“You have the grapes. The only thing wrong with them is lack of water because of the drought.”
“Yes, we pray for rain but—”
“In the meantime, have you people ever heard of irrigation, of dams, of wells?”
“I told you that we cannot afford such—”
“Afford, hell! Two-thirds of your men sit on their duffs in cafes and drink bad wine and eat goat cheese all day. If they got up and did some work, maybe they could help this country.”
“You have called us cowards and now we are also lazy?” she hissed at him.
“If the shoe fits, baby.”
“And I guess your country is so much better. Your people have the energy to create bombs.”
“Your country is so peaceful that they kidnap their own princess then try to shoot her.”
“You shot your Abraham Lincoln.”
“That was generations ago. Look, let’s not talk about this. I’d like to eat one meal in this town and not get indigestion.”
They began to eat in silence but they had taken no more than a few bites when the waiter spilled soup on J.T.
J.T.’s exclamation was one of genuine anger. “I’ve had it,” he yelled. “I’ve had it with you and this country. There’s a troop ship coming through here to refuel tonight and we’re going to be on it.” He grabbed Aria’s arm and pulled her up the stairs.
“That was foolish,” she said once they reached their room. “Lanconia cannot refuel military planes from any army. We cannot take sides in this war.”
He didn’t say anything but grabbed their two suitcases and started out of the room. At the desk he plunked down a hundred-dollar bill and left. A taxi was waiting nearby and jumped at J.T.’s whistle. J.T. slammed the luggage into the trunk. “To the airport,” he said, nearly pushing Aria into the back seat.
“You should have changed your uniform,” she said softly. “You have soup all over you.” He didn’t answer as he looked out the window and Aria wondered what he was thinking.
For her, she knew he was her last connection to the freedom she had enjoyed in America. She tried to control herself and remember that all this was for her country. In another couple of weeks she would barely be able to remember this man, and if she did remember him it would be as someone who was rude and boorish. She would remember that dreadful week on the island when he had thrown fish in her lap. She would not remember the way he held her at night or the afternoon when they had grilled hamburgers in the backyard or dancing with his mother.
“We’re here. You getting out?”
Aria boarded the plane silently. On board was Mr. Sanderson with a lapful of papers. The plane took off and he started talking. The plane was to develop engine trouble a hundred miles south of Escalon and at that time J.T. and Aria were to separate, with her remaining in Lanconia and traveling back to the capital city in a goatherder’s cart. She could keep her early morning meeting with the Lord High Chamberlain.
“We have no idea if he is the man who ordered Princess Aria’s execution,” Mr. Sanderson said. “The Lord High Chamberlain may just be reacting to the kidnapping of the woman he believes to be the actual princess. Lady Werta must know something. She’s too close to the princess not to know.”
The plane had barely taken off before it was landing again.
Mr. Sanderson looked out the window. “The goatherder is waiting for you. He’s one of our men and he’ll make the journey as pleasant as possible. There has been a bed made in the back of the wagon. I hope you can sleep.”
Mr. Sanderson was waiting for her at the door, but J.T. sat in his seat looking out the window.
She held out her hand to J.T. “Thank you so much for your help, Lieutenant Montgomery. Thank you for saving my life and I apologize for the inconvenience I have caused you. Please tell Dolly I will write her as soon as possible.”
J.T. seemed to move in one lightning-swift motion. He pulled her into his arms and onto his lap and kissed her with passion.
She clung to him and part of her wanted to beg him not to leave her.
“Good-bye, Princess,” he whispered. “Good luck.”
“Yes,” she said, realizing that he didn’t feel the way she did.
“Your Royal Highness,” Mr. Sanderson said impatiently. “We must go.”
She rose from J.T.’s lap. “I wish you the best of luck also,” she said formally, and left the plane.