Nostrils flared, heat rolled off Lieutenant Lindstrom as he led her to the hallway, down the stairs, and out the front door. Rachel wanted to make him understand this wasn’t her idea though she didn’t mind. Actually, she’d rather travel with him than a stranger. Even though he’d gotten her stranded overnight in a farmhouse with an Italian couple that didn’t speak a word of English, he’d returned her safely to Naples.
His silence raised a wall between them, one she wasn’t sure she could penetrate even as she longed to know his thoughts.
Was he worried about her? Or annoyed by her presence?
After last night she’d hoped something might develop between them . . . something the war couldn’t destroy . . . something unlike anything she’d ever felt.
He paused in front of a jeep, this one in slightly better condition than the heap they journeyed in before. The driver snapped to attention and whistled when he saw her. “She’s our passenger?”
Rachel rolled her eyes at the high school infatuation that flashed across the driver’s face. The annoyance on Scott’s face had her biting back a laugh.
“Captain Justice, meet Private Tyler Salmon. Private, you will treat her with respect. We have the privilege of transporting her north.” The privilege? Her heart liked the sound of that word and the way he said it. Scott stared at the private until she felt the challenge. Private Salmon must have too because he settled against the seat, creating more distance.
“I read you, Lieutenant.” He looked at her. “Where’s your stuff? Don’t women travel with trunks?”
“I didn’t realize I was shipping out immediately. We’ll have to stop at my hotel first.”
“This’ll be interesting.” Salmon shook his head and turned to Scott. “Which way, sir?” His emphasis of the last word painted it with sarcasm.
Scott ignored the man as he helped her into the narrow space in the backseat. She stilled at the effect that simple touch had on her. In a moment she was back in his arms at the dance, a memory she couldn’t embrace now.
When they arrived at the hotel, she hopped out before Scott could help her. “I only need a minute.” She’d kept her bag essentially packed since arriving. She could be in and out of the hotel in less time than it took many people to brush their teeth.
“Five minutes.”
She didn’t respond but hurried into the hotel. She pulled her room key from her bag and took the stairs to her floor. Once in her small room, she cleared the dresser surface into her bag then added her jacket and trousers. Zipped the bag, then grabbed both musette bags and bedroll. On her way out of the hotel, she left the key at the front desk, then returned to the jeep.
Scott nodded from his position next to the vehicle. “Four minutes. Impressive.”
“Thank you.”
Scott stored her bags, then offered his hand. She hesitated a moment before accepting the assistance. Once she was settled in the back, he climbed into the passenger seat. “Let’s move.”
Tyler got the vehicle back into traffic. It slipped in between cars like Tyler thought he drove a race car. Rachel held her hat in place and prayed she’d make it wherever they headed in one piece.
Soon the congested roads ended Tyler’s race, and the day became a slow relay. As the day wore on, Rachel settled back feeling the heat of the Italian sun. The kilometers clicked off so slowly she could have walked faster. The hum of artillery sounded in the distance, and Tyler finally pulled off the road.
“Why are we stopping?” She leaned between the two men. “I didn’t come along for a pleasant drive in the country. I need to take photos.”
“Maybe there’s an accident.” This time there was no question that Tyler was way over the line on the sarcasm scale.
“Uncalled for, Salmon.”
The man shrugged and didn’t retract his words.
Scott turned to meet her gaze. “There’s not much we can do other than follow the fighting. As the Fifth advances, we’ll peel off and check towns. Repeat what we did outside Naples. If we’re lucky, we’ll assess churches, villas, and other important buildings. If you can photograph what we find, that helps too. Then we’ll locate the important art housed in each town. If the town was hit hard, we’ll slow down and start repairs. While you take pictures and send them wherever you send them, I’ll communicate with Rome, informing headquarters about each village’s needs.”
“And we’ll sleep and eat?”
“Wherever the headquarters sets up.” Scott pointed to a bag next to hers. “We have a full complement of C rations. We’ll save those for emergencies, but if we need them, we’ll eat them.”
She wrinkled her nose at the thought of eating those day in and day out. “Guess it’s part of the adventure.”
Tyler snorted. “You could say that.”
She liked him less with each moment. “How’d you get stuck with Mr. Sunshine?”
“He comes with transportation, so I keep him around.”
“That beats the alternative?”
“Exactly.” Scott pulled out a folded paper. When he opened it, she saw a map of Rome and the boot north. He pointed at a spot not far from the city. “This is where they anticipated reaching by nightfall.” Scott smoothed out the wrinkles. “We’ll stop at these villages as we get the all clear.”
Rachel studied the map, memorizing the layout and as many road names and town locations as she could. None of them looked familiar from the diary or journal. She turned and scanned the horizon. Broken and shattered German tanks and vehicles lined the road and fields. Bodies lay alongside many, some looking as if the soldier had lain in the shadow of the metal monsters for a nap. Others looked as broken as if a giant had rampaged through the field tossing them from side to side with no regard for the life these bodies had housed. She looked away as bile rose in her throat.
She sat in a field filled with images she should snap and send home. Yet, if she got closer, she might lose what little she’d eaten that day. She swallowed. If she viewed the scene through the camera, would it give her distance? She raised the camera, focused, and snapped shot after shot.
The color leached from Rachel’s cheeks followed by a sickly tint. Her pale skin hid nothing of her reaction to the scene surrounding them. The German retreat had turned into a skirmish here. How could he warn her to prepare when this was as bad as he’d seen? Worse could wait over the next hill, a slice of earth turned into a hellish vista. At some point they’d run across American and other Allied soldiers. How would she react? How would he?
The radio cackled to life, and he grabbed the microphone. “Lieutenant Lindstrom here.”
Scott scratched a note on a piece of paper as the operator gave him coordinates for headquarters. “Roger.” He straightened the map and hunted for the coordinates, then stabbed the map. “This is where we’re headed, Salmon.”
The driver edged the map his direction. “All right. Keep your eyes open.”
Rachel’s head swiveled, and Scott kept his eyes focused ahead for any sign someone waited to destroy the jeep. His chest tightened from the pressure.
“We’re a couple klicks away. If we find HQ there, we’ll be in easy distance of several villages we can check in the morning.”
Tyler sniffed at Scott. “Another wild-goose chase, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t.” The man could shred his last nerve. Best to let most of what Salmon said float in one ear and then blaze out the other, spending as little time as possible in the space in between.
Rachel’s attention flipped back and forth between the two. At least their act pulled her from the scene spilling onto the road. “This can’t be good.”
“What?”
“One of you will get me killed.”
He gave her his full attention, sinking into the depths of her chocolate gaze. “I will do all I can to ensure you make it home in one piece.”
“Thank you.” Some of the tension eased from her face.
“I bet you left a line of broken hearts across the East Coast.”
Scott wanted Tyler to shut his trap as he watched Rachel pull into herself. It was clear as the sky she didn’t have anyone. The torment in her posture left him wanting to know why, to assure her she had infinite value. Because as he watched her and spent time with her, he sensed she didn’t understand that simple fact. He couldn’t fathom why. She was as beautiful as the most vibrant sunset and as smart as anyone he’d met in academia. Beyond that she was valued because God created her, yet he sensed she didn’t understand any of that.
“I hate to disappoint you, Private Salmon. I didn’t leave a solitary lonely heart behind.” Her voice faded until Scott had to lean back to hear the next words. “No one would miss me.”
“Not even your parents?”
She shrugged. “If my momma survives the war, she would. But I never met my father. I hope to find him in Tuscany.” She pulled her legs beneath her, into a pose that looked better suited for a penthouse on Fifth Avenue than the backseat of a jeep in war-ravaged Italy. She leaned against a bag, closed her eyes, and fell asleep. From her even breathing, he decided she trusted him a bit to keep her safe.
“Where next?” Tyler’s words had him turning back over the map, splitting his attention between that and the road.
“Follow the truck in front of us as long as it turns at the next left.”
Rachel feigned sleep as she listened to the two in the front seat. Their dialogue made her imagine a bad short involving Abbott and Costello. Constant bickering with a humorous edge. Often a sharp edge, but she had to work to keep her face slack when she wanted to smile. The last thing she needed was to let the handsome lieutenant any deeper into her soul. She’d already told him more than most. Details she shared with no one.
Most people couldn’t fathom a good reason for an absent father. Problem was she couldn’t either. They all cycled back to not being enough. For whatever reason her momma hadn’t been enough to keep him. Rachel hadn’t been enough to entice him to form a family. Her heart cried to understand. The realistic portion understood if she found him, all she could hope was to remind him of his love for her momma so he’d part with enough money for Momma’s treatments. Anything else was a dream that couldn’t come true apart from the pages of a book or the celluloid of a film.
The next time the jeep stopped she’d take photos. The light was still good, but in another hour or so twilight would alter that. The light values would make shooting a waste of film unless bombs streaked across the sky. Maybe she could replicate Margaret Bourke-White’s stunning photos of the German bombing of Moscow. Rachel would never forget seeing the streaks and explosions behind the Kremlin. The photo had defined an aerial assault to those in the United States.
Tyler cursed and braked. The momentum threw her against the front seat back, and she groaned.
Scott turned and offered her a hand up. “You okay?”
She reached for his hand from her cramped position trapped between the two seats. “Not sure you can yank me free.”
“I’ll try.” He gripped her forearms, and with a yank she broke free. It felt like someone had poked her ribs hard.
“What’s with the stop, Salmon?”
The man shrugged and pulled his cap lower over his eyes. “You’d have to ask the half-track in front of me. And the troop mover in front of him. Then move on up the convoy. Maybe someone knows. At least we aren’t sitting ducks out here on the open road. Nothing but fields on either side of us.”
Scott scanned the sky in the familiar motion that let Rachel know he was alert to potential dangers.
Rachel rubbed her side and sank lower. The open jeep wouldn’t provide protection if Germans waited to ambush the convoy.
“Put your helmet on.” Scott thrust it at her. “Leave it on from now on.”
“Won’t do much for my hair.” She tried to smile, but the seriousness of where they were flattened it.
“I’d rather you travel with smashed hair than die.”
She didn’t want him to believe her petty. She adjusted the helmet, wishing it sat a little snugger on her head. As loose as it was, the first close shell might knock it off.
“Here.” Scott reached for it.
She slapped it into his hand. “Why give it to me if you wanted it back?”
“I might not look like a seasoned soldier, but I served in the National Guard before this stint. I can tighten your helmet.” In a quick sliding motion he adjusted the chinstrap, then handed it back. “Try that.”
“Thanks.” She took the helmet, examined where he’d played with it, then slid it back on. “Much better.”
“I’m here to tighten the army’s sloppy helmets.”
The journey north would be long as they snaked between refugees on the road. The people were worn, shoulders hunched, clothes dirty and tattered. Children walked among the adults. One child was dressed in a yellow dress a couple sizes too small as it hung above her knees. She must have sensed Rachel’s stare because she turned, and a shy smile softened her face.
Rachel returned the smile, then shuffled through her bag until she found the sketchbook. Might as well take advantage of the fact she had an art expert with time in the vehicle. Maybe he could generate ideas about the artist. It didn’t hurt to ask.
She slipped the book toward him. “Would you look at these?”