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especially one like Sam
As Irene read the card that came
with the roses, she began to cry.
By HELEN LAURIE WELCH
Mrs. Jordan's heavy footsteps awakened Irene,
" though she hadn't been truly asleep. She- had
been dreaming about her baby, his warm softness,
the sweet new smell of him. The slanting rays of
the late afternoon sun fell on Irene's face, and she
still felt the heat burning against her cheeks as she
watched Mrs. Jordan pound across the room to Mrs.
Henry's bed.
It was roses this time. Irene silently watched
Anne Henry open the box. A faint flush spread
through Anne's young face as she read the bard.
The waxen green paper was eagerly spread apart
and the roses lifted out with tenderness.
"Aren't they the beauties though?" Mrs. Jordan
breathed. "Must have set your young man back a
pretty penny!"
Irene heard Anne's soft laughter. Perhaps they
did cost a lot of money; it didn't seem to matter.
Anne was so buoyantly, carelessly young to be a
mother. There should be roses no matter what,
Irene supposed, when you are young and lovely.
Irene sighed softly. She wasn't old, really. She
wasn't 30 yet, but she felt ages older than the girl
in the next bed.
Maybe she had never been that young. She had
had to learn so early to care for people, not to be
taken care of. When she was 12 her mother had
died, and the years that followed had been hard.
There was never quite enough money nor hours in
the day. The tender shining moments in a young
girl's life: crumpled dance programs, corsages,
tremulous good-nights in darkened doorways, she
had known none of these. Only the sure bedrock
of accomplishment: her brother's happy growing
years, her father's last quiet ones.
And then, at last, Sam had come along. Dear,
wonderful, gentle Sam, who worked so hard, so
long, to earn his degree in the field he loved. It had
been an awkward courtship, neither of them quite
knowing-the way. Irene was his first girl, and he was
Irene's first and only love. Sam loved her, too, she
knew, and respected her efficiency and economy.
One day," after they'd been married a few months,
he said, a little shyly, as he tied his tie before the
mirror: "You've made a new man of me, Irene, I've
just noticed." He winked at her in the mirror. "You
might almost call old Sam a handsome dog!"
Silently, passionately, she told herself, you're the
most handsome, most beautiful man in the whole
world. But she couldn't say such a thing. Love was
still too new for her.
But she knew what he meant. His shirts gleamed
white, his shoes glowed, his hair was crisply
trimmed. In his absent-minded way he had tended
to these things before, but his mind had never really
been on them. He was preoccupied with his work at
the lab, always some new process or formula.
So she took care of him. She saved his money,
cooked good meals, kept house with hard-won effi
ciency, and with all of these things she said, "I love
you, Sam."
She never took a penny for herself for foolish
ness or fancy clothes. She had never thought of
herself as anything but plain. Not ugly, but a plain
girl with good teeth and shining hair. She was glad
. of it, she told herself firmly, because there was no
nonsense in her at all. It was enough that Sam loved
her for her virtues.
Her only extravagance had been for the baby.
She smiled contentedly now, remembering the care
fully laundered, lovingly embroidered things
stacked neatly in the yellow chest. For her son. Her
son and Sam's.
With a start, Irene realized that Anne Henry was
asking her a question. The roses? It must be about
the roses. "They're perfectly beautiful," she said
hastily. "I suppose your husband is mad about his
new daughter."
"Oh, he's a scream! Yesterday, right after the
baby was born, he went out and bought a doll, one
of those with hair you wash and curl. It cost the
most, so he figured it was the best. Isn't that cute?"
"Well, I guess you have to expect that in new
fathers. As soon as Sam heard about his new son
yesterday, he planned to go right out and buy a
drum." Irene smiled, and then she remembered
something else. Sam said he was going to buy out
a flower shop for her and she had said to him: "Oh
heavens, Sam, I don't need any flowers. We need
to watch our money, now more than ever, for im
portant things." She had two men now to be sensi
ble and practical for. That was yesterday morning
and when evening came Anne Henry's husband
rushed into the room, buried under a load of bright
blossoms that filled the room with fragrance. Anne
held out her arms in delight, and Irene watched
them with the kindly amusement of a grownup in a
children's world.
Wren sam came in, empty-handed, Irene was
glad she'd made him understand what she
meant about extravagant gestures. He leaned over
to kiss her, and she could see the new proud look,
in his eyes.- She reached up to stroke his cheek.
With his lips close to her ear he said, "I had some
terrible impulses today, Irene. This only comes to
a man once. I'm afraid it's going to my head."
His eyes twinkled as' he spoke, and Irene told
herself she would do anything for this man. He
couldn't waste his hard-earned money on her. She
wouldn't let him.
18 Family Weekly, February 14, I960
ILLUSTRATION BY ARTHUR SARNOFF