Danielle Steel - Remembrance

“I'm glad you're impressed.” He was distracted as he helped her out of the car, and he felt a wave of nervousness sweep over him. He had wanted to take her to the general's and not bring her here in the daytime. They were sure to run into Serena, and he wasn't sure that he could handle that. “I'll give you a quick tour, Pattie, and then we'll get you settled at the Bryces.”

“I'm in no hurry. I slept all the way to Ireland on the plane.” She smiled happily at him and walked majestically up the steps to the main hall. Here one of the orderlies swept open the enormous bronze doorway, and Pattie found herself standing beneath the magnificent chandelier. Her eye caught the grand piano and she turned to see B.J. behind her, looking amused, despite himself, at her reactions. “War is hell, huh, Major?”

“Absolutely. Would you like to see the upstairs?”

“I sure would.” She followed him up the stairs, as all eyes followed. In her own way she was a very striking young woman, and none of them had seen a woman like her in a long time. Everything about her reeked of money and class. She looked like something right out of Vogue magazine, deposited on then-doorstep, some four thousand miles from home. The orderlies exchanged quick glances. She was a looker, all right, and they had all heard that she was a congressman's daughter. If the major's old man hadn't been a senator once, and if they hadn't all known that he came from money too, they'd have wondered what he was after. But this way it seemed like they were made for each other, and as one of the orderlies whispered to another, “Jesus, man … just look at them legs!”

B.J. took her from room to room, introducing the men in various offices, and the secretaries, who all looked up from then-work. They sat in a little drawing room where he sometimes entertained guests, looking out over the garden, and then suddenly she looked up at him, tilted her head to one side, and asked the question he'd been avoiding. “Aren't you going to show me your room?” He had whisked her quickly through his office, but he had purposely avoided the enormous room with the antique canopied bed.

“I suppose so, if you'd like that.”

“I certainly would. I suppose it's as lavish as the rest of all this. Poor B.J.,” she crooned jokingly. “What a hard life you live over here! And to think, people feel sorry for you, still being in Europe after the war!” But mere was more than amusement and raillery in what she was saying, there was accusation now and suspicion, and resentment and anger. He began to sense all of it as he led the way down a marble hall and opened a pair of handsomely carved double doors. “Good Lord, B.J.! All this for you?” She turned to face him too quickly, and suddenly she saw him blushing to the roots of his hair. He said nothing further and walked swiftly to the long rows of windows, opened one of them and stepped onto the balcony, saying something about the view. But it wasn't the view he was seeking. He was longing for a glimpse of Serena. After all, this was her home too. “I had no idea you lived so comfortably, B.J.” Pattie's voice was smoky as she stepped outside and stood beside him on the little balcony looking out over the gently rolling lawns below.

“Do you mind it?” His eyes looked deep into hers now, trying to understand who she was, and what she felt. Did she really love him, or merely want to have him? It was a question he had been asking himself now for quite a while.

“I don't mind it … of course not … but it makes me wonder if you'll ever want to come home.”

“Of course I will. Eventually.”

“But not for a while?” Her eyes sought other answers in his, but the slate-gray eyes were troubled and he looked away, and as he did so he saw her, sitting quietly under her tree. She sat turned so that he could see her profile, and for a moment he was mesmerized into silence, as Pattie saw her too and looked rapidly into Brad's eyes. “B.J.?” He didn't answer for a long moment. He didn't hear her. He was seeing something different about Serena, something he had never seen quite the same way before, it was a quiet dignity, a solemnity, an almost unbearable beauty, as he realized that watching her was like looking at the sky reflected in still waters, and being with Pattie was like being constantly tossed in a turbulent sea.

“I'm sorry.” He turned toward Pattie in a moment. “I didn't hear what you said just then.” But there was something strange in her eyes once he turned toward her, and there was something very different in his.

“Who is she?” Pattie's eyes began to smolder, and her full pouting mouth seemed almost instantly to form a thin line.

“I'm sorry?”

“Don't play that game with me, B.J. You heard me. Who is she? Your Italian whore?” A torrent of jealousy coursed through her, and without knowing anything for certain, she was almost trembling with rage. But B.J. was suddenly angry too. He grabbed Pattie's fur-covered arm in one powerful hand and squeezed it until she felt his grip.

“Don't ever say anything like that to me again. She is one of the maids here. And like most people in this country, she has been through one hell of a lot. More than you'd ever understand with your ideas about ‘war work,’ dancing with soldiers at the USO and going to El Morocco with your friends every night.”

“Is that right, Major?” Her eyes blazed into his. “And just why is she so important to you, if she isn't your little whore?” She spat out the word, and without thinking, he grabbed her other arm and began to shake her, and when he spoke again, his voice was loud and harsh.

“Stop calling her that, damn you!”

“Why? Are you in love with her, B.J.?” And then, viciously, “Do your parents know that? Do they know what you've been doing here? Sleeping with some goddamn little Italian maid.” He pulled an arm back to slap her, and then stopped himself just in time, trembling and pale, as instinctively he looked toward Serena and found her standing just below them, a look of horror on her face and tears brilliant in her eyes.

“Serena!” He called out her name, but she disappeared instantly, and he felt a swift slice of pain. What had she heard? Pattie's ugly accusations, her raging speech about his parents and “some goddamn little Itlaian maid”? He was horrified at what had happened, but only because it might have hurt Serena. He suddenly realized that he didn't give a damn about Pattie Atherton anymore. He let go of her arms and stood back carefully, with a grim look on his face. “Pattie, I didn't know this when you sent the telegram that you were coming, or I would have asked you not to, but I'm going to marry that woman you just saw there. She isn't what you think she is, but it really doesn't matter. I love her. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before.”

Pattie Atherton looked at him in mingled shock and horror and began to shake her head slowly as tears sprang to her eyes. “No! You can't do this to me, damn you! I won't let you! Are you crazy, marrying a maid? What will you do? Live here? You can't take her back to New York with you, your parents would disown you and you'd embarrass everyone.…” She was spluttering and there were tears beginning to slide from her eyes.

“That's not the point, Pattie. This is my life, not my parents'. And you don't know what you're talking about.” His voice was suddenly quiet and firm.

“I know that she's one of the maids here.”

He nodded slowly, and then looked long and hard at Pattie. “I don't want to discuss this with you, Pattie. The issue is us, and I'm sorry, I made a mistake last summer. But I don't think either of us would have been happy if we'd got married.”

“So you're going to ditch me, is that it?” She laughed shrilly through her tears. “That simple? Then what—bring home your little whore? Jesus, you must be crazy, B.J. !” And then, with eyes narrowed, “Or maybe I was to believe the line of crap you gave me. All that junk about how much you loved me!”