CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THREE
Gemma
16 October 1943
Gemma hurried to push the gurney bearing Rosa down the hospital hallway. The Nazis were on their way. Rosa and the other Jewish patients had been given a sedative to avoid the risk of any emotional outburst, according to Giovanni’s plan. Gemma had to hope it would work. She was betting Rosa’s life on its success.
Gemma tried not to think of what was happening in the Ghetto. She could only pray that Massimo was taking care of Sandro and himself. She couldn’t leave the hospital until Rosa was safe. She felt torn between her two children, both in mortal peril.
She remembered that Sandro had wanted to stay at the hospital, last night. If she had said yes, he would be here, safe. Instead she had barely kissed him goodbye. She tried to remember the last thing she had said to him. She thought it was good boy. She should’ve said I love you. How had she not said I love you?
She took a right turn down another corridor, near her old Obstetrics & Gynecology wing. Her years as a practicing physician came back to her. She knew the freshly painted white walls. The waxed tile floor. The bulletin board with posters for lectures that she was too busy to attend. She’d had such a sense of purpose in those days, but nothing mattered like today.
The entire hospital had swung into action, executing Giovanni’s plan. Nuns and lay nurses were setting up the isolation ward. Jewish patients were being identified and moved there. The staff worked as one, for no one was better in an emergency than physicians and nurses.
She took a left turn and lined up behind other doctors, nuns, lay nurses, and orderlies. She spotted doctors she knew from Endocrinology and Rheumatology, and nuns and lay nurses from Labor & Delivery. They were all moving Jewish patients into the isolation ward. She had never felt more honored to be among them.
In time, Gemma wheeled Rosa into the isolation ward, to a bed by the window. Rosa slept soundly, and Gemma kissed her on the forehead, struggling to remain in emotional control. With God’s help, this would not be the last time that she kissed her daughter.
Gemma helped move all of the other Jewish patients into the isolation ward, and after it had been filled, the doctors returned to their rounds and the nurses to their stations. It was all according to Giovanni’s plan, which required them to pretend that this was a normal day at the hospital.
She stood outside the closed door of the isolation ward with Sister Anna Domenica. They both looked over to see Salvatore striding toward them, his expression grim.
“Ladies, it’s time.” Salvatore reached them. “The Nazis are downstairs, twenty of them. They’re talking to Giovanni. He’s going to tell them the cover story and stall them as long as he can. Leonida is typing a patient list now. All of the names will be false. She’ll stall them, too.”
Gemma suppressed her fright. The thought of Nazis in the hospital terrified her.
“Gemma, we need to hide you.”
“Of course.” Gemma had been so focused on Rosa and the others, she hadn’t thought of herself. “What about a supply closet?”
“No, they’ll search everywhere.”
“What should I do? Should I pose as a patient in the isolation ward?”
“No, we need you.”
“But between my clothes and the weight I’ve lost, they’ll know I’m Jewish if they find me.”
Sister Anna Domenica interjected, “Gemma, they won’t find you if you do what I say.”