She closed her eyes slowly and when she opened them, they were misted with tears. But when she spoke, her voice was steady with the sureness of her knowledge and faith. "It's you who don't understand, Jonas," she said. "I have no place to which I desire to return, for it is here, in His house, that I belong."
I started to speak but she raised her hand gently. "You think I came to Him out of hurt and anger? You're wrong," she said quietly. "One does not run from life to God, one runs to God for life. All my years I sought Him, without knowing what I was seeking. The love I found out there was a mere mockery of what I knew love could be; the charity I gave was but the smallest fraction of the charity in me to give; the mercy I showed was nothing compared with His mercy within me. Here, in His house and in His work, I have found a greater love than any I have ever known. Through His love, I have found security and contentment and happiness, in accordance with His divine will."
She paused for a moment, looking down at the crucifix in her fingers. When she looked up again, her eyes were clear and untroubled. "Is there anything in this world, Jonas, that can offer more than God?"
I didn't answer.
Slowly she held out her left hand toward me. I looked down and saw the heavy silver ring on her third finger. "He has invited me into His house," she said softly, "and I have taken His ring to wear so that I may dwell in His glory forever."
I took her hand and pressed my lips to the ring. I felt her fingers brush my hair lightly, then she moved to the foot of my bed, where she turned to look at me. "I shall think of you often, my friend," she said gently. "And I shall pray for you."
I was silent as I ground my cigarette out. There was a beauty in Jennie's eyes that had never been there before. "Thank you, Sister," I said quietly.
Without another word, she turned and went out the door. I stared down at the foot of the bed where she had stood, but now even the ghost of her was gone.
I turned my face into the pillow and cried.
7
I left the hospital early in September. I was sitting in the wheel chair, watching Robair pack the last of my things into the valise, when the door opened. "Hi, Junior."
"Nevada! What are you doing way down here?"
"Came to carry you home."
I laughed. Funny how you can go along for years hardly thinking about someone, then all of a sudden be so glad to see him. "You didn't have to do that," I said. "Robair could have managed all right."
"I asked him to come up, Mr. Jonas. I figured it would be like old times. It gets mighty lonely out there at the ranch with nothing to do."
"An' I figured I could use a vacation," Nevada said. "The war's over an' the show's closed down for the winter. And there's nothin' Martha likes better than to do a little invalidin'. She's down there now, gittin' things ready for us."
I looked at the two of them and grinned. "It's a put-up job, huh?"
"That's right," Nevada said. He came over behind the wheel chair. "Ready?"
Robair closed the valise and snapped it shut. "All set, Mr. Nevada."
"Let's go, then," Nevada said, and started the wheel chair through the door.
"We have to stop off at Burbank," I said, looking back at him. "Mac has a flock of papers for me to sign." I might be laid up, but business went on.
Buzz Dalton had an ICA charter waiting for us at the San Diego airport. We were at Burbank by two o'clock that afternoon. McAllister got up and came around his desk when they wheeled me into his office. "You know, this is the first time I can remember seeing you sit down."
I laughed. "Make the most of it. The doctors say I’ll be moving around as good as new in a couple of weeks."
"Well, meanwhile, I'm going to take advantage of it. Push him around behind the desk, fellows. I've got the pen ready."
It was almost four o'clock when I'd signed the last of a stack of documents. I looked up wearily. "So what else is new?"
Mac looked at me. He walked over to a table against the wall. "This is," he said, and took the cover off something that looked like a radio with a window in it.
"What is it?"
"It's the first product of the Cord Electronics Company," he said proudly. "We knocked it out in the converted radar division. It's a television set."
"Television?" I asked.
"Pictures broadcast through the air like radio," he said. "It's picked up on that screen, like home movies."
"Oh, that's the thing that Dumont was kicking around before the war. It doesn't work."
"Does now," Mac said. "It's the next big thing. All the radio and electronics companies are going into it. RCA, Columbia, Emerson, IT T, GE, Philco. All of them. Want to see how it works?"
"Sure."
He walked over and picked up the phone. "Get me the lab." He covered the mouthpiece. "I'll have them put something on," he said.
A moment later, he went over to the set and turned a knob. A light flashed behind the window, then settled into a series of circles and lines. Gradually, letters came into view.
CORD ELECTRONICS PRESENTS-
Suddenly, the card was replaced by a picture, a Western scene with a man riding a horse toward the camera. The camera dollied in real close on the face and I saw it was Nevada. I recognized the scene, too. It was the chase scene from The Renegade. For five minutes, we watched the scene in silence.
"Well, I’ll be damned," Nevada said, when it was over.
I looked across at Robair. There was an expression of rapt wonder on his face. He looked at me. "There's what I call a miracle, Mr. Jonas," he said softly. "Now I can watch a movie in my own home without goin' to sit in no nigger heaven."
"So that's why they all want to buy my old pictures," Nevada said.
I looked up at him. "What do you mean?"
"You know those ninety-odd pictures we made and I own now?"
I nodded.
"People been after me to sell 'em. Offered me good money for 'em, too. Five thousand dollars each."
I stared at him. "One thing I learned in the picture business," I said. "Never sell outright what you can get a percentage on."
"You mean rent it to 'em like I do to a theater?"
"That's right," I said. "I know those broadcasting companies. If they'll buy it for five, they plan to make fifty out of it."
"I'm no good at big deals like that," Nevada said. "Would you be willin' to handle it for me, Mac?"
"I don't know, Nevada. I'm no agent."
"Go ahead and do it, Mac," I said. "Remember what you told me about making a point where it counts?"
He smiled suddenly. "O.K., Nevada."
Suddenly, I was tired. I slumped back in my chair. Robair was at my side instantly. "You all right, Mr. Jonas?"
"I’m just tired," I said.
"Maybe you better stay at the apartment tonight. We can go on out to the ranch in the morning."
I looked at Robair. The idea of getting into a bed was very appealing. My ass was sore from the wheel chair.
"I'll order a car," Mac said, picking up the phone. "You can drop me at the studio on your way into town. I've got some work to finish up there."
My mind kept working all the time we rode toward the studio. When the car stopped at the gates, suddenly everything was clear to me.
"We'll have to do something about a replacement for Bonner," Mac said, getting out. "It isn't good business having a lawyer run a studio. I don't know anything about motion pictures."
I stared at him thoughtfully. He was right, of course. But then, who did? Only David, and he was gone. I didn't care any more. There were no pictures left in me, no one I wanted to place up there on the screen for all the world to see. And back in the office I'd just left, there was a little box with a picture window and soon it would be in every home. Rich or poor. That little box was really going to chew up film, like the theaters had never been able to. But I still didn't care.