“Natalie, this is Dad.”
With such a flat introduction these two people, the opposed poles in Byron’s life, all at once confronted each other. Natalie offered her hand to Byron’s father, looked him in the eye, and waited for him to speak. At first sight Victor Henry was taken by this weary-looking travel-stained girl with the dark eyes and gaunt face. She was not the legendary adventurous Jewess he had built up in his imagination; she had an everyday American look; but withal there was a certain exotic aura, and a strong calm feminine presence. She must be feeling highly self-conscious, he thought, but there was no sign of it. In her slight smile as he took her hand, there was even a trace of reflected affection for Byron.
He said, “I’m sorry to hear about your father.”
She nodded her thanks. “I don’t know how bad it is. But they want me at home, and so I’m going.” Her low voice was sweet, yet as firm as her look.
“Are you coming back?”
“I’m not sure. Dr. Jastrow may be returning to the States too, you see.”
“He’d be well advised to do that fairly fast.”
Pug was looking keenly at her, and she was meeting his glance. When neither found more to say for the moment, it became a sort of staring contest. Soon Natalie smiled a broad, wry, puckish smile, as though to say “
This disconcerted Victor Henry. He seldom lost such eye-to-eye confrontations, but this time he shifted his glance to Byron, who was watching with lively interest, struck by Natalie’s swift recovery of her poise. “Well, Briny,” he almost growled, “I ought to mosey along, and not keep that foreign ministry type waiting.”
“Right, Dad.”
Natalie said, “Byron told me that you became friendly with the Tudsburys in Berlin, Commander. I know Pamela.”
“You do?” Pug managed a smile. She was actually trying to put him at his ease with small talk, and he liked that.
“Yes, in Paris she and I used to date two fellows who shared the same flat. She’s lovely.”
“I agree, and very devoted to her father. Maniacal driver, though.”
“Oh, did you find that out? I once drove with her from Paris to Chartres, and almost walked back. She scared me senseless.”
“I’d guess it would take more than that to scare you.” Pug held out his hand. “I’m glad I met you, even in this accidental way, Natalie.” Awkwardly, in almost a mumble, he added “It explains a lot. Happy landings. Flying all the way?”
“I’ve got a seat on the Thursday Clipper out of Lisbon. I hope I don’t get bumped.”
“You shouldn’t. Things are quiet now. But you’re well out of this continent. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, Commander Henry.”
Victor Henry abruptly walked off, with Byron hurrying at his elbow. “Briny, what about you, now? You’re staying on in Siena?”
“For the time being.”
“Do you know that Warren’s engaged?”
“Oh, it’s definite now?”
“Yes. They’ve set a date for May twentieth, after he finishes his carrier training. I hope you’ll count on getting back by then. You won’t see any more brothers’ weddings. I’m working on a leave for myself.”
“I’ll certainly try. How’s Mom?”
“Off her feed. Berlin’s getting her down.”
“I thought she liked it.”
“It’s becoming less likable.” They stopped at the terminal’s glass doors. “How long will you be in Rome?”
“If I can see you, Dad, I’ll just stay on till you’re free.”
“Well, fine. Check in at the embassy with Captain Kirkwood. He’s the naval attache. Could be we’ll dine together tonight.”
“Great.”
“That’s some girl.”
Byron smiled uncertainly. “Could you really tell anything?”
“What you never said is that she’s so pretty.”
“What? I honestly don’t think she is. Not pretty, exactly. I’m nuts about her, as you well know, but—”
“She’s got eyes you could drown in. She’s stunning. However, what I wrote you about her long ago still goes. Even more so, now that I’ve seen her. She’s a grown-up woman.” He put his hand for a moment on Byron’s shoulder. “No offense.”
“I love her.”
“Well, we won’t settle that question here and now. Go back to her, she’s sitting there all alone. And call Kirkwood about tonight.”
“I will.”
Natalie’s face was tense and inquiring when Byron came back. He fell into the chair beside her. “Gad, that was a shock. I still can’t quite believe it. It all went so fast. He looks tired.”
“Do you know why he’s here?”
Byron shook his head slowly.
She said, “I didn’t picture him that way. He doesn’t look severe; on the contrary, almost genial. But then when he talks he’s scary.”
“He fell for you.”
“Byron, don’t talk rot. Look at me. A soot-covered slattern.”
“He said something sappy about your eyes.”
“I don’t believe it. What did he say?”
“I won’t tell you. It’s embarrassing. I never heard him say anything like it before. What luck! He likes you. Say, my brother’s getting married.”
“Oh? When?”
“In May. She’s the daughter of a congressman. She doesn’t seem all that concerned about marrying a naval officer! Let’s make it a double wedding.”
“Why not? You’ll be manager of a bank by then, no doubt.”
They were both smiling, but the unsettled questions between them put an edge in their tones. It was a relief when the droning loudspeaker announced her flight. Byron carried her hand luggage and some fragile gifts for her family into the mill of jabbering, weeping passengers and relatives at the gate. Natalie was clutching her ticket, and trying to understand the shouts of the uniformed attendants. He attempted to kiss her. But it wasn’t much of a kiss.
“I love you, Natalie,” he said.
She embraced him with one arm amid the jostling passengers, and spoke over the tumult. “It’s as well that I’m going home just now, I think. Meantime I met your father! That was something. He did like me? Really?”
“You bowled him over, I tell you. And why not?”
The crowd was starting to push through the gate.
“How will I ever carry all this stuff? Load me up, sweetheart.”
“Promise me you’ll cable if you decide not to come back,” Byron said, poking bundles into her arms and under them. “Because I’ll take the next plane home.”
“Yes, I’ll cable.”
“And promise that you’ll make no other decision, do nothing drastic, before you see me again.”
“Oh, Byron how young you are. All these damned words. Don’t you know how I love you?”
“Promise!”
Her dark eyes wet and huge, her hands and arms piled, the green and yellow ticket sticking out of her fingers, she shrugged, laughed, and said, “Oh, hell. It’s a promise, but you know what Lenin said. Promises like piecrusts are made to be broken. Good-bye, my darling, my sweet. Good-bye Byron.” Her voice rose as the press of
