Page List


Font:  

“You were smiling and I wondered why. I need something to cheer me up.”

“Actually, I was thinking of how I’d describe last night to my grandfather.”

“And?”

She looked at her breakfast, a bit repulsed by the greasiness of it. “I don’t think you’d like it. They are your friends.”

J.T.’s eyes narrowed. “I want to know how you’d describe my friends to your royal family.”

He said the words with such a sneer that Aria didn’t care what he thought. Her grandfather often said that commoners had no sense of humor, that they took themselves very seriously and were always concerned about their dignity.

Aria’s face immediately changed expression as she opened her mouth a bit, shifted her head to one side, and began to look somewhat dazed. “Bonnie, where’s the ketchup?” she said in a deep voice that conveyed the idea of a little boy lost. “Bonnie, I need some tomato. Bonnie, where’s the mayonnaise? Bonnie, didn’t you bring an apple pie? You know how I like apple pie.”

J.T.’s eyes widened. “That’s Larry. Dolly said he’d starve to death if Bonnie weren’t around.”

Aria’s face changed again; this time she made her eyelashes flutter rapidly. “I just loved that red dress. Here you are, honey. Of course red isn’t usually my color. It’s right there, honey. But I did wear red as a child. You don’t think my hair’s grown too dark for red? To your right, honey. But maybe I’m getting too fat for red. Here it is, honey. I have put on some weight since I got married. You want a slice of onion, honey?”

J.T. began to smile. “Larry’s wife, Bonnie.”

Aria smiled and resumed eating.

“What about Patty?” J.T. asked after a moment.

Aria’s eyes sparkled as she put down her fork. She stood, turned her back to J.T., then perfectly imitated Patty

’s walk, an odd walk with her knees together, her feet flat, not bending, and her arms bent at the elbow, her hands stuck out like chicken wings. “Carl, I do believe I shall have a lamp like this,” Aria said in a high, singsong voice. “It gives out the most wondrous color. So good for one’s skin.”

Aria stopped and looked back at J.T. He was beginning to laugh, and Aria thought how good it was to have an audience again. She had always been able to mimic people and her grandfather and sister had begged her for her performances after every official engagement. Of course she had only performed for her closest relatives.

She performed for J.T. with all the gusto she had used at home. She went over each of their visitors of the night before and ended with a full parody of all of them talking at once. According to Aria’s portrayal, the men were lazy, a little dumb, and as helpless as infants. The women handed them food and utensils, catered to them and pacified them as if they were large children, all the while talking a mile a minute about clothes, money, hairdos, money, cooking, money, and money. Yet her portrayals were never spiteful, and somehow made the people seem quite lovable.

J.T. was laughing hard when she finished.

Who would have thought, she wondered, that the American male had a sense of humor?

“We’re that bad?” he asked, smiling at her.

“Mmm,” was all Aria answered.

He was still smiling. “Come on and I’ll show you how to wash dishes. You’re going to love this little task.”

For the first time ever he didn’t snip at her as he showed her how to fill the sink with water and add the liquid soap. “Now you stick your hands inside and start washing.”

Aria started to obey but he caught her wrists.

“I forgot about your burned hand.” He held her wrists and looked at her for quite some time before releasing her. “I’ll wash, you dry. Tell me something about your country,” he said as he handed her the first clean dish.

Aria began to enjoy the task as she told him about her country, about the mountains and the cool night air.

“A lot different from Key West, isn’t it?”

“From what I’ve seen, yes,” she said. “But the flowers here are very pretty.”

“Maybe we can go sightseeing.”

The word made Aria shudder. Sightseeing was what they had done in Washington, D.C.—that day he had pulled her in and out of a car, the day he had screamed at her for drinking a Coke.

J.T. saw her shudder and looked back at the sink full of dishes. “Maybe it could be a bit more pleasant this time. Look, I need to go to the base. You have anything to read today?”


Tags: Jude Deveraux Montgomery/Taggert Historical