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

exceptionally bad time, and she'll be correspondingly slow to mend. But her poor health makes our need for someone to help with the house and the baby doubly desperate." "A girl just out of high school," I suggested, so anxious to help that I seized upon the first thought which came. He shook his head. "They're all in war plants. I don't believe there's an unemployed girl between sixteen and twenty in town." MAY, 1943 "That's so," I murmured. "I'd forgotten that when our plant shut down it was after January graduations, and we were besieged with girls — " I stopped abruptly, realizing that Steven did not know that I was unemployed, and not wanting him to see the sudden wonderful yet frightening picture which had come to mind. Evelyn Hamilton, caring for Steven's house and Steven's child. . . . But that would never do. I fought back an over whelming desire to say, "Why not I? Steven, let me help." "A practical nurse — " I was not afraid to make the suggestion. Steven was not a rich man, but for his years — he was just turning thirty — he was successful. That he was the building superintendent of the huge Victory housing project meant that he was able to afford good care for his family. He laughed shortly. "This is war. The hospital itself hasn't enough nurses. Even if one were available, it would be almost unpatriotic to ask her to take care of one man's family. No, Evelyn, I've tried everything and everyone I could think of. I came to you because I know that in your position at Metal Novelties you dealt with a number of people, and I thought perhaps you might know of someone — " He broke off, staring at my printed housedress, as if he were realizing for the first time that I was not the trimly tailored person he had seen on other occasions. "Did you say something about your plant being shut down?" he asked slowly. I nodded, knowing what he was driving at, almost choking with anticipation. "Metal Novelties is being converted to the production of war materials," I said. "I was supposed to go back to work at the end of this month, but lack of essential tools has held up conversion indefinitely. I've been thinking of looking for another job." "Looking for another job," he repeated, slowly turning over the idea. "Evelyn, could you — " Even then I couldn't help him, couldn't offer myself. The thought of living in the same house with him, of seeing him every day, of caring for his child, was too sweet and too frightening. He drew a deep breath, and spoke rapidly, as if he must get the words out while he still dared to ask. "Evelyn, could you come? Would you? As a favor, I mean. Would you run our house for us until — " I had wanted this so much, and the shock of being suddenly offered it left me without words. Steven mistook my silence for hesitation. "I know it's a lot to ask," he said humbly. "But we'd be so grateful. It would mean so much to me to know that you were taking care of things — " It would mean so much to him! I folded my hands tightly to still their shaking. "It's not much to ask, Steven," I said, by some miracle keeping my voice calm. "Really it's very little. Of course, if you think I can help, I'll be glad to come." I wondered, after he had gone, whether or not I could keep my agreement to go to live in his house, if I could bear seeing him every day — seeing him and Isabel living together. A dozen times in the week that followed I was tempted to call him to make some excuse for not going, but the will to be near him overrode my doubts, and I moved in the morning he brought Isabel and Gregory home from the hospital. It was June, and a beautiful day, all green and blue and gold, with the roses around the front 45