Danielle Steel - Remembrance

With a determined step she walked to the window, and there she saw it … the fountain … the garden … the enormous willow tree. It was all exactly as she had left it, and she could remember standing at precisely the same spot in the same window, gently frosting the glass with her breath in winter as she looked out there, wishing that she didn't have to do her homework and that she could go outside to play. And if she closed her eyes very tightly, she would hear them, her mother and her friends, laughing outside, talking, wandering along, playing croquet in the springtime, or gossiping about their friends in Rome.… She would see her there in a blue linen suit… or a silk dress … or a big picture hat … perhaps holding some freshly cut roses, looking up to Serena's windows and waving and—

“Who are you?” The voice she heard behind her sounded ominous, and with a small scream Serena flung out her arms and jumped in terror, wheeling around quickly and clutching the wall behind her with both hands. All she could see was the frame of a man silhouetted in the darkness. The room was still dark, and the light in the hallway was too dim and distant to be of much assistance. She didn't know who he was or what he was doing there, or if he would hurt her, and then as he took a step toward her she saw the shine of the insignia on his lapels. He was in uniform and suddenly she remembered what the head orderly had said earlier that evening, about the major being there until midnight, setting up his desk.

“Are you”—it was barely a croak as her entire body trembled —”the major?”

“The question I asked was who are you?” His voice sounded terrifyingly firm, but neither of them moved and he did not turn on the light behind him. He just stood there, looking down at her, wondering why she seemed so familiar. He sensed something about her, even in the moonlight filtering in from the garden. He had the impression that he had seen her somewhere before. He had been watching her since she had entered the room that was to be his office. He had just turned off the light when he heard her footsteps on the stairs. At first his hand went automatically to the pistol lying on his desk, but he had decided quickly that he didn't need it, and now he only wondered who she was and where she had come from, and why she was here, at the Palazzo Tibaldo, in his office at ten o'clock at night.

“I—I'm sorry.… I came upstairs to turn off the lights.” For an instant she had almost wanted to say “Sir,” and then she was annoyed at her own reactions. It was something about the uniform that she could see more clearly now, the clustered insignia on his lapel, and the imperious tilt of his head. “I'm sorry.”

“Are you? That still doesn't answer my question.” His voice was cold and even. “I asked you who you were.”

“Serena. I work here.” Her English was better than she wanted it to be, but under the circumstances she decided not to play any games with him. It was better that he understood her, otherwise, God forbid, he could have had her arrested, or fired, and she didn't want that. “I am a maid here.”

“What were you doing upstairs here, Serena?” His voice was gentler than it had been at first.

“I thought I heard sounds … noises. …” Her eyes darted from his in the darkness. Perhaps she would have to play games with him after all. “I came to see what was wrong.”

“I see.” He looked at her more closely and knew that she was lying. He had made no sound at all for several hours, not even when he turned off the light. “You're very courageous, Serena.” His eyes mocked her and she knew it. “And what would you have done if I had been an intruder?” He looked down at the slim shoulders, the long graceful arms, the delicate hands, and she understood the look he gave her.

“I don't know. I would have called for … someone … to help me … I suppose.”

He continued to watch her and slowly walked toward the light he had turned off only moments before. Now he switched it on again and turned to look at her more closely. She was a strikingly beautiful girl, tall and graceful and lovely, with eyes of green fire and hair like Bernini's gold. “I suppose you know that no one would have come to help you. There is no one here.”

But this time it was Serena who bridled as she watched him. Was that a threat he had just made her? Would he dare to assault her in this room? Did he think that they were alone? She looked at the tall, lean, young American, and she could sense that, even in the uniform, he was something more. This was not just another American major, this was a man who was accustomed to command, and to having his wishes granted, and if what he wanted now was her, she knew that he would see to it that that was what he got. “You are mistaken.” This time she felt no urge to add “Sir.” “We are not alone here.” She spoke with precision and certainty and a look of fury building in the green eyes.

“Aren't we?” He seemed surprised. Had she brought someone with her? She was a cheeky little thing if she had, but nothing would surprise him, perhaps she and her boyfriend had come to the lovely palazzo to make love. He raised an eyebrow and Serena took a step back.

“No, we are not alone.”

“You brought a friend?”

“I live here with my … zia … my aunt.” She faltered again on purpose.

“Here? In the palazzo?”

“She is waiting for me at the foot of the stairs.” It was a brazen lie, but he believed her.

“Does she work here too?”

“Yes. Her name is Marcella Fabiani.” She just hoped that the major had never met her. She had hoped to conjure an image of a dragon who would not allow him to hurt her. But a mental image of the ancient, heavyset, soundly snoring Marcella crossed her mind and she almost groaned aloud. If truly this man meant to hurt, or rape, her there would indeed be no one at hand to help her escape.

“And you are Serena Fabiani, then, I imagine?” He looked her over carefully once again and Serena paused for only a moment before nodding.

“Yes, I am.”

“I'm Major Fullerton, as I imagine you've gathered. Not an intruder. This is my office. And I do not want to see you here again. Not unless it's during daytime hours and you're working or if I ask you to come up here. Is that clear?” She nodded, but despite the stern words she had the feeling that he was laughing at her. There were little lines beside the gray eyes that made one suspect that he wasn't nearly as serious as he seemed. “Is there a door between your quarters and the palazzo?” He gazed at her with interest, but this time she was looking him over too. He had a thick handsome mane of blond hair given to curls, broad shoulders, and what appeared to be powerful arms. He had well-formed hands and long graceful fingers … long legs … in fact he was very attractive, but also terribly cocky. She found herself wondering what kind of family he came from. He reminded her all of a sudden of some of the old playboys of Rome. And perhaps that was why he was asking her if there was a door between her quarters and the palazzo, and suddenly she stood a little taller and made no attempt to hide the fire in her green eyes.

“Yes, Major, there is. It goes directly into my aunt's bedroom.”

Understanding what had happened, B. J. Fullerton had to fight not to burst into laughter. She was really an outrageous young girl and in a way she amused him, but he had no intentions of letting on. Here she was in the middle of the night, in his office, and she was staring him down and implying that he might try to intrude on her. “I see. Then we'll attempt not to disturb your aunt in the future. I was going to suggest mat we have the door between your quarters and the rest of the palazzo permanently closed, so that …er… you are not tempted to go wandering. And of course, once I move in here tomorrow, there will be a sentry posted outside the palazzo, so that if you hear anything at night”—he looked at her pointedly but her eyes didn't waver and she didn't flinch—”you won't need to come to my rescue.”