Radio-TV mirror (Jan-June 1953)

Record Details:

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$40,000 in cash! For Your True Stories What one event in your life or in the life of a friend is most memorable and significant? Tell it to TRUE STORY MAGAZINE. You don't have to be a skilled writer. For full details of this famous annual contest Get March True Story Magazine At Newsstands Now Ar. You SrtW^ feiSBatti 24 And don't miss — * JAIL BAIT * MY CHEAT ING HUSBAND * MY CHILD WAS MOLESTED * BRIDE OF EVIL For the greatest true stories in America, read March True Story at your newsstand today found an excuse at orice! I didn't like Doreen. Only some instinct had recognized at once that she was throwing down a challenge, and had responded as if to a call to arms. I didn't want to go . . . but I had to. Ricky stopped in just before dinner time on his way to the hospital, looking sick and apprehensive. "Listen, Julie — let's send our engagement announcement in tomorrow!" Ricky pleaded. "It'll stop any talk. Well — talk about ... It will make things so official that nobody could get any ideas." Whose ideas was he worried about? Not Glendale's. We weren't public figures. It didn't matter a pin to anyone in town whether Ricky was engaged to me or ... or some other girl. Was it Doreen 's ideas he wanted to block before they went any further? In that case, I ought to know more about why she had those ideas. I was far from ready to announce our engagement. I didn't tell Ricky that, but he was really too weary and depressed to argue against my quiet "Let's wait a while. Just a little while longer." Mrs. Gerardi, who had been ill for so long, was losing strength, and Ricky felt a doctor's frustration and a friend's sorrow that there was nothing to do about it. He said he knew about the Wednesday dinner party, and was grateful I'd accepted, and then he went. Over the weekend, Mrs. Gerardi died. Ricky didn't feel like doing anything much, of course, so we spent some quiet hours just talking, sitting around, taking a short drive on Sunday with a few of the children who didn't have other things to do. It would have been a fine excuse to skip Doreen's dinner, but on Wednesday Ricky was quite himself. And so at seven — "dressed to the teeth" as Ricky put it — we presented ourselves at the huge, whitepillared Gordon home. From the moment we entered, I knew I'd been right in not announcing our engagement. Doreen was issuing a challenge. The challenge was there in the black velvet gown, much too formal for a small dinner, but fitted so magnificently that for the first time in my life I began to see why Paris gowns might be worth the fabulous prices they cost. It was there in the fact that Reed Nixon was the only other guest. "You said small," Ricky remarked after he and Reed had shaken hands. "I didn't know you meant this small." Doreen put her hand through his arm and drew him over to a small bar in the far corner. "More fun this way," she said. "All the servants are off, too. Would you do the honors? I can do it all right, but I like to watch you." It was there — loud and clear — in all of that, too. Doreen had dressed herself, made herself lovely, planned this whole thing, for Ricky. She made no bones about it. All evening long Reed and I made small, quiet conversation while Doreen completely took over Ricky. By the time we left, there was no doubt in my mind that Doreen Gordon was in love with Ricky, and that he knew it. It was so apparent now, so open, that on the way home I didn't hesitate to bring it up. Ricky seemed to flinch from my words. "That's nonsense, Julie. Doreen's a good kid — likes her fun, and takes it with a grain of salt. She just enjoys playing God, taking a hand in my career. If it wasn't me it would be somebody else, some artist or writer. Besides . . . she knows how things are with you and me. I haven't made any secret of it." "Engagements are broken every day, Ricky. And when a girl is in love it's hard for her to believe that a man who keeps on seeing her isn't at least a little in love with her." I bit my lip, but the words were out and I wouldn't take them back. Ricky said stiffly, "Let's have it straight, Julie. You don't for a minute think I have any feeling for the girl? Good Lord, she can be so embarrassing at times I want to squirm — that possessiveness of hers, that childish kind of arrogance. But she's being so nice to me I can't afford to cut her out. Know what she said tonight? The clinic is in the bag for me. Her dad told her so, definitely. Do you realize how many years of plugging it would have taken me if she hadn't put in her hundreddollars' worth?" "She's in love with you, Ricky," I repeated stubbornly. "The only reason in the world for her to be so concerned with your future is that she hopes — don't interrupt me, no woman could help hoping — that it will be her future, too. Can't you see that you can't go on taking favors from her and pretending to be blind to her feelings?" There was a difficult silence, while Ricky maneuvered between two trucks. "Julie, Doreen is hard as nails. Believe me. Besides, what can I do — turn down the clinic? Send her a registered letter that I won't be available for any more tennis? It's nonsense." I was so appalled at the gulf opening between us that I said nothing more till we stopped before the orphanage. This was serious. I had known all along, somehow, that this evening would be crucial, but now that it was upon me I had an urge to call it back, to say — "Not yet! Don't let it end yet!" Half-drawn toward Ricky as always, half-chilled by his deliberate refusal to see what seemed so plain and clear, I was afraid to say anything I might be sorry for. But I did say, very quietly, "I'm sorry, Ricky. We're poles apart in this. Doreen may be hard as nails, but won't you remember that I am not? And I can only feel that to keep accepting important favors from a girl whose feelings you aren't prepared to return is acting — well, acting like a bit of a heel." In spite of the words, I leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek, before I let myself into the house. Of all the sleepless nights I'd spent over Ricky, this one was by far the worst. And yet when I came down in the morning I was peculiarly at peace, calmer than I'd been a long time. In a way it was as though a decision I'd been fighting to keep down had worked its way into the light, and I could no longer avoid facing it. And now that it had to be faced, the turmoil, the indecision, had vanished. I was so glad to see Ricky come bounding up the porch steps that I forgot to be surprised at such an early call. His face was eager, full of news. "Julie! Wait'll you hear! Oh, darling, this does it. Now we can get married tomorrow, fly to Europe, buy the crown jewels, retire to an island! Let me sit down." Mystified, I followed him into the living room and closed the door against the children, just coming down for breakfast. "Good news?" I asked. "Looks that way from your face — " "Good! Julie — ■" He jumped up and grasped my hands. "Mrs. Gerardi left me twenty-five thousand dollars! Me and a forty-second cousin are her only heirs! What do you think of that for news?" I was too stunned to think at all. Then gradually a feeling of the most enormous relief lifted my heart. Ricky was talking again, excitedly talking of plans and weddings and travel and buying a house, but all I could think was: Thank heaven for making this easier than I'd hoped! Now it won't be so hard to tell him . . .