“I know you do.” He smiled at her more gently then, remembering how pleased she had been by all of his offerings, flowers and little presents and once a horse-carriage ride in the moonlight that he had arranged especially for her. He reminded her of it now and she grinned.
“When are you coming home again, B.J.?” The petulance was back in her voice again and he sighed. “I mean for good this time.”
“I don't know.”
“Daddy says he could arrange it real soon, if you'd let him.” And then she winked. “Or maybe even if you don't. Maybe that could be my Christmas present to you.” But just hearing her say it made him panic. The thought of being torn from Serena before he was ready filled him with dread.
He squeezed Pattie's hand too hard, and in his eyes she thought she saw terror. “Pattie, don't you ever do that. I'll handle my life in the army myself. Do you understand that?” His voice rose harshly and her eyes held him in check. “Do you?”
“I do.” She answered quickly. “Maybe even better than you think.” He wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but he didn't dare. Whatever she knew, or suspected, he didn't want to hear about it yet. Sooner or later he would have to talk to her. He would have to make some kind of decision, and perhaps even tell her what had happened in the past months. But not yet. In a way he knew that she was smart to have come over. If there was a way that she could have kept him, this was it. If they were truly to be married, it was good that he be reminded of her now, in person, before it was too late. But just as his thoughts began to fill with Serena, the driver passed through the palazzo's main gate. “Good heavens, B.J.!” She looked at it in astonishment. “Is this it?” He nodded, half in pride and half in amusement at the look on her face. “But you're only a major!” The words slipped from her and she clapped a gloved hand over her mouth as he laughed.
“I'm glad you're impressed.” He was distracted as he helped her out of the car, and he felt a wave of nervousness sweep over him. He had wanted to take her to the general's and not bring her here in the daytime. They were sure to run into Serena, and he wasn't sure that he could handle that. “I'll give you a quick tour, Pattie, and then we'll get you settled at the Bryces.”
“I'm in no hurry. I slept all the way to Ireland on the plane.” She smiled happily at him and walked majestically up the steps to the main hall. Here one of the orderlies swept open the enormous bronze doorway, and Pattie found herself standing beneath the magnificent chandelier. Her eye caught the grand piano and she turned to see B.J. behind her, looking amused, despite himself, at her reactions. “War is hell, huh, Major?”
“Absolutely. Would you like to see the upstairs?”
“I sure would.” She followed him up the stairs, as all eyes followed. In her own way she was a very striking young woman, and none of them had seen a woman like her in a long time. Everything about her reeked of money and class. She looked like something right out of Vogue magazine, deposited on then-doorstep, some four thousand miles from home. The orderlies exchanged quick glances. She was a looker, all right, and they had all heard that she was a congressman's daughter. If the major's old man hadn't been a senator once, and if they hadn't all known that he came from money too, they'd have wondered what he was after. But this way it seemed like they were made for each other, and as one of the orderlies whispered to another, “Jesus, man … just look at them legs!”
B.J. took her from room to room, introducing the men in various offices, and the secretaries, who all looked up from then-work. They sat in a little drawing room where he sometimes entertained guests, looking out over the garden, and then suddenly she looked up at him, tilted her head to one side, and asked the question he'd been avoiding. “Aren't you going to show me your room?” He had whisked her quickly through his office, but he had purposely avoided the enormous room with the antique canopied bed.
“I suppose so, if you'd like that.”
“I certainly would. I suppose it's as lavish as the rest of all this. Poor B.J.,” she crooned jokingly. “What a hard life you live over here! And to think, people feel sorry for you, still being in Europe after the war!” But mere was more than amusement and raillery in what she was saying, there was accusation now and suspicion, and resentment and anger. He began to sense all of it as he led the way down a marble hall and opened a pair of handsomely carved double doors. “Good Lord, B.J.! All this for you?” She turned to face him too quickly, and suddenly she saw him blushing to the roots of his hair. He said nothing further and walked swiftly to the long rows of windows, opened one of them and stepped onto the balcony, saying something about the view. But it wasn't the view he was seeking. He was longing for a glimpse of Serena. After all, this was her home too. “I had no idea you lived so comfortably, B.J.” Pattie's voice was smoky as she stepped outside and stood beside him on the little balcony looking out over the gently rolling lawns below.
“Do you mind it?” His eyes looked deep into hers now, trying to understand who she was, and what she felt. Did she really love him, or merely want to have him? It was a question he had been asking himself now for quite a while.
“I don't mind it … of course not … but it makes me wonder if you'll ever want to come home.”
“Of course I will. Eventually.”
“But not for a while?” Her eyes sought other answers in his, but the slate-gray eyes were troubled and he looked away, and as he did so he saw her, sitting quietly under her tree. She sat turned so that he could see her profile, and for a moment he was mesmerized into silence, as Pattie saw her too and looked rapidly into Brad's eyes. “B.J.?” He didn't answer for a long moment. He didn't hear her. He was seeing something different about Serena, something he had never seen quite the same way before, it was a quiet dignity, a solemnity, an almost unbearable beauty, as he realized that watching her was like looking at the sky reflected in still waters, and being with Pattie was like being constantly tossed in a turbulent sea.
“I'm sorry.” He turned toward Pattie in a moment. “I didn't hear what you said just then.” But there was something strange in her eyes once he turned toward her, and there was something very different in his.
“Who is she?” Pattie's eyes began to smolder, and her full pouting mouth seemed almost instantly to form a thin line.
“I'm sorry?”
“Don't play that game with me, B.J. You heard me. Who is she? Your Italian whore?” A torrent of jealousy coursed through her, and without knowing anything for certain, she was almost trembling with rage. But B.J. was suddenly angry too. He grabbed Pattie's fur-covered arm in one powerful hand and squeezed it until she felt his grip.
“Don't ever say anything like that to me again. She is one of the maids here. And like most people in this country, she has been through one hell of a lot. More than you'd ever understand with your ideas about ‘war work,’ dancing with soldiers at the USO and going to El Morocco with your friends every night.”
“Is that right, Major?” Her eyes blazed into his. “And just why is she so important to you, if she isn't your little whore?” She spat out the word, and without thinking, he grabbed her other arm and began to shake her, and when he spoke again, his voice was loud and harsh.
“Stop calling her that, damn you!”
“Why? Are you in love with her, B.J.?” And then, viciously, “Do your parents know that? Do they know what you've been doing here? Sleeping with some goddamn little Italian maid.” He pulled an arm back to slap her, and then stopped himself just in time, trembling and pale, as instinctively he looked toward Serena and found her standing just below them, a look of horror on her face and tears brilliant in her eyes.