Leon Uris (22 page)

“It could not have been otherwise. He is my brother and I have a right to love him.”

Horace arose, anguished, unable to speak further.

“Upton has always known how desperately you want the Chesapeake monopoly.”

“As long as Constable holds a fifty-year option, they are in a position to drive too hard a bargain,” he mumbled, then threw up his hands. “What the hell does all this have to do with the Constitution Ball at the Potomac Mansion House?”

“What if Glen Constable were on my arm?”

“Glen Constable! Hugh Constable’s boy?”

Amanda nodded.

“That is disgusting! Glen Constable is a womanizer who has gone through a vile public divorce. He is more than twice your age and has a daughter who could be your sister. How would you enter the Mansion House—in a scarlet gown?”

“He is a charming fellow who finally got free of a drowning marriage.”

“And what about his reputation with doxies?”

“That seems to be rather standard tradition for most marriages.”

“I am about to strike you!”

“You are being your bully best, Father. However, Glen’s reputation will be quite enhanced if he can win me,” she answered.

“You think I’ll ever kowtow—,” he said.

“I think you are going to batten down the hatches, trim off the emotional fat, and come to the conclusion worthy of a man of your stature.”

Horace pouted a moment, wanted to laugh, wanted to cry. He’d never been worked over like this, not even by presidents!

At the core it made brilliant common sense. Let’s see, Glen
Constable was in his early forties, an extremely good-looking, congenial chap. He was next in line in the Constable hierarchy and he had always been a sharp executive, certainly better than the grungy lot in the Kerr clan.

In truth, Amanda and Glen Constable would make a stunning couple, tall and elegant and blond, like Scottish lairds. What a message they would deliver. THE CHESAPEAKE BAY, ONE AND ALL, BELONGS TO KERR! THE PERFECT MONOPOLY.

A piece of personnel like Glen Constable married to Amanda could end Horace’s generation-long nightmare of succession.

They would be a Maryland family! Headquartered at Dutchman’s Hook. Inverness! Maryland had never gotten its full share. It was Massachusetts and Virginia always hogging the glory.

“Well,” Horace said, “we are all grown up now, aren’t we? What about that Marine?”

“He’s going on a long cruise of sea duty.”

“Out of our lives?”

“I’m trying, Father.”

“I trust there won’t be a bad aftertaste, like gossip that could cause you embarrassment.”

“Not unless it’s precipitated by an immaculate conception.”

“And you’re certain you’d be able to keep Glen Constable on a short leash?”

“He craves my youth and he’d die for the prize. Father, look at me. His days with doxies would be done and he knows it.”

This wonderment of a woman emerging before him made him close to teary.

“The Marine boy. How much does this hurt?”

“Enough.”

“Tell me, my precious girl, did Zachary O’Hara reject you before you put this long-simmering plan B of yours into play?”

“You’ll never know,” Amanda said.

“Well, you have learned the first lesson of a queen. Never fall in love with a commoner.”

•
20
•

Beautiful dreamer

Wake unto me

Starlight and dewdrops

Are waiting for thee.

‘Tis said, with no prejudice, that if Corporal Daniel O’Moran had not chosen the Corps, he would have starred in every vaudeville house in the country and more than likely ended up on the concert stage.

O’Moran pressed his right hand firmly against his belly and swept the air with his left as his vibrant tenor and longing lyrics filled the chapel.

Beautiful dreamer

Queen of my song

List while I woo thee

With soft melody.

Corporal Zachary O’Hara, now wearing the red stripe down his trouser legs in memory of the blood of noncommissioned officers shed in the Mexican War, steadied his pal, Sergeant Varnik, whose new golden epaulets trembled.

The congregation arose as Beth Shaughnessy, on the arm of Captain Tobias Storm, marched down the aisle.

Varnik took up most of the kneeling pad at the altar and Beth very little of it while the steam between them hissed like overworked boilers.

After vows, they swept from the chapel beneath an archway of drawn swords.

Zach spotted Amanda in the last row and waited to let the place empty. In a moment, they were alone. They sat together awkwardly, not having seen each other since that golden and ugly day in the glade.

Zach blurted something about going out on field maneuvers and something about being on standby to ship out because bandits in the isthmus had raided the train being guarded by Marines, but the emergency faded and they returned to finish their AMP classes and one thing or another.

“My mother asked me to accompany her to New York for the opera season and, well, as you know, one thing can lead to another.”

“Sure,” he said.

“I see you were promoted.”

“Corporal.”

“You’ll end up with an armful of those stripes.”

“Varnik has drawn a great post. The navy keeps a small contingent of about a dozen men in Recife, Brazil. There’s a lot of Americans shipping in and out. They keep an eye on things, if you know what I mean.”

“Yes.”

“Beth is going to be able to join him. I understand the living
there isn’t too expensive. Anyhow, Captain Storm gave them permission to marry only a few days ago.”

“Recife. Sounds like the end of the world. Oh, you Marines! And yourself?”

“A cruiser is somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic heading for Norfolk.”

They ran out of words and slowly, slowly dared to come into eye contact.

“There’s to be a Marine guard tomorrow night at the Constitution,” Amanda said. “Will you be there?”

“No.”

“I’ve thought a hundred times about seeing you tomorrow. I’m glad we don’t have to put each other through that.”

A small orchestra culled from the big band could be heard from the reception in a nearby rec hall.

“Amanda,” his voice whispered in pain as he reached for her.

“Zach, if you touch me, I’ll die,” she said.

“I could be around a few more weeks. Actually, I have some leave coming. Please let me see you.”

They measured it up.

She reached over and gave him an instant kiss on the neck, long enough to nip him good with her teeth.

“I love you, Zach,” she said, and fled the chapel.

Major Ben Boone trained down from Newport the next day for a round of meetings, including an important late session with the commandant. Ben didn’t reach the barracks till sunset, where a lone bugler played “Colors” and a four-man color guard put the flag to rest.

Tobias Storm was waiting in Ben’s quarters.

“Damned barracks is as quiet as a moth pissing on a weed,” Ben said.

“Most of the enlisted personnel have drawn tin-soldier duty at the Constitution Ball. Matilda is going with one of our sons. We
get invited everywhere. Everyone thinks I can get them a deal on Chinese imports. So how’d you make out with the boss?”

“Good. This first AMP class has raised some eyebrows. We’ve picked up a couple of friends at the War College, and guess who, Senator Davenport, has opened the door for us.”

“Davenport. Jesus, he’s a big one,” Tobias said. “Never thought he’d convert.”

“You know how it is,” Ben said. “Once they convert, they become Holy Rollers. Have you drawn up your list for the next AMP class?”

“Almost completed.”

“It’s full steam ahead,” Ben said.

A nervous moment followed.

“Matilda and I would like to retire; however, we love Washington. I want to stay on and get this next class going. I believe in AMP, strongly.”

Ben allowed himself a deep sigh and a deeper drink of relief.

“Of course I’ve got to promise her a wedding every year. I hear tell there’s a couple of merry widows hunting you down in Newport. Now, your wedding could well cap Matilda’s career.”

“If the United States Marine Corps wanted me to have a wife, they’d have issued me one,” Ben growled. “Have you ever noticed that all widows had great marriages and all divorcées had shit heels for husbands? It’s my stump they go wild over.”

Another nervous moment began.

“Ben, what bad news are you sneaking around?”

“Didn’t realize I was wearing it on my sleeve.”

“You are, the bad one.”

Ben grumbled, then gargled down a shot of rum. “I was hoping to get six, maybe eight, commissions for this first AMP class. We only got two.”

“Oh, stew of barking dog. Two!”

“Two.”

“What happened?”

“What always happens. We haven’t got the money.”

“This is some fucking Marine Corps, can’t promote eight men to officers,” Tobias growled.

“It ain’t like in China, where the emperor just goes out and takes it from the peasants. We have a Congress.”

“Boy, do we have a Congress!”

“Anyhow, Senator Davenport is putting an amendment on an appropriations bill. It might happen by the end of the year. But for now, we have to choose a pair.”

“Platoon Sergeants Kirkendahl and Maynard,” Tobias said. “Both of them have put in nearly three hitches.”

“Kirkendahl, Maynard,” Ben thought aloud, “they’ll make fine officers.”

The mood was leading to a binge. Two new officers out of such a brilliant class was pathetic. Tobias stared hard at Ben, who had gone rather inarticulate.

“What’s up?” Tobias demanded.

“You know all that shit I’ve been collecting since I’ve been in the Corps,” Ben said.

“Your amphibious-warfare mania?”

“Yeah, that shit. I’ve got a half-dozen trunks loaded with material dating back to prebiblical history. I’ve never been able to give them the proper time, and maybe time is running out for me. The commandant agrees that this material has to be collated, condensed, and put into a paper. I petitioned Colonel Ballard to let me take a full-time assistant to Newport for just that purpose.”

“And what did Uncle Tom Ballard say?”

“It could well mean our future.”

“Ballard say that or did you say that?” Storm pressed.

“What do you say, Tobias?”

“I say you’re trying to draw me in.”

“All right. There were three commissions, not two. The third man is coming to Newport with me if you sign off on him.”

“And who do you have in mind?” Tobias asked with feigned innocence.

“You know fucking A who I have in mind. Is he as good as I think he is?”

“Better,” Storm answered without hesitation.

“Does Zachary O’Hara suffer from any kind of long-term problems?”

“You mean Paddy’s ghost?”

“I mean Paddy’s ghost,” Ben said.

“Who can compare with Paddy O’Hara, much less his own son. Zach and his da went through some things we’ll never know about, but he’s emerged as his own man. In many aspects, Paddy couldn’t touch him.”

“I wonder, sometimes, what went on between them,” Ben said.

“It won’t interfere with the work you have planned for him. I think I’d be a little more worried about Zach being a maverick,” Tobias said.

“Well,” Ben ventured, “is he going to be a fine upstanding maverick like me or a pain-in-the-ass maverick like you?”

Tobias shrugged. “He’ll get his ass in a sling same as we do.”

“Is he going to have a shit hemorrhage about not being given his sea duty? He’s got the right to petition the commandant for it.”

“He’ll piss and moan a little, but he’s a Marine,” Tobias said, realizing that Ben Boone was oozing around the heart of the matter.

Ben fidgeted and stormed one-handed through his pockets, his routine for loading and lighting his pipe. Tobias twisted the ends of his mustache.

“Hmm,” Ben said, shaking out his match vigorously and deploying it in an ashtray.

“What are you fiddle-farting around for?” Tobias finally asked.

“Okay, okay, okay, Zachary O’Hara cuts a pretty dandy figure and you know how Newport can be. As a commissioned officer, he’s going to be invited to a lot of high-stakes functions. Lots of girls are going to be coming with a brass ring to put through his nose.”