Shadowed by Grace (32 page)

He pulled out the typewriter DeWald had insisted he bring north from Rome to type reports. Scott groaned when he knocked over the stacked bags as he tugged. One spilled open. Great, now he’d have to clean that up too. Just what he wanted. Especially since it looked like it was Tyler’s. Scott set the typewriter on his bed, then moved to the mess. Standard government-issued clothing mixed with personal items.
Better shove it in and get on with things. Let Tyler put it all back just so.

He thrust things in the bag, then his fist collided with a hard, sharp edge.

He froze. Each person was entitled to privacy even in the close quarters life in the army dictated. But if that was art . . . should he look?

Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Now or never.
In that moment of hesitation, the door opened.

Scott tugged the item out far enough to see it was a book. Why would Tyler carry a heavy book around if the man never read?

Tyler stepped into the room as Scott pushed another item in the bag. “All the ladies have gone to bed.” He looked at Scott and frowned. “Care to explain what you’re doing?”

“Must not have zipped your bag.”

“Sure.” His eyes tapered at the edge reflecting skepticism.

Scott stood, pulling the bag up with him. “Here. You can put it back together.”

The man took the bag to his bed in the alcove. “You could have left it on the floor.”

“For you to trip on whenever you came back? Thought I’d help you out since it’s pretty dim around here. Next time I’ll remember to leave it as is.”

Tyler turned his back to Scott as he tried to tug the zipper up. Scott kept his gaze glued on the contents. How should he approach this with Tyler?

More footsteps came toward the room, this time the more-pointed tap of Rachel’s steps when she wasn’t in boots. “Hey, boys.”

“Rachel.” Scott’s word was short and abrupt, but between keeping an eye on Tyler and feeling guilty around her, he was done in.

“Everything all right?” She lingered in the doorway as if uncertain she should enter.

Scott sighed. With both of them here, he’d have to wait until morning to retrieve the sketchbook and show it to Renaldo. “Sure, we’re all right. Ready to turn in?”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth as she watched both of them. He wished he could know which one she thought crazier. The guy shoving clothes in a bag while glowering or the guy who bit her head off. At the moment neither of them sounded like a winner.

“It has been a long day.”

“Leave her alone, Lindstrom. She’s a big girl and doesn’t need you to tell her what to do unless you want to look at her bag too.” Tyler turned toward her. “Soldier boy here was digging through my bag when I came in. Might want to check yours. Makes me wonder what he’s hiding.”

Rachel stood taller and her eyes narrowed. “Tell me you weren’t in my room.”

“I wasn’t. I’d never go through your things without permission.” Well, except that one time, but he’d had a great reason. One he hoped she’d understand and forgive.

“Guess you get preferential treatment.”

“Look, Tyler, your bag fell over. Next time I’m not touching it.” Scott took a step toward Rachel. “I promise I didn’t dig through your bag.” Now he could never ask her to look through it without her knowing he’d lied.

“Do you need to?” Was that hurt lingering in her eyes even as she tipped her chin to meet his gaze?

“No.”

“That makes me feel better.”

“I’m sorry.” Scott backed up a step. “Who knows where we’ll be tomorrow, so let’s relax and get a good night’s rest. In the morning I’ll update headquarters and request permission to stay here until we can head to Florence.”

“I thought we had permission already.” Rachel played with a thread hanging from a jacket sleeve.

“I’ll need to update them on what we’ve found. There are more depositories in this area. I need to alert others and make sure that’s taken into account with the planning.”

Tyler grunted. “Always taking care of the art. Last I checked it was lifeless.”

“But it speaks beauty to the soul. Something we need.”

“You’re nuts, Lindstrom.” Tyler pushed past Rachel and then stomped out of the room.

She stumbled but caught herself. “What’s his problem?”

“That is one of life’s grand mysteries.” Scott stifled a smile at the realization he was finally alone with Rachel, even if she was annoyed with him. His smile faded as the guilt settled across his shoulders.

“Well, good night.” Rachel slipped past him and into her room. A moment later the door clicked and the bolt turned in the lock.

He was locked out of more than her room. How many more locks would she add when she realized what he had done?

Chapter 29

August 2

THE SOFT COLORS OF
the Tuscan countryside bathed in summer light clashed with the whistling of artillery shells flying overhead. Rachel ducked her chin and tried to pretend the sound came from far over the hills that surrounded Montegufoni. But when the drone of planes added to the underlying crescendo of noise, she ran for the castle’s portico.

After the conflict with Scott and Tyler the previous night, Rachel had thought she’d start the day with a quiet morning walk. She’d rather soak in the unique beauty than stumble around the castle, bumping into refugees she couldn’t help. The need was so great and overwhelming, tears kept forming in her eyes. She longed for the resources to put shoes on the children’s feet and food in their hopeless mothers’ hands. Instead she’d slipped to a side of the villa without attracting the attention of either the children with eyes that begged for relief or the soldiers amused that an American woman walked among them.

Something skittered across her path and around her ankles, tripping her up. Rachel fell to her knees, feeling the burn of bruised and abraded skin. The whine of the shells came closer, confirming the Germans had decided to target the castle or at least the nearby artillery. She needed to get up, to move, before the next shell landed beside her, but her limbs had turned lethargic and unresponsive.

Velvety fur brushed her leg, and she looked down to find a black-and-white kitten twining around her feet. “Hello.” She picked up the ball of fur. “Where did you come from?”

Rachel needed shelter, but she could imagine the reaction if she brought the kitten with her.

In a time when those in the communal kitchen had inadequate food to provide more than a vegetable-based soup with hearty bread for those seeking shelter, she should leave the little guy on the ground and walk away. But she couldn’t. She tucked the kitten under her chin and stroked its soft fur, taking comfort from its quiet rumbles that contrasted with the whines flying across the sky.

The kitten wiggled against her hold, and she eased down to release him. He scampered away as another shell whizzed nearby. He pounced under a lilac bush, batting at a branch. Maybe he had the right idea for shelter. The grounds were filled with people hunting for safety, the screams of scared children, the silent stares of others weary of the barrage. Tucked in one of the castle’s corners, the lilac bush might provide limited shelter if a shell landed nearby.

Rachel knelt for a closer look and caught her breath when her gaze collided with dark eyes. “Hello there.”

The urchin stared at her without a word.

“Are you all right?”

The child studied her but stuck two fingers in her mouth as if to plug any words. The child appeared fine, no more shaken by the chaos than the kitten. The kitten ran right into the girl’s knee and bounced back on his hindquarters, then shook his head. A soft smile blooming across her face, the child reached down and picked up the kitten.

“Well, enjoy the kitten.” Rachel sucked in a steadying breath and whispered a prayer.

God would protect the ancient castle, right? If not for the sake of tradition and the hundreds who sought shelter there, then for the priceless art stored inside. Her heart cried at the thought of
Primavera
and all the others hidden inside. The Botticelli stacked next to an Allori. Famed pieces created at the direction of the Medici family over the centuries and now historic pieces of Florentine and Italian art and culture.

If Scott and the superintendant were right, the masters found safety ensconced in the castle. Yet another group of guests that graced the great home through its several hundred-year history.

The rumbles moved beyond the hills she could see.

Too many families sought refuge within the walls of Montegufoni. If anything happened here, the refugees would be set adrift once again to dodge the combating armies. She shuddered at what that would mean for the old men, women, and children. A baby’s wail carried on the breeze, a welcome change, but other than that the people remained quiet.

She’d started her walk in front of
Primavera
. The art met a need deep in her soul.

To take an idea and spin it on its axis.

To take a thought and give it dimensions unseen.

To take a musical note and give it visual wings.

The sound of a plane jerked her from her thoughts. This one sounded close, the risk near. She glanced around, frantic. The castle lay too far away to reach the safety of its thick walls. Yet if she stood here, in the open, the machine gun alone could strafe and kill. Shelter, she needed shelter.

Her gaze landed on a small building. Its walls couldn’t stop much, but some shelter was better than none, and at least it could hide her from view and provide more protection than the lilac. She rushed toward it, then slowed as she heard a panicked whimper.

She turned back and crawled under the lilac. “Come with me.” She tugged on the girl’s wrist and gestured. “Hurry. We have to hurry.”

The sound of the plane drew closer as she freed the girl’s braid from where it had tangled in the bush’s branches. She dragged the girl behind her, rushing toward the safety of the shelter. She bounced into the door. Tried the doorknob. It refused to move. She twisted it again and again.

“Please?”
God, I need help. If not for my sake, for this little one. I can’t watch another child die.

There had to be a key somewhere close so it was easy to access the inside. She ran her fingers along the top of the door frame. She grasped metal. The key.

The lock gave as she thrust the key in and twisted. “Come on, sweetie.”

The girl didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stood stiff and frail. Rachel tugged her in and closed the door. “We’ll hide here. Shh, we’ll be okay.”

The girl stared past her, a vacant look in her eyes. Rachel’s heart cinched at what the child could have endured that created emptiness where she’d seen such vibrancy minutes earlier. Rachel gathered the child in her arms. The dank space seemed empty of all but cobwebs and debris. A depression sank in the middle of the floor. Had it been a well at one time? She couldn’t see much in the dark corners. Rachel edged toward the wall and sank next to it clutching the child, hoping that would be enough to keep her safe.

God, does your heart break for her?

Rachel hoped so. Isn’t that what a daddy did? Hold his little girl and keep her safe even when the world fell apart around her? How she needed someone to do that for her.

Violent vibrations tremored through the earth.

How close had that shell landed?

Far enough away that their shack still protected them. The child moaned, a keening sound that pierced Rachel.

“It’s all right, darling. It’s all right.” The words felt hollow. Who was she to make promises?

She needed something to distract the child. She set the girl on the floor and tipped her chin up until she could see her wide eyes. “I’m not leaving. Just looking for something.” Rachel had no idea if the child heard and understood, but she’d tried.

The darkness hid the edges of the room, and nothing stood out in the dim light that she could use. The thought of disturbing whatever hid in the corners made Rachel want to fling open the door and run, but until the sound of the plane disappeared, she’d stay with the little girl.

She eased to her feet and dragged one foot along the edge of the building. Maybe her shoes could protect her from anything that might not appreciate a disturbance. She made it along two walls when her foot collided with something. It didn’t make noise, so it wasn’t a metal box. She knelt in front of the box, then pulled it toward her. It was the size of a hatbox. When she removed the lid, all she found were a pile of papers and some pencils. Would the girl doodle in the dark? Unlikely.

Why would someone tuck a box filled with papers in this abandoned space?

The little girl’s wails renewed and accelerated, and Rachel returned to her side. “I wish I could help.” She pulled the girl onto her lap and hummed the song her momma had sung over her each time she needed comforting.

“Jesus loves me, this I know.”

Her momma’s face had always acquired a sheen of peace, relaxation seeping from her to Rachel as she hummed or sung the words. Could Rachel accept the words the song communicated? Did her momma believe or sing? They hadn’t darkened many church doors during her childhood, but maybe that had more to do with protecting her from others’ reactions to her status than her momma’s lack of faith. In fact, Momma had made sure they were at church on what she called the important days: Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving. Days Momma said they needed to let God know they valued what he had done.

Silence settled. A silence so deep it took Rachel a minute to recognize the planes were gone. Then the sound of life returning sank in.

Rachel should struggle to her feet, but one foot had fallen asleep tucked beneath her other leg. She shifted and waited as her foot prickled to life. Had she taken her momma’s protection of her as a lack of faith?

God, I want to believe. I want to know You as my Father. Will You stay with me?

A whisper of hope eased through her. This was something she needed to explore further. It felt like a baby step, but it was a start.

The child relaxed in her arms. It felt like a mirror of what she’d done with God. She smiled as she struggled to stand with the dead weight. Somehow she knew God wouldn’t struggle. He’d carry her if she’d let Him.