“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.

“Serena!” He called out her name, but she disappeared instantly, and he felt a swift slice of pain. What had she heard? Pattie's ugly accusations, her raging speech about his parents and “some goddamn little Itlaian maid”? He was horrified at what had happened, but only because it might have hurt Serena. He suddenly realized that he didn't give a damn about Pattie Atherton anymore. He let go of her arms and stood back carefully, with a grim look on his face. “Pattie, I didn't know this when you sent the telegram that you were coming, or I would have asked you not to, but I'm going to marry that woman you just saw there. She isn't what you think she is, but it really doesn't matter. I love her. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.”

Pattie Atherton looked at him in mingled shock and horror and began to shake her head slowly as tears sprang to her eyes. “No! You can't do this to me, damn you! I won't let you! Are you crazy, marrying a maid? What will you do? Live here? You can't take her back to New York with you, your parents would disown you and you'd embarrass everyone.…” She was spluttering and there were tears beginning to slide from her eyes.

“That's not the point, Pattie. This is my life, not my parents'. And you don't know what you're talking about.” His voice was suddenly quiet and firm.

“I know that she's one of the maids here.”

He nodded slowly, and then looked long and hard at Pattie. “I don't want to discuss this with you, Pattie. The issue is us, and I'm sorry, I made a mistake last summer. But I don't think either of us would have been happy if we'd got married.”

“So you're going to ditch me, is that it?” She laughed shrilly through her tears. “That simple? Then what—bring home your little whore? Jesus, you must be crazy, B.J. !” And then, with eyes narrowed, “Or maybe I was to believe the line of crap you gave me. All that junk about how much you loved me!”

“I did … then.…”

“And now you don't?” She looked as though she would have liked to hit him, but she didn't dare.

But B.J. stood his ground. He was sure. “Not enough to marry you, Pattie.” His voice was gentle now, in spite of everything she had said. “It would be a terrible mistake.”

“Oh, really.” She pulled the ring from her finger and shoved it into his hand. “I think you just made a terrible mistake, buddy. But I'll let you figure that out for yourself.” He said nothing, but followed her into the room, where she saw her picture, which in a moment of cowardice he had reinstalled. She walked across the room, picked up the silver frame, and hurled it against the wall. The sound of the glass shattering broke the silence between them and as B.J. watched her she began to cry. He moved toward her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“I'm sorry, Pattie.”

“Go to hell!” She spun on her heel to face him. And then in a tone of viciousness, which hit him like a blow, “I hope you rot. In fact, B. J. Fullerton, if I can ever do anything to help screw up your life the way you just loused up mine, I'd be happy to help out. Anytime.”

“Don't say things like that, Pattie.” He felt compassion for her, and wanted to believe that she didn't mean it.

“Why not? Don't you think I mean it?”

“I hope not.” He looked more handsome than ever as he stood there and she hated him, as she looked at him for a last time.

“Don't kid yourself, B.J. I'm not some two-bit dago tramp. Don't expect me to fall at your feet and beg you … and expect me to forgive you either. Because I won't.” And with that, she turned and left the room. He followed her quietly down the stairs, and in the main hallway he offered to accompany her to the Bryces, but she looked at him in cold fury and shook her head. “Just have your driver take me there, B.J. I don't want to see you again.”

“Will you stay on in Rome for a few days? Maybe we could talk a little more quietly tomorrow. There's no reason why we can't be friends in a while. I know it's painful, Pattie, but it's better this way.” She only shook her head.

“I have nothing more to say to you, B.J. You're a skunk, a louse.” Her eyes overflowed. “And I hate you. And if you expect me to keep quiet about this, you're crazy.” Her eyes narrowed viciously again. “Everyone in New York is going to know what you're doing over here, B.J. Because I'm going to tell them. And if you bring that girl back with you, God help you, because they'll laugh you out of town.”

It was obvious from the way he looked at her that he wasn't afraid of Pattie, but he was angry at what she had just said. “Don't do anything you'll regret.”

“Someone should have told you that before you ditched me.” And with that, she walked past him and out the door. She slammed it behind her, and B.J. stood there for a long moment, wondering if he should go after her, and knowing that he could not. The orderlies had discreetly disappeared when they heard them coming, and a moment later B.J. quietly went back upstairs. He needed a moment to himself to think over what had happened, but he knew even then that he wasn't sorry. He didn't love her. Of that he was now certain. But he did love Serena, and now he would have to make all right with her. God knows what she had heard as Pattie shrieked at him on the balcony. As he remembered her words he suddenly realized that there was not a moment to lose in finding Serena, but as he left his office to find her, his secretary stopped him. There was an urgent phone call from headquarters in Milan. And it was two hours later before he could get away again.

He went quietly to their quarters, knocked on the door, and was answered instantly by Marcella.

“Serena?” She pulled the door open rapidly with tears on her face and a handkerchief in her hand, and she seemed even more overwrought when she saw B.J.

“Isn't she here?” He looked startled, as Marcella shook her head and began to cry again.

“No.” She assaulted him instantly with a flood of Italian, and gently he stopped her, holding the old shaking shoulders in both of his hands.

“Marcella, where is she?”

“Non so … I don't know.” And then suddenly it hit him, as the old woman cried harder and pointed to the empty room behind her. “She took her suitcase, Major. She is gone.”





10

Brad questioned Marcella until the old peasant woman was wrung dry. Serena had run into their quarters from the door that led into the garden, rushed into her room, and locked the door. Marcella knew that because she had tried to go in when she had heard her crying, but Serena wouldn't let her in.