I forgot to give you a story today. Here it is, late but here.

From the Improvement Era, November 1954 –

Love Is Not Measured

By Rosa Lee Lloyd

Harriet Evans sat with her husband in the seats reserved for chaperons at the Junior Prom and her anxious brown eyes followed her daughter Pam, dancing with young Gilroy Connor. His arms encircled Pam’s delicate figure. Harriet knew that the moment she had dreaded for the last year had come.

Her heart cried out against it as she watched them swing away entranced, their feet skimming the floor, their eyes laughing together in that sweet, surprised way that only the newly in love can know.

This was the boy Pam had first told her about last winter when she came home from a ski-meet.

“Gilroy Connor won the main race,” she had said and then, her eyes lifted and shining, “you should see Gil ski, Mother — he’s really something! Head and shoulders above them all — really magnificent! As though he had wings!”

Harriet looked at her husband sitting beside her. He was watching Pam, too. Did he notice this new radiance about her, she wondered? But, of course, she thought, wincing, no matter if Brad had noticed, it couldn’t have the same signficance for him as it had for her. She hadn’t told him what Dr. Granger had said about their daughter, because she didn’t have the courage to tell him.

Her dark eyes followed Pam and Gil around the dance floor. It will be heartbreak for both of them, she thought. And it isn’t fair to Gil. Why did this have to happen when Pam has such a short time left? Dr. Granger couldn’t say exactly how long, after Pam’s check-up last week.

“Let her go places and do anything she wants to do,” he had advised Harriet. “Exercise won’t make a bit of difference to her blood condition. Have you told your husband yet, Mrs. Evans?”

Harriet turned away from his frank, questioning eyes. Dr. Granger was wise and good, with many years of practice behind him.

“No — no — not yet.”

He puckered his brows thoughtfully. “Of course I don’t know your reason for keeping this all to yourself. Even Pam hasn’t been told, you say. But I do know that your own health would be much better if your husband could share this with you. You are still young, Mrs. Evans. But keeping this to yourself isn’t good for you. You are under a constant strain. I’m sure you would feel better if you were honest with your husband.”

Harriet had put her gloves on carefully smoothing them over each finger. “Dr. Granger,” she said, pleading to be understood, “if you knew how Brad worships Pam you would understand how I feel. I want him to have every moment of happiness there is left. When he looks at her now, her delicate coloring is beautiful to him, like pink-and-white sea- shells. If he knew what you have told me, his heart would break a dozen times a day. He would look for signs of her illness. He would see her paleness as not beauty but a danger signal, a warning. And her slenderness would be cause for worry and fear. Now he calls her ‘slats’ and ‘skinny’ and laughs about it. He’s really quite proud of it. You must realize how — how terrible it is — to know — Dr. Granger. Don’t ask me to tell Brad — because I can’t — ”

Now Harriet glanced again at her husband. His smiling blue eves with the little crinkles in the corners that she loved were watching Pam and Gil as they swayed together, blending with the music.

“Looks like Gil is really serious,” he said and his lips quirked tenderly. “Why not?” he questioned, looking down sidewise at Harriet, meeting her eyes, no doubt noticing the expression of alarm in them before she could hide it.

“She’s just a baby,” Harriet murmured. “Too young.”

Brad laughed. “Too young!” he repeated, his eyes teasing her. “We didn’t think you were too young at her age. It seemed okay to us, didn’t it?”

She touched his arm. “Oh, yes, Brad — yes. But—”

“But what?” he questioned as his hand closed over hers. “They will make a lovely couple. Remember, Honey, how important things were to us.”

“I do remember, Brad. But this is different — Pam shouldn’t — ”

“Why not?” His eyes crinkled again. “She couldn’t find a finer young man. This had to happen sometime, whether we like it or not.”

Yes, whether we like it or not, Harriet thought, her heart constricting as her eyes searched again for Pam and Gil among the dancing couples. But she could not find them. No doubt they had gone up to the Sky Room.

Brad stood up. He straightened his shoulders, stretched his arms and yawned. Harriet’s eyes went over him tenderly. She was proud of Brad, tall and slim and with brown hair still heavy and thick.

He winked down at her. “Being a chaperon has made an old man out of me. Do you think we could sneak out of here, Hattie?”

Harriet stood up, too. She was glad for an excuse to leave. “Let’s go,” she said. “I don’t think we’ll be missed.”

They came home to their comfortable living room and Brad put on his house slippers and a disreputable, old dressing robe he had forbidden her to throw away, and he leaned back in his big chair by the radio.

“Know something?” he said lazily, watching Harriet as she poked at the logs in the fireplace. “I’m about the luckiest guy in the world. A good job, a good-looking wife, and a gorgeous daughter who will brighten my old age by bringing home grandchildren to play around my knees. I won’t care a bit if she wants to get married right away.”

Harriet’s heart beat up into her throat. “Oh, Brad — let’s forget it — maybe it’s just a flair — I hope she has a dozen more boy-friends before she chooses.”

Brad shook his head. “I don’t think she will. I think this is it. There was something about them together. You noticed it, too.”

“Yes — ” she admitted, “I noticed it.” Then she hastened to add, “But that doesn’t always mean marriage.”

Why did he have to keep talking about it? she thought helplessly. Brad seemed obsessed with the idea.

His voice was edged with pride as he talked on: “Gilroy Connor is a princely lad; he has dignity, too — becoming to a young lawyer. He’s a catch for any girl, Hattie. I know his dad, in the Rotary club. He has taken Gil in the law firm as junior partner. We can be proud of that boy.”

Harriet dropped the poker. “Brad! For goodness sake! Anyone would think you wanted to get your daughter married off!”

She stood up, feeling hysteria mounting in her. Brad shook her gently by the shoulders. His hands smoothed her hair.

“You can’t blame a father for wanting the best for his daughter,” he said.

“But you seem so — so eager — ” Harriet protested.

“I want her to be happy,” he answered and his voice had humbled. “I want that for Pam more than anything else, and for you, too, Hattie. That’s all I ask.”

Harriet got to her feet and patted the dark waves of her hair back into place. She felt torn to pieces. Why didn’t he look at television or read or do anything but talk?

“I’ll bring us some milk and cookies,” she said, inventing an excuse to leave the room. Now he would be forced to change the subject.

But when she returned with the tray Brad was leaning back in his chair. Contentment was in his eyes, in his long relaxed figure, in the easy way he was smiling. He’s still thinking about Pam and Gil, she thought, as she sat on a stool near the fireplace and sipped her milk. Her head had started to ache and Dr. Granger’s advice came back to her, beating through her mind: “You should be honest with your husband — you should be honest.”

The pain was behind her eyes now. Heavy. Persistent.

She looked at Brad again. His milk was untouched on the table beside him. His eyes were still dreamy as though he was planning Pam’s future.

How can I tell him — she thought. How can I watch anxiety come into his eyes instead of contentment? If he knew, he would dread every day that passes; every hour would be haunted. He would never know contentment again.

Harriet turned her eyes away, and drank the milk quickly. She couldn’t tell him now, she couldn’t — she must go through this alone. She straightened her shoulders and steadied her hands resolutely. But she must find some way to keep Pam from getting married. She would ask her to go on a trip with her — New York, maybe, or to Florida — anywhere, away from Gil.

“Brad —”

“Yes, dear?”

“I’ve been wanting a vacation. You promised Pam and me — that someday we could take a trip — ”

Brad chuckled. “You mothers! Why don’t you give up, Hattie? You can’t make Pam forget Gil by taking her away. Why don’t you face it?”

Harriet bent her head. Brad couldn’t know how his words hurt her. He thought she was selfish, possessive, trying to keep Pam from Gil’s love. Her hand went out to him, touched his knee, imploring him to understand.

“Brad — don’t say that!”

Then she heard the front door open, and Pam’s laugh caroled through the hallway; the next second she was standing before Harriet and Brad, her cheeks glowing pink and her eyes like brown lights. She was holding to Gil’s arm with both hands as though she would never let go of him.

“Mother — Dad — ” Her voice broke on a glad high note. “We came straight home to tell you — to ask you, oh, please understand how we feel. We want to get married — as soon as possible — we have planned a temple marriage.”

Brad stood up, smiling, genial, his eyes telling them that of course he understood. Harriet felt her throat thicken and the pain in her head moved across her eyes. But somehow she got to her feet. She heard herself saying, idiotically,

“How nice, Pam darling. How wonderful. But of course, you must wait until next year. Promise you will wait.”

Brad put his arm around her and gave her a hard squeeze — almost shaking her. “Nonsense!” he protested. “Let the kids have their happiness, Hattie. I’m for it. And so is your mother, Pam. She’s just surprised, that’s all.”

Harriet thought, if Pam would only look at me she could see how I feel. But Pam’s eyes are star-filled and glistening.

“We thought we’d make it very soon,” Gil was saying. Harriet saw his eyes turn toward her, and they were honest and convincing and almost as if he were presenting his first big case. “I’m going on a trip for the firm next week. We could make it our honeymoon.”

Harriet couldn’t take her eves from his; honor student, she thought, returned missionary, successful young attorney, a man with wings. And as she looked back into his clear steady eyes, she knew what she had to do. She must tell him the truth about Pam. Yes — she would go to his office early in the morning and tell him everything Dr. Granger had said.

She smiled. She felt calmer than she had for weeks. Even her headache subsided as she said cheerfully:

“How about something to eat? We can raid the icebox — that’s always fun — ”

“Why, sure!” Brad agreed. “This calls for a celebration!”

At ten o’clock the next morning Harriet stepped into the crowded elevator in the Harper Building. Gil’s office was on the tenth floor, she had read on the register, and as the elevator sped upward her heart seemed to drop lower until she felt weighted to the floor. But she must go through with it. There was no other way.

Several people got off at the tenth floor and Harriet let them pass by her. She listened to their hurried, purposeful footsteps; they were on their way to work, to a happy ordinary useful day. What would it be like, she wondered, to have a day again without this awful uncertainty, this awful dread? How lucky most people were, not to know what the future holds, to just live on blindly, joyously.

She stopped and leaned against the wall. She was planning to take this joy from Gil. But she was doing it because she wanted to be fair. What mother could stand by and let a boy like Gil sacrifice himself without knowing it?

She walked resolutely along the corridor, her eyes scanning the lettering on each door. Ten-fourteen, ten-fifteen, ten-sixteen. Connor, Burk, and Connor. She stopped and drew in her breath for courage. Then she opened the door and stepped inside.

The outer office was spacious, well furnished with deep rich carpet, settees, and chairs. A pretty red-haired girl looked up from her typewriter and smiled at her. She’s so healthy, Harriet thought, noting the sun tan on the girl’s cheeks, the perky tilt of her head, the bubble of mischief in her blue eyes. She has years and years ahead of her. Why didn’t Gil fall in love with her? Oh, why — ?

“Good morning,” the girl said in a voice that matched her eyes. “May I help you?”

“Yes — I — ” Harriet hated the sound of her own voice, the ache in it, the frustration. “Yes,” she repeated, “I’d like to see Mr. Gil Connor, please.”

The girl pressed a buzzer on her desk. There was an answering buzz and then she said, “Mr. Connor will see you.”

She stood up, motioning Harriet to follow her. She opened a door and a second later Harriet heard it close behind her. She was facing Gil, who was standing beside his desk.

He is smiling, she thought, and his gray eyes are kind.

“Mrs. Evans! This is a nice surprise!” He came toward her, took her coat from her arm, and her handbag, and laid them on a chair. Then he sat down at his desk. His eyes, she noticed, had deepened and his chin had squared off.

Harriet swallowed hard. “I know this is presumptuous,” she said. “But I must talk to you. It’s about Pam.”

His smile came again, reassuring her, and Harriet wondered if he would hate her for doing this. Maybe she should let him marry Pam without knowing.

“I could talk all day about Pam,” he said and Harriet noticed the bright joy in his eyes and the wonderful tone in his voice when he said her name. “Mrs. Evans, I wish I knew some way to tell you what Pam means to me!”

“I know,” Harriet murmured. “I can see — ”

He grinned. “I guess it is written all over me.”

“That’s why — ” Harriet’s voice stumbled but she went on, choosing her words carefully. “That’s why you should know — Pam is ill, very ill — ” She looked at him and met his eyes, bravely.

He was still smiling; a smile of tenderness and understanding and infinite awareness.

“I know,” he said.

“You — know?” she repeated, not sure she had heard him correctly. “But how — how could you?”

“Pam told me,” he answered. “She has known about her condition since last winter when Ella Grant was hurt in that ski accident. She went down to the blood bank to donate blood for Ella. They discovered it. She realized then that Dr. Granger must know and had told you. But she respected your silence.”

Harriet sat frozen. Pam knew. A dozen scenes came back, vividly. The way Pam tried to catch all of life at once; how gay her laugh, how bright her eyes, how eager she was for life! The way she had lingered when she came to their room to say goodnight. Poor, lonely little girl.

Harriet covered her eyes with her hands.

Gil came over to her. He put his hand on her shoulder, and she felt the strength and warmth of his fingers.

“Parh will be glad we had this talk,” he said. “It’s a great comfort to be able to share your trouble. My dad taught me that, a long time ago. When my mother was ill and the doctors had told Dad it was just a matter of how long her heart could hold out, he called my sister and me into her bedroom and told us what they said. ‘We’ll share her trouble,’ he explained ‘And when we divide it up among us all she has only one-fourth as much to bear. And she has four times as many prayers to help her.’ I’ve always been grateful he was honest with us. And mother appreciated it, too. There was nothing for us to conceal from each other. We kept her with us for a long time — years longer than the doctors thought we could. She was happy because we were easy and natural about everything. We can be that way with Pam, too. We can make the days bright for her.”

Harriet took her hands from her eyes and looked at Gil. He didn’t know that she had not told Brad. They all knew but Brad, she thought with a heavy sick feeling. Now she must tell him.

“Pam and I have faced this squarely,” Gil was saying in that confident way of his. “But we have faith, too.”

“But — marriage!” Harriet protested. “It’s not fair to — you.”

She saw his eyes deepen again.

“You’re wrong there, Mrs. Evans. I don’t think of it that way at all. I want to marry Pam because I love her. Someone has said, ‘Love is not measured in length of time.’ I believe that is true. Our marriage will give her happiness, and maybe — who knows — maybe that happiness will prolong her life. Pam was honest with me. She told me about herself when we knew how we felt about each other.”

His smile was boyish, tipping his mouth at the corners; but his eyes remained serious. “Thank you for coming here to tell me,” he said. “I will always remember it.”

Harriet stood up and walked blindly toward the door. Some day she would tell this boy how wonderful he was. But she could not talk about it now.

“Let me drive you home,” he said, gently.

She lifted her head, squaring her shoulders. A bright new courage went through her.

“No, thank you, Gil,” she said. “I’m not going straight home. I must go to my husband’s office first.”

He touched her cheek with his fingers. “We’ll work this out together,” he said. “The four of us.”

“Yes,” Harriet answered, steadily. “The four of us.”