when you heard her.” Serena watched him as he talked and then nodded.
“She was very angry, Brad. I was frightened for you.” She looked very young as she stood in front of him in the courtyard. “I was afraid.…” She closed her eyes briefly. “I had to run …I thought that if I disappeared it would make things simpler for you. …” Her voice trailed off and he reached out his arms again.
“Have I told you lately that I love you?” She smiled in the darkness and nodded.
“I think that was what you meant when you came here.” She looked at him pensively then and tilted her head to one side. “It is over with her, then?”
He nodded, and then smiled. “And now it can begin in earnest with us.”
“It already has begun.” She reached out her arms for him, and he stroked her hair with a gentle hand.
“I want to marry you, Serena. You know that, don't you?” But quietly she shook her head.
“No.” It was a simple word, and he looked down at her with a smile.
“Does that mean that you don't know it?”
“No.” She looked up at him again. “It means that I love you with all my heart and I will not marry you. Never.” She sounded resolute and he looked at her in dismay.
“Why in hell not?”
“Because it would be wrong. I have nothing to give you, except my heart. And you need a woman like her, of your world, of your own kind, your class, of your country, someone who knows your ways, someone who can help you if you ever do decide to go into politics one day. I will only hurt you, if that's what you want later on. The Italian war bride…the maid.…” Pattie's words still rang in her ears. “The Italian whore … others will call me mat too.”
“The hell they will. Serena, aren't you forgetting who you are?”
“Not at all. You're remembering what I was. I am not that anymore. You heard what Pattie said.”
“Stop that!” He took her by both shoulders and shook her gently. “You're my principessa.”
“No.” Her eyes never wavered from his. “I'm your upstairs maid.”
He pulled her into his arms then, wondering how he could convince her, what he could say. “I love you, Serena. I respect everything that you are. I'm proud of you, dammit. Won't you let me make my own decisions about what's right for me?”
“No.” She smiled up at him with a look of sorrow mingled with love.
“You don't know what you're doing. So I won't let you do it.”
“Do you think we could argue about it later?” He looked down at her with a grin, sure that eventually he would convince her, but he had suddenly realized that he had been driving for hours and he was exhausted. “Is there anywhere for us to stay? Or have you decided not to sleep with me anymore either?”
“The answer is no to both questions.” She grinned at him sheeplishly. “There's nowhere for miles. I was going to sleep in Üre barn.”
“Did you have anything to eat today?” He looked at her worriedly and she shook her head.
“Not really. I brought some cheese and some salami, but I finished it this morning. I was going to walk into town tomorrow and go to the market. But I was awfully hungry tonight.”
“Come on.” He put an arm around her shoulders and walked her slowly back to the car. He pulled open the door, helped her up into the seat, and pulled out the knapsack in which he had put half a dozen sandwiches as a last-minute thought before he left. There were also apples and a piece of cake, and a bar of chocolate.
“What? No silk stockings?” She grinned at him over the sandwich she was devouring.
“You only get those if you marry me.”
“Oh.” She shrugged, leaning back against the seat. “Then I guess I don't get any silk stockings. Only chocolate.”
“Christ, you're stubborn.”
“Yes.” She nodded proudly and he grinned.
They slept in the jeep that night, their arms cast easily over each other, their legs cramped, but their hearts light. He had found her, all was well, and before she fell asleep, she had agreed to come home to Rome with him. And when the sun came up, they each ate an apple, washed at the well, and she showed him the farm she had loved as a child, when life had been so very different. And as he kissed her in front of