They had not spoken to each other once since the night beneath the willow tree. By the next morning Serena had known that it was hopeless, and the major had been consumed with both guilt and fear. He was certain that Serena was innocent in every way, and surely a virgin, and the girl had suffered enough without adding a wartime affair with a soldier to her pains. In addition he had his fiancée to think of. But the problem was that it wasn't with Pattie that his thoughts were filled each morning and each evening and for a dozen hours in between. Every moment seemed to be filled with visions of Serena, and it wasn't until Sunday morning, as he looked down at her working in Marcella's vegetable patch in the garden that he decided he couldn't bear it any longer and he had to speak to her, at least to try to explain things before he went totally insane.
He hurried downstairs in khaki slacks and a light blue sweater, his hands in his pockets, and she stood up, surprised to see him, and pushed the hair out of her eyes.
“Yes, Major?” For an instant he thought there was accusation in her tone, but a moment later she was smiling, and he was beaming, and he knew that he was so damn glad to see her that he didn't care if she threw all her gardening tools at him. He had to talk to her. It had been agony, attempting to avoid her for the past four days.
“I wanted to talk to you, Serena.” And then, almost shyly, “Are you busy?”
“A little.” She looked very grown-up suddenly as she put the tools aside and stood up, her green eyes meeting his gray. “But not very. Do you want to sit down over there?” She pointed to a small wrought-iron bench, chipping but still pretty, left over from better days. She was relieved to speak to him now, and there was almost no one around to observe them. All of the orderlies were off on Sunday, Marcella had gone to church and to visit a friend. Only Serena had stayed home to tend the garden, she had gone to church early that morning, and Marcella didn't even try to drag her to visit the elderly friend. On the street side of the house were the usual two sentries, but other than that, they were alone.
The major followed her quietly to the little bench, and they sat down together. He lit a cigarette and stared into the distance, at the hills. “I'm sorry. I think I've behaved very badly this week, Serena. I think I've been a little crazy.” The gray eyes looked into hers frankly, and she nodded slowly.
“So have I. I didn't understand what happened.”
“Were you angry?” He had wondered for four days now. Or was she frightened? He knew he was, but he was not entirely sure why.
“Sometimes I was angry.” She smiled slowly and then sighed. “And sometimes I was not. I was frightened … and confused … and …” She looked at him, saying nothing further, and once again he felt an overwhelming desire to hold her and to touch her, and an even greater urge to make her his right there, under the trees in the autumn sunshine, on the grass. He closed his eyes as though in pain, and Serena reached out to touch his hand then. “What is it, Major?”
“Everything.” He opened his eyes slowly. “I don't understand what I'm feeling … what's happened.…” And then suddenly, with his whole mind and soul and being, he knew that he couldn't fight it any longer. “I love you. Oh, God.…” He pulled her to him. “I love you.” And as his lips found hers she felt desire surge up within her too, but it was more than that. It was a quiet longing to become his forever, to be a part of him, in order to become whole. It was as though here, in her parents' home, in their garden, she had found her future, as though she had belonged to this tall blond American major from the beginning, as though she had been born for him.
“I love you too.” It was the merest whisper, but she was smiling as she said it, and at the same time there were tears in her eyes.
“Will you come inside with me?” She knew what he was saying, but he didn't want to take her, to sweep her off her feet and carry her inside. He wanted her to know what she was doing. He wanted her to want it too.
Slowly she nodded and stood up beside him, her face turned up to his, her eyes larger than any he had ever seen, and solemnly he took her hand in his and they walked across the garden together, and Serena felt in an odd way as though they had just been married.… Will you take this man … ? Yes.… She felt her own voice ring out deep within her soul, as they mounted the stairs together and he closed the door behind her as they stepped inside. He put an arm around her waist then, and they walked slowly up the main staircase together to the bedroom that had been her mother's, and then as she stood on the threshold she began to tremble, her eyes riveted to the enormous four-poster, her eyes wide with memory and fear.
“I—I… can't.…” She spoke barely above a whisper, and he nodded. If she couldn't, then he wouldn't force her, but he wanted only to hold her, to caress her, to feel her and touch her and let his lips linger across her exquisite flesh.
“You don't have to, my darling … never … I won't force you … I love you. …” The words tumbled amid the extravagant satin of her hair, as his lips moved to her neck and her breasts and he gently pushed open the dark cotton dress with his lips, lusting after every inch of her, tasting her like nectar as his tongue traveled everywhere and she began to moan softly. “I love you, Serena … I love you.…”It was no lie, he both loved and wanted her as he had loved no woman before, and then, forgetting what she had said in the doorway, he picked her up gently and laid her on his bed, and slowly he peeled away her clothes, but she did not fight him, and her hands gently searched and held and nestled until he felt the powerful thrust of his own desire, and he could barely hold back anymore. “Serena,” he whispered her name hoarsely, “I want you, my darling … I want you. …” But there was a question in his words as well, and he watched her face now as her eyes sought his and she nodded, and then he slipped off the last of her clothing and she lay before him naked. He shed his own, and almost instantly he lay beside her and held her close to him, as his flesh pressed against hers. And then, ever so gently at first, and then with even greater hunger, he pressed inside her, pushing himself deeper and deeper into her center until she cried out in pain, and he lunged forward, knowing that it must be done at once, and then the pain was over and she clung to him and he began to writhe mysteriously as he carefully taught her love's wonders, and with great tenderness they made love until this time she arched her back suddenly and gave a shout, but not of pain. It was then that he let himself go unbridled until he felt hot gold shoot through him, until he seemed to float upon it in a jewel-filled sky. They clung together like that, drifting for what seemed like a lifetime, until he found her lying beside him, as beautiful as a butterfly having lighted in his arms.