Shadowed by Grace (23 page)

“Wonder what happened here.” Tyler stopped the jeep and climbed out.

Scott crouched as he kept an eye on the surroundings. The silence was eerie. To the point that it seemed even the birds had abandoned the place. The last thing he needed was some sniper taking a shot at him because he assumed the residents had abandoned the village.

He scanned the second-story windows of one building and hesitated. Could that be a shadow or just the movement of a curtain in the open window?
God, keep us safe.
“Tyler.”

The man didn’t hear him, so he hissed louder. “Tyler.”

“What?”

“I think we need to sweep the buildings. Something isn’t right.”

“You want me as booby-trap bait? Do I look like a fool?”

“No. But something’s wrong.”

“Right. This place is abandoned. Empty. Deserted.” The man punctuated the words with a sweep of his arm. “Look at it. It’s falling apart, so who would stay?”

“I doubt the residents left willingly.”

“Great reason to get in and get out. If there’s no one to talk to, let’s keep moving.” Tyler glanced around as if he expected the enemy to show up over his shoulder.

The whistle of a bullet foretold the sharp impact into the driver’s-side mirror. The glass shattered, showering over Scott. “Tyler!”

The man dove back in the idling jeep, then shoved it in reverse as another bullet blazed past, this one lodging in a tree they passed.

“Thank God he’s a bad shot.”

Tyler didn’t answer as he swerved the jeep in reverse along the road. The jeep lurched over a crater, then bounced on the other side. Scott landed against the door then the dash.

“Sorry.” Tyler gritted out the word.

“Just keep moving.”

A couple kilometers outside the village, Tyler pulled to the side and popped the vehicle in park. “What was that?”

“A sniper.”

“How’d you know?”

“It was too quiet.” Scott shrugged as the adrenaline leached from him. “Glad you were driving.”

Tyler kept his gaze on the road. “If it’s not a plane, it’s a hole I don’t see that gets us.”

“Don’t know if we should sit here. He might not be alone.”

“Agree.” A moment later Tyler had the jeep moving again.

The broken trees, destroyed houses, and vacant villages they drove past provided constant reminders of the war. It was hard to remember what life had been like before. “What did you do before the war?”

Tyler looked at him for a second before the wheel jerked in his hands. “Worked on a college degree.”

“Where?”

“A college you’ve never heard of.”

“Unless it’s somewhere like Idaho, I bet I’ve heard of it.”

“Sure. A small liberal arts college for men. I forgot those are all over the place. I’d like to get back and finish what I started.”

“We all want to get home.”

Shrubs lining the road moved, even though no wind stirred the hot air. “Over there.”

“I see it.” Tyler gunned the engine but crushed the brake after a shot whistled near the engine. “Think we’re stopping, boss.”

“Yeah. I’m getting tired of being a target.” Scott reached for his pistol and crouched lower behind the windshield. Any protection was better than nothing.

The shrubs rustled again, and a man in a worn red shirt and filthy denim pants edged out. Rifle barrels pointed toward them from behind the man. He eyed their vehicle, then them. “
Americano
?”

“
Sì
.”

The man spoke in rapid, lyrical Italian. Slowly more men fanned around them, their guns held lower, but Scott didn’t doubt they’d jump to firing position at the slightest provocation.

“Partisan.” The man pointed to his chest, then to his comrades. “
Tutti
partisans.”

“Great,” Tyler mumbled. “What we gonna do with them?”

“Smile. We’re happy to see them.” He hoped. No one had advised him how to handle Italian nationals like these. The Tuscan forests overflowed with men hiding from Germans. Guess they weren’t hiding from the Allies.

“So?”

“So we radio for advice.”

“The general will be delighted.” Tyler gestured toward the ragtag group.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Tyler settled back in his seat, arms crossed. “No. You’re the lieutenant.”

That didn’t mean he knew what to do. Give him an artillery-pocked church, and he’d intuit where to add support and how to buttress. Give him malnourished Italians, and he’d dole out extra rations. This was outside his experience. Some of the partisans had heavy work boots while others walked barefoot. Made him wonder how much damage they could do against the well-equipped Germans.

The radio crackled and Scott relayed their situation.

“Tell them we’ll send supplies tonight.” The disjointed voice confirmed where he’d run into the partisans and signed off.

“How you gonna break the news?” Tyler nudged his chin toward the group. A group that shifted and murmured in low tones. Unhappy tones. “I’m thinking at least one understands English.”

Scott could understand enough to know the situation wasn’t good, but he didn’t want them to know he understood Italian. He stood in the jeep, leaning against the windshield. “Who speaks English?”

The men looked at each other, blank expressions as they shrugged.

“
Inglese
? Who speaks
inglese
?” Scott waited.

“Me.” A short, sturdy man stepped forward hampered by a limp. “I help.”

Scott conferred with the man, using simple words and lots of gestures to explain supplies were coming. The man nodded, asked a few questions in broken English, then turned to his friends. With much gesticulating and rapid words, he communicated the message. The men disappeared into the shrubs.

“We understand.”

“Thank you.” What had chased the man into the forest? “Have you heard anything of art stolen from churches?”

The man’s expression clouded. “
Sì
. Artifacts disappear.”

As Scott questioned him, the man could confirm the rumors and nothing else. “
Grazie
.”

Tyler restarted the car. “Daylight’s wasting. Let’s get while we can.”

The last of the men melted into the fields. After a minute Scott wouldn’t have known anyone watched if he hadn’t noticed where a couple disappeared. Tyler ground the gears, then lurched back to speed. “Wonder if anyone will bring the supplies.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“The battle’s that direction. Not here on this side road to nowhere.”

Rachel sat in the parish as the priest shuffled to the small stove and slid a full kettle on a burner. She couldn’t imagine the sacrifices he’d made to prepare tea for her. At her assertion she didn’t require anything, he’d chuckled and continued his work.

“The joy of a guest is the serving.”

“I should help.”

“Talk with me.”

“There’s little to share.”

He paused in his work and studied her. “You have deep waters, my child. There is much you see as you develop wisdom.”

Rachel soaked in his words, accepting the compliment. “You speak English well.”

“My brother studied at Oxford. I stayed in Italy. But when he returned, I practiced English.” He gestured around the small room. “Here I have few . . .” He looked toward the ceiling as if searching for the word.

“Opportunities?”

“
Sì
. Few opportunities to practice. Today you bring me pleasure.”

She smiled, charmed by his graciousness.

He reached into a small cupboard and pulled out a plate. After he placed a few slices of white cheese on it, he cut an apple. “I don’t have much food. The Germans were locusts and took much.”

“What was it like?”

The father turned toward her, his gown sweeping the floor. “Like? There was nothing to like. It was tense. Never knowing friend from foe. Who can I trust? Today who like me? Who curse me? Today will a German commander arrive and demand more than I have? What of the Fascists? The Partisans?” He sighed. “I am grateful God holds me in His hand. Many days I needed that knowledge.”

Rachel hesitated, caught by something the priest said. “God holds you?”

“Yes, it brings peace in the middle of storms.”

Peace. She hadn’t experienced that since Momma’s diagnosis. The thought of Momma leaving her. . . . Where was God in that? Was he that cruel? And look at the war that gripped the world. She’d seen the devastation, the lost lives, dodged the shells. Surely, if God cared, he could end it. Why would God allow it when he could end the death and destruction? Peace evaded Europe and much of the world. She doubted God cared much at all.

She’d never seen him care for her.

As she studied the priest’s face, she saw openness and acceptance. If she couldn’t ask him, who could she ask questions about faith? “Why would God care?” She gestured toward the destruction outside the window. “In the midst of everything, does he see one person?”

“Why do you ask?”

“I can’t step outside without seeing a destroyed building. It’s everywhere. People’s lives ended. Where’s God? Does he even get involved?” She stilled, waiting for his answer.

The man slid the teakettle from its burner and poured the hot water into two cups. He handed one to her, then settled across from her on a rustic chair. “You have many questions.”

“Too many. At least that’s what Momma always said.” Rachel blinked rapidly, fighting the urge to curl up and cry over the pain her momma’s illness caused. The way their relationship had altered as they argued about finding her father. She’d launched from not caring about his absence to desperately needing to find him. All as her momma’s body continued to lose its fight and she faced the reality that without a miracle from a distant God, her momma would die. Sooner than she should.

“You are troubled by God’s distance?”

“No. Yes. I hear he’s personal. Yet he doesn’t see me.” The words rushed from her. She wouldn’t tell the father how she longed to find God. Not too many years ago, he’d been real. Someone she counted as a friend. More than a character in a fable, but a person she knew and longed to know better. Now? Now she didn’t know. Could she trust him with her bruised heart? Not when it appeared he had more important things to do than heal her momma and couldn’t even do those well.

“May I tell you a brief story? Of a group who felt much like you?”

“Of course.”

“Millennia ago, the Israelites, God’s chosen, were enslaved. The Bible says they groaned and felt abandoned. Like the God who had spoken to their forefathers had forgotten them. Everything showed God had turned His attention a different direction.”

“I’ve heard the story.”

“Yes, yes. But there is an interesting note tucked in the midst of the telling.” He leaned forward, eyes alight with joy. “God Himself tells Moses to tell the Israelites He had visited them and seen what was done to them. Even when they felt most alone and forgotten, God was in their midst taking note of everything.”

“You believe he still does?”

“Yes.”

The simple word resonated with a passion that stirred Rachel.

The father let silence fill the space between them. A silence so deep and sure, she felt it deep inside. She opened her mouth, then closed it, not wanting to disturb the gift. It was tinged with grief, filled with grace. In a world that churned with the machine of war, a moment to pause, to think, felt like the rarest gem.

She walked life alone, always alone.

In that pause she could almost hear a voice whispering her name. So sure, so soft, so full of peace.

She closed her eyes and tried to sort through the peace.

Was it real?

She longed to believe it was. That in God’s eyes she was worth seeing and loving. That her lack of a father didn’t matter to him.

Could it be possible?

Chapter 22

Tuscany

July 30, 1944

“EVERYTHING OKAY?” SCOTT TURNED
to Rachel after she’d spent a morning glancing behind them every ten or fifteen minutes. As the days had slipped by, glances over her shoulder had become more common.

She shook her head, then sighed. “I don’t know. I keep thinking a vehicle is following us, but I must be imagining it.” She smiled, but it never lit her eyes. “Guess I’m jumpy today.”

Tyler exchanged a look with Scott that communicated how little he thought of her nerves.

“Why do you think someone is following?”

“I’m probably paranoid.” She shrugged. “In most towns we visit something is missing. Could it be because someone is following us there?”

Tyler snorted. “The problem with that is those in the know miss it before we arrive.”

Color swept up her cheeks. “That’s why I haven’t said anything. I just sense someone watching me. All the time.”

“That’s just lover boy keeping an eye on you.”

Rachel crossed her arms and harrumphed at Tyler’s words.

Scott tapped down a grin. Maybe she noticed the way he sought her out more than he’d recognized. Tyler certainly had. “I’ll keep an eye out too, Rachel. If anyone’s following us, we’ll catch them.”

She nodded but looked unconvinced as she glanced behind her.