The Girl Next Door

by Rebecca Immich

Author’s Note: This story comes from a bizarre idea that popped into my head during work last summer. It’s another reason to explain why Scott wants the girl next door. I’d also like to thank Britt Graves for reading through what I had written of the story and helping me get motivated again to finish it. And as a warning, Kleenex may be needed while reading this story.

Disclaimer: As always, “Remember WENN” and all of its characters and settings belong to Rupert Holmes and AMC. Original characters and the plot are mine, however. The setting takes place after “The Follies of WENN.”

* * * *

After thwarting a raid by the police, everyone was celebrating in the green room, especially Phinny and his friends. The noise level on the party was getting pretty loud, Maple thought. Thank goodness it was a Sunday and none of the other tenants in the building would have the police come back. She scanned the crowded room for Scott. He would be able to get the Lemmings back to their hotel. Scott was nowhere in sight. Maple frowned, surprised that he wasn’t celebrating the near escape.

“Hey beautiful,” a drunken man slurred, catching himself on Maple’s shoulders. “You shouldn’t be frowning at a time like this. Where’s your glass?”

Maple smiled cautiously at him as she extracted his southward bound hand from her dress. “I think I left it out in the hall. I’ll meet you by the punch bowl.”

He leered at her low cut dress again. “Anything you want, gorgeous.” He turned and began to weave his way towards the punch bowl. Maple left the green room in search of Scott. She grabbed two glasses full of an orange colored beverage before getting out into the hall. After peering into studio A and the writer’s room, she noticed the fire escape door was ajar. Maple slowly pushed it open and saw Scott sitting on the steps. He had his tie loosened and looked quite comfortable, but it was his facial expression that startled her. Sadness as she had never seen on anyone else was visibly etched in every line of his face. “Scotty…?” she asked quietly, her voice rising on the last syllable exposing her concern.

Scott looked up at her, startled by anyone finding him outside. The corners of his mouth tried to pull up into his customary grin, but it just didn’t quite come together. “Hi Mapes. I just needed some time by myself to think.” He gestured at the fire escape. “This seemed like a good place to escape to.”

“Why aren’t you celebrating with everyone else?” Maple asked, curious as to why he would want time alone. “It’s getting pretty rowdy in there. I thought we might want to send Phinny and his friends back to their hotel soon.”

Scott’s head jerked up, his eyes filled with concern he immediately tried to conceal. “Oh. I suppose I should send them back to the hotel before things get to out of hand. Betty’s not in there with them, is she?”

Maple concealed a smile behind her glass. “Betty’s in reception with Mr. Eldridge, Gertie, and Mr. Hardy discussing the show Mr. Hardy wants to put on. I think she’s been sipping the same drink all evening.”

“Oh,” Scott said, the tension in his body relaxing.

Scott’s response hung in the air between them for a minute. Maple glanced down at the glass in her other hand. “Would you like this, uh, drink? I’m not a double fisted drinker and I don’t intend to start tonight.” She held the glass up, offering it to him.

Scott eyed it and said, “Sure.” He looked at Maple’s revealing dress and stood up, shrugging out of his overcoat. “Here, put this on.” He pushed the overcoat at her, exchanging it for the drink. He tipped it back and swallowed a large gulp, grimacing as the alcohol burned down his throat.

“Oh, I’ll be all right,” Maple protested, trying to give him back the coat.

“But I’m not,” Scott retorted. “Sit down.”

Maple wrapped the wool coat around her and settled down on the fire escape. She knew Scott better than anyone and she had never seen him look so upset. “What’s wrong?”

Scott smiled bitterly. “How long have I known you, Mapes? Ten, eleven years?”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “We met up in Hollywood in 1930.”

“Have you ever heard me talk about my past before 1930?”

“Just when you were sailing around the world.” Maple looked suddenly worried. “Nothing happened back then that is coming back again, is it?” Her thoughts raced to jail sentences, wild schemes gone awry, and much worse.

Scott noticed the growing concern on Maple’s face and raised his mostly empty glass. “A toast,” he said, as Maple likewise raised her glass, “to my anniversary.”

As Scott swallowed the rest of his drink, Maple tried to figure out what he meant. “Anniversary of what?”

Scott smiled tightly. “My marriage. No one knew about it but Sally’s family and Aunt Agatha.”

Maple managed to control her surprise enough to ask a question. “What happened to her? Did you get a divorce or…?” Her voice trailed off as she thought of Scott just leaving a wife behind.

“I’ve never told anyone this story. You do want to here the full account, don’t you?” Scott looked over as Maple nodded slowly. He resumed staring out at the smoke filled sky. “Sally…she was wonderful. We met while I was in school. I was only a freshman at Princeton, but I managed to get a ticket to the Homecoming dance from my roommate. He was a junior and his girlfriend had caught la grippe and couldn’t make it. Back in the fall of 1923…”

* * * *

Despite the fact that his tuxedo was borrowed, Scott managed to look just as dashing as the upper classmen with their tailored tuxes. He didn’t know many people at the dance because they were all juniors and seniors but he had managed to dance with a few girls. As he stood by the punch bowl sipping what was probably his tenth glass, a soft voice came from behind him. “Could you pour me a glass of punch?”

Scott turned around to see a vision. She had long wavy brunette hair, gray-blue eyes that reminded him of the ocean at home, a determined chin with a tiny cleft and the most kissable lips he had ever seen. “I think I’m in love,” he whispered out loud before he realized what he was saying.

She blushed, her rosy cheeks only adding to her loveliness and handed him her punch glass. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Scott suddenly remembered where he was. “I mean, yes, of course I can get you some punch,” he said rapidly, trying to cover his faux pas. He poured her a glass and they stood sipping their drinks for a minute, admiring the other dancers. Scott began nervously, “Would you like to dance?”

“Perhaps we ought to introduce ourselves first. I’m Sally March. I’m here visiting my brother Kerry,” she said, extending her hand.

Scott clasped her hand and said, “I’m Scott Sherwood. Would you like to dance now, Sally?”

She smiled. “Of course.”

As soon as the couple reached the dance floor the orchestra, which had been playing a lively tune, settled into a slow waltz. Scott made the best of the situation and took Sally into his arms. He had not taken dance lessons for seven years for nothing and he could dance with the best of them. They began to waltz silently. “How old are you, Sally?” Scott asked suddenly.

“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in January. Why?”

“Do you have a steady boyfriend?”

“No,” she replied slowly. “Why are you asking me all these questions?”

“What religion are you?”

“Catholic.” She sighed. “I don’t even know why I’m dancing with you.”

“Because I’m going to marry you,” Scott said seriously. “But if you want a church wedding I’m afraid I’m going to have to convert. I’m Protestant,” he added.

“Marry me?” Sally laughed as her fingers gripped his hand nervously. “We’ve only just met.”

Scott grinned. “Nevertheless, I intend to. And a Sherwood always follows his intentions.”

* * * *

Maple was caught up in the romance of the story. “You knew you were going to marry her the moment you met? Oh, that’s so romantic.”

“I just knew it. According to family legend, it’s a talent the Sherwoods have used for generations,” Scott explained. “Uncle Henry knew he would marry Aunt Agatha the moment her saw her.” He chuckled before continuing, “But to hear Aunt Agatha tell the tale, she was the one to decided they would marry.”

“What happened next?” Maple asked eagerly.

“We saw each other for the next year. Well, with Sally in upstate New York and me at Princeton, it made seeing each other more difficult. But we kept the postman busy carrying letters back and forth between us. That summer I went home to Aunt Agatha’s house in Nantucket and worked at the docks. I tried to make enough money to buy a car so I could go and see Sally during the year. Her parents sent her to Bryn Mawr to study English until she met a man from a wealthy family. That was probably the best year I had at Princeton,” he said wistfully. “I went to visit Sally every Sunday and occasionally she came to Princeton for the various dances. Kerry – that was Sally’s brother – realized we were getting pretty serious, and he told their parents.”

Maple interrupted, “So what happened? Did he prevent you from getting married and you and Sally eloped?”

“No. Actually, it had the exact opposite effect. But do you want me to finish the story?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow.

Maple looked crestfallen that her guess wasn’t right. She settled back against the iron railing. “Well, go on,” she said. “We don’t have all night.”

“Apparently Kerry thought I was what the family expected Sally to marry. I was at Princeton, got fairly good grades and owned my own car. I went home one weekend to tell Aunt Agatha that I intended to propose to Sally. Her reaction was, well, unexpected…”

* * * *

Scott paused in the doorway to Aunt Agatha’s sitting room, uncertain of how to broach the subject. Maybe if I try to bring it up casually, he thought. He groaned inwardly. Aunt Agatha could spot his cons a mile away. Why would this time be any different? The best mode of attack would be directness. Maybe she would expect him to skirt around the issue and he could surprise her with his upfront approach. Or maybe…

“Scubby!” a crisp voice commanded. Scott snapped to attention, his plan of attack forgotten as Aunt Agatha said sternly, “I won’t have anyone skulking in the darkness of the doorway! Make up your mind. Either come into the room or leave. A Sherwood never does anything halfway.”

Scott strode into the room, a confident bravado covering his slight nervousness. He took a seat on the sofa across from Aunt Agatha’s chair. Just as he began to start his explanation, Aunt Agatha asked, “What are you doing here this weekend? Shouldn’t you be with your young lady for dinner?”

“Uh…well…I had something that I wanted to discuss with you,” Scott managed to stammer. Inwardly he cursed at himself. He had allowed Aunt Agatha to catch him off guard.

“Well,” she said, “why don’t you get on with it?”

Scott took a breath, mentally steeling himself for the argument he knew lie ahead. “I’ve talked to Sally’s family and I am going to propose to her next weekend. We’re going to get married when I graduate from Princeton.”

“Good,” Aunt Agatha said. “I think it’s about time a Sherwood went straight.” She settled back into the chair, making herself comfortable while never taking her eyes off of Scott.

Scott was astounded. He had never expected this from Aunt Agatha. “Why?” he questioned.

“It’s what your mother would have wanted.” Aunt Agatha’s face softened slightly at the memory of Eileen. She had never quite fit in with the Sherwood clan, but no doubt about it, Arthur had truly loved her.

“Really?” Scott asked, surprised at Aunt Agatha bringing up his mother.

“She came from a family like Sally’s, rich and high in social standing. Your mother would have liked her son to make it back to her world. There are plenty of other Sherwoods to keep on the family traditions.” She stood up and moved over to the sofa, reaching down to enfold Scott in a gentle hug. “You’re like a son to me,” she whispered, “and I’ve never seen you this happy. Marry the girl.”

Scott squeezed Aunt Agatha around the waist. “Thank you,” he replied. She pulled back, brushing tears from her eyes. “I really appreciate it that you approve,” he said, smiling up at her.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Aunt Agatha asked. “You’ve got plenty of time to go ask your Sally today.” Scott grinned at her and started out the door. “I’ll let you know what happens!” he shouted gleefully over his shoulder.

* * * *

“Oh, Scotty,” Maple squealed. “I can’t believe that your family actually approved of the match! So Sally said yes, didn’t she?”

Scott smiled. “Yes. That very evening, actually. We were supposed to have a long engagement, until I graduated from Princeton and could start working to support a family, but…”

“But what?” Maple asked anxiously. She caught Scott’s eye, and after seeing the warning light in it, she continued, “Oh, all right. I’ll stop interrupting. Just keep going.”

Scott took a deep breath and slowly let it out, noticing that the coolness of the night had made it visible. “Maple, it’s getting pretty late. We should be getting the Lemmings back to their hotel and everyone else home. I can save the rest of the story for later.”

“Scotty!” Maple pleaded. “Mackie can get the Lemmings home. And I’m not that cold.”

Scott sighed. “I suppose. I’ll try to keep it short though. We’ve got to go back to work tomorrow after all.” He crossed his arms, trying to keep himself warm. “During my junior year at Princeton, things began to go wrong. My grades weren’t what I was used to. Mostly because I was spending a lot of time with Sally. One night I got involved with a high stakes poker game with some of the high rollers on campus. I was trying to make a little extra money for when we got married, but it didn’t quite turn out that way. The police raided the game. The other players were able to get away with slipping the police some money, but I couldn’t afford it. I got kicked out of Princeton.”

“Let me guess,” Maple started to say. She quickly began to apologize, “Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I was just going to say that I bet Sally’s family didn’t take that too well.”

“Well, you’re right,” Scott said. “But Aunt Agatha managed to scrape together enough money that I could get a job as a bondsman in New York. With my savings and her contribution, I could afford a small bungalow on Long Island. My career looked promising, so Sally’s parents consented to a wedding. It was a small affair, just her family and my family. We moved to New York and I started on my career as a bondsman.”

Maple smiled. “I’ll wager a ten spot that you were a great bondsman. If how you persuade the sponsors here is any example of how you can sell bonds, you must have had a pretty easy time of it.”

“Piece of cake,” Scott grinned. “I actually enjoyed it while I was doing it. The problem was that after only a few months of being married, Sally was pregnant. I had to work twice as hard to build up some money for the new baby.”

“Couldn’t you have borrowed some money from Sally’s parents?” Maple asked. “If they were so well off, wouldn’t they have been able to help support their daughter?”

“I wouldn’t have taken their money,” Scott retorted before continuing, “but they didn’t have any to give me. Not until Kerry had married his fiancée. Everything was going along fine until that Sunday afternoon…”

* * * *

Scott sat at the desk in the crowded study, hunched over some of the books he had gotten to learn more about bonds. He let out a deep breath, stretched out in his chair, and started to close the book. “Scott,” a voice said from the doorway. He looked up to see Sally standing in the doorway, one hand on her rounded abdomen. She smiled nervously at him and said, “I think it’s time. I called Mrs. Chesterfield, the midwife, and she should be here soon. She said that I should put some clean sheets on the bed and have lots of water heated. She also said…”

Scott’s face visibly paled under his tan as he listened to Sally continue to list the things Mrs. Chesterfield wanted to have ready. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call Dr. Greene?”

Sally wrapped her arms around Scott’s shoulders, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “Honey, Mrs. Chesterfield has a wonderful reputation as a midwife. She can help us save the hospital fees.” She winced as another contraction started. “I think little Arthur is ready to come out,” Sally said brightly.

“You mean little Marjorie,” Scott corrected her with a grin. He suddenly sobered, asking, “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m going to get some of the things Mrs. Chesterfield needs from the kitchen. You could go put some clean sheets on the bed,” Sally said. “She should be here in a half an hour or so. Then I’ll be in capable hands.” She smiled and patted him encouragingly before rising to walk into the kitchen. Scott trailed after her, watching her gather together the requested items before going into the bedroom. He managed to collect his thoughts together enough to gently sit Sally down on her vanity chair. “I can make a bed. You just sit here until I’m finished.” Scott got the spare set of sheets out of the closet and started to make the bed. He finished, smoothing the top sheet down before asking Sally, “Should I add any blankets?”

Sally smiled at his handiwork, and said, “I think you should just put them on top. Now, why don’t you go wait for Mrs. Chesterfield. She should be here soon.” As if on cue, a knocking could be heard at the door. “It sounds like she’s here now,” Sally continued.

“Let me get my wife settled first,” Scott said. He reached down and swung her up into his arms. Scott carried her over to the bed, gently settling her down. He tucked the blankets around Sally before kissing her tenderly. The knocking at the door grew louder. “I guess I’d better get the door. I love you,” he said as he stroked her cheek, “and I can’t wait to see our daughter.”

“Son,” she corrected him with a slight smile curving her lips. “Go on.”

Scott answered the door to see an impatient woman waiting for him. She was middle-aged and carried a large bag. “Where’s your wife?” she asked, irritated at having to stand at the front door for so long.

“She’s in the bedroom. It’s just through that door,” he said, gesturing at the door. “Sally has everything together that you wanted.”

“Good, good,” Mrs. Chesterfield said absently. “Well, you can wait out here. I’ll let you know how things are going. Does Mrs. Sherwood have any family members or friends that can help out?”

“I can call her cousin Prudence,” Scott offered. “She lives in this area. She’s a little older, with two children of her own.”

“Good, good. She should be able to help,” she said as she strode into the bedroom. Before closing the door, Mrs. Chesterfield called over her shoulder, “You’d better call her.”

Scott called Prudence who was more than willing to help her younger cousin with her first child. She knocked on the door and was quickly ushered into the darkened bedroom. Scott was left out in the sitting room as the two women took care of his wife. The afternoon passed into night and Mrs. Chesterfield had still not brought him any news. As she went to and from the kitchen, she would only nod at Scott’s questions and reply noncommittally, “Only time will tell.”

Just before seven, Prudence came out of the bedroom, looking quite disheveled and tired. She came and sat next to Scott on the sofa, placing the empty coffee cup on the coffee table. Prudence placed her hand on his and said, “It isn’t going as Mrs. Chesterfield had expected. She says that she can handle it, but Sally is bleeding heavily. I think you should get a doctor.”

Scott jumped up from the sofa. “Why didn’t you say something earlier! You call Dr. Greene. I’ll drive over to his house to get him. It’s late so he should still be home.” Scott ran out the front door and started up the car. He drove as fast as possible to Dr. Greene’s home and picked up the waiting doctor. The two men sped back to the bungalow and rushed inside. Dr. Greene went into the bedroom with his black bag. Mrs. Chesterfield came out and glared angrily at Scott. “My fee,” she said, her palm extended. Scott placed half of her regular fee into her hands and stated firmly, “You didn’t finish the job so this is all you get.” She narrowed her eyes, but left the bungalow in a huff.

An hour passed and finally Dr. Greene emerged from the bedroom. His face was set in grim lines and Scott knew something was not right. “What happened?” he asked.

“Mr. Sherwood, I’m sorry to tell you, but your wife had lost too much blood for me to help her. It was a breech birth and the midwife wasn’t able to help stop the bleeding enough. She died a few minutes ago.”

Scott looked at the bedroom door in horror. “What about the baby?” he managed to choke out.

If it was possible, Dr. Greene’s face grew even grimmer. “Because it was born breech, we were not able to see that the umbilical cord was wrapped around its neck. We made several attempts to revive her, but it was too late.” His voice became more sympathetic and he said softly, “She died shortly after being born. You can go into the bedroom and see both of them.” He patted Scott fatherly on the back as Scott turned to go into the bedroom.

The room still remained dark, with only a light burning on the nightstand. Prudence knelt next to the bed, crying softly as she held Sally’s hand. She looked up to see Scott standing in the door. “Scott, I’m so sorry,” she said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“Can I have a moment alone with Sally?” Scott asked, a lump choking his throat as he looked at his wife’s lifeless body.

“Oh, of course,” Prudence said as she stood up, placing Sally’s hand back on top of the covers. “I’ll be out in the sitting room if you need me.”

Scott nodded as his gaze zeroed in on Sally’s face. He noticed the small figure bundled in the pink blanket he had picked out only days before. He reached down gently and picked up the small bundle, cradling it between his arms. He parted the blankets and gazed at the tiny face of his daughter before nestling her in Sally’s arms. He reached down and gripped Sally’s hand as he stroked her hair. “I should have called Dr. Greene right away,” Scott whispered to her. “Then you’d still be here with Marjorie.” Scott buried his face in her hair and broke down. Prudence paused in the doorway, and began to cry again at the sight of Scott so prostrate with grief. She slowly shut the door behind her.

* * * *

Maple found herself moving closer to Scott as he began to get to the heart of his experiences. As he told of Sally’s death and his reaction, she tried to comfort him by gripping his hand tightly. When Scott paused, Maple enveloped him in a hug. After a moment, she pulled back and looked in to his eyes. “Scott, I had no idea…”

Scott reached up and brushed the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. He looked at Maple, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked at him with such concern. He smiled weakly and said, “Aw, Mapes, it was a long time ago.”

“Do you want to finish the story?” Maple asked cautiously.

“I thought that would be the end,” Scott said, puzzled as to what else she wanted to know. “Sally and Marjorie both died.”

Maple smiled through her tears. “I know it was the end for your wife and baby, but what happened to you? How did you end up in Hollywood in 1930?”

“Oh… Well, we had the funeral a week later. After Sally and Marjorie were taken care of, I sold everything, bought a boat, and left to see the world.” Scott removed Maple’s arms from around his shoulders and slowly stood up, stretching his stiff knees. He extended his hand towards her to help her up. Maple placed her hand in it and he pulled her up. “Would you like your coat back?” Maple asked.

“Oh, sure,” Scott replied, his thoughts years away. Maple noticed that he was lost in thought and helped him back into the coat, shivering as the cold breeze went through her thin dress. Before she went back into the station, Maple gave Scott another hug. He was shivering, partially because of the cold, Maple thought, and partially because of the experiences he had just shared. “If you ever want to talk again,” she whispered against in his ear, “you know how to reach me.” Maple pulled back and kissed him on the cheek.

Just as Maple pulled away from Scott, she noticed the fire escape door was wide open. Betty stepped onto the fire escape and said, “Oh, there you are. I was going to lock up the studio and go home now, but if you need some more time, I can leave the keys with you.” She smiled hesitantly, noticing the mascara running slightly from Maple’s eyes and Scott’s red eyes.

“Oh, would you look at the time?” Scott asked, his cheerful tone sounding forced. “And to think that we’ve got to work again tomorrow. Can I walk you girls to the trolley?”

“Why don’t you go on,” Maple suggested. “I can help Betty close up and the two of us can walk down.” She looked reassuringly at Scott and gestured with her head for him to leave. “We’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” Scott said slowly. He turned to face Betty and said, “Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He strode into the building, the door gently banging behind him.

“You might want to fix your mascara,” Betty said, handing Maple a handkerchief. “Is Scott okay?”

“Yeah, he is okay,” Maple said thoughtfully. “He’s just had an eventful night.” She shook her head and began to talk about the burlesque show and the rest of the evening as the pair walked back into the building. Before closing the door, Maple glanced around the fire escape one last time. It had been a most eventful evening.

The End

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