Radio Mirror: The Magazine of Radio Romances (Jan-June 1945)

flooded the room. Deke walked around opening windows. "Wait here," he said. "I'll get our bags — " I stood in the center of the room, turning slowly on my heel, looking around me. There was a cottage dresser against one wall, with willowware plates on its rack. The wicker furniture was simple and comfortablelooking; in the corner was a divan piled with cushions in bright, harmonious colors. There were books everywhere, and lamps beside the deep chairs. Deke's mother, I thought, had good taste. She liked simplicity and comfort and cheerful things around her. I would enjoy meeting her. . . . And then it struck me that I wasn't going to meet her — at least, not right away. I was to be spirited out of here by Monday, and all traces of my having been here would be carefully effaced— because I had no real right to be here. And when I did meet her, it would not be as Deke's wife. AND at that my pride rebelled. All ■/-* at once everything that was wrong with what we were doing came rushing at me, and I began to remember little things, hateful, shameful little things — Joe Henley's cackling laugh as he'd talked about Janie McWinters; Bill's insisting that Janie had invited the talk and the nasty prying and the snickers. I had thought that that sort of thing couldn't touch me, but I knew now, when I envisioned the same contemptuous pity coming from Deke's mother, should she learn about us, that it could. I could not bear it. . . . Deke came into the room, set our bags down, crossed over to me. "Kathy," he said huskily. His lips brushed mine, settled to a hard and eager searching, and all thought of his mother, and Bill, and Joe Henley was swept away in a flood of passionate tenderness. I could face anything with Deke, for Deke. I was ashamed of having worried over petty humiliations. "Kathy." Deke lifted his head. He was smiling faintly, but his eyes -were serious and a little frightened. "What's wrong?" I looked up at him blankly. "Wrong, Deke?" "Something's wrong. Your kisses don't lie. They're sweet and warm and tender — but the fire's gone. What's happened to it, Kathy? Why don't you want me?" "But I do—" And then I stopped. Because I was lying to him. I didn't want him now — like this. I wanted to want him, with my whole heart and mind, but my body refused. My body followed an instinct that was as old as womankind, demanding all of the protection a man can give the woman he loves — the complete protection Deke could not give me. I turned up my hands in a little helpless gesture. "Deke — " And then the words came, monotonously, without expression, almost without my will. "Bill was right," I said. "I — I've been fooling myself, Deke. I thought that the world and conventions didn't matter to me. But they do. I didn't realize it, but I've been fooling myself — and you, too." He didn't move, and I couldn't. Neither could I find voice for another word. In the silence between us I heard the wind sigh in the trees outside. I couldn't bear to look at Deke, at the little smile that lingered around his mouth as if he had forgotten to remove it, at the stricken look in his eyes. Then he said, "What— where can I take you? I haven't gas enough to reach the city." Then I realized that I had no place to go. We couldn't go back to the farm, not when Bill might already be there, or might come driving up at any moment. It would be worse to register at the little inn at Apple Lake, where everyone knew me for Bill's sister. I motioned toward the divan. "Is it all right if I stay here?" "Of course," he said politely, stiffly. "You'll find it made up with sheets and things. It's — quite comfortable." ¥ NODDED wretchedly. After another * long, considering silence, he turned and went down the hall, taking his suitcase with him. I turned out the light and flung myself down on the divan, not bothering to strip the cover off, not bothering to undress. With my coat pulled around me, I lay huddled against the cushions, icy cold in the warm night, not daring to breathe. If I so much as moved a muscle, the sharp spear of misery that was pressing against my chest would pierce me and I would cry out, and Deke would hear me. Where was he now? How far away was his room? Could he hear the smallest sound I made? I couldn't guess, and I clenched my teeth, pressed my face into the pillows. If I could hold out long enough, the pain would go away, and then I wouldn't feel anything at all. I'd never feel anything again. . . . Then tears rolled down my cheeks, and I was lost. I swallowed a sob, and then I had to lift my head, gasp for breath. I heard Deke's step in the hall, and I sat up quickly, tried to brush the tears from my face. 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