Mitla Pass - Leon Uris [199]
“Why, habibi, what makes you say something like that? You know Natasha like a book.”
“That’s the problem. We seem to have death wishes, you against your father, me against my mother. We can’t control them. You’re too tough for me and I’m too tough for you. Let’s call it a draw.”
“You think that little cock of yours is a lethal weapon!”
“We’re a shit pair, Natasha.”
“You fucking cowboy bastard! You son of a bitch!”
“Don’t curse in Hungarian and don’t start throwing things.”
“Huh! Me! So, go back to your lily-white puritan Protestant wife.
You’ll come back to me, always! You’ll come back to me crawling and I’ll make you bark like a dog! They all did!”
“It’s a blood sport with us, honey. Sorry to deny you the kill. I guess we’d better round up that driver and get back to Nicosia.”
“What’s the hurry, cowboy? Let’s you and me have one for the road.”
ROME
November 15, 1956
“THERE HE IS!”
“Where?”
“Over there!”
“Look, Mommy, he’s got Grover Vandover with him!”
“Daddy!”
“Gideon! Here we are!”
“Daddy!”
“Val! Penny! Roxy!”
VAL’S HAND SHOOK SO, she couldn’t turn the key. Their room in the Excelsior Hotel was large and splendid and overlooked the elegant Via Veneto thoroughfare. The girls had a smaller connecting room.
“Pretty fancy for poor folks,” Gideon said.
“Mother sent me the money,” Val said. “And our fare to get home. She’s very anxious to support us while you’re writing. She really wants to help.”
“That’s nice, but I’ll pick up some screen work. How is your mother?”
“She is in good shape. We’ll talk about it later,” Val said.
“We’ve been going to the American school here, Daddy.”
“Oh, Rome is so much fun, Daddy. ...”
There were presents and a big pillow fight and a wrestle on the bed,
Mother, Dad, dog, and daughters, all mixed up together, until they were gasping for breath, and they jabbered, overlapping each other. After a long time, the girls were worn out and slept a lovely sleep with their dog, a sleep of peace they had not known in so long.
Gideon closed their door and smiled. And now he and Val were alone.
“I’m so terribly sorry about Shlomo and all the others,” she said.
“Yeah, it was a nasty little war.”
“Say, I’ve got an idea,” Val said. “We’ve got a tub big enough to float a cruiser in. How about you and me sudsing up a tub and getting in and popping the cork on some bubbly?”
“Deal.”
After they had luxuriated and fooled around in the bath, as a prelude of sweeter things to come, they wrapped themselves in big terry robes which had been warmed on special heating pipes. Val’s hair was still wet from the shampoo. Even under the thickness of her robe, the beautiful lines of her body could be discerned.
“You look terrific, Val,” he said.
“You look like you could use a lot of T.L.C.,” she said.
There was a stack of mail on the desk. “Anything urgent?”
“Let’s see. Sal Sensibar has a couple of screenplays for you to look at. He says he can get you thirty-five thousand on a flat deal, for twelve weeks’ work.”
“That’s real good. Three months. It won’t hold the novel up too badly. Should be enough bread to see us through.”
“I’ve booked passages home on an Italian liner. We’re so damned broke, I thought it would be a good idea to have Christmas and New Year’s at sea.”
“Fabulous idea,” he said.
“I had to bargain like hell, and we’ve got two first-class staterooms, and they’ll let the girls keep Grover in their cabin. Let’s see, stack of letters from your dad. Why don’t we let that go till tomorrow.”
“Brilliant idea.”
“And I’m dying to show you Rome,” she said.
“All yours, baby.”
“How’s the book coming along in your head?”
“It’s going to be real good, Val. I mean, real good. I’ve got a lot of things solved.”
“Any new ideas for the title?”
She filled their champagne glasses again.
“I’m thinking Galilee. Anyhow, that’s good enough for a temporary title. Let’s see how it wears.”
“Galilee. It’s beautiful, Gideon.”
They clinked glasses again and sipped. Val turned her back,