and why he no longer wanted out. He would have to justify why he didn't want to go into politics like his father, or work in the family law firm, why he was sure of his decision. And he knew as well that the silent question no one would dare ask, but which he would have to justify as well, was why he had married Serena. He felt so protective of her now as they left the safety of familiar turf in Europe. Particularly so now that she was carrying his child. But even if she hadn't been, he would have wanted to make the transition easy for her, and he knew that the first days of introduction to his mother would probably be very tense. After that he felt certain that even his indomitable mother would fall prey to Serena's charms. But even if she didn't, he didn't give a damn. His whole heart belonged to Serena now. And after all his army years his family seemed somehow less important, less real.
But all of it weighed heavily on Brad's mind that morning as he shook hands with Pierre and stooped to kiss Marie-Rose on both cheeks, as Serena had done only a moment before.
“You promise that you'll send a picture of the baby?” It was almost exactly the same thing Marcella had said the night before on the phone from Rome.
“We'll send dozens of pictures, I promise.” Serena squeezed her hand and afterward gently smoothed her own hand over the slight bulge in her lilac silk suit. Brad had already taken to feeling her stomach, to see if it had grown, almost daily, and she teased him about his fascination with his son. “My daughter,” he always corrected emphatically, and Serena laughed at him. She wanted a boy to carry on his name, but he always insisted that he didn't give a damn about the name, all he wanted was a little girl that looked just like her.
The Fullertons shook hands with the couple for a last time, and waved as the car drove away, and for an instant Serena leaned her head against Brad's shoulder as they drove down the Avenue Hoche toward L'étoile, and as she had in Rome, Serena found herself wondering when she would see these familiar sights again.
“Are you all right?” Brad looked at her with concern as he saw the serious expression in her eyes and wondered if she were feeling ill, but she nodded and smiled at him.
“I'm fine.” And then after another glance out the window, “I was just saying good-bye … again.”
He touched her hand and then held it gently in his own. “You've done a lot of that, my love.” He looked into her eyes. “Hopefully now we'll settle down and have a home. At least for a while.” He knew that it was possible that he might stay at the Presidio in San Francisco for as much as five years, or possibly even longer. “We'll make the house pretty for the baby and dig our heels in, I promise.” And then he glanced at her again as he spoke softly. “Will you be very homesick for all this, my love?”
“Paris?” She thought for a moment, but he shook his head.
“I mean all of it, not just Paris … Europe.”
“Yes. Brad, I was so afraid all the time, about the war, my grandmother, about ever getting back to Venice or Rome. I felt like a prisoner over there. Now everything will be different.” And the truth was that she had no one in Europe anymore. Other than Marcella, the only person Serena had was her husband, and she knew that her place was with him. She had called Marcella yesterday and told her that they were leaving. She had told her about the baby too, and Marcella was so happy that she laughed and cried. But she had refused Serena's invitation to go to the States with them. Serena had Brad now, and Marcella felt that she belonged in Rome. “It's different leaving this time.” She shrugged and he smiled, she looked suddenly very Italian. “I'm sad to go, but only because I know it here, because it's familiar, because I speak the language.”
“Don't be silly, you speak English almost as well as I do. As a matter of fact”—-he grinned at his wife—”better.”
“I don't mean that way. I mean they understand my life, my spirit, my soul. It's different in the States. People don't think the way we