Heaven Is to Your Left
Contents
Heaven is to Your Left
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In Praise of the Juliana Series
Summary of Previous Books in Series
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Win an Amazon Fire Tablet
Your Opinion Counts
The Whole Series
Acknowledgements
Notes
About the Author
Heaven is to Your Left
Juliana Series: Book 4
(1956)
by
Vanda Writer
Postwar New York City
Sans Merci Press
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance my original characters have to a person, living or dead, is merely coincidental.
COPYRIGHT 2018
All rights reserved. This book or parts of it may not be reproduced in any form, except for short citations needed for articles or reviews.
Cover Design: Ann McMan
Edited by: Deborah Dove at Polgarus Studio
Library of Congress Number: 2018912452
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In Praise of the Juliana Series
“From the first page, I felt I was walking on the streets of 1940s New York. At times funny, enlightening, sensual, Juliana tells a story that is rarely told. --Donna Spector, The Candle of God, The Woman Who Married Herself.
“This novel (Olympus Nights on the Square) clearly shows how far women's rights and the LGBT community have come. I have a greater appreciation for all of those men and women who have fought for our rights to live and love out loud. I believe it is important for the LGBT community to be reminded of the struggles and sacrifices that have brought us to where we are today. Why is this important? It is important for someone like myself because I live in a country where my love is illegal and the LGBT community in the Caribbean is often sidelined and our rights are ignored. Therefore, reading this story has showed me that it is possible to see light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Our Caribbean LGBT activists are not giving up, and it gives me some hope that someday I may have the opportunity to say that my country said YES! to love and freedom for all." (The Lesbian Review, 2/11/18)
“Vanda delivers another phenomenal piece to the Juliana series! The characters I've grown to love have evolved into even bigger, brighter, beautiful people and new characters are added to the mix whom I now love just as much as the original. In this book, Al is going through a massive internal struggle. She is on the fence about whether or not she is a lesbian, one of "them", which is interesting to see and I think it's something all of us could relate to. I was proud when Al declared herself gay because finally she isn't ashamed of who she is. There were some powerful words and struggles in this book and again is a perfect period piece. Not only do we get a glimpse into the lives of post-WWII LGBT characters, we also are reminded how tough it was to be a woman back then. Al turns into a career-oriented college graduate, which of course is a tough thing to be in that time. I eagerly look forward to the next additions to the Juliana series. If you've read Juliana, read Olympus as well! If you haven't read Juliana, well, what are you doing with your life?!
“I just finished Juliana and Olympus Nights and cannot wait to start Paris Adrift. These are some of the most amazing and important books that I have read in a good while. I am a fan of LesFic stories, but this is much more than that. These stories have to be told and appreciated. Thank you for all the work and research that was put into these stories. It’s much appreciated.” (An Amazon Customer)
“Romance enveloped in a time period most of us could not imagine struggling through. Reading this series has made me so grateful to those that fought the good fight before us, and grateful this author does not let us forget their struggle.” (An Amazon Customer)
“(Juliana) captures the fear, excitement, and eroticism of a young lesbian's awakening in the 1940s." -- Kirkus Reviews
“Vanda creates a historical novel about a time period in which we know very little about queerness--WWII... Vanda's narratives, prowess of timely language and setting and character development lend a poignant message: to be queer was to be anti-American." -- July Westhale, Lambda Literary Review
Summary of Previous Books in Series
JULIANA: BOOK 1 (1941-1945)
Alice “Al” Huffman and her childhood friends are fresh off the potato farms of Long Island and bound for Broadway. Al’s plans for stage success are abruptly put on hold when she’s told she has no talent. As she gets a job to pay for acting classes, Al settles into a normal life with her friends and a boyfriend. Everything changes when she meets Juliana.
A singer on the brink of stardom, Juliana is everything Al isn’t: glamorous, talented, and queer. The farm girl is quickly enthralled, experiencing thoughts and feelings she never realized were possible. Al finds herself slipping between two worlds: the gay underground and the “normal” world of her childhood friends. It’s a balancing act she can handle until the two worlds begin to collide.
OLYMPUS NIGHTS ON THE SQUARE: BOOK 2 (1945-1955)
It’s 1945 and Juliana wants to be a star and she has the singing voice to do it. “Al” is determined to make Juliana into the star she wants to be. The worst thing that could happen to Juliana is to be discovered as gay. The worst thing that could happen to Al is to lose Juliana. Al must guard their secret at all costs. Will the gossip columnists and the new laws destroy them? Olympus is filled with 1950s behind the scenes drama in theater and nightclubs, It’s sexy, funny and deadly serious; it’s full of mobsters, the FBI, McCarthyism, gay bashing, lesbian pulp, a beginning awareness of transgender persons and “cures” for homosexuality.
PARIS, ADRIFT: Book 3 (1955-1956)
Paris-bound, 1955. “Al" Huffman can't wait to reach the City of Light. As soon as their ship arrives, Juliana's singing career will get the spotlight it deserves, and the two women will finally bring their relationship out of the shadows. Or so Al thinks. Before the SS United States hits land, a stranger approaches Al with a Broadway contract for Juliana. But the offer comes with a threat that can't be ignored. And unless Al can find a way out, Juliana's comeback could come crashing down before it even begins… As she hides the awful truth from Juliana, Al searches for an answer before another obstacle destroys their last chance for happiness…
Chapter One
January 1956
Our descent was a little rocky. The plane bucked us in our seats. The captain had warned us there’d be some slight turbulence on our way down; it’d begun to snow in New York. I looked down at my lap. I had a rolled-up copy of the Pan Am Clipper magazine in my hands and I was choking it. Not because of the turbulence, but because of what awaited Juliana and me in New York.
All during the flight, Jule and I had hardly uttered a word to each other, just the few pleasantries strangers might exchange on an airplane. Both of us lost, I suspect, in our fears of what would come next. Every time I started to doze off, I saw Schuyler’s face grinning at me and it’d jar me awake. After he’d forced Juliana to sign that contract to do the Broadway musical, he pretty much left us alone. Of cou
rse, to an outsider, being “forced” to star in a Broadway musical wouldn’t seem like such a terrible thing, but . . . One night a day or so after she’d signed that contract, we were sleeping in my room. The whole business had brought us closer together and she didn’t worry anymore about us turning into Shirl and Mercy, our two women friends who lived together. We’d taken to sleeping in my bed every night, even though her bed, in the larger room, was bigger. One night I was jarred awake by her thrashing in her sleep. I raised myself up on my elbow. “Jule,” I whispered and lightly touched her shoulder. She shook herself awake and lay there, staring at the ceiling. “Are you okay?” I asked.
“Yes. Yes,” she said. “A dream. Just a . . .” She threw her legs over the side of the bed, her fingernails gripping the edge of the mattress.
“I’ll get you a glass of water.” I ran into the bathroom and came back with the water. She took the glass into her two hands but didn’t drink; she just stared into it as if she were waiting for a goldfish to poke its head out. She slid off the bed and put the glass on the end table. “Al, I—I . . . You’re so much braver than I am. I . . .” She turned to face me.
“What is it?” I asked
“I—I can’t do it. I can’t. I’m finished.” She walked over to the French windows, peering past the curtains.
“You can do it, hon. You are so talented. You just need to believe in your talent. That’s what I’m here for. To keep reminding you.”
“When I was up on that stage two years ago and people walked out—those were the kindest ones. Others laughed and booed. I think I died on that stage then, or felt like it. The critics said awful things. Some were even the critics who had praised me in the clubs, but they turned on me and—”
“Jule, that happened because you weren’t singing. The play was a drama.” I wished I could remind her it was Richard who had signed her for that horribly bad play. It wasn’t just her; even an experienced thespian would have had a tough time keeping that bomb afloat. “Jule, there was no music. You had no experience and no training in that sort of thing. It’s not what you do. It’s not what you’re a genius at. This time you’ll be singing, and the audience’ll see the real you.”
“I can’t.” She fluffed her hair and moved away from the window. “Schuyler is going to ruin me. He’s going to publicize that I’m a . . . a . . .” Her face turned paler than usual.
“We won’t give him the chance to do that.”
She turned to me. “Aren’t you scared? If our relationship comes out, he’ll ruin your life too. Max will have to fire you. You won’t get another job. You’re not scared I’ll flop and ruin your life too?”
“I’m scared, yeah, but I know you can do it, so in another way I’m not scared.”
“Get me out of this.”
“What? But you signed the contract. That’s what Max advised you to do. He also advised you to trust me.”
“And I do. Please don’t think I don’t.” She put her hands together as if she were praying and nodded them at me. “It’s me I don’t trust.”
“That’s your mother talking. Always making you feel like you weren’t measuring up to her dream. You’ve already surpassed her.”
“You can get me out of it. I know you can. Then I can go back to singing in the clubs. Forget about Broadway. That was my original plan. All you have to do is get me out of that contract and make Schuyler keep his mouth shut.”
“That’s all, huh? Jule, do you hear what you’re asking me? Why would Schuyler do that for me?”
“He would, he would. You have a way with people. You can make things work.”
“Jule, I’m not Max. And even Max couldn’t think of a way around this except by signing that contract. I’m also not a lawyer. And if we did take him to court, the whole thing would come out. All over the world. Doing that play is the only way out of this.”
“No, it can’t be. It can’t be.” She wrung her hands and paced. “No, there must be some other way.”
I gripped her shoulders to stop all that movement. “Easy, hon.” I wrapped my arms around her and brought her close to me. She folded her arms around my waist and laid her head on my shoulder. I reached up to pat her head.
“You can fix this. I know you can,” she said.
No matter how much I thought and thought, I couldn’t come up with a plan. I’d talk to Max again when we got home.
The plane dipped down, and my stomach turned over. I feared that if we didn’t land soon I’d need the white throw-up bag that was stuffed into the back pocket of the seat in front of me. I leaned near Juliana, joining her in looking out the window. “Maybe it’d be better if we didn’t make it,” she whispered to the clouds beyond the glass.
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” I said, a bit horrified.
“Yes. I think.”
My ears began to pop and I furiously swallowed. I hated my ears doing that. “You want a stick of gum?” Juliana asked.
“Please.”
She reached into her alligator handbag and took out an open package of spearmint. She shook out one for each of us. I leaned back in my seat, chewing wildly.
My chewing slowed when I recalled the time after Jule had first begged me to get her out of the contract. I couldn’t bear to see her in such pain, so I went to Schuyler’s Pigalle office. Jule was off in the provinces working, so she didn’t know. I made my way through the odd carnival sights of Pigalle: the bearded ladies, the ladies who stripped in the street, the lady with the cobra crawling up her almost nude body. I entered a dark cabaret, not yet open for business. A blonde woman stood on a small stage wearing nothing but a silver triangle covering her privates. I was shocked to find myself getting aroused. How many topless and near-naked ladies had I seen on this trip? I think it had something to do with that silver triangle. In the corner, a female impersonator sat at a table smoking, coughing, and drinking from a highball glass. She wore a loose-fitting pink dress; it looked a lot like the house dresses my mother used to wear. Her bright red lipstick was smeared away from the edges of her mouth and much of it was pressed onto the edge of her glass. “Excuse me, ma’am,” I said. Her tired eyes, heavy with overdone turquoise eye shadow, peered up at me from under her wide-brimmed hat. “English?” I asked, hoping. She shook her head no. “Schuyler?” I asked. She pointed her pinky, still wrapped around the glass, at the opposite wall. I went over to the wall and turned down the hallway. There at the end near a closed door stood Schuyler, leaning on a broom, an apron over his unbuttoned suit jacket. He sure didn’t look terribly intimidating dressed like that. I had a chance with him. “Schuyler!” I commanded.
He snapped to attention like a soldier, then seeing it was me, his body slumped. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here, that’s all. I want to talk. But it doesn’t look like you’re the kind of guy who’d have an office available.”
“Oh yeah? You’ll see.” He sounded like a child daring me. He tore the apron off and kicked the door next to him open. “In!”
I marched in, giving him my most lethal stare as I passed. Inside there was an empty desk, a couple of chairs, and a floor that was a dusty mess. The one window to the side of the desk looked as if it hadn’t been washed in months it was so caked with gunk. There was nothing on the wall except for a large painting directly behind Schuyler’s desk chair. Not exactly the office of an executive or powerful producer. He threw off his apron, tightened his tie, spat on his hands, and ran his palms over the top of his head, apparently engaged in some type of grooming ritual. To impress me? He sat down.
I sat on the opposite side of the empty desk, staring at the “artwork” hanging behind him. A thickly painted woman lay on her bed in a can-can outfit. Her legs were parted, so you could see she wasn’t wearing any underwear. I found it disgusting, but it was something I’d expect to find in Schuyler’s office. Except—I’d seen this same painting in other offices I’d visited in Paris. The French’s rules of decorum between the sexes are quite different fr
om America’s rules. This sort of thing would never be permitted in the US. It could even get you arrested.
“So, what is it you want?” Schuyler asked. “I didn’t expect to see you again until we all got back to New York.”
“You’ve got to let Juliana out of that contract.”
“Ha! She signed it. She’s mine.”
“But don’t you see?” I leaned on his desk and looked into his eyes. “If you force her, she could fall apart. You’ll be ruining your own investment. I can get you Lili Donovan. But first you’ve got to tear up that contract.” I sat back in my chair. “You know how good Lili is. On the ship you said you were interested. She’s already got a worldwide reputation.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Hmm, you’re right. Lili’s good, but very different from Juliana.”
“I can get her to do it like Juliana.”
He was silent a moment, watching me. My eyes wouldn’t leave his. I had to win this. He picked up a few pieces of paper from his desk and began slowly ripping them up. Could that be the contract? Had I gotten through to him? He let the pieces sprinkle through his fingers and fall onto the desktop. I quickly ran through Lili’s schedule. Was she even free to do this? She had to be, even if I had to call in a lot of favors.