“Maybe we should just stow away and go back to Paris.”

“No.” She said it decidedly, propped up on one elbow in their bed after they made love. “I want to go to New York and meet your family, and then I want to see San Francisco, and all the cowboys and Indians. I think I'm going to like the Wild West.”

B.J. laughed openly at the visions she conjured. “The only thing wild about it is your imagination.”

“No cowboys or Indians? Not even one or two?”

“Not in San Francisco. We'll have to go to the Rockies to see cowboys.”

“Good.” She looked delighted as she kissed his neck. “Then we'll go there on a trip. Right?”

“And when do you plan to do all this, madame? Right up until you have the baby?”

“Of course. What do you expect me to do?” Now she looked amused. “Stay home and knit booties all the time?”

“Sounds about right to me.”

“Well, it doesn't to me. I want to do something, Brad.”

“Oh, God, save me.” He fell back among his pillows with a groan. “It's a Modern Woman. What do you want to do? Go out and work?”

“Why not? This is America. It's a democratic country. I could get involved in politics.” Her eyes twinkled a little and he held up a hand.

“That you could not! One woman like that in my family is enough, thank you. Figure out something else. Besides, dammit” —he looked only faintly annoyed as he knit his brows—”you're going to have a baby in six months. Can't you just relax and do that?”

“Maybe. But maybe I could do something else too. At least while I'm waiting.”

“We'll find you some nice volunteer work.” She nodded slowly in answer, but lately she had been thinking a great deal about San Francisco. Neither of them knew anyone there, and Brad would meet people on the base, but she wanted to be doing something too. She didn't want to just sit there, with her big belly, waiting. She said as much to him a minute later. “But why not?” He looked perplexed. “Isn't that what women do?”

“Not all women. There must be women who do something more than that while they're pregnant. You know”—she looked pensive for a moment—”the poor women in Italy work, they go out and work in the fields, in stores, in bakeries, at whatever they normally do, and one day, boom, out comes the baby, and that's that, off they go with the baby under their arm.” She smiled at the thought and he laughed again at the image.

“You have a certain way with words, my love. Is that what you want to do? Boom, out comes the baby, while you're working in the fields?”

She looked at him strangely then. “I was happy when I was working with Marcella.”

“Good God, Serena. That was awful, for chrissake, working as a maid in your parents' own home.”

“The idea was awful, but the work wasn't. It felt good. I felt as though I accomplished something every day. It wasn't that what I was doing was important, it was that I was doing a lot, and I was doing it well.” She looked like a proud little girl as she glanced at him. “I had a lot of responsibility, you know.”

He kissed the tip of her nose gently. “I know you did, little one. And you worked damn hard. Too hard. I don't ever want you to have to do something like that again.” He looked pleased at knowing that that would never happen. “And you won't. You're married to me now, darling. And about the only good thing about the Fullerton name is that it comes equipped with enough comfort to keep not only us but our children safe from that kind of hardship, for always.”

“That's nice to know.” But she didn't look overly impressed. “But I would have loved you even if you were poor.”

“I know you would, darling. But it's nice not to have to worry about that, isn't it?” She nodded slowly and snuggled into his arms, before they both fell asleep. Just before she did, she thought once more of her life in San Francisco, and knew that she wanted to do something more than just have a baby. The baby was wonderful and exciting, but she wanted to do something else too. She hadn't figured out what yet, but she knew that in time she would.

At six o'clock the next morning the steward knocked on their door, to let them know that they were coming into New York. They weren't going to be docking until 10 A.M., but it was customary to enter the harbor very early. After that there were the usual formalities to be handled, and every effort was made not to inconvenience passengers by docking too early. But there was something very special about passing the Statue of Liberty at sunrise, with the golden sunlight streaking across the sky and reflecting off her arm and torch and crown. It was a sight that rarely failed to stir intense feelings, and those who got up early enough to see her always felt a special bond with their country as the ship glided into port. Serena was moved beyond words as they passed the statue lighting her way to a new life.

Even B.J. was strangely silent. The last time he had come home had been only for a brief visit, on a military flight. This time he felt as though he were coming home from the wars at last, with his wife at his side, to the country he loved. It was a feeling of well-being and gratitude that welled up inside him like a sunburst, and he knew no other way to vent it but to take Serena in his arms and hold her tight.

“Welcome home, Serena.”

“Grazie.” She whispered softly to him as they kissed in the soft orange light of the June morning.

“We're going to have a beautiful life here, my darling.” It was a promise that he meant to keep for a lifetime, hers as well as his own.

“I know we will. And our baby too.”

He held her hand tightly, and they stood there for almost an hour, watching New York from the distance, as the ship hovered in the harbor, waiting for immigration officials and tugboats and clearances and red tape and all the rest of the brouhaha that always went with arrivals, but Serena and B.J. were oblivious to it all, they stood on deck, hand in hand, thinking of what lay ahead.

At precisely the same moment Brad's mother sat in her bed on Fifth Avenue, drinking a cup of coffee, her brows knit, her eyes dark, thinking of her oldest son and the woman he was bringing home. If she could have, she would have liked to force Brad to dispose of Serena as quickly as possible, but she had not yet come up with a reasonable suggestion as to how that could be done. She no longer had a hold on any of Brad's money, there was no job he depended on his family for now. In his own way he had flown the coop and now he was hovering above them, doing just what he wanted, in his own way, with this damned Italian tramp he was bringing home.… His mother set down her coffee cup with a clatter, pushed back the covers, and strode out of bed with a determined air.





18

“Don't look so worried. They won't attack you, I swear it.” To himself he silently added, “They wouldn't dare,” but in truth he knew that some of them would—his mother … Pattie … Greg, if he was under the influence of either of those women … his father? He wasn't sure. Only Teddy was someone that one could be sure of.