I'll Cry Tomorrrow Page 28

  “Do you realize, Burt,” I said almost dreamily. “It was seven years ago that we first met.”

  He grinned. “They were seven lean years, weren’t they, darling?”

  I leaned over and kissed him. “If you’re going to quote the Bible,” I said, “what about the next seven?”

  Burt shook his head. “I won’t try to prophesy, but I will say—they seem to be starting off beautifully.”

  I was silent for a moment. “You know, Burt, it’s a good thing one can’t foresee the future. If I’d had any idea seven years ago of the struggle ahead of me, I think I would have given up then. But I know now that God was always at my side—”

  “Yes,” Burt said. “You really never lost faith. You did it-one day at a time”

  There was a pause. Burt put his hand on mine in his old, familiar gesture. “It wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

  Difficult? Would anyone—could anyone but Burt—know how difficult it had been? Into my mind came a line from the writings of Francois Mauriac: “We are moulded and remoulded by those who have loved us; and though the love may pass, we are, nevertheless, their work, for good or bad.” Burt’s love had been so sure, so constant, so selfless, it had sustained me; and what had happened to me in the past had strengthened me to look with hope to all the unknown tomorrows.

  I looked at Burt and I loved him very much.

  “No, Burt,” I said. “It wasn’t so difficult.”