participated in the search. It wasn’t like she could find a cab or another way home.
She couldn’t deny he made her feel safe, unlike some of the GIs who leered at her like they hadn’t seen an American woman in months. He evoked images of strength and honesty with the way he treated others, qualities that drew her. But did she trust Lieutenant Lindstrom?
She didn’t know.
That didn’t matter. She had to rely on her instincts and work with him. Especially if she wanted to make it back to Naples. “I haven’t seen anything that looks like a lane.”
Scott huffed out a breath. “Me either. Doesn’t make sense though. I remember seeing several on the drive.”
“Maybe we haven’t gotten close enough to Naples yet.”
“Possibly.”
Rachel searched her side of the vehicle. Somewhere she’d find safety. She refused to consider the alternative. After several interminable minutes she saw something to the right. “Lieutenant, stop!”
He eased the car to a stop. “What?”
“Can you see through there? I think it’s a path.”
Scott leaned forward and she eased back against the seat to give him more space. “I don’t know. Let me scout down it a bit.” He pulled the vehicle under a stand of trees, then turned to the back, slapped a helmet on his head, and grabbed a rifle of some sort. “Stay in the jeep. Grab a C ration to eat. There’s a can opener in my bag. Wouldn’t hurt to slap your helmet on too. If anything makes you nervous, head for that tree. Then I’ll know where to find you.”
“Sure.” Sprinting into the unknown darkness sounded like a perfect nighttime war activity.
He stepped from the jeep and melted into the darkness. Every so often, she caught a glint of moonlight off his helmet before he disappeared from view.
The darkness squeezed her, almost as real as a person. Her skin felt clammy as her mind groped for safety.
They’d seen an occasional cottage or farm off the road. But she’d heard rumors of the Italian men who lived in the woods, avoiding being pressed into service by the German army. Were any of them watching her?
Scott worked his way down the path. He tried to pick his steps for maximum stealth, but it was hard to avoid twigs when the sliver of moon kept hiding behind the clouds. He hated leaving Rachel behind but couldn’t see an alternative. The uncertainty by the road seemed safer than the unknown off the road on a narrow path leading deeper into darkness.
As he neared the end of the path and a clearing, he edged back into the trees. A cottage. No lights shone from it, but he needed to proceed with caution. Who knew what waited inside? A small structure to the left looked like it was used to shelter animals, though he didn’t see or smell any.
How best to proceed?
He didn’t want anyone in the dwelling shooting before he could explain his presence. Yet he hadn’t seen much to indicate whether anyone still called this place home.
Guess there was one thing to do. God, keep me safe. He aimed his gun high and then moved. He didn’t want to leave Rachel alone one moment more than necessary.
“Ciao?” Scott cleared his throat and tried again. “Hello? I’m a friend.”
Well, he could hope the words were true. Pray this wasn’t the home of a partisan who’d decided Mussolini and Hitler were the right men to lead Italy into the future.
The door eased open and a capped head appeared. “Sì?”
Great. Now he knew someone was here, but what should he say next? His Italian still came out rusty, and he didn’t want to speak the wrong phrase. How to make the man understand he just needed a place to stay?
“We’re . . .” Not lost. He knew where they were. He just didn’t like where that was. “My friend and I need . . . rest.”
The man cracked the door farther. “Americano?”
“Sì.”
“Come.”
After some Italian mixed with sign language and pointing, they arrived at an understanding. They could stay until daybreak and get off the main
She couldn’t deny he made her feel safe, unlike some of the GIs who leered at her like they hadn’t seen an American woman in months. He evoked images of strength and honesty with the way he treated others, qualities that drew her. But did she trust Lieutenant Lindstrom?
She didn’t know.
That didn’t matter. She had to rely on her instincts and work with him. Especially if she wanted to make it back to Naples. “I haven’t seen anything that looks like a lane.”
Scott huffed out a breath. “Me either. Doesn’t make sense though. I remember seeing several on the drive.”
“Maybe we haven’t gotten close enough to Naples yet.”
“Possibly.”
Rachel searched her side of the vehicle. Somewhere she’d find safety. She refused to consider the alternative. After several interminable minutes she saw something to the right. “Lieutenant, stop!”
He eased the car to a stop. “What?”
“Can you see through there? I think it’s a path.”
Scott leaned forward and she eased back against the seat to give him more space. “I don’t know. Let me scout down it a bit.” He pulled the vehicle under a stand of trees, then turned to the back, slapped a helmet on his head, and grabbed a rifle of some sort. “Stay in the jeep. Grab a C ration to eat. There’s a can opener in my bag. Wouldn’t hurt to slap your helmet on too. If anything makes you nervous, head for that tree. Then I’ll know where to find you.”
“Sure.” Sprinting into the unknown darkness sounded like a perfect nighttime war activity.
He stepped from the jeep and melted into the darkness. Every so often, she caught a glint of moonlight off his helmet before he disappeared from view.
The darkness squeezed her, almost as real as a person. Her skin felt clammy as her mind groped for safety.
They’d seen an occasional cottage or farm off the road. But she’d heard rumors of the Italian men who lived in the woods, avoiding being pressed into service by the German army. Were any of them watching her?
Scott worked his way down the path. He tried to pick his steps for maximum stealth, but it was hard to avoid twigs when the sliver of moon kept hiding behind the clouds. He hated leaving Rachel behind but couldn’t see an alternative. The uncertainty by the road seemed safer than the unknown off the road on a narrow path leading deeper into darkness.
As he neared the end of the path and a clearing, he edged back into the trees. A cottage. No lights shone from it, but he needed to proceed with caution. Who knew what waited inside? A small structure to the left looked like it was used to shelter animals, though he didn’t see or smell any.
How best to proceed?
He didn’t want anyone in the dwelling shooting before he could explain his presence. Yet he hadn’t seen much to indicate whether anyone still called this place home.
Guess there was one thing to do. God, keep me safe. He aimed his gun high and then moved. He didn’t want to leave Rachel alone one moment more than necessary.
“Ciao?” Scott cleared his throat and tried again. “Hello? I’m a friend.”
Well, he could hope the words were true. Pray this wasn’t the home of a partisan who’d decided Mussolini and Hitler were the right men to lead Italy into the future.
The door eased open and a capped head appeared. “Sì?”
Great. Now he knew someone was here, but what should he say next? His Italian still came out rusty, and he didn’t want to speak the wrong phrase. How to make the man understand he just needed a place to stay?
“We’re . . .” Not lost. He knew where they were. He just didn’t like where that was. “My friend and I need . . . rest.”
The man cracked the door farther. “Americano?”
“Sì.”
“Come.”
After some Italian mixed with sign language and pointing, they arrived at an understanding. They could stay until daybreak and get off the main
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