Radio romances (July-Dec 1945)

clean, and in the soft darkness Bob told me things he had never put into words before. How lonely he himself had been as a youngster, with both parents dead. How, later, fighting for a living and an education, he had dreamed of a family of his own. The things other people take for granted spelled heaven to him. Just coming home and finding someone you love there . . . being able to hold your own child in your arms . . . "We'll have a big family, four or five," I said softly. "A man as fine as you ought to have fine sons to come after him." "Just stay prejudiced like that, honey. That's all I ask!" he laughed, but there was a little choke in the laughter. We clung to each other wordlessly. IN the days that followed I felt strangely humble in the face of his happiness. I might have been giving him the whole world tied up in pink ribbon. He started buying toys — toys that no child could possibly use until he was at least two. He asked Butch's dad innumerable questions. He went around in a glowing daze — except when he was flying. The cadets he instructed often dropped by the house, and they would talk "wing talk" for hours. Then he was lost in a man's world. I had no part in it; but that didn't matter. "He's the greatest guy on earth," the cadets told me often. "You could land on a dime when he's through teaching you." And I would try to look properly modest through the soaring elation of my own heart agreeing he's the greatest guy on earth. Then, in the sudden way the Army does things, Bob's orders to go overseas came through. He hated leaving me, but I knew he felt his real job was over there. We made a pact: there would be no "goodbye." We would go on a picnic as we had done the first day we met. . . . My hands shook as I packed the luncheon. But I was determined to make this a gay memory. There was a chocolate cake like the one we'd had the first time, "Dagwood" sandwiches, which were Bob's favorites. We drove to a little arroyo and spread the lunch under a cottonwood. We pretended we were having a terrific flirtation, and teased each other, and laughed a lot. And none of it was any good. You can't keep up a pretense when your heart is so sore. Bob came over and put his head in ray lap and we were quiet for a long while. I cupped my hands behind his head and leaned over to kiss him. "I just want you to know I love you, soldier. I never really lived until you came along. ..." I whispered the words and there was a hard lump in my throat. Bob turned. He caught me to him fiercely. His kiss burned straight through to my heart. Passionate, hard . . . and exquisitely sweet. . . . When he had gone, I went back home to California to wait for our child to be born. We wrote daily, pouring our love out across the six thousand miles that separated us. I tried to resume my old life; so many other girls were doing the same thing. But the zest was gone. Days fell into a monotonous pattern. Helping mother with the housework, sewing for the baby, working down at the Red Cross. . . . And then abruptly something happened. All my life I had been strong and healthy, but now energy suddenly left me. I collapsed one afternoon and old Dr. Watson took me straight to the hospital. There were X-rays, tests, consultations. Through a blur of pain I Help our boys . . . protect your own future Victory Bond dollars work two ways! For our boys, and for you. Because they not only help care for wounded veterans, they help you save for things you want: things important to your future! Remember, for .^e every three dollars you lend, your Jy government returns four. Back the Victory Loan R M 65