by Cara Putman
The room filled with cigarette smoke as men leaned back and placed their feet next to their typewriters. Marti Piper, a reporter on assignment with Reuters, sidled up to her, dark circles under her pretty eyes. “Guess I can feed this story to the trash can.” The pages fluttered from her fingers into the circular can.
Rachel picked them up. “It still matters, Marti.”
“Guarantee the BBC chum is right. Rome is now back-page copy if it’s anywhere.”
Rachel shook her head. “The moms and pops of the boys fighting their way across Italy care.”
“I’m gonna start calling you Pollyanna.”
“Go ahead. I’m still sending my dispatch.”
“Good for you, kid. Maybe someone will even look at your photos.” Marti sat on the edge of the table where Rachel had set up her space. She grabbed the photos and flipped through them. Her steady movements paused a couple times. “You’re good. I’ll give you that.”
“Thanks.” Heat flushed Rachel’s face. “I want more than good. I want Pulitzer material.”
“Keep looking for shots like these.” Marti tapped one of a celebration in front of a small church. “You might make it.” She hopped off the desk. “Well, I’m off for shut-eye now that our purpose has been obliterated by the boys in France.”
Despite her words the malaise of the room settled over Rachel. The final push into Rome overshadowed by events on the other side of Europe. It didn’t seem right. The boys had paid a heavy price to get this far, many of them giving the last full measure. Now their story would be incomplete if attention pivoted to another front.
After finishing the dispatch, she picked up the photos and article and headed to the editor’s desk. Dick Forsythe chomped on an unlit cigar, probably the same one he’d had in Naples if its condition was any indication. The thing looked ready to disintegrate as it slumped in his mouth. He looked up with a frown. “What you got, kid?”
“More photos.” She slid them onto his desk. “Dispatch is ready, and they can go out immediately.”
He groaned. “Might as well save the hassle.”
“You can’t ignore them, sir. The story still needs to be told. These people are finally liberated.”
“Ain’t that the sorry truth. Liberated, and no one cares.”
Rachel bit her lower lip. “Look at them. That’s all I ask. They don’t take up much space or weight.”
“Always got a comeback.”
“I try.” She grinned as he waved his arms at her.
“Off with you. Get some shut-eye or something. I’d bet money this unit will move out of Rome faster than you can say, love me momma’s cooking.”
“Maybe.”
“Guarantee it. Wash up, rest, and get ready for whatever the army has next. You’re still with the Fifth, long as you don’t mess things up.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me. Who knows when you’ll get a chance to relax in a real bed again.”
Rachel gathered her things and left the building. After stopping at the neighboring hotel long enough to drop off everything but her camera and knapsack and brush her teeth, she asked the concierge for directions and left. Rest could wait but not the streets of Rome on the day after liberation. She’d explored Rome in her dreams, wondering what it would be like if she ever saved enough to visit. Now she was here and without the hope of returning during times of peace. She’d use her time until the Fifth moved to soak in the mood and find a few more photos to send in the next dispatch.
If Scott were here, maybe she could take photos for him. Help him catalog art. Talk her way into a couple museums.
The contrast between Naples and Rome gave her pause. The people were gaunt with watchful eyes, yet the buildings were intact with little visible damage. After walking a bit, she stopped at a café and ordered a chilled espresso. The brew tasted bitter as she sipped at a sidewalk table.
Soldiers walked by, some alone, others in small clusters. She watched them carefully, looking for a certain soldier. One whose garrison cap would sit slightly off balance on his head, not quite military precision. She didn’t see Lieutenant Lindstrom. His six-foot frame wasn’t visible above the others.
Quit looking for him. It would take a minor miracle to find one man in the midst of a city overflowing with soldiers. Still her heart looked for that familiar face. She pulled out a postcard she’d bought at the hotel and jotted a few lines to Momma. Enough to let her know she was safe. Then she collected her things, left a few coins on the table, and started walking.
She mixed with those on the sidewalk, her military uniform drawing respectful gazes from the Italians. Grazies followed the soldiers. Beautiful Italian women threw warm hugs and planted kisses on the cheeks of the GIs who stopped. Rachel held back a laugh at some of the reactions. It was clear some of the men weren’t used to the European greeting and didn’t know how to respond. Others suffered no qualms and dove in with ardent pecks of their own. If anyone slanted a look her direction, she raised her camera and pretended to take a photo or high-stepped it out of the area. She didn’t need anyone thinking she’d welcome attention.
The jeep flew up and down the hilly Roman landscape. Tyler didn’t slow as he turned corners. Anyone who stepped in front of the jeep did so at their own risk. Tyler didn’t seem inclined to slow down for anyone.
“What’s got you flying on the road?”
“Eager to get out of here.”
Scott eyed the man. Something more was going on. “Care to elaborate?”
“Lots to see, and knowing my luck, I’ll be back on the road as soon as these boys head out.”
“Maybe you’ll get stuck here with me like you did in Naples.”
“They’ll let some other bloke take over, and I’ll march wherever’s next. Somewhere north.”
“Over hill, over dale.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.” The man had become a decent traveling companion, but he kept his sense of humor under wraps and his private details quiet. Scott glanced around. They were near the Coliseum, as good a place as any for him to get out and start checking monuments. “Let me out here. Go check in at the depot. I’m walking around.”
Tyler cocked an eye at him.
“I can find the hotel again.”
“Sure you can. If not, shoot a flare.”
“I spent a year here compared to your twenty-four hours.”
“War makes a quick learner.” Tyler yanked the car to the side of the road, almost hitting a dilapidated jalopy that rested on tireless rims. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
Scott hopped out and rapped the hood. “See you tonight.”
“If you’re out too late, don’t wait up for me. I plan to find me a pretty young lady. Let her show me her appreciation.”
Unfortunately, there would be a line of women willing to entertain the soldiers and convey their thanks in tangible ways. The thought made Scott recoil. That wasn’t the impression of Americans he wanted to leave behind.
After Tyler disappeared in a swerve of tires and hustle of pedestrians, Scott scanned the skyline. He remembered where he was, but it had been eight years since he’d lived in the city. It felt good to join the throngs enjoying freedom.
As he walked, he decided experiencing the city again from the sidewalks was the right choice. He could almost taste the joy and excitement of those he passed. The celebrating Italians were exuberant. He joined the flow of people, garrison cap in his back pocket. Along the Via Veneto, the throngs celebrated with huzzahs.
Scott turned his feet toward the Coliseum. Bells pealed in the distance. One of many small churches or Saint Peter’s at the Vatican? Other bells took up the song, and soon the harmony of celebration filled the air. Rosaries were kissed and prayers offered as he watched. The gratitude extended with people reaching out to touch him. Didn’t t
hey realize he’d never fired a shot in this war? The fact he wore a uniform didn’t mean he’d played a role in pushing the Germans from Rome. He battled for the preservation of the nation’s culture, but it was a fight most would never realize existed and, if they did, might not value. Elaine certainly hadn’t. Rachel, no Captain Justice, might. He’d seen something that looked like respect in her face when she watched him work with the priest.
Even after the great success of his meeting with the art superintendents the prior day, it didn’t feel like he’d accomplished much. The curators had agreed to close their museums for a day or two, and most he passed were shut tight. Long enough to get military police into town to help monitor the passing soldiers.
He’d heard rumors that made him think those preparatory steps were unnecessary. General Clark wanted the men through Rome and thrusting the Germans north. While some soldiers enjoyed their moment to bask in appreciation, many Scott passed wore a dazed look. As if they couldn’t believe they’d been asked to keep moving. That the battle hadn’t stopped. This was not even a pause on the path to Germany.
Scott reached the Coliseum. Round and round he circled as he climbed the interior. He paused on his hike to take in the view. Rome’s beauty stole his breath. Its beauty drew art students like magnets drew metal shavings. And it created a deep hunger in those who longed for beauty. Ultimately, though, it begged to be shared. It was the type of beauty that grew as it was divided among people.
If Rachel were here, he’d show her the Coliseum, but he’d also love to show her the unique spots he’d discovered during his year here. She’d understand and appreciate the heart of the city. She’d see beneath the current events to the depths.
Rachel’s soft brown eyes would appreciate the ancient beauty Rome offered. She would understand what it meant to experience something of this age and appreciate the perspective it offered.
It was useless to wish for something he couldn’t have. He couldn’t imagine a worse place to cultivate dreams for the future than in a war zone. Better to stay realistic. Today was all he had.
He’d almost talked himself into believing that when he caught sight of a woman in uniform. She stood out in the Coliseum, and she drew him to her without knowing he was there, watching.
Chapter 14
Scott approached the woman, and when she turned toward him, her smile almost blinded him. Rachel! “Captain Justice.”
“Scott.” Her eyes softened, and her shoulders relaxed as she smiled at him.
“I thought you’d have left Rome.”
“Not yet.” She patted the space next to her, a brilliant smile lighting her face from the inside. “And you’re already here?”
“Been here a couple days. I came ahead of the others.”
“Have you found what you needed?”
He nodded. “A man who mentored me years ago smoothed the way with others. I’ve had meetings inside the Vatican.”
Her eyes widened. “What was it like?”
“Ornate. Removed. Apart from everything else. Surreal. I never imagined I’d find myself talking with a cardinal inside those walls. How long will you stay?”
“I don’t know.” She plucked a piece of grass and twined it through her fingers. “With Normandy the enthusiasm has evaporated for Rome. I’m one of a few who thinks it matters.”
He frowned at the thought. “Of course it does.”
“Can I help you while I wait to see what’s next?”
She wanted to spend time with him? The thought sent a shot of pleasure through him. Rachel, the woman whose lithe frame hit him at the right place, a perfect fit beneath his chin. He would find a reason for her to help and spend time together. If nothing else, he could show her why what he did mattered.
From the reports the art superintendents and the other officials had given at yesterday’s meeting, the buildings and galleries stood largely undamaged. There was cleanup work, but small compared to what he’d anticipated. Instead, his post in Rome provided the opportunity to build rapport and goodwill with the local officials. He needed to broach the missing art. Still the few stories he’d heard of paintings being placed on a truck and then never arriving gave him pause, feeling too much like the missing altarpiece. The MFAA would work with the locals to create lists and determine what people knew about each piece. Had it been headed north to a villa in Tuscany? Or had it headed east? He expected that most art had headed north, always north to the regions outside the cities. Remote villas in remote regions, and hopefully not to Germany.
“I would love to show you my city.”
“Rome is your city?” She smirked at him as they bumped shoulders.
“Today it is.” How had Rachel Justice woven herself into his very fiber? She gave every indication that she had no idea what she did to him. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “First we’ll stop at headquarters, then we’ll find a quiet place.”
When they reached headquarters, he led Rachel to the corner he’d secured for MFAA loaded with bags and boxes.
“There you are.” Blake sidled up to him. “Enjoy your tour of Rome?”
“It’s been quick.”
“But you found time to bring someone along.” He winked at Rachel, and Scott fought back a rush of irritation.
“Blake, you remember Captain Rachel Justice.”
“Miss Justice, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“Captain Justice.” Rachel’s posture straightened and she inched closer to Scott.
Scott stood taller at the thought she wanted to be nearer him.
Blake opened one box and pulled out manuals and requisition forms. “Has the begging started?”
Scott shrugged. “Not bad.”
“Yet.”
“Yet.”
“It’ll come. They always want more. Sometimes I want to remind them they partnered with Hitler. They should ask him for recompense.”
“Good luck.”
“Always fighting the good fight.” Blake set a stack of blank forms on the corner of a desk, topped them with a few pens. “Now I’m ready for the masses.”
Keller walked in with a couple boxes balanced in his arms.
“You here already?”
Keller dropped the boxes on a chair. “DeWald decided you could use the help since the military is already in and out.”
“I wouldn’t say they’re out.” Scott thought of all the soldiers he’d seen while he walked.
“Give them twenty-four hours, and good ole Mack will have them headed up the road again.”
Scott nodded. General Clark was pushing hard to get out of Rome.
“These boys won’t even get a good night’s sleep.” Blake slapped a name plaque on the table. Guess he was officially in business now that he had the sign alerting the world to the fact he was the designated requisitions man.
“They’ve earned some rest.”
“Not with the Germans on the run and still around. Gotta kick them all the way back home.” Keller turned his back on the other man and focused on Scott. “So where do you need help?”
“I don’t have a handle on what’s been moved with intent versus disappeared. There are rooms of protected art in the Vatican. Beyond that I don’t know much. The attention is on preventing looting as armies move in and out.” He headed to the door. “You guys have this under control. I’m giving the press a tour.”
“That’s what you call it?” Blake chuckled.
“Yep.”
Keller stopped him with a hand. “Much to shore up?”
“Not this time. The damage to buildings is minimal.”
Keller nodded. “That’s a welcome change.”
“Agreed. There’s nothing critical that I’ve seen.”
“Get on with your tour, but if the army’s moving out as fast as it looks, we’ll need to double-time.”
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br /> “Got it.” So sleep would be short while he was in the capital. He could live with that.
When he stepped outside, he found Tyler waiting while the sky behind the jeep began to darken into a cascade of colors.
Tyler snapped to attention when he saw Rachel. “Miss, um, Captain Justice.”
“Private.” Funny how she turned so regal with others yet didn’t take those airs with him.
Tyler looked from Scott to Rachel. “Ready for that Vatican meeting, Lieutenant?”
Scott rubbed his forehead. “I forgot about that. Rachel, I’m sorry.”
She put a finger to his lips, and his breath caught at the softness of the touch. “Don’t apologize. I understand.”
“Can you have a late supper?”
“I’d like that. If it doesn’t work out, I can always have a C ration.” She grimaced. “So hurry, all right? I’m at the hotel across from Albergo Città.” She turned and melted into the foot traffic.
“Don’t apologize?” Tyler rolled his eyes. “Looks like there’s something between you.”
“Maybe.” He’d sure like there to be.
He pulled his attention from her retreating form to the meeting ahead. This one had been called to discuss plans for storing the art until the hostilities ended. After giving and getting assurances that everybody wanted the art to be returned to the cities, villages, and original owners, he made his way toward the Hotel Excelsior. Maybe he could get a good night’s sleep before shipping out. With beds as soft as the hotel’s, it seemed a crime not to at least try. It seemed as good a place as any to look for the headquarters. But first, dinner with Rachel.
Rachel sat on her bed staring at the envelope the front desk clerk had handed her when she arrived. A small note from her editor accompanied it.
Know you’ve awaited word from home. Thought you shouldn’t wait any longer.
Rachel studied the envelope, hands trembling as she realized the return address included her momma’s name, but the handwriting wasn’t hers. The paper trembled in her hands, evidence of the turmoil in her heart. Dare she open it? After all this time could it be good news?
