothing either of our respective spouses would have to worry about."
Jake's silence was deafening. The actress assumed that the fidelity of his wife was not the only thing bothering him.
* * *
Once Lana realized that Jake was interested in her as more than a friend, she decided it would be best to put some distance between them. To preserve her marriage, she had on occasion found it necessary to build invisible walls between herself and attractive, amiable young men. The best way to fight temptation, she reasoned, was to stay out of its path.
It did not take Jake long to see that Lana was deliberately trying to avoid him. Eventually, he cornered her when she returned to the hotel after a late-afternoon performance.
"Lieutenant!" she exclaimed, startled, when he appeared from the shadows of the staircase.
"What's wrong? Why are you avoiding me?" he asked her directly.
"I'm not," she denied unconvincingly. "I've been preoccupied, that's all."
"You know, for an actress you're not a very good liar."
"Let's talk about this later, okay? I'm exhausted, and I'd like to take a nap before dinner."
She tried to brush past him, but he stood steadfast, blocking her way.
"You haven't said more than five words to me since that conversation we had on the train last week."
"I haven't been feeling well. I think I might be coming down with something. With this damp weather in England, it's a wonder we're not all sick."
"Cut the crap. I know I had a few too many that night, but I wasn't drunk. I don't know what I said or did that offended you."
"You didn't say or do anything. You were the perfect gentleman."
"Then why the cold shoulder all of a sudden?"
Lana sighed and confessed.
"I told you I was lonely, and now you're having problems with your wife. I just feel these two circumstances could lead to an uncomfortable situation."
Jake's eyes lit up with comprehension—and hope.
"Lana," he said, as he reached for her hand.
She pulled away as if she'd been burnt.
"No! I will not let this happen," she cried as she pushed past him and ran to her room.
Jake, who had never seriously thought himself the kind of man who might appeal to a star like Lana Casey, now considered that possibility. When he did, the image of the two of them locked in a passionate embrace took hold of his mind and blocked out everything else. He forgot about his wife, Lana's husband and his duty as an officer. And why shouldn't he? Even though he was not in a combat unit, it did not mean he would live to see the end of the war. German bombs were not too selective. If his days were indeed numbered, what did arcane concepts such as morality and fidelity matter? Why shouldn't he grasp happiness where he could?
Lana, on the other hand, was not anxious to throw caution to the wind and rush headlong into an affair. Over the next several weeks, Jake tried unsuccessfully to get her alone. The harder he tried, the further she withdrew behind her invisible walls. Then one night, the small troupe of performers was staying at a hotel near London. Shortly after midnight, the actress was awakened by a blast that shattered the glass in many of the hotel's windows. A few minutes later, Jake was frantically pounding on her door.
"Lana? Are you okay?"
Shaken but otherwise unhurt, she unbolted the door and fell into his arms.
"Thank God you're all right," he said, clutching her to his chest and covering her face and neck with kisses.
At first, Lana responded to his embrace, but gradually she got control of her emotions and retreated behind her wedding vows.
"No, Jake."
By now, hotel employees were running down the halls, checking on the welfare of the guests. Because of her wealth and fame, Lana was immediately given another room.
"We're so sorry, Miss Casey," the concierge said, fawning over the glamorous movie star.
"There's no need to apologize," she assured him. "It's not the hotel's fault. I'll just send the bill for my new suitcase to Adolf Hitler."
The lieutenant walked with her to the door of her new room, hoping to be invited inside.
"Goodnight, Jake," she said, staring at his handsome face.
Her eyes held an unreadable message. Could it be he was gradually breaking down her resolve? He fervently hoped so.
* * *
Lana did not appear at breakfast the following morning. Later, while Jake was packing for the next leg of the tour, there was a knock on his door. He answered it, expecting to find her on his threshold.
A young sergeant saluted him and announced, "Lt. Murdock, sir, we have a problem. Lana Casey has returned to the States. We now have a vacancy in the program, and we'll need to fill it before Saturday's show."
"There must be some mistake. Miss Casey wouldn't just walk out."
"She left word with the desk clerk that there was a family emergency and that she had to go home right away."
Jake was shocked and hurt. Why hadn't she told him personally of her dire need to return to America?
"Now, about that vacancy," the sergeant continued, as he took a small notepad out of his uniform pocket. "I have the names of several singers, dancers and comedians who have expressed an interest in performing for the boys. Who do you think ...?"
Jake waved his hand, indicating dismissal.
"You pick someone, Sergeant. I have faith in your judgment."
* * *
Lt. Murdock continued working with the USO until the war in Germany was over. During that time, he tried to contact Lana Casey on several occasions. She never replied, nor did he ever learn what sent her home so quickly, but he suspected it was her own moment of weakness on the night of the hotel bombing.
Not long after the armistice was signed, he was sent home to New Jersey. His homecoming was not a particularly joyful one. His wife had long since left him for another man, and his old job was no longer available. He still had his parents, but they had grown old and were not in the best of health.
Through the connections he had made while working with the USO, Jake was given a job with one of the theaters on Broadway. It was there in the summer of 1948 he ran into an old friend.
"Hello, Miss Casey," he said politely when he saw her enter the theater on the arm of a handsome, young Hollywood director.
"Lt. Murdock," she said with a warm smile. "It's so good to see you again. You're not here by yourself, are you?"
"Actually I am. I work here."
The director tugged at her elbow.
"We'd better get to our seats. The play is about to begin."
"One moment, Burt."
Lana took a gold pen and a piece of paper from out of her evening bag. She scribbled a number on the paper and handed it to Jake.
"I'll be in New York for another week. Why don't you give me a call? Perhaps we can have lunch or even dinner. I've really got to go now, though. I'll be playing the lead role in the movie adaptation of this play, and my director has insisted that I see this production before we go into rehearsals."
The date with the director was strictly business. Knowing Lana as well as he did, he was not surprised.
* * *
At first, Jake was undecided about wanting to see the actress again. While he had never gotten over his unrequited love for her, he had managed to put it into perspective. If he went to lunch or dinner with her, hope might once again play its sadistic cat-and-mouse game with his emotions. Sadly, he realized it was already too late. From the moment he had seen Lana in the theater, his heart had been lost.
Two days later they met for lunch at a popular restaurant near Central Park. Jake thought Lana looked more beautiful than ever as she walked into the room, kissed him on the cheek and sat down at his table.
"Before you say anything, let me start by apologizing for the way I left the show in London."
"You don't have to," he assured her.
"I know I don't, but I've always felt guilty about not having said goodbye to you before I left. We were such good friends," she said, putting her hand on his.
Jake's heart lurched.
"Lana, you knew how I felt about you back in England."
She frowned and quickly removed her hand.
"That was a long time ago," she said, although it had been only a few years. "Besides, with the war going on around us, it isn't any wonder our emotions ran away from us."
"It wasn't the war or the fact that I was having trouble with my wife. I really ...."
"Please don't say it! Can't we have a nice friendly lunch without bringing up uncomfortable subjects?"
"Okay," he agreed. "What have you been doing since the end of the war?"
They spent their time discussing their careers and old acquaintances from the USO days. They also talked briefly about Montague Burroughs and Jake's ex-wife.
Finally, Lana looked at her watch and declared with a laugh, "Here I am still sitting at lunch, and now I must run home and get ready for dinner."
Jake took care of the check and led the actress outside where her chauffeur was waiting to take her back to her hotel. As the driver held the door open, she turned to say goodbye.
"It's been wonderful seeing you again. Perhaps the next time I'm in New York we can meet for dinner."
The former lieutenant, who had kept quiet about his feelings throughout lunch, could keep his silence no longer.
"Lana, I have no desire to embarrass you or make you feel uncomfortable, but I realize I may never see you again."
"Please stop."
"You don't have to say anything. Just let me get this off my chest once and for all. I love you, Lana. I know you don't feel the same about me and that you're deeply in love with your husband, but I had to say it."
Tears welling in her eyes, Lana kissed him gently on the mouth.
"Goodbye," she said softly and then got in her car and left.
* * *
A week after his lunch with Lana, Jake received a letter by special delivery. The return address indicated that it had been mailed in Hollywood. He eagerly tore open the envelope. Inside were several sheets of fine bond paper, all bearing the initials L.C. embossed in gold letters. He immediately recognized the handwriting as Lana's.
With no clue as to its contents, Jake sat down to read the letter. He stopped after several pages and poured himself a drink. For hours after he finished reading, he remained in the chair, staring at nothing in particular, as the room grew dark around him.
"How could it possibly be true?" he asked himself. "Yet what woman in her right mind would make up such an unbelievable story?"
He picked up the pages and again read Lana's strange tale.
I was originally born in the year 2073 B.C. in ancient Samaria. While still a young maid, I married a great and powerful king and became his queen. My husband, though twenty years older, was kind, gentle and loving. During the first years of our marriage, we were happy. Then I lost my heart to a young general in the royal army, and I confess that I betrayed my husband's love.
What I did was not only morally wrong but was also considered high treason. The king's heart was broken, and although it greatly pained him to do so, he had no choice but to order my death. When the day of my execution arrived, my husband had me brought to his private chamber. There he begged my forgiveness for what he was forced by duty to do.
"No, my husband," I cried and fell prostrate at his feet, "the crime is mine. I deserve the sentence I have received. I wish only to say that although I grievously sinned against you, in my heart, I still loved you."
"I know, my dear," he said with all the wisdom of his years. "I pray now to all the gods that you be given a second chance and that you may love again in the next life."
On my knees before him, I took his hand and kissed it gently. Then I rose, turned away and followed the guard to the fate that awaited me.
My husband's prayers were answered. I was reborn and began my second life as a princess of Egypt. I met a man, a great leader of Rome, who fell in love with me and set me on the throne. But my dear husband had also prayed that I find love in my new life. Unfortunately, it was not mighty Caesar who won my heart but the young, handsome Marc Antony. Again, I betrayed the love of one man for that of another, and again I paid for my crime with my life. Only this time, I was my own executioner.
Through the generations that followed, I have been reborn many times. Yet always the pattern of my life has been the same. As Iseult, I betrayed my husband, King Mark, with Tristan. As Guinevere, I betrayed Arthur with his friend Sir Lancelot and would have gone to the stake had not Lancelot come to my rescue. As Katherine Howard, I betrayed Henry VIII with Thomas Culpeper and was beheaded by my jealous husband. Yet again, as Marie Antoinette, I betrayed my dear Louis although I was spared public humiliation by the revolutionists who sent me to the guillotine for political rather than moral reasons.
My story has continued through the centuries, although lately, my role as queen has been merely a symbolic one. My life has not always been played out before the public eye. Sometimes my identity escaped the front pages of history. But one aspect of my many lives has been consistent: I have yet to remain faithful to my "king."
I was not born aware of my past lives. I have not had to live with my previous sins lifetime after lifetime. This painful knowledge came to me shortly before the war when Montague and I were entertaining friends in our Hollywood home. I had a bit too much to drink and was flirting outrageously with a young and extremely handsome producer. Late at night after my husband had fallen asleep, I met him at the pool where the two of us went skinny-dipping. I must admit I probably would have betrayed my darling Monte had I not hit my head on the diving board and gone underwater.
The producer pulled me out and panicked when he discovered I was no longer breathing. Montague rushed outside and immediately resuscitated me. When my heart started beating again, I regained consciousness with the knowledge of all that had gone before. I made a solemn vow at that point to end the cycle, to hold true to my husband's love and, at last, cleanse my immortal soul.
In the pages that followed, Lana made a valiant attempt to assure Jake that she was sane and that her story was a factual account of her long existence. The final page, one that brought tears to his eyes, was a declaration of her love for him. She admitted that she had left England not because of a family emergency as she had claimed but because she found it imperative to flee from her own desires.
Jake, finally aware of the darkness that surrounded him, reached up and turned on the lamp beside him. He carefully refolded Lana's letter and put it back into its envelope. Then he placed the letter into the fireproof metal box in which he stored his will, his life insurance policy, a few stock certificates and other important documents.
After a final drink, the bewildered man went to bed. As he slept, Lana's revelations opened a door to his own subconscious. In his dream, he relived the love he had shared with the beautiful queen in Samaria. He remembered his past lives in which he had loved Cleopatra, Isolde, Guinevere, Katherine Howard, Marie Antoinette and dozens of others. Now he understood and shared her guilt and her fear, but he also shared her hope.
Jake Murdock awoke the following morning with a profound sense of peace. He loved Lana; he always had and always would. But he would never again try to see her or speak to her. After all, he owed it to Lana, to Montague and to his own immortal soul to break the cycle of forbidden love and infidelity.
Salem thinks he's the King of Hearts (but I think he's more of a joker).
