Radio and television mirror (Jan-June 1941)

to see you again. And this must be your lovely new wife. I've heard so much about her." "Adella I" John said. He seemed embarrassed. "When did you get back from Europe?" "Now, John," the woman said. "You know perfectly well that I've been back for a week." She turned to Kay and put out her hand. "It's no use waiting for John to introduce us, I see. I'm Adella Winston." "How do you do?" Kay said. "You are lovely," Adella Winston said appraisingly. "I'm not surprised John lost his head." Kay laughed uncomfortably. "Thank you," she said, wondering what the woman was trying to imply. John was looking as though his collar were too tight. She hated things like this, the thinly veiled animosity she sensed in the woman's apparently harmless words and the necessity for John to be polite and leave her in the dark. IT was Peg who came to her rescue, ' appearing suddenly beside them and saying, "Mrs. Winston, would you mind our taking a picture of you for the 'Journal'?" and with more cleverness than Kay had given her credit for, getting the woman to the other side of the room. They sat down and there was a strained silence between them. Kay was waiting for John to explain. Surely, he would tell her all about the woman, that it was nothing, had never been anything. But he didn't say a word. Then Peg came bursting in. "We've got all the pictures," she announced. "And we have a wonderful idea. You know what we're going to do?" she asked, sitting down. "We're — Say! What's the matter with you two?" She looked at them sharply and then threw a glance at Mrs. Winston, who was now sitting a few tables away. 'She frowned. Kay froze inside. Then there was something, something she should know about. There must be, if even Peg knew about it. She forced herself to smile. "What about the pictures?" "Oh, that," Peg said enthusiastically. "You know, we — Jim and I — we thought we ought to show where the money from the Charity Dance is going— get pictures of the playground and the tenements and everything for the story. What do you think?" "I think it's fine," Kay said. "And I also think you're learning very fast." Peg beamed. "We're going down to the office now — if — that's all right?" "Of course," Kay said quickly, forestalling John's objection. "As a matter of fact, I'm a little tired," she said, turning to John. "Let's drive them down to the paper and then go home." Somehow, the sparkle had gone out of the evening for Kay. She sat quietly in the car while John drove to the "Journal" office. She kept thinking of Adella Winston and wondering what the woman had been trying to do. And of John's silence and what it could mean. Can this be jealousy? she thought with dismay. But that was ridiculous. She had never been jealous of anyone in her life. "Goodnight, Mrs. Fairchild," Jim Shannon was saying. 68 Stepmother (Continued from page 18) Kay returned to the moment with a start. "Oh, goodnight," she said. "Don't stay out too late, Peg," John said. "You needn't worry," Jim Shannon assured him. "I'll see she gets home safe — and soon." The silence between John and Kay continued. Gradually, however, as they drove along, there was an almost perceptible change in its quality. It stopped being an awkward, distrustful silence and became an easy, close sort of thing. And there was no need to say anything. Kay forgot about Adella Winston. The only thing she could remember was the look that had been in John's eyes earlier in the evening. And the remembering made her a little dizzy. Something of her feeling must have communicated itself to John, for he reached over and took her hand and his touch was like electricity, sending a shock through her. And nothing was the same after that night. It seemed to Kay that her getting Peg the job had acted like a clean-blowing wind, sweeping through the house and leaving in its wake a fresh, clear atmosphere. There was joy there now. In the beginning, Kay didn't quite trust her happiness. She watched warily for any signs of Peg's losing interest in her job. But there weren't any. Peg worked very hard, much harder than Kay had ever suspected she could. Even Andy Clayton fell under the spell. He forgot his earlier doubts about Peg. He liked her Charity Dance story so much that he started to train her as a cub reporter. Kay suspected that the real cause for the great change in Peg was Jim Shannon. Jim was a nice youngster, Kay supposed. At least, everyone around town seemed to like him. She had liked him herself, at first. Now — but she told herself she was being over-critical. His boyish, callow cynicism, that was only a pose, surely — something he thought was right and proper for a newspaperman. And the way he seemed to be using his job on the paper as an entree to Walnut Grove's young social set — but, perhaps that was really Peg's fault. And, anyway, the important thing was that he helped to keep Peg busy and happy. Spring flowered into summer and summer brought with it a change in the daily routine of life. Bud was sent away to camp and his going left an emptiness in the house. Peg and Jim, too, spent less time arguing and talking in front of the fireplace or on the sun porch and more time outdoors, swimming or playing tennis or just riding around in Jim's rattly old roadster. Sometimes, in the hot, sultry days, Kay found time hanging heavily. The characte rs and situations in this work are wh oily fictional and imag inary , and do not portray and are not inten ded to port ■ay any actual per sons, living or dead. Those times, she would sit quietly in her house or drive out along the river, nursing her sense of security and contentment. Her thoughts would flirt lazily with plans for the future, or linger lovingly over the past few weeks. One time, she had felt guilty about John's being cooped up in his stuffy office while she was out in the bright sun and she drove over to the bank, feeling that if she sat in the office for awhile with him it would be rather like sharing his work. But he was preoccupied and distraught, and she never repeated that experiment, even though he apologized later. "You came in right on top of an argument with Clark," he had explained with a tight smile. "John! Anything wrong?" she asked. "No." He drew the word out. "Just upsetting at the moment. Now and then Clark and I don't see eye to eye about things." And that was all he would say. Late in July, there was a spell of breathless, oppressive heat. One afternoon, after three days of sweltering, Kay decided to go for a swim in the river. She changed into her bathing suit and a light pair of slacks, and drove to her favorite spot on the river. Here, under a thick grove of trees, it was cooler. The grass was still green and down near the water's edge the earth was pleasantly moist and spongy. She slipped out of her slacks and ran into the water. The water was warm, but there were currents in it fed by icy mountain streams. She swam about, finding these cold spots and luxuriating in their shocking chill. THERE was a shout from shore and Kay turned toward the sound. Peg and Jim were waving to her and a moment later, Peg was wading into the river. "We thought you'd be here," Peg called. "Mr. Clayton's closed up shop for the day. Too hot. So when Mattie told us where you were, we decided to come, too." "Swell," Kay called back. With a few, strong strokes, Jim had already reached her. "Hello, Lady," he spluttered. "This is a nice spot, but couldn't you do something about getting cold running water?" Kay laughed. "Come on," she said, "I'll show you the cool places." Kay was the first to give up their frolic" and head for shore. She threw herself on the grass and lay there, feeling happy and comfortable. In a little while, Jim and Peg came out of the water, too. Jim threw himself down beside Kay, while Peg ran to his car for towels and cigarettes. "Lady," Jim said. "You ought to wear a bathing suit all the time. You look like a kid. And I like the way you're not combing your hair this season." There was nothing in the words, but something in his voice made Kay look at him. It was in his eyes. Suddenly, she felt as though a cold wind had blown over her and she wanted her clothes very badly. She got up quickly and saying something about having to give Mattie instructions for dinner, hurried to her car. As she drove home, the strange panic that had sent her fleeing from (Continued on page 70) RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR