“I know where Corey Field is,” Dunn said. “You don’t have to come over here.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion, Mr. Dunn,” Carstairs said. “This is The Marine Corps. I am a captain, and you are a lieutenant, and I say what we are going to do, and you say, ‘Aye, aye, Sir.’ ”
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
“Now that we have our business out of the way, do you suppose I could have another Bloody Mary?” Carstairs asked.
“Won’t Colonel Whatsisname be looking for you?” Pick asked.
“If the nasty sonofabitch thinks it took me all afternoon to find you two, why should I correct him?”
They were on their third Bloody Mary when, almost together, two automobiles appeared in the long driveway under the arch of the enormous live oaks. One was an Oldsmobile sedan, the second a Plymouth convertible.
“Unless I’m mistaken,” Dunn said, “here comes the paratroops.”
“In two cars?” Pick asked.
“You ever go to see the Andy Hardy movies?” Dunn asked, and then went on without waiting for a reply. “You remember when Andy Hardy got a Plymouth like that when he graduated from high school? Sue-Ann thought it was darling, so Mr. Pendergrast bought her one.”
The cars came closer.
“No, it’s not the paratroops. It’s the Reverend Three Names.”
He put his Bloody Mary down and walked down the wide steps to wait for the cars to drive up.
A tall, slim, gray-haired man in a gray suit stepped out of the Oldsmobile and grasped Dunn’s hand with both of his own, shaking it with great enthusiasm.
“Here comes another car,” Captain Carstairs announced. “Maybe that’s the paratroops. What’s he talking about?”
“His brother’s in the Army at Fort Benning,” Pick explained. “He’s coming down here.”
The Plymouth pulled up. A long-legged blonde in a sweater and skirt got out, squealed “Billy!”, and then kissed both the Marine officer and the cleric. She kissed the Marine officer with somewhat more enthusiasm.
Then, hanging on to his arm, she marched him up the stairs.
“Hi, y’all,” she called cheerfully to Pickering and Carstairs. “Let me say hello a minute to Miss Alma, and then I’ll be with you.”
She and the Reverend Mr. Jasper Willis Thorne went into the house.
“Nice,” Pick said, vis-a-vis Miss Sue-Ann Pendergrast.
“Very nice,” Captain Carstairs agreed.
“I’ll be a sonofabitch,” Lieutenant Dunn said, visibly shocked. “She gave me tongue, with the rector standing right there.”
The second Oldsmobile slid, rather than braked, to a stop. The door opened, and a very large man wearing major’s leaves and paratroop boots jumped out and ran up the stairs, taking them three at a time.
Captain Carstairs stood up, decided the porch was outside, and saluted.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” he said.
Major Frederick C. Dunn, Infantry, Army of the United States, returned the salute crisply, if idly.
“If you’re waiting for me to salute you, Fred, don’t hold your breath,” Bill Dunn said.
“Goddamn, Runt!” Major Dunn said emotionally. “You’re a sight for goddamn sore eyes!”
He went to his brother, wrapped him in a bear hug, and lifted him off the ground.
After a moment, he set him down.
“Gentlemen,” he said in an accent that was even thicker than Bill Dunn’s, “if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go say hello to my momma and see if I can’t find something decent for us to drink.”
He wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders, giving him no choice but to accompany him into the house.
Carstairs looked at Pickering.
“Nice people, aren’t they?” he said.
Pick started to agree, but what came out was, “Do you ever see Martha?”
“I thought you might get around to asking that question. Yes. As a matter of fact, I saw her just before I came over here. And I’m going to have dinner with her tonight.”
Pick grunted.
“No, I didn’t tell her I’d seen you,” Carstairs said. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to; if it would, so to speak, be the thing to do.”
“Tell her, if you like,” Pick said. “It doesn’t make any difference.”
“You don’t plan to call her?”
“When a woman tells you she doesn’t want to marry you, and means it…”