“That’s not what you said when you called from Washington. You said you were marrying her to help America and you’d be glad to get rid of her when the time came. You said no man could love such an idiot of a dame. You said—”
“What are you? A wire recorder? I know what I said. Now the problem is, this marriage is getting a little too intimate. I’m sure this would have happened with any woman. You can’t put two young healthy people together like the army’s done to us and not expect something to happen. I just need some perspective, that’s all. I’ve been around her so much I’m beginning to like her.”
“Not difficult to do.”
“Yes it is,” J.T. said. “You don’t know her like I do. She argues about everything. Acts like housework is a death sentence. And she spends money like there’s no tomorrow. Do you have any idea what last week’s bill from Ethel’s Beauty Parlor was?”
“I bet it wasn’t any more than Dolly’s and your wife sounds just like mine.”
“That’s just it—she’s not my wife. I guess it’s like the difference between borrowing a car and owning one. It’s not the same. You can use the borrowed car but someday you have to give it back.”
“You sure borrowed one hell of a car in that little lady.”
J.T. finished his beer. “Yeah, I borrowed a Rolls, but, unfortunately, I’ll have to spend my life with some Buick.”
Bill laughed. “So what do you do now? You got another week before she goes back, right?”
“One more week and then I take her to her country, slip her back into her castle, and turn her over to her scrawny little count. They deserve each other.”
Bill looked at his watch. “We better go. Dolly said to meet her at the pool at seven and it’s quarter after now.”
They walked from Duval Street to the swimming pool opened by the navy for the officers.
“You two smell like a brewery,” Dolly said. “J.T., what did you do to Aria? She looks positively radiant.”
Before J.T. could answer he saw Aria, wearing only her swimsuit, walking away from the concession stand beside Mitch, who was in uniform, both of them laughing. J.T. didn’t think; he just acted. He strode the few steps around the edge of the pool, grabbed the smaller Mitch by the back of his collar and the seat of his pants, and threw him into the water.
“Stay away from my wife, you understand me?” he yelled down when Mitch came up for air.
“Of all the primitive displays I have seen, this is the worst,” Aria said, then bent to offer her hand to Mitch.
J.T. grabbed her shoulders and pulled her around so that Mitch fell back into the water. “We’re going home.”
Their little house wasn’t too far away, and when Aria was dressed, he started walking home, Aria barely able to keep up with him. She didn’t say a word to him on the way because she didn’t want a public scene but she meant to speak to him once they were home.
How could he be so disagreeable after last night? She could still feel his soapy hands on her body, still feel his lips on her skin. They had bathed each other last night, except that she had been too shy to fully explore his body. He had laughed and said, “There’s time for that.” After their bath he had dried her then carried her to his bed and made love to her again. She had felt no pain the second time and they had fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
When she woke, it was morning and he was gone. There was no note, no message left for her. All day she had hoped the phone would ring but it hadn’t. At two she made an emergency trip to Ethel’s to have her hair done so it would look nice when he got home. She again set the table with candles.
At 5:30 Dolly had come by and told her they were to meet the boys at the officers’ swimming pool. She was surprised J.T. hadn’t told Aria.
The next thing she knew J.T. was throwing Mitch in the pool.
When they arrived at the house, he unlocked the door for her but he didn’t enter. “I got to go somewhere,” he muttered, and turned toward the gate.
She ran after him and put her hand on his arm. “Jarl, is something wrong? Did something bad happen today?”
He moved his arm from her touch. “No one calls me Jarl except my mother and she’s not borrowed. It’s J.T. Got that?”
She stepped back. “Certainly, Lieutenant Montgomery. I will not make that error again. Should I keep supper warm for you? I believe that is an American wifely custom.”
“I’ll get something somewhere else. And sleep in your own bed tonight.”
She schooled her face not to betray her feelings. “Yes, Your Sublime Highness. Will there be anything else you desire of this poor concubine?”
He glared at her then slammed out the gate.
“I will not cry,” Aria whispered. “He will not make me cry.”