you.”
“And your family? Will they be satisfied with that too?” Her eyes said that she doubted it.
“They're very fond of Pattie. But that doesn't mean a damn thing.”
“Doesn't it?” Serena tried to look flip as she slid out of bed, but he pulled her back.
“No. I'm thirty-four years old. I have to lead my life, Serena, not theirs. If I wanted to lead their life, I'd already be out of the army, working for one of my father's friends in New York.”
“Doing what?” She suddenly had an insatiable curiosity about him.
“Working in a bank most likely. Or running for office. My family is very involved in politics in the States.”
She sighed tiredly and there was a cynical smile in her eyes. “My family was very involved in politics over here.” She looked at him with sorrow and wisdom and a hint of laughter, and he was glad to see that she could see the irony in the situation. “It's a little different there.”
“I hope so. Is that what you want to do? Go into politics?”
“Maybe. To tell you the truth I'd rather stay in the army. I've been thinking of making that my career.”
“How do they feel about that?” It was as though she had instantly sensed how great a power they wielded over him, or attempted to. And there were times when it was a battle royal. “Do they like that idea?”
“No. But that's life. And this is my life. And I love you. So don't you forget that ever. I'll make my own decisions.” He glanced at the photograph again. “About that as well. Capisci?”
She grinned at his American-accented Italian. “Capito.”
“Good.” He kissed her then, and a moment later he made delicious love to her again.
8
“You what?” Marcella looked at her in total amazement. For a moment Serena was afraid that she might faint.
“Relax, for heaven's sake. I told him. That's all.”
“You told the major?” Marcella looked as though she were going into shock. “What did you tell him?”
“Everything. About my parents. About this house.” Serena tried to look nonchalant, but it didn't come off and she burst into a nervous grin.
“What made you do that?” The old woman studied her shrewdly. She had been right, then. Serena had been falling in love with the handsome young American. Now all she had to do was hope that he married her, and her prayers would have been answered for the beloved girl. It was the only hope she could see for Serena, and she could tell from details she was used to observing that he was well brought up, probably from money, and she had long since decided that he was a very nice young man.
“I just did it, that's all. We were talking, and I felt dishonest not telling him the truth.” Marcella was too old and too wise to believe a word Serena was saying, but she nodded sagely and pretended to accept the tale.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing.” She smiled to herself.… That he loves me.… “I don't think that he cares about the title. Hell,” she said, grinning at Marcella, “I'm still just the upstairs maid to him.”
“Are you?” Celia watched her reactions. “Is that all you are to him, Serena?”
“Of course. Oh, well … I suppose we're friends now.…” Her words drifted off and Marcella considered for a moment, and then decided to push for an answer to the question that was on her mind.
“Do you love him, Serena?”
“Do I … why that's …” She began to bluster, and then dropping the pretense, she nodded slowly. “Yes. I do.” The old woman went to Serena to take her in her arms.
“Does he love you too?”
“I think so. But”—she sighed deeply and pulled free of the old woman's arms to wander about the room—”it doesn't mean anything though, Celia. I have to face the truth. He's here, it's the romance of Rome—the war. One day he'll go back—to the world he knows.”
“And he'll take you.” The old woman said it with pride. This special girl was, after all, like a part of herself.
“I don't think so. And if he did, it would be out of pity. It would be because he would be sorry to leave me here.”
“Good. Then go with him.” As far as Marcella saw it, everything was set. But Serena saw a great deal more than that.
“It's not that simple.”
“It is if you want it to be. Do you? Do you love him enough to go with him?”
“Of course I do. But that