tears as his mouth softly probed hers, as his arms held her close, oblivious to passersby boarding the plane through the long ramp.
He drew back, his hands unsteady as he released her. “Be good, honey. ’Bye.”
He gave her a last, wan smile, picked up his duffel bag, and walked down the ramp without looking back.
She went to her apartment feeling like death warmed over, and promptly lost her breakfast.
The infernal virus kept hanging on, sapping her strength. She managed to get through the tryout period, but it was the longest two weeks of her life. Fortunately the play was well received, without any changes being necessary. The stage manager had phoned Cul to tell him the good news about the audience’s ecstatic reception.
“Did Cul have any message for me?” Bett asked hopefully.
He stared at her blankly. “No. I thought he’d have called you by now,” he added with a grin. “You two were pretty thick when he left, weren’t you?”
She managed a weak smile and turned away. So it was over. He’d have called or written if he’d meant what he’d said about loving her. He’d just wanted her. Now, with his appetite sated, he had no reason to continue the affair. By now there was probably someone else, some beautiful woman in Hollywood….
She sat down numbly in her dressing room. Why hadn’t she seen the danger? Why had she trusted him? Damn her stupid heart!
That night, after the last performance, she went back to her hotel room and, in desperation, phoned Cul. She’d begged his number from the stage manager. It might be a terrible lowering of her pride, but she had to hear from his lips that he no longer cared, to believe it.
He answered the phone absently, as if his mind were on other things.
“Cul?” she said in a trembling voice. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Bett,” he said coolly. “I hear the play’s going great.”
“Yes, it is.” She curled the telephone cord around her fingers. “Are you coming back for the opening in New York?”
“Afraid not, darling,” he said carelessly. “I’ve got my hands full out here.” He paused, apparently talking to someone in the room with him. “What’s that, Cherrie? No, thanks, no more for me. Sure, the towels are in the bathroom, love, go right ahead.” His voice was clear and sharp again. “Sorry, Bett, I’ve got company.”
“Yes, so I heard,” she said quietly, hanging onto the shreds of her pride. “I’m sorry I bothered you. Goodbye.”
She hung up the receiver and cried as if her heart would break. Cherrie. At least she hadn’t let him hear the torture she was feeling; she’d been very cool, very calm. Oh, God, why had she been stupid enough to trust him? Well, at least she knew the truth now, at least she’d been spared the humiliation of having him snub her in front of the cast. She got over him before, she’d do it again. Of course she would.
But she felt so weak that it was getting harder just to move around. David was worried about her, and showed it.
“Look, I’ve got a pal who just opened a medical pratice,” he said when they were safely back in New York and a day away from the opening. “Let me take you to him, okay?”
She sighed wearily. “Okay,” she agreed, resigned. “If you’ll stop worrying. I think it’s just emotional.”
“Yes, I know you do,” he muttered. “But I don’t agree.”
She went to the doctor, and sat motionless, not even breathing, when he began asking more specific questions.
Her jaw dropped. “You think I might be pregnant?” she burst out.
“Yes, I do,” he replied gently. “There, there, it’s not the end of the world. Don’t you like children?”
Tears filled her eyes. “Doctor, I’m not married,” she whispered. “I’m the leading player in a show that’s opening on Broadway tomorrow night. I am dead broke, and the man who got me this way just walked out on me. Yes, it’s the end of the world!”
He calmed her, had his nurse get her a cup of
He drew back, his hands unsteady as he released her. “Be good, honey. ’Bye.”
He gave her a last, wan smile, picked up his duffel bag, and walked down the ramp without looking back.
She went to her apartment feeling like death warmed over, and promptly lost her breakfast.
The infernal virus kept hanging on, sapping her strength. She managed to get through the tryout period, but it was the longest two weeks of her life. Fortunately the play was well received, without any changes being necessary. The stage manager had phoned Cul to tell him the good news about the audience’s ecstatic reception.
“Did Cul have any message for me?” Bett asked hopefully.
He stared at her blankly. “No. I thought he’d have called you by now,” he added with a grin. “You two were pretty thick when he left, weren’t you?”
She managed a weak smile and turned away. So it was over. He’d have called or written if he’d meant what he’d said about loving her. He’d just wanted her. Now, with his appetite sated, he had no reason to continue the affair. By now there was probably someone else, some beautiful woman in Hollywood….
She sat down numbly in her dressing room. Why hadn’t she seen the danger? Why had she trusted him? Damn her stupid heart!
That night, after the last performance, she went back to her hotel room and, in desperation, phoned Cul. She’d begged his number from the stage manager. It might be a terrible lowering of her pride, but she had to hear from his lips that he no longer cared, to believe it.
He answered the phone absently, as if his mind were on other things.
“Cul?” she said in a trembling voice. “How are you?”
“I’m fine, Bett,” he said coolly. “I hear the play’s going great.”
“Yes, it is.” She curled the telephone cord around her fingers. “Are you coming back for the opening in New York?”
“Afraid not, darling,” he said carelessly. “I’ve got my hands full out here.” He paused, apparently talking to someone in the room with him. “What’s that, Cherrie? No, thanks, no more for me. Sure, the towels are in the bathroom, love, go right ahead.” His voice was clear and sharp again. “Sorry, Bett, I’ve got company.”
“Yes, so I heard,” she said quietly, hanging onto the shreds of her pride. “I’m sorry I bothered you. Goodbye.”
She hung up the receiver and cried as if her heart would break. Cherrie. At least she hadn’t let him hear the torture she was feeling; she’d been very cool, very calm. Oh, God, why had she been stupid enough to trust him? Well, at least she knew the truth now, at least she’d been spared the humiliation of having him snub her in front of the cast. She got over him before, she’d do it again. Of course she would.
But she felt so weak that it was getting harder just to move around. David was worried about her, and showed it.
“Look, I’ve got a pal who just opened a medical pratice,” he said when they were safely back in New York and a day away from the opening. “Let me take you to him, okay?”
She sighed wearily. “Okay,” she agreed, resigned. “If you’ll stop worrying. I think it’s just emotional.”
“Yes, I know you do,” he muttered. “But I don’t agree.”
She went to the doctor, and sat motionless, not even breathing, when he began asking more specific questions.
Her jaw dropped. “You think I might be pregnant?” she burst out.
“Yes, I do,” he replied gently. “There, there, it’s not the end of the world. Don’t you like children?”
Tears filled her eyes. “Doctor, I’m not married,” she whispered. “I’m the leading player in a show that’s opening on Broadway tomorrow night. I am dead broke, and the man who got me this way just walked out on me. Yes, it’s the end of the world!”
He calmed her, had his nurse get her a cup of
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