Radio Mirror: The Magazine of Radio Romances (Jan-June 1943)

up to you and want to be like you. All the other things." "Alma, don't." He looked really uncomfortable. "As for Julian, I like the kid. He just needed a word here and there to set him right. And as for gratitude, it's on my part. I'm grateful to old Drake for getting you here in the first place. I'm grateful to you for just being around where I can see you . . ." TPHE words trailed off. They said more than had ever been said before, brought me closer to the verge of something , infinitely precious, infinitely sweet. Maybe something of that showed in my face. Because Andy made a sort of inarticulate sound and then gathered me to him. I felt the rough tweed lapel of his jacket against my cheek, smelled the clean, masculine freshness of him, and even before his lips met mine, I thought, "I'll have to tell him. He's got to know." And then, "But not yet. Not now." That kiss was more than I had ever imagined it could be. In it, unspoken, was the knowledge I belonged to him, that now my life was starting for the first time. If only — And then the doorbell buzzed again. Andy muttered under his breath. I pulled away from him and went to answer it, trying to still the radiance that must be glowing on my face. I -opened the door — and the radiance was stilled of itself, as if there had never been any. For there was the past I thought was over, caught up with me again. Standing there on the threshold was Jed Clinton. I clutched the doorknob to steady myself and stared at him. He gave his old easy smile. "Surprised to see me, baby?" Then as I couldn't answer, "Aren't you going to ask me in, after all this time?" Automatically I stepped back. Jed looked at Andy. "This is Jed Clinton," I heard myself saying. "Andrew Pendleton." Andy came forward, hand outstretched. "Clinton?" he said pleasantly. "A relative of Alma's?" Jed laughed. "Sort of. A — cousin, shall we say." He glanced around the room. "Cozy little place you've got here, Alma. You seem to be doing all right." He opened it the only way you can open a penny bank. He smashed it, and a shower of coins and crumpled dollar bills spilled out on the mantel "Yes." I felt like a ghost of myself with a numbed brain and nerveless hands. Andy broke the rather awkward pause. "Well, I'll be running along. I imagine you two have a lot to talk over — surprise visit and all that. See you tomorrow, Alma. Glad to have seen you, Mr. Clinton." He was covering it up nicely, but I sensed his puzzled bewilderment. Nobody could have missed that atmosphere of sudden strain, and Andy was more perceptive than most. I tried to smile at him but my face felt wooden. And then he was gone. Jed dropped comfortably onto the couch. He hadn't changed a bit. Nearing forty now, he was still smooth, assured and terribly convincing. He lit a cigarette, his eyes regarding me with amusement over his cupped hands. "Sorry," he said, "to interrupt a love scene." "It wasn't a love scene! And you've got no right to come here, to — to track me down!" "No?" He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you didn't notice your boy friend was wearing a smear of lipstick on his chin." Then he laughed. "It's a good thing I'm a broadminded guy, Alma. After all, you are my wife." "Only because of the divorce laws of this state — Jed, how did you find me? Why couldn't you leave me alone?" The old trapped feeling was coming back. "The answer to the first is easy. I've known where you were for some time. As to why I came — well, I'm a little short of cash at the moment. I thought that under the circumstances — " he paused significantly — "you could tide me over." 42