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

dropped to his knees and knelt by me where I sat. His arms went around me and he looked up at me with real tenderness, a look you must have seen on his face in his movies. "From now on," he said, "it's going to be different. You've been a wonderful sport, Jackie, and I'm going to start paying off for your sportsmanship. Give me a chance, darling. You won't have another lonely moment — not as long as you live — I promise it!" I had to tell him quickly before my courage failed me. "It's not like it was, Dean. It's changed." "You mean you don't care for me any more?" "It's not that, Dean. I don't believe you any more." "Then you did allow that woman to poison your mind against me." "I don't think she had anything to do with it but — " His face was drawn and pale — frighteningly so. I stammered: "It's probably my fault. Why does one stop believing another person? I don't really know." 1KNOW," he said with terrifying softness. "It's when you fall in love with somebody else!" "Listen, Dean," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm terribly tired and we have the rehearsals tomorrow. Let's talk about this thing when we're not both so played out. Tomorrow — maybe at cocktail time ..." But he didn't seem to hear me. "Who is it?" he said coming closer to me, "who is it that you're in love with?" "Dean, stop it. Please . . ." Then: "Is Tom Trumble in town? Tell me— is he?" , I remembered that night of our wedding, that terrible wave of jealousy that suddenly swept over Dean about Tom — and then there was so little reason for it. "Yes, he is," I said. "But that hasn't anything to do with it." "Oh, it hasn't! We'll see about that." "I must go now," I said. "I really must." "Go? You're my wife, Jackie. You're not going to go. Not tonight you're not." "But I am — I must." "No," he said firmly, with inexorable determination, "you're not going. You're going to stay right here with me — like a good wife — do you understand?" Dean Hunter's arms were around me, although I tore at him and tried to pull away from him. He whispered impassioned words into my ears, first brutally, then with cajoling gentleness as if hoping that each mood would have the right effect on me. But every moment that went by made me more resolute — and more frightened that I wouldn't know how to escape my own husband! "Stop it! Stop it, Dean," I said breathlessly as I tried to avoid his hands. But he had no intention of letting me go. I began to batter at him with my fists. He grasped my wrists and held them behind me and smiled brutally as he became aware of the physical advantage he had over me. In that moment the doorbell rang. His face paled. "We won't answer it," he said fiercely. The bell jangled insistently. 58 Tell Me You're Mine Continued from page 36 "You'd better open it," I said breathlessly. "No," he said. "They'll go away." He held me to him more tightly than ever. But the bell rang again. "If you don't open the door whoever it is will break it down when I get through screaming!" I said. He knew I meant it. He let me go and went to the door. "Who's there?" he said without opening it. Again the bell rang, relentlessly. Dean opened the door. Relief coupled with a new fear filled me when I saw who was there. It was Tom. Dean's back was to me but I sensed the paleness of his face, the fury in his eyes for I heard him say, "What do you want?" The man in uniform didn't answer at first. He passed his host and came to me. "Are you all right?" he said. "Yes, of course," I said, fatuously. But Tom knew. "Get out of here!" Dean Hunter was saying. "You're darn tootin'," Tom said, smiling. "Come on, Jackie." "My wife stays right here," Dean said in high-pitched anger. "Only if she wants to," Tom said quietly. I took my coat and bag and "/ always said you sing like a bird," Eddie Cantor tells Dinah Shore os he listens to her and her pet canary doing a duet. started for the door. But Dean stood there blocking it. Very calmly Tom grasped my husband's lapel and pulled him to one side so there would be room for me to pass. Then Dean swung — and Tom, caught off guard, fell across a small table, tripped and sprawled on the floor. When he got up Dean was standing over him, scowling savagely. Then his fist shot out — and Tom ducked. Again, still smiling, Tom grasped Dean Hunter's lapels and held him. "All we want to do is get out," he said quietly. But Dean gritted his teeth in fury and began to swing again. Tom's gestures were so fast I could scarcely see what he'd done. His foot came up in a quick movement that made Dean Hunter grunt with pain as he buckled and reached for his shins. "I don't think I'd better hit him," Tom said, half to me, half to himself. "I might just happen to kill him." And before I knew it I was on the way out with Tom following me. He slammed the door and we hurried toward the elevator. My heart sank, despite my relief at being away from Dean Hunter. Now his jealousy would always stand in our way! On the way home in the cab I didn't tell Tom my fears. I was too grateful to him for his timely appearance. He told me he'd had a hunch I needed him, just a hunch. It was with great tenderness that he kissed me before we parted in front of my boarding house. Both of us knew what lay before us the next day, but we didn't speak of it. There was a wave of warmth and emotion between us and we were somehow satisfied with that. At last there was no doubt in my mind. I loved Tom Trumble wholly and completely and if there was any way for us to have a moment in eternity together I would do my utmost to arrange it. How could I have foreseen what was to happen the next day? First — and this is hardly the most important — there was the rehearsal. I half expected Dean and Tom to take one look at each other and then go into a knock-out-drag-down fight. Of course they didn't. When I came into the studio they had both arrived. Colonel Wilson was there, too — and Tom and Dean were at opposite sides of the room, busily engaged with their respective problems of the moment, both making an effort to avoid each other's gaze. I had the feeling that Dean was a little chastened by the sober daytime, but there was an uncomfortable and almost shifty look in his eyes when he finally saw me and came over to me. We were close to Colonel Wilson who was saying, "She never sent me a message from New. York. Can you imagine such a girl?" AND Dean said, looking at me in"■ tently, "No I can't. It must be the cruel streak in her." Colonel Wilson missed the edge in Dean's voice. He just laughed. "What is this power she has over men?" Dean Hunter said, then. I looked across the room, panic rising in me. Tom Trumble was striding over toward us. Colonel Wilson had his inevitable graceful answer, "It's the fatal charm of the honest woman," he said. Then Tom came up and was saying to the Colonel, "How are you, sir?" His salute was respectful and Colonel Wilson returned it with natural dignity. "I'm certainly glad that you asked me to come, sir. I promise I won't blow up this time." "Maybe you'd better," the Colonel said smiling. "It went over big last time." "Thanks to Mr. Hunter," Tom said smoothly. I think the look in Dean Hunter's face was the oddest I'd ever seen. He was affected by Tom's compliment, and yet there was something else, something almost primitive in his look. He said suddenly, "If you blow up this time, Trumble, I'll let RADIO IV/IIBROR