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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e8292a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68393 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68393) diff --git a/old/68393-0.txt b/old/68393-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fd59151..0000000 --- a/old/68393-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1122 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of My sweetheart's the Man in the Moon, -by Milton Lesser - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: My sweetheart's the Man in the Moon - -Author: Milton Lesser - -Release Date: June 24, 2022 [eBook #68393] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY SWEETHEART'S THE MAN IN -THE MOON *** - - - - - - My sweetheart's the Man in the Moon - - By MILTON LESSER - - Illustrated by STALLMAN - - _Not everyone will think of the first - moon-flight as the first glorious - step on the road to space. There - will always, for instance, be the - fast-buck boys like Lubrano...._ - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Infinity, December 1956. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Jeanne turned off the radio and went downstairs slowly, watching how -the gold-shot curtains on the landing window caught the sunlight in a -multitude of brilliant flecks. She shuddered slightly. Up _there_, the -sun would scorch and sear. - -When she entered the living room, Aunt Anna looked up from her -magazine, and Pop puffed on his calabash pipe, occasionally grunting -with satisfaction. Mom looked at Jeanne hopefully, but soon turned away -in confusion. She could not tell whether Jeanne wanted her to laugh or -cry. - -"Well," said Jeanne, instantly hating the flippant way she tried to -speak, "he got there." She never quite knew why, but whenever emotions -threatened to choke her up she would slip on the mask, the carefree -attitude, the what-do-I-care voice she was using now. - -"All the way--_there_?" Aunt Anna fluttered her eyebrows, allowing -herself a rare display of emotion. - -Mom smiled, laughed briefly and nervously. She touched Jeanne's cheek -tentatively with a trembling hand, hugged her daughter quickly and drew -back. "I didn't know," she said. "None of us knew. We were afraid to -listen. I mean, it's so far." - -"Knew he'd make it," said Pop, tamping his pipe full with another load -of tobacco from the humidor. "Tom's got good stuff in him. Smokes a -pipe, you know." - -"Not up there," said Jeanne practically. "It would waste oxygen." - -"It says here in this magazine the moon is 240,000 miles away," Aunt -Anna told them. - -"Did the announcer say how Tom felt?" Mom wanted to know. - -"Just imagine how it will be," Aunt Anna said, "when we get Tom -back here and he speaks to the Women's League. We'll have to make -arrangements--" - -"Can't," Pop reminded her. "Government hasn't said anything about when -Tom's coming back. Liable to keep him there a long time. Do the boy -good. See what he's really made of, I always say. Andrea, your roast is -burning." - -Mom scurried off toward the kitchen. A moment after she disappeared, -the phone rang and Aunt Anna took the receiver off its cradle. "Hello? -Yes, this is the Peterson home. Yes, she is. In a moment. Jeanne, it's -for you." - -"Hmmmm," Jeanne chortled. "Some fellow trying to make time because -Tom's too far away to protest." She hated herself for saying it, and -administered the mental kick in the pants which never helped. She was -missing Tom more acutely every minute. The distance was unthinkable, -the moon almost too remote to consider, lost up there in infinite void, -surrounded by parcels--parsecs?--of nothing. - -Picking up the receiver, Jeanne turned her back to Aunt Anna, who -appeared quite eager to listen to at least half of the conversation. -"Hello? Yes, this is Jeanne Peterson. The _Times-Democrat_? I could -see you today, I suppose. Why, here at home. I'm on vacation. But -what--about Tom? Oh, I see. Oh, they told you down at White Sands. -Well, all right. 'Bye." - -"It was a man," said Aunt Anna. - -"Who said my roast was burning?" Mom asked them all indignantly as she -returned from the kitchen. - -"Who was the young man, Jeanne?" Aunt Anna asked. - -Jeanne grinned, brushed back a stray lock of her blonde hair. "Sorry to -disappoint an old gossip like you, but--" - -"Tom _is_ a long way off!" - -"That was just Mr. Lubrano, a reporter on the _Times-Democrat_. 'How -does it feel to be the fiancee of the first man to reach the moon,' he -said. Funny, I hadn't thought of it that way at all. How does it feel? -Did he expect me to turn cartwheels? (_But, I_ am _proud of Tom, so why -don't I admit it?_) He'll be down to interview me this afternoon." - -"After dinner, I hope," said Mom. - -Awkwardly, Aunt Anna lit a cigarette--something she did only on rare, -important occasions. "It never occurred to me," she said slowly, trying -to remove tobacco grains from her tongue as delicately as possible with -thumb and forefinger. "Not for a moment. But Jeanne, in her own right, -is also a celebrity. The Women's League has watched her grow up, I -know. But suddenly, all at once, Jeanne is different. Andrea, get May -King on the phone!" - -"May--the president?" Mom wanted to know, somewhat awed. - -"Of course, Andrea. A little imagination, that's what you need." - -Mom got up doubtfully, approached the telephone as if it might jump up -and attack her. - -"Forget it," Jeanne told them. _Use big words. Use words which would -have ridiculous double-entendres for them. Frighten them._ "I won't -prostitute my emotional relationship with Tom for all the Women's -Leagues in the county. Forget it." - -"Jeanne!" said Aunt Anna. - -"Jeanne," Mom echoed her, more than a little shocked. "What all this -has to do with--Jeanne! Oh...." - -But Jeanne was on her way upstairs to put on something gay and bright -for the arrival of Mr. Lubrano. Now that she thought of it, she liked -the almost electric crackle in the reporter's voice over the phone. - - * * * * * - -"Good afternoon, Miss Peterson. Honest, I feel almost like a cub. In -a few hours, you've become quite a figure." Mr. Lubrano was young, -good-looking in a dark, dangerous, eager Latin way. He took Jeanne's -proffered hand, held it and looked at her long enough to let her know -he appreciated what he saw, briefly enough to indicate everything would -be strictly business if she wanted it that way. - -Jeanne had been firm with Aunt Anna and her folks. Their part in this -was to be strictly a vicarious one. She would answer their questions -later. As it turned out, Pop almost had to propel Aunt Anna from -the room, and this only because Jeanne had insisted beforehand. Mom -couldn't fathom the fuss or the secrecy, and contentedly did as she was -told. - -"You're younger than I expected, Miss Peterson." - -"Come now. Tom's only twenty-five. You know that." - -"Well, then, prettier." - -"Then we're even. After a reporter friend Pop once had, you could be -Tyrone Power." - -"Lovely dress you're wearing." He fingered the taffeta at her shoulder, -let his hand rest more heavily than necessary. When she pulled away and -sat as primly as she could on a straight-backed chair he said the one -word, "Business?" He made it a question. - -"Business." - -"Just how long have you known the Man in the Moon?" - -"The Man--really!" - -"Oh, that's him. That's your Thomas Bentley. He's the Man in the Moon -now." - -Jeanne suppressed an unfeminine snicker. "About nine years. High school -together, dates, going steady, engaged. The usual middle-sized town -sort of thing." - -"Love him?" - -"Of course. Really, Mr. Lubrano." - -For the next thirty minutes, Dan Lubrano asked her the sort of -questions that might make an adequate Sunday-supplement feature. -Nothing startling, nothing very original--except for the fact that -Jeanne, as the fiancee of the first man to rocket across interplanetary -space and reach the moon, was an unusual subject. Did she plan on -marrying Tom upon his return? Naturally, but only the highest echelon -of government and military circles knew when that might be. Was she -afraid the utter desolation of space would somehow--change him? Lubrano -made the pause significant. Might make him more romantic if anything, -although Tom never tended toward stodginess. Could she be quoted as -saying she looked up at the moon every clear night and called softly, -silently, secretly to Tom across the unthinkable distances? Yes, if it -were absolutely necessary. - -When they finished, Jeanne said: "Don't tell me that's all, Dan?" - -"Officially, yes. Unofficially, I haven't started. Look, Miss -Peterson--Jeanne--mind if I'm perfectly frank?" - -Jeanne said she didn't mind at all. - -Lubrano grinned, displaying his piano-key teeth. "Jeanne, all my life -I've looked for something like you. Only it's something you almost -never find. Either you're lucky or you're not. Me, I'm lucky, I've -found the fiancee of the Man in the Moon. To make things even better, -you've got your share of good looks--and you're not dumb, either." - -"I don't understand." - -"Jeanne, we can make a million bucks together. Quick, with hardly any -work. Want to?" - -"It sounds crazy, Dan. You're not making any sense." - -"No? Then listen." He turned on the radio, waited for the tubes to warm -up, dialed at random for a station. "... at this hour, we know only -that the Man in the Moon has landed on Earth's far satellite, that he -has signalled the success of his mission with a phosphorous flare, -and that he has as yet established no radio contact, although that is -expected momentarily. It is anticipated that the government will make -an announcement shortly. This much is certain, however. In order to -consolidate our position on the moon, we will have to send up another -spaceman to join fearless Captain Bentley on our bleak satellite, -eventually an entire crew of technicians--" - -"Is that all?" Jeanne demanded. "Of course Tom is news. What's the -connection?" - -"News is right. The biggest since we exploded the A-bomb. Listen." -Lubrano dialed for another station. "... dream of all centuries, -all generations. A spaceship to the moon. The implications are so -tremendous that man hasn't even considered all of them. American -know-how, scientific ability and determination has once again brought -a new era to mankind. Tonight before you retire, Mr. and Mrs. America, -give a silent prayer of thanks to our Maker for giving us the Man in -the Moon. This is--" - -Lubrano flicked the dial again. "... presented by Crunchy Kernels, the -cereal with the truly sprightly crackle. And here he is, ladies and -gentlemen, in a direct interview from White Sands, New Mexico. Dr. Amos -T. Kedder, assistant supervisor of electronics for the final stages of -the spaceship's construction--" - -"See what I mean?" Lubrano asked triumphantly, turning off the radio. -"Assistant supervisor in charge of electronics. Well, a pat on the -backside for him. Nobody yesterday, the feature attraction on the -Crunchy Kernel Guest of Honor Show today. Startling, isn't it?" - -"What's all this got to do with me?" Jeanne asked. - -"Every place you turn," said Lubrano. "Can't avoid it. Honey, who wants -to? Don't get me wrong. You won't just be my meal ticket. I'll have to -do most of the work, but together, watch our smoke. A million bucks, -honey! That's the goal. Want to get on the gravy train?" - -"Maybe," said Jeanne. "But I still don't--" - -"Look," Lubrano sneered. "I'm a newspaperman, struggling along at -fifteen bucks a week over the Guild minimum. But I got ideas, honey. -Public relations, that's the field. Public relations. There's millions -in it. - -"Get the right start and you got it made. We can't have Bentley here -on Earth--tough. But we got his gal-friend. A red-hot item, if handled -properly. Man! Commercial endorsements as a starter, then maybe a -lecture tour, theater appearances, even cheesecake pictures for the -magazines. Get it, honey?" - -"Why, yes. I'm beginning to under--" - -"Of course you get it! Jeanne Peterson reads _Cosmopolite_ to while -away her lonely hours. Jeanne smokes _Dromedaries_, relaxes in her -bathtub with _Luroscent_, dreams of her lover on the moon on a -_Softafoam_ pillow, writes him letters and saves them for his return by -using _Perma-blue_ ink, wears a _Furform_ coat to keep her warm while -gazing at the crescent moon on chill autumn nights. Get it, honey? Get -it?" - -Jeanne laughed softly. "Talk about your prostitution," she said, -half-aloud. - -"Huh? What say?" Effusive with enthusiasm, Lubrano hardly heard her. - -"Nothing. Nothing. It's been interesting, Dan." She stood up, led him -to the door. "Let me think about it. I've got to think." - -"Say, wait a minute." Almost, Lubrano seemed indignant. "You looked all -hepped up about it, honey--why the quick freeze? If you think you can -do this yourself without help from me, you've got another guess coming. -I've got the contacts, you've got the name we want to sell. You can't -do it alone. A fifty-fifty split, straight down the middle." - -Mechanically, Jeanne's mind went to work. Also mechanically, she spoke. -"Fifty-fifty baloney. You get twenty-five per cent, Mr. Lubrano, and -not another penny. You must take me for a yokel." - -"Forty." - -"I said twenty-five." - -"All right. All right. There's still enough in it for me. Twenty-five -per cent. Meet me tomorrow morning at my--" - -"That's _if_ I decide the idea is worthwhile," Jeanne said, pushing him -across the door-sill and watching him retreat reluctantly down the walk -to the street. - - * * * * * - -When Mom and the others asked Jeanne later, she was the picture -of co-operation. She told them everything about Mr. Lubrano and -his pleasant interview. She told them nothing about Dan and his -not-so-fantastic plans. - -Jeanne excused herself after dinner, her mind seething with proposal -and counter-proposal, and went upstairs to her room, but found sleep -impossible. Was it fair to Tom, capitalizing on whatever feelings -they had for each other? Was it fair to herself? If Lubrano had his -way, a glorified Hollywood love would result. Jeanne and Tom would -be adopted by the nation as its favorite lovers. Their faces would -grace pop-bottles, sipping cola together in an infinite regress of -progressively smaller bottles. Their forms would loll on all the beach -billboards, proclaiming in the latest, brightest colors that the Man in -the Moon and his girl-friend insisted on _Sunburst_ bathing suits. And -Jeanne would be waiting with her _Chlorogate_ toothpaste smile for her -lover to return from the infinite distances. - -When he returned, nothing would be left. Commercial love, -exploited love, hounded love, a cheap, impossible, publicized and -doomed-to-failure marriage, if Tom ever allowed it to go that far. - -"Phooey on you, Jeanne Peterson!" Jeanne said aloud, and sat up in bed, -surprised at the loudness of her own voice. She was imagining things. -It wouldn't be as bad as all that. Exploitation for a few months--and -a small fortune, if not the great wealth that Dan promised. And the -physical comforts made possible by whatever she earned would, over a -period of time, smother Tom's anger. - -Still, the one honest emotional experience which somehow had penetrated -deeper than the veneer she exposed to the world had been her -relationship with Tom. But she could make money, make herself happy, -make Tom happy--if not immediately on his return then eventually. -But.... - -Soon after the milkman pulled his truck to the curb down on the corner, -Jeanne fell asleep. - - * * * * * - -"Hold it! Hold it!" The agency director of photography, a small, -round man with a thin voice, waved the photographer off his camera -impatiently and scowled at Jeanne. "You're a nice girl, Miss Peterson. -That's a nice nightgown, filmy, but not so filmy it won't get by the -censors. You got a nice figure and the country will love you. So why -don't you be a nice model too? - -"That ain't just a mattress you're on, Miss Peterson. How many times I -gotta tell you that's the mattress you're waiting for Tom on? 'I miss -Tom so, I'd never sleep, thinking of him so helpless and far away, -the first Man in the Moon. Except for my _Beautysleep_ mattress which -induces sleep with its special inner-spring construction.' I ain't no -copy-writer, Miss Peterson, but it will be something like that. So, -cuddle up on that mattress like it will have to do till Tom comes home -from the moon. Cuddle nice, Miss Peterson, cuddle nice." - -It took Jeanne exactly fifty-five minutes longer before she could -cuddle nice. They then took the picture in a matter of seconds, and -Jeanne was allowed to change into her street clothes. Hurrying, she was -only fifteen minutes late for her luncheon engagement with Lubrano. - -"Three months," Lubrano said, after they'd settled themselves over -cocktails. "Not bad, honey. Know how much we grossed, including the -_Beautysleep_ account?" - -"Yes," Jeanne told him. "Twenty-eight thousand, three hundred and four -dollars." - -"Not bad," said Lubrano. "It takes the right kind of press, naturally. -That's me, honey, the right kind of press." - -"Yes," said Jeanne. "We're a good combination, Dan. You're right, it -can't miss." - -"Funny, you never sound excited about it." - -"Maybe that's the way I am. I don't excite easily. So what?" - -"So nothing." Lubrano began cutting his pork tenderloin. - -"What's next on the agenda?" Jeanne wanted to know. "Maybe I lasso the -moon with smoke rings blown from _Buccaneer_ cigarettes?" - -"Maybe you do eventually. Not right now. Right now you have to hop a -plane for New Mexico and have a chat with the boyfriend." - -"What?" Jeanne felt something flip-flop madly in the pit of her -stomach. "Dan! Oh, Dan!" - -"That's right, honey. Through the courtesy of 'Hands Across the Ocean,' -sponsored by Cleopatra Complexion Soap. A radio broadcast across a -quarter of a million miles of space to re-unite you and Tommy boy. At -least, for three minutes." - -"Oh, Dan, Dan--that's wonderful." Jeanne stood up, removed the napkin -from her lap. "If I hurry home and pack I can make a night plane and be -in New Mexico by--" - -"Whoa. Relax, honey, there's no rush. The show is tomorrow night, -11 P.M. our time. I've booked your reservation for the morning." - -"I'm too excited to eat, Dan. Really. But thanks for everything." -Jeanne bent down as Lubrano prepared to attack his tenderloin again. -She kissed his forehead playfully, turned to leave. - -Someone snickered, "That's the moon girl, I think. I thought her -boyfriend was way up there. Another cheap publicity stunt." - -"Careful," Dan frowned. "So you're happy. Don't go around ruining -everything." - -Still smiling, Jeanne left. - - * * * * * - -"Sit down, Miss Peterson." The general waved Jeanne to a chair, half -rose as she seated herself. "Frankly, these publicity things always -make me nervous." - -"_You're_ nervous! Look who's talking!" Jeanne waited while the general -lit a cigarette. "Only three minutes! I can hardly think what to say." - -"Is that bothering you, Miss? Don't worry. They showed me a copy of the -script." - -"Script?" - -"Script, yes. For tonight's program. Your part is all there, word for -word." - -"But I thought--" - -"That it would be extemporaneous? I guess we're both new at this, -Miss Peterson. I would have thought the same thing. But not with an -audience of twenty million. That's what Mr. Pate said. Pate, he's the -director of the show." - -"But--but they can't do that. I want to talk to Tom. I want to tell -him--things. I won't recite any prepared speech." How ridiculous could -the whole situation become? Jeanne thought. She'd made a farce of their -love these months. Now she wanted to forget that, make up for it at -least in part by speaking to Tom, by pouring her heart out to him (as -if she could even start to do that, in three minutes). If that fell -through too. - -"You'd better send for Mr. Pate." - -"You don't understand. Mr. Pate's in charge, not me." - -"Then--then I won't speak at all. Let him tell their audience that." - -"What? Why, Miss, you can't do that. They expect you on the show and--" - -"Send for Mr. Pate." Suddenly, she was glad Lubrano hadn't come out -here with her. He naturally would have agreed with Mr. Pate. - -The general picked up a phone on his desk, dialed. "Afternoon, Captain. -Have you seen Pate? What? Splendid. Of course I'll wait." He cupped a -well-manicured hand over the receiver. "They're looking for him, -Miss ... Eh? Hello? Mr. Pate? I'm sorry to bother you, but--yes, -important. I wish you could come to my office, whenever you ... -Splendid. Splendid." The general hung up. "Be right here." - - * * * * * - -Ten minutes later, Pate arrived. He was young, florid of face, and -looked like he'd soon have a bad case of high blood pressure if he -didn't already have it. He waved a hand carelessly at the general. Too -carelessly. Like he was a recently discharged enlisted man who felt he -didn't have to bow and scrape any more. - -"You're Jeanne. Recognize you anywhere. Like to tell your Tom he has -good taste." - -"Fine," said Jeanne. "Tell him anything you want. I'm not speaking." - -"Ha, ha. Good joke." - -"It's no joke, Mr. Pate. I won't recite any prepared speech. I -absolutely refuse." - -"Say that again. No, don't bother." Pate's brick-red face assumed the -color of good claret wine. "Not ordinary, this. You probably thought we -wouldn't reimburse you. Five thousand dollars all right?" - -"Please, Mr. Pate. I came here to talk with Tom. I want to talk, not -recite. Tear up your speech and I'll do it for nothing." - -"Can't." - -"Don't, then. Good-bye." - -"Wait! General, can't you do something?" - -"She's not under my jurisdiction. I told her you know your business and -she was being--shall we say--something less than sensible." - -"General! You never said anything like that. Don't you think I have a -right to speak to my fiance?" - -"There's something to what you both say." Now the general sounded -like _he_ was talking from a prepared speech. _If it's a matter of -publicity, never hurt anyone's feelings. Straddle that fence. Walk that -tight-rope._ - -"Well, I'll be damned," said Pate. "Show's got to go on. Is that final, -Miss Peterson?" - -"You can bet your bottom dollar on it, as the expression goes." Jeanne -almost felt like smiling, despite the situation. - -"Don't say anything unprintable, then. Tear up your speech. We've got -to. See you in two hours." Muttering a brief word or two, Pate left, -not bothering to say good-bye to the general. - -The general grinned professionally at Jeanne. "Any time I can be of -further assistance...." - - * * * * * - -"Is this seat taken?" - -Jeanne looked up from her third cup of coffee, which she'd been -stirring nervously. She'd found a small restaurant outside the post's -main gate. - -"Why, no. Sit down, won't you?" Jeanne smiled at the girl who -approached her. - -"Th-thanks." - -Kind of a plain type, Jeanne decided. Not pretty, though certainly not -homely. Nice hair, if you liked it corn-silk color and long. Some men -did, she supposed. "Cigarette?" - -"I--I don't smoke, thank you. You--you're Jeanne Peterson. I recognized -you. My name is Mary." - -"Hello, Mary." - -"Miss Peterson, I don't know how to begin. But I've got to talk to -you. You're a stranger and--Miss Peterson, please. You've got to do -something...." - -"How can I help you if I don't know what you're talking about?" Jeanne -almost felt like saying, _sister, I've got problems of my own_. - -"It's Curt. Captain Curt Macomber. He's--maybe I shouldn't be telling -you this. You won't say anything. I mean--" - -"For gosh sakes, what _do_ you mean?" - -The girl sniffled. - -"I'm sorry," said Jeanne. "Go ahead." Maybe she'd feel better herself -if she heard someone else's problems. - -"Curt is going--up there. To the--the moon. I still can hardly believe -it. But they're sending him to join Captain Bentley. Tonight, at -midnight." - -"That's right, they did say something about sending a man to help Tom -with whatever he's doing." - -"Establishing a base, that's what. Curt told me. Curt said--he said he -was going. He got two weeks of fast training and that's it. He told me -the ship--the spaceship--worked automatically, anyway. Captain Bentley -will brief him when he reaches the moon. Your Captain, Miss Peterson. -But--but I'm so ashamed." - -"Ashamed?" The whole thing sounded more and more like a soap opera to -Jeanne every minute. - -"Curt--Curt and I, we got married. In secret. His folks didn't approve -and--well, that's not important. But I'm--I'm--well, I haven't told -Curt. I'm going to have a baby. I can't tell him now, not when he's -about to go further away than anyone. Miss Peterson, please don't tell -anyone." More sniffles. "Please." - -"Forget about it. But I don't see where I can help you." - -The girl spoke again, a quick-rushing torrent of words. "You can speak -to your captain and find out what it's like on the moon and discourage -Curt, or maybe even tell Curt the truth, that I'm going to have a baby -and then he'll understand he can't go. He doesn't have to go, he's a -volunteer. I mean, he can change his mind, if he wants to, if you can -make him...." The girl's voice trailed off plaintively. - -Aunt Anna would be all for doing it, and then telling her friends -the full details for the next five years or so. Pop would smoke his -pipe and grunt something about it doing the boy good. Mom would say, -"Whatever makes you happy, dear," and retreat to her kitchen. You -could never predict Dan Lubrano. He might tell her to don a pair -of football shoulderpads, tackle Captain Macomber and sit on him -until the automatic spaceship blasted off for the moon. (Weller's -football equipment, of course. Nothing but the best, nothing but a -cash-on-the-line endorsement.) - -"I'll do what I can," Jeanne said finally. "After the show, kid. -Meanwhile, all you can do is take it easy. But I don't promise -anything. Your Captain Macomber is a big boy now and probably, he'll -make his own decisions." - -The thought of a naive, innocent girl like the one sitting beside her -falling into the publicity mill of another Dan Lubrano was almost -horrifying. - - * * * * * - -"Yessir, ladies and gentlemen. Every week at this time we all get -together and join hands across the ocean--in Cleopatra Facial Soap's -famous human interest program, the show that tugs at your heart-strings -as much as Cleopatra Facial Soap tugs at the grit and oil, removing -them from the pores of your skin--'Hands Across the Ocean.' - -"Each week, Cleopatra Facial Soap extends a helping hand to men and -women everywhere. Submit your story to us, and if it is judged a -winner, you will speak with your loved one over-seas--wherever he is, -whatever he's doing--courtesy of Cleopatra." - -_Soon, across the distances that defied imagination, she would hear his -voice--_ - -"Your master of ceremonies, Laird Larsen. Here he is, ladies and -gentlemen, the man whose voice all lovers know--Laird Larsen!" - -"Hello, everybody, hello! Here we go again, in another Cleopatra -attempt to make young lovers happy." Larsen, an unprepossessing man -who spoke like Clem McCarthy, smiled mechanically. "This time, though, -'Hands Across the Ocean' makes an unprecedented leap. The Pacific Ocean -is a goldfish bowl compared to the empty space between us and the moon. -But Cleopatra Soap, in conjunction with the Amalgamated Broadcasting -Network and the United States Air Force, will attempt to reach the moon -tonight--by radio. Here with us is the lovely Jeanne Peterson, who...." - -On and on he rambled. _There was so much she wanted to tell Tom--_ - -"... and on the moon, on the unthinkably remote moon, Captain Tom -Bentley, alone on a wild, utterly unexplored frontier. More alone than -any man has ever been before him. Lonely, perhaps a little terrified, -although we feel our Captain Tom is made of sterner stuff...." - -_Our Captain Tom._ All at once, it was sickening. - -"Are you ready, Amalgamated? Very well."--appropriate tremble of the -voice--"This is Cleopatra Soap, the planet Earth, calling Captain Tom -Bentley on the moon. Cleopatra Soap and all its millions of listeners, -calling the moon." Laird Larsen had picked up an unnecessarily complex -microphone and was talking into it. "Earth and Cleopatra calling Moon. -Do you hear me, Moon?" - -_But what could she tell him?_ "Just imagine what it will be like when -Tom gets back here and speaks to the Women's League," said Aunt Anna. -That? "They're liable to keep Tom on the moon a long time," said Pop. -"Hm-hmm," said Jeanne, "some guy trying to make time because Tom's -too far away to protest." That? "I wouldn't prostitute my emotional -relationship with Tom for all the Women's Leagues in the country," -Jeanne said. Very funny. Tell him that? Tell him about Dan Lubrano? - -"Cleopatra calling the Moon. Come in, Moon. Do you hear me?" Laird -Larsen mopped his brow. "By now the radio waves have reached the moon -and returned, ladies and gentlemen. But still, no contact with Captain -Bentley." - -_Why hadn't she agreed to use the prepared speech?_ If she talked to -Tom now, everything would be a lie. Nothing real. Nothing. And, she -told herself, this would be one more step toward cheapening whatever -they had. Twenty million people would gawk while they spoke. _Darling, -I love you, I love you! Hooray!_ - -"Hello, Captain Bentley." - -"This is Bentley." Tom's voice, faint, from far, far away--but -unmistakably Tom's. It made Jeanne feel weak all over. - -"Captain Bentley, I have a surprise for you. I have--" - -Off in the wings, Mr. Pate stood, mopping his brow. The general was at -his side, beaming. - -"Jeanne? Did you say Jeanne?" Tom's voice, weak, so distant. - -"Of course, Captain, Courtesy of Cleopatra Soap, the facial soap -that...." - -Jeanne wished he'd choke on all the bars of Cleopatra Soap that had -ever been manufactured. - -"And here she is, ladies and gentlemen, America's number one -sweetheart, Jeanne Peterson, about to bridge the gap of interplanetary -space to chat with her lover." - -Jeanne looked at the microphone and cringed. She walked forward, then -paused. She stared once at Mr. Pate, still mopping his brow in the -wings. Then she turned and fled, oblivious to the rising tide of voices -behind her. - - * * * * * - -Almost midnight. If Tom hadn't spoken so often of the White Sands -Air Force base, she never would have come in here, never found the -little-used gate behind the barracks, where Captain Macomber would -enter to avoid publicity, never have mentioned the right few words to -the master sergeant at the gate-house. (_If ever you need anything, -darling, see Sergeant Reed. We were in Korea together._) Sergeant Reed -had been reluctant at first, but then had understood.... - -She crouched behind the gate-house in darkness now and listened. - -"But I tell you I'm Macomber!" the captain cried. "You've got to let me -through. The ship's blasting off on automatic in a few minutes." - -"Just show me your identification," Sergeant Reed said. - -"I already--" - -"Show it to me in the light where I can see it, Captain." - -Jeanne ran down the runway that led past the little cement mounds of -the observation turrets toward the needle-like shape which loomed up in -the glare of a single floodlight. She had checked her wrist watch with -Sergeant Reed's. Four minutes to midnight. Reed would delay Captain -Macomber long enough. It was only a matter of minutes now. The sergeant -would get a blistering chewing out, but could claim he'd only been -doing what he thought was his duty. - -_He told me the spaceship worked automatically_, the girl in the -restaurant had said. - -The spaceship's airlock was not secured. There was no reason to secure -it. Jeanne found Macomber's pressure suit and with two handfuls of -thumbs buckled it on herself. Footsteps pounded along the runway as she -slammed the airlock door. - -Seconds now. Less than seconds-- - -The last thing she told herself with a happy little smile, an instant -before she blasted off in the second lunar ship, was that the Man in -the Moon would get a real surprise in a little while. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY SWEETHEART'S THE MAN IN THE -MOON *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: My sweetheart's the Man in the Moon</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Milton Lesser</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 24, 2022 [eBook #68393]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY SWEETHEART'S THE MAN IN THE MOON ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>My sweetheart's the Man in the Moon</h1> - -<h2>By MILTON LESSER</h2> - -<p>Illustrated by STALLMAN</p> - -<p><i>Not everyone will think of the first<br /> -moon-flight as the first glorious<br /> -step on the road to space. There<br /> -will always, for instance, be the<br /> -fast-buck boys like Lubrano....</i></p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Infinity, December 1956.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Jeanne turned off the radio and went downstairs slowly, watching how -the gold-shot curtains on the landing window caught the sunlight in a -multitude of brilliant flecks. She shuddered slightly. Up <i>there</i>, the -sun would scorch and sear.</p> - -<p>When she entered the living room, Aunt Anna looked up from her -magazine, and Pop puffed on his calabash pipe, occasionally grunting -with satisfaction. Mom looked at Jeanne hopefully, but soon turned away -in confusion. She could not tell whether Jeanne wanted her to laugh or -cry.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Jeanne, instantly hating the flippant way she tried to -speak, "he got there." She never quite knew why, but whenever emotions -threatened to choke her up she would slip on the mask, the carefree -attitude, the what-do-I-care voice she was using now.</p> - -<p>"All the way—<i>there</i>?" Aunt Anna fluttered her eyebrows, allowing -herself a rare display of emotion.</p> - -<p>Mom smiled, laughed briefly and nervously. She touched Jeanne's cheek -tentatively with a trembling hand, hugged her daughter quickly and drew -back. "I didn't know," she said. "None of us knew. We were afraid to -listen. I mean, it's so far."</p> - -<p>"Knew he'd make it," said Pop, tamping his pipe full with another load -of tobacco from the humidor. "Tom's got good stuff in him. Smokes a -pipe, you know."</p> - -<p>"Not up there," said Jeanne practically. "It would waste oxygen."</p> - -<p>"It says here in this magazine the moon is 240,000 miles away," Aunt -Anna told them.</p> - -<p>"Did the announcer say how Tom felt?" Mom wanted to know.</p> - -<p>"Just imagine how it will be," Aunt Anna said, "when we get Tom -back here and he speaks to the Women's League. We'll have to make -arrangements—"</p> - -<p>"Can't," Pop reminded her. "Government hasn't said anything about when -Tom's coming back. Liable to keep him there a long time. Do the boy -good. See what he's really made of, I always say. Andrea, your roast is -burning."</p> - -<p>Mom scurried off toward the kitchen. A moment after she disappeared, -the phone rang and Aunt Anna took the receiver off its cradle. "Hello? -Yes, this is the Peterson home. Yes, she is. In a moment. Jeanne, it's -for you."</p> - -<p>"Hmmmm," Jeanne chortled. "Some fellow trying to make time because -Tom's too far away to protest." She hated herself for saying it, and -administered the mental kick in the pants which never helped. She was -missing Tom more acutely every minute. The distance was unthinkable, -the moon almost too remote to consider, lost up there in infinite void, -surrounded by parcels—parsecs?—of nothing.</p> - -<p>Picking up the receiver, Jeanne turned her back to Aunt Anna, who -appeared quite eager to listen to at least half of the conversation. -"Hello? Yes, this is Jeanne Peterson. The <i>Times-Democrat</i>? I could -see you today, I suppose. Why, here at home. I'm on vacation. But -what—about Tom? Oh, I see. Oh, they told you down at White Sands. -Well, all right. 'Bye."</p> - -<p>"It was a man," said Aunt Anna.</p> - -<p>"Who said my roast was burning?" Mom asked them all indignantly as she -returned from the kitchen.</p> - -<p>"Who was the young man, Jeanne?" Aunt Anna asked.</p> - -<p>Jeanne grinned, brushed back a stray lock of her blonde hair. "Sorry to -disappoint an old gossip like you, but—"</p> - -<p>"Tom <i>is</i> a long way off!"</p> - -<p>"That was just Mr. Lubrano, a reporter on the <i>Times-Democrat</i>. 'How -does it feel to be the fiancee of the first man to reach the moon,' he -said. Funny, I hadn't thought of it that way at all. How does it feel? -Did he expect me to turn cartwheels? (<i>But, I</i> am <i>proud of Tom, so why -don't I admit it</i>?) He'll be down to interview me this afternoon."</p> - -<p>"After dinner, I hope," said Mom.</p> - -<p>Awkwardly, Aunt Anna lit a cigarette—something she did only on rare, -important occasions. "It never occurred to me," she said slowly, trying -to remove tobacco grains from her tongue as delicately as possible with -thumb and forefinger. "Not for a moment. But Jeanne, in her own right, -is also a celebrity. The Women's League has watched her grow up, I -know. But suddenly, all at once, Jeanne is different. Andrea, get May -King on the phone!"</p> - -<p>"May—the president?" Mom wanted to know, somewhat awed.</p> - -<p>"Of course, Andrea. A little imagination, that's what you need."</p> - -<p>Mom got up doubtfully, approached the telephone as if it might jump up -and attack her.</p> - -<p>"Forget it," Jeanne told them. <i>Use big words. Use words which would -have ridiculous double-entendres for them. Frighten them.</i> "I won't -prostitute my emotional relationship with Tom for all the Women's -Leagues in the county. Forget it."</p> - -<p>"Jeanne!" said Aunt Anna.</p> - -<p>"Jeanne," Mom echoed her, more than a little shocked. "What all this -has to do with—Jeanne! Oh...."</p> - -<p>But Jeanne was on her way upstairs to put on something gay and bright -for the arrival of Mr. Lubrano. Now that she thought of it, she liked -the almost electric crackle in the reporter's voice over the phone.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Good afternoon, Miss Peterson. Honest, I feel almost like a cub. In -a few hours, you've become quite a figure." Mr. Lubrano was young, -good-looking in a dark, dangerous, eager Latin way. He took Jeanne's -proffered hand, held it and looked at her long enough to let her know -he appreciated what he saw, briefly enough to indicate everything would -be strictly business if she wanted it that way.</p> - -<p>Jeanne had been firm with Aunt Anna and her folks. Their part in this -was to be strictly a vicarious one. She would answer their questions -later. As it turned out, Pop almost had to propel Aunt Anna from -the room, and this only because Jeanne had insisted beforehand. Mom -couldn't fathom the fuss or the secrecy, and contentedly did as she was -told.</p> - -<p>"You're younger than I expected, Miss Peterson."</p> - -<p>"Come now. Tom's only twenty-five. You know that."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, prettier."</p> - -<p>"Then we're even. After a reporter friend Pop once had, you could be -Tyrone Power."</p> - -<p>"Lovely dress you're wearing." He fingered the taffeta at her shoulder, -let his hand rest more heavily than necessary. When she pulled away and -sat as primly as she could on a straight-backed chair he said the one -word, "Business?" He made it a question.</p> - -<p>"Business."</p> - -<p>"Just how long have you known the Man in the Moon?"</p> - -<p>"The Man—really!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's him. That's your Thomas Bentley. He's the Man in the Moon -now."</p> - -<p>Jeanne suppressed an unfeminine snicker. "About nine years. High school -together, dates, going steady, engaged. The usual middle-sized town -sort of thing."</p> - -<p>"Love him?"</p> - -<p>"Of course. Really, Mr. Lubrano."</p> - -<p>For the next thirty minutes, Dan Lubrano asked her the sort of -questions that might make an adequate Sunday-supplement feature. -Nothing startling, nothing very original—except for the fact that -Jeanne, as the fiancee of the first man to rocket across interplanetary -space and reach the moon, was an unusual subject. Did she plan on -marrying Tom upon his return? Naturally, but only the highest echelon -of government and military circles knew when that might be. Was she -afraid the utter desolation of space would somehow—change him? Lubrano -made the pause significant. Might make him more romantic if anything, -although Tom never tended toward stodginess. Could she be quoted as -saying she looked up at the moon every clear night and called softly, -silently, secretly to Tom across the unthinkable distances? Yes, if it -were absolutely necessary.</p> - -<p>When they finished, Jeanne said: "Don't tell me that's all, Dan?"</p> - -<p>"Officially, yes. Unofficially, I haven't started. Look, Miss -Peterson—Jeanne—mind if I'm perfectly frank?"</p> - -<p>Jeanne said she didn't mind at all.</p> - -<p>Lubrano grinned, displaying his piano-key teeth. "Jeanne, all my life -I've looked for something like you. Only it's something you almost -never find. Either you're lucky or you're not. Me, I'm lucky, I've -found the fiancee of the Man in the Moon. To make things even better, -you've got your share of good looks—and you're not dumb, either."</p> - -<p>"I don't understand."</p> - -<p>"Jeanne, we can make a million bucks together. Quick, with hardly any -work. Want to?"</p> - -<p>"It sounds crazy, Dan. You're not making any sense."</p> - -<p>"No? Then listen." He turned on the radio, waited for the tubes to warm -up, dialed at random for a station. "... at this hour, we know only -that the Man in the Moon has landed on Earth's far satellite, that he -has signalled the success of his mission with a phosphorous flare, -and that he has as yet established no radio contact, although that is -expected momentarily. It is anticipated that the government will make -an announcement shortly. This much is certain, however. In order to -consolidate our position on the moon, we will have to send up another -spaceman to join fearless Captain Bentley on our bleak satellite, -eventually an entire crew of technicians—"</p> - -<p>"Is that all?" Jeanne demanded. "Of course Tom is news. What's the -connection?"</p> - -<p>"News is right. The biggest since we exploded the A-bomb. Listen." -Lubrano dialed for another station. "... dream of all centuries, -all generations. A spaceship to the moon. The implications are so -tremendous that man hasn't even considered all of them. American -know-how, scientific ability and determination has once again brought -a new era to mankind. Tonight before you retire, Mr. and Mrs. America, -give a silent prayer of thanks to our Maker for giving us the Man in -the Moon. This is—"</p> - -<p>Lubrano flicked the dial again. "... presented by Crunchy Kernels, the -cereal with the truly sprightly crackle. And here he is, ladies and -gentlemen, in a direct interview from White Sands, New Mexico. Dr. Amos -T. Kedder, assistant supervisor of electronics for the final stages of -the spaceship's construction—"</p> - -<p>"See what I mean?" Lubrano asked triumphantly, turning off the radio. -"Assistant supervisor in charge of electronics. Well, a pat on the -backside for him. Nobody yesterday, the feature attraction on the -Crunchy Kernel Guest of Honor Show today. Startling, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"What's all this got to do with me?" Jeanne asked.</p> - -<p>"Every place you turn," said Lubrano. "Can't avoid it. Honey, who wants -to? Don't get me wrong. You won't just be my meal ticket. I'll have to -do most of the work, but together, watch our smoke. A million bucks, -honey! That's the goal. Want to get on the gravy train?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe," said Jeanne. "But I still don't—"</p> - -<p>"Look," Lubrano sneered. "I'm a newspaperman, struggling along at -fifteen bucks a week over the Guild minimum. But I got ideas, honey. -Public relations, that's the field. Public relations. There's millions -in it.</p> - -<p>"Get the right start and you got it made. We can't have Bentley here -on Earth—tough. But we got his gal-friend. A red-hot item, if handled -properly. Man! Commercial endorsements as a starter, then maybe a -lecture tour, theater appearances, even cheesecake pictures for the -magazines. Get it, honey?"</p> - -<p>"Why, yes. I'm beginning to under—"</p> - -<p>"Of course you get it! Jeanne Peterson reads <i>Cosmopolite</i> to while -away her lonely hours. Jeanne smokes <i>Dromedaries</i>, relaxes in her -bathtub with <i>Luroscent</i>, dreams of her lover on the moon on a -<i>Softafoam</i> pillow, writes him letters and saves them for his return by -using <i>Perma-blue</i> ink, wears a <i>Furform</i> coat to keep her warm while -gazing at the crescent moon on chill autumn nights. Get it, honey? Get -it?"</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Jeanne laughed softly. "Talk about your prostitution," she said, -half-aloud.</p> - -<p>"Huh? What say?" Effusive with enthusiasm, Lubrano hardly heard her.</p> - -<p>"Nothing. Nothing. It's been interesting, Dan." She stood up, led him -to the door. "Let me think about it. I've got to think."</p> - -<p>"Say, wait a minute." Almost, Lubrano seemed indignant. "You looked all -hepped up about it, honey—why the quick freeze? If you think you can -do this yourself without help from me, you've got another guess coming. -I've got the contacts, you've got the name we want to sell. You can't -do it alone. A fifty-fifty split, straight down the middle."</p> - -<p>Mechanically, Jeanne's mind went to work. Also mechanically, she spoke. -"Fifty-fifty baloney. You get twenty-five per cent, Mr. Lubrano, and -not another penny. You must take me for a yokel."</p> - -<p>"Forty."</p> - -<p>"I said twenty-five."</p> - -<p>"All right. All right. There's still enough in it for me. Twenty-five -per cent. Meet me tomorrow morning at my—"</p> - -<p>"That's <i>if</i> I decide the idea is worthwhile," Jeanne said, pushing him -across the door-sill and watching him retreat reluctantly down the walk -to the street.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>When Mom and the others asked Jeanne later, she was the picture -of co-operation. She told them everything about Mr. Lubrano and -his pleasant interview. She told them nothing about Dan and his -not-so-fantastic plans.</p> - -<p>Jeanne excused herself after dinner, her mind seething with proposal -and counter-proposal, and went upstairs to her room, but found sleep -impossible. Was it fair to Tom, capitalizing on whatever feelings -they had for each other? Was it fair to herself? If Lubrano had his -way, a glorified Hollywood love would result. Jeanne and Tom would -be adopted by the nation as its favorite lovers. Their faces would -grace pop-bottles, sipping cola together in an infinite regress of -progressively smaller bottles. Their forms would loll on all the beach -billboards, proclaiming in the latest, brightest colors that the Man in -the Moon and his girl-friend insisted on <i>Sunburst</i> bathing suits. And -Jeanne would be waiting with her <i>Chlorogate</i> toothpaste smile for her -lover to return from the infinite distances.</p> - -<p>When he returned, nothing would be left. Commercial love, -exploited love, hounded love, a cheap, impossible, publicized and -doomed-to-failure marriage, if Tom ever allowed it to go that far.</p> - -<p>"Phooey on you, Jeanne Peterson!" Jeanne said aloud, and sat up in bed, -surprised at the loudness of her own voice. She was imagining things. -It wouldn't be as bad as all that. Exploitation for a few months—and -a small fortune, if not the great wealth that Dan promised. And the -physical comforts made possible by whatever she earned would, over a -period of time, smother Tom's anger.</p> - -<p>Still, the one honest emotional experience which somehow had penetrated -deeper than the veneer she exposed to the world had been her -relationship with Tom. But she could make money, make herself happy, -make Tom happy—if not immediately on his return then eventually. -But....</p> - -<p>Soon after the milkman pulled his truck to the curb down on the corner, -Jeanne fell asleep.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Hold it! Hold it!" The agency director of photography, a small, -round man with a thin voice, waved the photographer off his camera -impatiently and scowled at Jeanne. "You're a nice girl, Miss Peterson. -That's a nice nightgown, filmy, but not so filmy it won't get by the -censors. You got a nice figure and the country will love you. So why -don't you be a nice model too?</p> - -<p>"That ain't just a mattress you're on, Miss Peterson. How many times I -gotta tell you that's the mattress you're waiting for Tom on? 'I miss -Tom so, I'd never sleep, thinking of him so helpless and far away, -the first Man in the Moon. Except for my <i>Beautysleep</i> mattress which -induces sleep with its special inner-spring construction.' I ain't no -copy-writer, Miss Peterson, but it will be something like that. So, -cuddle up on that mattress like it will have to do till Tom comes home -from the moon. Cuddle nice, Miss Peterson, cuddle nice."</p> - -<p>It took Jeanne exactly fifty-five minutes longer before she could -cuddle nice. They then took the picture in a matter of seconds, and -Jeanne was allowed to change into her street clothes. Hurrying, she was -only fifteen minutes late for her luncheon engagement with Lubrano.</p> - -<p>"Three months," Lubrano said, after they'd settled themselves over -cocktails. "Not bad, honey. Know how much we grossed, including the -<i>Beautysleep</i> account?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," Jeanne told him. "Twenty-eight thousand, three hundred and four -dollars."</p> - -<p>"Not bad," said Lubrano. "It takes the right kind of press, naturally. -That's me, honey, the right kind of press."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Jeanne. "We're a good combination, Dan. You're right, it -can't miss."</p> - -<p>"Funny, you never sound excited about it."</p> - -<p>"Maybe that's the way I am. I don't excite easily. So what?"</p> - -<p>"So nothing." Lubrano began cutting his pork tenderloin.</p> - -<p>"What's next on the agenda?" Jeanne wanted to know. "Maybe I lasso the -moon with smoke rings blown from <i>Buccaneer</i> cigarettes?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe you do eventually. Not right now. Right now you have to hop a -plane for New Mexico and have a chat with the boyfriend."</p> - -<p>"What?" Jeanne felt something flip-flop madly in the pit of her -stomach. "Dan! Oh, Dan!"</p> - -<p>"That's right, honey. Through the courtesy of 'Hands Across the Ocean,' -sponsored by Cleopatra Complexion Soap. A radio broadcast across a -quarter of a million miles of space to re-unite you and Tommy boy. At -least, for three minutes."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Dan, Dan—that's wonderful." Jeanne stood up, removed the napkin -from her lap. "If I hurry home and pack I can make a night plane and be -in New Mexico by—"</p> - -<p>"Whoa. Relax, honey, there's no rush. The show is tomorrow night, -11 P.M. our time. I've booked your reservation for the morning."</p> - -<p>"I'm too excited to eat, Dan. Really. But thanks for everything." -Jeanne bent down as Lubrano prepared to attack his tenderloin again. -She kissed his forehead playfully, turned to leave.</p> - -<p>Someone snickered, "That's the moon girl, I think. I thought her -boyfriend was way up there. Another cheap publicity stunt."</p> - -<p>"Careful," Dan frowned. "So you're happy. Don't go around ruining -everything."</p> - -<p>Still smiling, Jeanne left.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Sit down, Miss Peterson." The general waved Jeanne to a chair, half -rose as she seated herself. "Frankly, these publicity things always -make me nervous."</p> - -<p>"<i>You're</i> nervous! Look who's talking!" Jeanne waited while the general -lit a cigarette. "Only three minutes! I can hardly think what to say."</p> - -<p>"Is that bothering you, Miss? Don't worry. They showed me a copy of the -script."</p> - -<p>"Script?"</p> - -<p>"Script, yes. For tonight's program. Your part is all there, word for -word."</p> - -<p>"But I thought—"</p> - -<p>"That it would be extemporaneous? I guess we're both new at this, -Miss Peterson. I would have thought the same thing. But not with an -audience of twenty million. That's what Mr. Pate said. Pate, he's the -director of the show."</p> - -<p>"But—but they can't do that. I want to talk to Tom. I want to tell -him—things. I won't recite any prepared speech." How ridiculous could -the whole situation become? Jeanne thought. She'd made a farce of their -love these months. Now she wanted to forget that, make up for it at -least in part by speaking to Tom, by pouring her heart out to him (as -if she could even start to do that, in three minutes). If that fell -through too.</p> - -<p>"You'd better send for Mr. Pate."</p> - -<p>"You don't understand. Mr. Pate's in charge, not me."</p> - -<p>"Then—then I won't speak at all. Let him tell their audience that."</p> - -<p>"What? Why, Miss, you can't do that. They expect you on the show and—"</p> - -<p>"Send for Mr. Pate." Suddenly, she was glad Lubrano hadn't come out -here with her. He naturally would have agreed with Mr. Pate.</p> - -<p>The general picked up a phone on his desk, dialed. "Afternoon, Captain. -Have you seen Pate? What? Splendid. Of course I'll wait." He cupped a -well-manicured hand over the receiver. "They're looking for him, -Miss ... Eh? Hello? Mr. Pate? I'm sorry to bother you, but—yes, -important. I wish you could come to my office, whenever you ... -Splendid. Splendid." The general hung up. "Be right here."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Ten minutes later, Pate arrived. He was young, florid of face, and -looked like he'd soon have a bad case of high blood pressure if he -didn't already have it. He waved a hand carelessly at the general. Too -carelessly. Like he was a recently discharged enlisted man who felt he -didn't have to bow and scrape any more.</p> - -<p>"You're Jeanne. Recognize you anywhere. Like to tell your Tom he has -good taste."</p> - -<p>"Fine," said Jeanne. "Tell him anything you want. I'm not speaking."</p> - -<p>"Ha, ha. Good joke."</p> - -<p>"It's no joke, Mr. Pate. I won't recite any prepared speech. I -absolutely refuse."</p> - -<p>"Say that again. No, don't bother." Pate's brick-red face assumed the -color of good claret wine. "Not ordinary, this. You probably thought we -wouldn't reimburse you. Five thousand dollars all right?"</p> - -<p>"Please, Mr. Pate. I came here to talk with Tom. I want to talk, not -recite. Tear up your speech and I'll do it for nothing."</p> - -<p>"Can't."</p> - -<p>"Don't, then. Good-bye."</p> - -<p>"Wait! General, can't you do something?"</p> - -<p>"She's not under my jurisdiction. I told her you know your business and -she was being—shall we say—something less than sensible."</p> - -<p>"General! You never said anything like that. Don't you think I have a -right to speak to my fiance?"</p> - -<p>"There's something to what you both say." Now the general sounded -like <i>he</i> was talking from a prepared speech. <i>If it's a matter of -publicity, never hurt anyone's feelings. Straddle that fence. Walk that -tight-rope.</i></p> - -<p>"Well, I'll be damned," said Pate. "Show's got to go on. Is that final, -Miss Peterson?"</p> - -<p>"You can bet your bottom dollar on it, as the expression goes." Jeanne -almost felt like smiling, despite the situation.</p> - -<p>"Don't say anything unprintable, then. Tear up your speech. We've got -to. See you in two hours." Muttering a brief word or two, Pate left, -not bothering to say good-bye to the general.</p> - -<p>The general grinned professionally at Jeanne. "Any time I can be of -further assistance...."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Is this seat taken?"</p> - -<p>Jeanne looked up from her third cup of coffee, which she'd been -stirring nervously. She'd found a small restaurant outside the post's -main gate.</p> - -<p>"Why, no. Sit down, won't you?" Jeanne smiled at the girl who -approached her.</p> - -<p>"Th-thanks."</p> - -<p>Kind of a plain type, Jeanne decided. Not pretty, though certainly not -homely. Nice hair, if you liked it corn-silk color and long. Some men -did, she supposed. "Cigarette?"</p> - -<p>"I—I don't smoke, thank you. You—you're Jeanne Peterson. I recognized -you. My name is Mary."</p> - -<p>"Hello, Mary."</p> - -<p>"Miss Peterson, I don't know how to begin. But I've got to talk to -you. You're a stranger and—Miss Peterson, please. You've got to do -something...."</p> - -<p>"How can I help you if I don't know what you're talking about?" Jeanne -almost felt like saying, <i>sister, I've got problems of my own</i>.</p> - -<p>"It's Curt. Captain Curt Macomber. He's—maybe I shouldn't be telling -you this. You won't say anything. I mean—"</p> - -<p>"For gosh sakes, what <i>do</i> you mean?"</p> - -<p>The girl sniffled.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry," said Jeanne. "Go ahead." Maybe she'd feel better herself -if she heard someone else's problems.</p> - -<p>"Curt is going—up there. To the—the moon. I still can hardly believe -it. But they're sending him to join Captain Bentley. Tonight, at -midnight."</p> - -<p>"That's right, they did say something about sending a man to help Tom -with whatever he's doing."</p> - -<p>"Establishing a base, that's what. Curt told me. Curt said—he said he -was going. He got two weeks of fast training and that's it. He told me -the ship—the spaceship—worked automatically, anyway. Captain Bentley -will brief him when he reaches the moon. Your Captain, Miss Peterson. -But—but I'm so ashamed."</p> - -<p>"Ashamed?" The whole thing sounded more and more like a soap opera to -Jeanne every minute.</p> - -<p>"Curt—Curt and I, we got married. In secret. His folks didn't approve -and—well, that's not important. But I'm—I'm—well, I haven't told -Curt. I'm going to have a baby. I can't tell him now, not when he's -about to go further away than anyone. Miss Peterson, please don't tell -anyone." More sniffles. "Please."</p> - -<p>"Forget about it. But I don't see where I can help you."</p> - -<p>The girl spoke again, a quick-rushing torrent of words. "You can speak -to your captain and find out what it's like on the moon and discourage -Curt, or maybe even tell Curt the truth, that I'm going to have a baby -and then he'll understand he can't go. He doesn't have to go, he's a -volunteer. I mean, he can change his mind, if he wants to, if you can -make him...." The girl's voice trailed off plaintively.</p> - -<p>Aunt Anna would be all for doing it, and then telling her friends -the full details for the next five years or so. Pop would smoke his -pipe and grunt something about it doing the boy good. Mom would say, -"Whatever makes you happy, dear," and retreat to her kitchen. You -could never predict Dan Lubrano. He might tell her to don a pair -of football shoulderpads, tackle Captain Macomber and sit on him -until the automatic spaceship blasted off for the moon. (Weller's -football equipment, of course. Nothing but the best, nothing but a -cash-on-the-line endorsement.)</p> - -<p>"I'll do what I can," Jeanne said finally. "After the show, kid. -Meanwhile, all you can do is take it easy. But I don't promise -anything. Your Captain Macomber is a big boy now and probably, he'll -make his own decisions."</p> - -<p>The thought of a naive, innocent girl like the one sitting beside her -falling into the publicity mill of another Dan Lubrano was almost -horrifying.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Yessir, ladies and gentlemen. Every week at this time we all get -together and join hands across the ocean—in Cleopatra Facial Soap's -famous human interest program, the show that tugs at your heart-strings -as much as Cleopatra Facial Soap tugs at the grit and oil, removing -them from the pores of your skin—'Hands Across the Ocean.'</p> - -<p>"Each week, Cleopatra Facial Soap extends a helping hand to men and -women everywhere. Submit your story to us, and if it is judged a -winner, you will speak with your loved one over-seas—wherever he is, -whatever he's doing—courtesy of Cleopatra."</p> - -<p><i>Soon, across the distances that defied imagination, she would hear his -voice—</i></p> - -<p>"Your master of ceremonies, Laird Larsen. Here he is, ladies and -gentlemen, the man whose voice all lovers know—Laird Larsen!"</p> - -<p>"Hello, everybody, hello! Here we go again, in another Cleopatra -attempt to make young lovers happy." Larsen, an unprepossessing man -who spoke like Clem McCarthy, smiled mechanically. "This time, though, -'Hands Across the Ocean' makes an unprecedented leap. The Pacific Ocean -is a goldfish bowl compared to the empty space between us and the moon. -But Cleopatra Soap, in conjunction with the Amalgamated Broadcasting -Network and the United States Air Force, will attempt to reach the moon -tonight—by radio. Here with us is the lovely Jeanne Peterson, who...."</p> - -<p>On and on he rambled. <i>There was so much she wanted to tell Tom</i>—</p> - -<p>"... and on the moon, on the unthinkably remote moon, Captain Tom -Bentley, alone on a wild, utterly unexplored frontier. More alone than -any man has ever been before him. Lonely, perhaps a little terrified, -although we feel our Captain Tom is made of sterner stuff...."</p> - -<p><i>Our Captain Tom.</i> All at once, it was sickening.</p> - -<p>"Are you ready, Amalgamated? Very well."—appropriate tremble of the -voice—"This is Cleopatra Soap, the planet Earth, calling Captain Tom -Bentley on the moon. Cleopatra Soap and all its millions of listeners, -calling the moon." Laird Larsen had picked up an unnecessarily complex -microphone and was talking into it. "Earth and Cleopatra calling Moon. -Do you hear me, Moon?"</p> - -<p><i>But what could she tell him?</i> "Just imagine what it will be like when -Tom gets back here and speaks to the Women's League," said Aunt Anna. -That? "They're liable to keep Tom on the moon a long time," said Pop. -"Hm-hmm," said Jeanne, "some guy trying to make time because Tom's -too far away to protest." That? "I wouldn't prostitute my emotional -relationship with Tom for all the Women's Leagues in the country," -Jeanne said. Very funny. Tell him that? Tell him about Dan Lubrano?</p> - -<p>"Cleopatra calling the Moon. Come in, Moon. Do you hear me?" Laird -Larsen mopped his brow. "By now the radio waves have reached the moon -and returned, ladies and gentlemen. But still, no contact with Captain -Bentley."</p> - -<p><i>Why hadn't she agreed to use the prepared speech?</i> If she talked to -Tom now, everything would be a lie. Nothing real. Nothing. And, she -told herself, this would be one more step toward cheapening whatever -they had. Twenty million people would gawk while they spoke. <i>Darling, -I love you, I love you! Hooray!</i></p> - -<p>"Hello, Captain Bentley."</p> - -<p>"This is Bentley." Tom's voice, faint, from far, far away—but -unmistakably Tom's. It made Jeanne feel weak all over.</p> - -<p>"Captain Bentley, I have a surprise for you. I have—"</p> - -<p>Off in the wings, Mr. Pate stood, mopping his brow. The general was at -his side, beaming.</p> - -<p>"Jeanne? Did you say Jeanne?" Tom's voice, weak, so distant.</p> - -<p>"Of course, Captain, Courtesy of Cleopatra Soap, the facial soap -that...."</p> - -<p>Jeanne wished he'd choke on all the bars of Cleopatra Soap that had -ever been manufactured.</p> - -<p>"And here she is, ladies and gentlemen, America's number one -sweetheart, Jeanne Peterson, about to bridge the gap of interplanetary -space to chat with her lover."</p> - -<p>Jeanne looked at the microphone and cringed. She walked forward, then -paused. She stared once at Mr. Pate, still mopping his brow in the -wings. Then she turned and fled, oblivious to the rising tide of voices -behind her.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Almost midnight. If Tom hadn't spoken so often of the White Sands -Air Force base, she never would have come in here, never found the -little-used gate behind the barracks, where Captain Macomber would -enter to avoid publicity, never have mentioned the right few words to -the master sergeant at the gate-house. (<i>If ever you need anything, -darling, see Sergeant Reed. We were in Korea together.</i>) Sergeant Reed -had been reluctant at first, but then had understood....</p> - -<p>She crouched behind the gate-house in darkness now and listened.</p> - -<p>"But I tell you I'm Macomber!" the captain cried. "You've got to let me -through. The ship's blasting off on automatic in a few minutes."</p> - -<p>"Just show me your identification," Sergeant Reed said.</p> - -<p>"I already—"</p> - -<p>"Show it to me in the light where I can see it, Captain."</p> - -<p>Jeanne ran down the runway that led past the little cement mounds of -the observation turrets toward the needle-like shape which loomed up in -the glare of a single floodlight. She had checked her wrist watch with -Sergeant Reed's. Four minutes to midnight. Reed would delay Captain -Macomber long enough. It was only a matter of minutes now. The sergeant -would get a blistering chewing out, but could claim he'd only been -doing what he thought was his duty.</p> - -<p><i>He told me the spaceship worked automatically</i>, the girl in the -restaurant had said.</p> - -<p>The spaceship's airlock was not secured. There was no reason to secure -it. Jeanne found Macomber's pressure suit and with two handfuls of -thumbs buckled it on herself. Footsteps pounded along the runway as she -slammed the airlock door.</p> - -<p>Seconds now. Less than seconds—</p> - -<p>The last thing she told herself with a happy little smile, an instant -before she blasted off in the second lunar ship, was that the Man in -the Moon would get a real surprise in a little while.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY SWEETHEART'S THE MAN IN THE MOON ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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