to Paris to get married or do I have to come back there and drag you out?”
She laughed softly in answer and then there was a silence, as he could almost see her weigh her thoughts. What he could not see in the silence was Serena lying back against her pillows, with tears streaming from her eyes, her hands trembling as she held the phone, fighting herself to keep from saying what she wanted, and then suddenly in a great burst of effort, she spoke up. “Yes!” It was still only a whisper and he wasn't sure he'd heard her.
“What did you say?” He held his breath.
“I said I'd marry you, Major.”
“Damn right!” He tried to sound arrogant as he said it, but his hands were trembling harder than hers, and there was a lump in his throat so large, he could barely talk. “I'll get the papers going right away, darling, and we'll get you here as soon as we can.” My God! My God, he thought to himself, she said yes! She said it! He wanted to ask her if she meant it, but he didn't dare. He wasn't going to give her a chance to reconsider. Not now. “I love you, darling, with all my heart.”
12
The morning that Serena left Rome she stood in the garden for a long time, under her willow tree, pulling her jacket tightly around her. The sun had just come up and it was still cold, as she looked out into the distance at the hills, and then back at the white marble facade that she was leaving now for the second time. She remembered the last time she had left here, with her grandmother, to go to Venice. That time the plans had been made in a hurry, and the atmosphere had been frightening and grim. She had just lost her parents, and as she had hurried down the marble steps on the way out, she had wondered if she would ever see her home again. Now she found herself wondering the same thing as she stood there, but the atmosphere surrounding her departure was different this time. She was going to be married, and this time she felt ready to leave. After all, the palazzo was no longer hers and never would be again, it was pointless to pretend that this was really still her home. Only the tiny quarters she shared with Marcella were really theirs, and even those rooms were only on loan as long as she continued to dust and sweep and wax floors. She sighed gently to herself as she looked up at what had been B.J.'s office, her old windows, and then her eyes drifted to the balcony outside her mother's bedroom, the room she had shared with him.
“Addio….” It was a whisper in the wind as she stood there. Not arrivederci or arrivederla, until I see you again, but Addio … good-bye.
The final moments as she left the house were frantic and painful, a last hug from a crying Marcella, as they both laughed through their tears. Marcella had turned down Serena's proposal that she accompany her to Paris. Rome was the kind old woman's home and she knew her princess was now well taken care of. Serena promised to write to her often, and knew that someone would read her the letters, and if B.J. could arrange it, she would call. And moments later she was being whisked down the driveway, then passing familiar sights on the way to Termini Station, from where she would leave Rome. She caught a quick glimpse of the Fontana di Trevi, the Spanish Steps, the Piazza Navona, and then she was there in the bustle of people hurrying to catch trains, carrying suitcases and packages, looking hopeful, or tired, or excited like Serena, who suddenly looked terribly young as she took her suitcase from the orderly who had brought her to the station, and then stuck out her hand to shake his before she boarded the train.
“Thank you. Grazie mille.” She was beaming at him. The tears she had shed with Marcella were long gone, and all she could think of now was B.J. She felt not as though she were leaving, but as though she were going home.
“Good-bye …” she whispered softly to herself as the train picked up speed, and she saw the familiar outline of her city begin to fade in the distance. There were no tears in her eyes this time, all she