Modern Screen (Jan-Dec 1960)

EXPECTING THE STORK? JUST FOR YOU! Plus . . . TWO EXCITING NEW CONTESTS FEATURING PRIZES FOR YOU AND YOUR BABY-TO-BE ,„ DELL'S newest 1000 Hints Magazine — Molina Mothers -tobe ON SALE NOW JJjjG Lana in Love! (Continued from page 35) brilliant, sensitive, intelligent and with a real sense of humor. Moreover, he is honorable and good. And so handsome!" she enthused. "Six feet tall, dark hair — and the most amazing hazel eyes I have ever seen. "But to answer your question — Fred isn't free until February — and this time, with me, it has to be right. Oh, how right it has to be this time. We are not discussing marriage until the day we have the right to discuss it. He has not asked me to marry him." I persisted, "And when he does?" She made an almost imperceptible gesture of the shoulders as though she had already given that answer when she said, "Who can plan for tomorrow? Life is so uncertain." "And how does Cheryl feel about Fred?" I went on. "She likes him and respects him as I do. I know now," Lana said, "that love, the real thing, isn't a wild passion. It's based on companionship and respect and mutual interests and an admiration for the man in your life. "Fred talks to me and advises me and what he says is always so sane. He always wants me to do what is expected of me — even to small things like being on time and keeping appointments. If I make a promise he insists that I keep it. "He has three children, two girls, one twelve — one, eight, and a boy of five. Fred is devoted to them and naturally feels a deep sense of responsibility — just as I feel for Cheryl. I couldn't feel as I do about him if he felt less deeply about his children." I thought, Lana, my jriend, these are the words of a woman in love and I mean a woman, not the girl I have talked with so many times over the long years I have known you, a girl who was in love with love. The difference At thirty-eight, Lana is as beautiful and as much the glamorous movie star as she was at sixteen. But with — oh— what a difference! Maturity, and a new serenity set on her shoulders as tangibly as the decorations on a soldier who has been brave in a dangerous battle. I, who have known her so long, realized that this Lana, who has suffered and known the bitterness of tragedy and almost unbearable heartaches and heartbreaks through sorrows that would have broken a less strong woman, is a much finer person at this point in her life than she has ever been. I couldn't take my eyes off her when she entered the room overlooking my garden where I have interviewed her so many times in the past. I couldn't believe she was the same woman who was so crushed at the time her daughter Cheryl had ended the life of the late, unlamented Johnny Stompanato in an effort to save her adored mother. Then, Lana had looked her age, with sadness etched deep into her face. But this day she looked so glamorous, so poised, so chic, so in possession of herself. Lana was wearing a Jean Louis dress and short coat of . beige with a matching mink collar, the whole ensemble melting into the shades of her hair. After we had greeted each other, both of us interrupting, trying to cover all the ground since we had last met and talking, talking, talking as women do who haven't recently seen each other, I said, "Oh, how different you look, Lana." "Maybe it's my hair," she laughed. "It's called the 'frosted' look. It's several shades darker than my natural color and is just streaked with blonde." She wears it in a bouffant style that frames her face in a soft and becoming effect. "Could be part of it," I agreed, "but there is something more than a mere external change. You have an inner glow." She was quiet a moment, looking out over the garden at the lovely roses still in bloom, and the greens so verdant after our long Indian summer, even though this was the first afternoon with winter nip in the air. Lana seemed to be measuring her words before she spoke. "Perhaps that's because I have found faith, a faith I never knew before." Her voice was low and soft as she went on, "I have found God and I have placed myself in his hands. I no longer worry about tomorrow. I meet my problems as they come up day by day — knowing that He will take care of me." She was silent a minute but I didn't interrupt. She said, "You know perhaps better than anyone that I used to live as well as work in a make-believe world. I didn't particularly want to face reality. My trouble was that I existed in a sort of fairyland, believing that everything and everyone was good and never realizing that this beautiful dream world was surrounded by a deep and dreadful jungle." I assumed Lana meant Stompanato, but she mentioned no names and neither did I. I had promised not to go into that closed chapter in her life. Besides, we had other things to discuss. Lana and Fred May I particularly wanted to know about this Fred May in her life, this brilliant young business executive in the manufacturing field with whom Lana's name is linked exclusively these days. When I mentioned his name, Lana's mood brightened. Those old dimples sprang back into her smile as she said, 'You know — I nearly brought Fred with me this evening. I so very much want you to know him and like him — and for him to know you, my friend." It was at this point that we had the conversation which opens this story and naturally I was eager to learn more about this man whom Lana describes so — shall we say — affectionately. "How and where did you meet Fred?" I asked. She said, "I was invited to a party at the beach. I hadn't been going out socially at all and I dreaded to accept. I almost backed out at the last moment I so dreaded being in a large group of people again. But I went. The jump had to be made sometime. "I was sitting with a group of casual acquaintances wondering again why I had come — when suddenly a man, a stranger, walked down the stairs from the entrance hall. "I liked his looks, he was different. Later, we were introduced and after we chatted a while, I thought — how easy he was to talk to. No strain. No fencing. I really laughed when he told me confidentially that he very nearly had not accepted the invitation either! "We talked about so many things — and he made them sound so interesting — even those topics far removed from my usual spheres. Horses, for instance. Fred owns a stable of race horses, among other interests." Lana didn't need any prodding from me to continue telling about this (perhaps) fateful night in her life. "When the evening was over, he asked for my telephone number. I was surprised to find this made me very glad. I gave it to him, of course. "Then, three days went by without a