Radio and television mirror (July-Dec 1950)

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V. hush that fended off the physical world. How can I explain it? It wasn't premonition. Everything she had said could have happened on anybody's wedding day, and was in fact a part of the sentimentally comic side of getting married — the pretense that the groom was unwilling, the expectation that he would forget the ring and have to go back for it — everything fit the pattern. There was nothing to warn me that the pattern had been irrevocably destroyed. Nothing to warn me . . . and yet I was warned. I sat there, waiting ... it might have been an hour. I know now, of course, that it was a much shorter time than that. Then down below there was a rough knock, and the door was opened without Tommy's offices. I heard Amelia DeWitt's startled cry, "Dr. Brent! — He mustn't see the bride now, it's . . ." Her voice was muffled by the closing of the living room door, and Jim's step came on up the stairs. Francie, tight-lipped, said, "I'll go. Something's wrong — " I wondered fleet ingly if I were as white as she was; then Jim's bulk filled the doorway. I heard him say, "I must speak to Maggie, please, Francie." He closed the door behind her and came toward me. I knew, when Jim took me in his arms and kissed me, that it was for the last time. He had never kissed me so before, his arms like steel bands pressing me to him, his lips almost fierce against mine. When he let me go I saw that my shoulder had crushed the white flower in his buttonhole. He said unsteadily, "All the way over I've been hoping words would come to me from somewhere, but they haven't. There's no help. I can just tell you what's happened. I don't ask you to believe it, I can't myself. We're in a nightmare. Just as we left the house the phone rang. Butch went back, called me. It was an overseas call. From Paris. When I put the receiver to my ear I heard . . . Carol's voice." The room swayed gently around me. But Carol was dead . . . ! "I told you it was a nightmare!" Jim cried. I must have spoken aloud. "She's dead . . . but she spoke to me. She . . . was rescued, she told me. I didn't hear much. I was . . . She's coming back to Merrimac." His voice flattened out in the way it did when he was fighting for control. "I can't think, Maggie, I don't want to talk about it. I don't know what to say or think till I know more. Then we'll do something, something." He came close again, but not close enough to touch me. I was grateful for that. "One thing I do say. I'll say it now, and for ever. I'll never love anyone but you till the day I die. I won't speak or think or dream of giving you up. This horror will pass. I swear it, Maggie. We'll be together . . ." We'll be together — never, never, never, my heart echoed mockingly. How or when Jim left me I didn't know. I was vaguely aware of stirring down below — the door opening and closing, quiet movement. Once there was a tap on my door, a timid one, not repeated. "Francie," I thought without emotion. "Butch. They'll clean it all up. They'll wrap up the wedding." After a long time I went to the closet and took off my blue chiffon gown, covering it carefully as though it were the dead face of someone I loved. I didn't even see it; I saw stars instead, the stars that had wheeled overhead that last time Jim and I had been together on our hilltop. Our voices came thinly back to me. "Don't teach me astronomy," I'd said. "I've got my own version of what goes on up there." Jim's laugh ... "I could have guessed it. There's a Maggie version of everything in the world, I've found. What's your story?" I had told him, gesturing airily, about the houses I saw. A castle, with spires and turrets ... a cottage, off to the left. He had squinted upward, and shaken his head with a laugh. "You have to be more than willing, I guess. I don't see a thing except stars . . . but I'll put a fence around your cottage, dearest." His arm made an arc. "From there — to there." And both of us had laughed at the idea of putting a fence around the stars. I smiled bitterly at the echo of that happy laughter. For it was all we had now, Jim and I . . . the handful of stars around which he had traced a fence for me one night. I couldn't think yet about the future. Truth and unreality seemed to have traded places; there was no point in trying to discover which was which. I was in no hurry, anyway. Jim's words had carried such conviction . . . "We'll be together," he had said. But conviction, and love, and Tightness for one another . . . what good were they when things like these could happen? When Carol Brent could come back from the grave to turn our lives head over heels? No ... I was in no hurry to stand up to what was coming. For if things like this could happen . . . then that fence around the stars was the only home Jim and I would ever have, together . . . *i¥ene& Sty THaney-Saviny Tteurt,! ts* TRUE EXPERIENCES! 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