Radio-TV mirror (Jan-June 1953)

that's what I started to tell you. She's my new patient. Referred to me by Dr. Gordon. Things are really looking gay, Julie. If Gordon refers a few more solid-gold patients my way, we can — " he grinned, "push up the date of the wedding, that's what." Under cover of Mark's excited "What wedding? Whose wedding, Dr. Wicky? Can I be there?" I got the youngster out of the office and into the car on the way home without having to make any comment. Until Ricky came to town, I had dined at the country club only on a couple of official business occasions and several times with Reed Nixon. Ricky's membership, achieved by the time he'd been in town a couple of months, was one of Jeff's sore spots. Despite the tremendous practice he'd built up, he didn't feel he could yet afford to join the club, and there was Ricky, a newcomer, his shingle barely hung, stepping right in. Of course Nina's hospital bills recently had strained Jeff's budget, and with two children to bring up one didn't indulge in luxuries . . . but that was the point. Ricky didn't consider it a luxury. To him, social activity was an important asset to a doctor, and he regarded membership in the club as an essential. Besides, his tennis was practically tournament quality, and getting out on the club courts of a Saturday was a big thrill. That night Ricky's eyes, when I came downstairs, told me he had noticed my new dress. By the time we had finished our fruit cups I was provoked almost to the point of asking him how he liked my gown, when suddenly in the middle of a sentence he stopped. That look — I can't describe it — came over him. "Noticed anything new?" he asked. "I was about to ask you the same thing." Ricky sighed. "I'm not blind, unfortunately. I've noticed. It's a new dress, and you've never looked more — I want to say desirable, but I'll say beautiful instead. Only I'm doing my darnedest to play hard to get this evening. That's what's new about me." Warmth glowed all through me. "You're doing a good job," I said softly. "I was afraid my dress wasn't successful." "Julie, the dress has practically nothing to do with it. It's you. It's been you from the minute 1 walked into Jeff's house that day and saw you wrapping that package — " "And thought I was Jeff's wife," I smiled, remembering the stunned look on his face, and the comic relief that had flooded it when I introduced myself and explained that Nina would be along shortly. Even in that brief moment I'd found time to wonder how the things Jeff had told me about his younger brother could possibly be true. And afterwards, back at the orphanage, I'd been half amused and half annoyed at the way I listened when the phone rang. I'd thought it was silly and childish of me to hope that a man I barely knew would call. Like Babs, agonizing over Harold. But then he had called, and called again, and it became silly and childish to pretend I wasn't hoping. Ricky Browning had become warmly, vitally, frighteningly important in my well-ordered life. Almost as important as he said he wanted to become ... so nearly that the line was almost crossed. If only I felt I knew him more completely. . . . We were both careful, during the rest of dinner, to stick to the matter-of-fact r ness with which Ricky had started out. M But in spite of that the conversation seemed to flow over and around me, like the blurry voices from the surrounding 10 tables and the music from the verandah, where there was dancing. I sat in a little private, untouched shelter, created by Ricky's nearness. Could it possibly be the shelter I wanted to live in for the rest of my life? After coffee, we danced for a while, and we were on our way back to our table when a man said, "Good evening, Julie." Reed Nixon got up from a table I was just passing. "Reed, hello! How nice — I had no idea you were here." "We came in while you were dancing," Reed said, and for a combination of confused reasons I felt suddenly uncomfortable. Because Ricky and I had danced so close together, without speaking . . . because his hand was still holding mine . . . because Reed looked so sober, almost reproachful. But Reed knew he had no claim on me. I straightened my shoulders and said, "You know Dr. Browning?" The men said "Yes," and "How are you?" and then Reed moved slightly and said, "Julie — I don't think you know Doreen Gordon?" Instant relief filled me that he wasn't dining alone. And the girl was stunning. Striking, rather, in a way Glendale wasn't used to. Smooth dark hair and beautiful skin and arrogant, challenging eyes, and a mouth you couldn't help noticing. She greeted me smilingly and then her eyes slid over me while she said, "Hi, Ricky. I see our game last week didn't permanently damage your muscles. You can still get around the dance floor." "Takes more than an amateur like you to make me stiff," Ricky retorted. Doreen Gordon laughed. "Does he beat you that easily, Mrs. Paterno? At tennis, I mean." "I'm afraid I don't play any more. I haven't had the time." "Julie does a man-sized job, Doreen," Reed said quickly. "She's not a loafer like you." He bent forward and touched his lighter to her cigarette. Doreen blew smoke gracefully. "Oh, I know, darling. Ricky talks of practically nothing but Hilltop. I know far more about it than you dream. And about Mrs. Paterno." She raised her eyes to mine. "Won't you join us?" "We're just leaving," Ricky said. "Some other time, maybe." His hand was firm on my arm, compelling me forward. There was no time for more than a nod and a smile. But later, driving home, I couldn't shake off an odd uneasiness. The private glow was gone for both of us; even Ricky's lighthearted mood was changed. He told me briefly that Reed had introduced him to Doreen Gordon a couple of weeks before, at lunch at the club, and that they had played tennis together the previous Saturday. The evening that had begun so promisingly ended with Ricky and me a bit farther apart than we'd been, rather than closer. But by the next morning the shadow had faded and all I remembered was the important truth — that being with Ricky gave color, excitement, new vitality to my life. I'd done some shopping for my cousin Nina, and when I drove over to drop off the packages I found Jeff just leaving the house. He hailed me joyfully. "Just in time, Julie. You can drive me down to the hospital. My car's laid up till noon. Here, give me those — " He held the front door with his foot, put the packages into the hall, and called, "Nina — Julie's brought your things and I'm hitching a ride with her, honey. Call you later." I had to laugh as he folded his length into the seat next to me. "Impetuous young man this morning, aren't you?" "Maybe I'm catching it from my kid brother." Jeff's tone was light, but from the corner of my eye I saw he wasn't smiling. I sighed. "Oh, Jeff, I wish you and Ricky — " "Julie, listen. In self-defense I'm going to tell you something. You bet he's on my mind. You think it's only because of a little brotherly jealousy, maybe, because he was the younger and favored son — don't answer, I know you do. I wasn't going to do anything to clear that up. But when I see him making real inroads on your peace of mind. . . ." Jeff's jaw tightened. "I'm very fond of you, as you know. I'd hate to see you make a mistake. So I'll just lay it on the line for you — the reason I'm so antagonistic to my brother." It was a short enough story, as he told it. I had to find words in my own mind to fill in the details Jeff had left out. It had happened when Ricky was in high school, too young to be driving a car, but apparently too headstrong and selfconfident to believe those laws were meant for him. Jeff was using a borrowed car at the time, and without asking permission Ricky had helped himself to it one night, cracked it up, caused a serious injury to another driver, and landed in jail. "On my own, I'd have let him take his medicine," Jeff told me grimly. "But Mother and Dad were in a state, and — well, what can you do? It took twentyfive hundred bucks to bail him out of that jam." He gave me a mirthless smile. "You never knew I wanted to specialize in surgery, did you? I happened to have the twenty-five hundred, money I'd saved to start me in surgical training. I'd been counting on it, looking forward to it all my life. But — well, I'm not a surgeon, and Ricky paid his way out of that jam, and that's the way it was." I couldn't think of anything to say. My own emotions were so mixed, I didn't know which was uppermost. After a minute, Jeff went on, "The money's gone, and I know if it happened again I'd do the same, with the same resentment and the same inevitability. As you and everyone else are so fond of saying, he is my brother, after all. But what I've never gotten over — the thing that makes me worry about you tying up with him, Julie — is that never once, in all the years since then, has he made the slightest move towards paying me back. If he even showed signs that it bothered him. But not my brother. He's free as air. I guess you've noticed — " the grim smile came again. "He's fond of getting things the easy way if he has any choice." Jeff stirred, and opened the door. "Well — I see Dr. Gordon's car pulling up, so I'll be on my way. There's another interview I'm not anxious for. I'd give my eyeteeth to get into that private hospital Gordon's talking about. Pity it takes what everything else takes — money." "Surely that's not Dr. Gordon's car!" I stared at the fire-engine red convertible. "You bet not! His daughter got back from Europe a few weeks ago. She and the fire chief are the only people in town with cars that color. Well — I'm off, Julie. Sorry I bent your ear. It had to come some time." As I put the car in gear and moved away, a whole series of pictures were clicking together in my mind, like a film running off. Doreen Gordon, of course! What was it Ricky had said yesterday — about the wealthy patient being referred to him by Dr. Gordon? But Ricky was so new in