The mission was the most dangerous she’d undertaken since she’d joined the movement in July. She couldn’t believe how quickly the past four months had gone and that it was now November. In just four months, her world had changed dramatically. If only the war would go by as quickly.
While Franco had let her deliver food, first-aid kits, and other supplies directly to the partisans, he was still reluctant to let her do anything more dangerous. Initially, he’d even been reluctant to let her deliver the basic staples, insisting that it was too dangerous, since if she were seen with the partisans, she could be killed on the spot. She’d had to remind him that that could happen even if she were caught delivering the newspapers or if the Nazis found out that she was the author of most of FAF’s literature. When she’d overheard a conversation between Franco and another of the members about needing to deliver ammunitions, she had volunteered to do so. But he’d adamantly refused. So she’d gone behind his back and convinced one of the other senior members that she wanted to deliver ammunitions to the partisans out in the field. Not all of FAF’s members were aware that she and Franco had become romantically involved. Surely if they’d known, they would have never allowed her to participate. Of course, there was the very real chance they would tell Franco she was the one who had delivered the latest package of ammunitions, but she would deal with Franco if and when that happened.
Though Maria had completed her mission and she didn’t think anyone had followed her, she was still terrified. Her arms wouldn’t stop shaking, making it hard for her at times to keep her bicycle straight.
“It’ll get easier,” she said aloud to herself, needing the reassurance of hearing her voice.
A part of her felt sad that she couldn’t share with Franco the success of her mission. Maybe she should tell him even if it meant he would be furious? Her need to have Franco be proud of her was great. Whenever he complimented her on the articles she wrote for the newspaper, she basked in his words of praise. And their shared work in the Resistance was only making their bond and love for each other grow stronger. How she wanted to bring him home and introduce him to her family. But Franco had gently told her that would not be possible until the war was over. It was too perilous for her family. His words came back to her as she remembered their conversation.
“I struggle every day with having you be involved, Maria, so there is no way I could also jeopardize your family. Maybe you should consider taking a break from your participation. In fact, maybe we should stop seeing each other until this is all over. I don’t think I could go on living if something happened to you.”
“Franco, I told you already that if you forbid me from participating, I’ll just go to GAP. I’m committed now to the effort. This is my country, too. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I just gave up on Italy. I was pretending before I met you. Pretending everything was fine, even though of course I knew it wasn’t. I can’t pretend anymore. I love you for wanting to protect me, Franco, and I love you even more for always encouraging my intellect and my self-expression. Well, this is who I am now. You wouldn’t want me to deny that, would you? Or love me less for it?”
Franco had pulled her toward him. As he’d held her, he had whispered in her ear, “I could never love you less. In fact, I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”
They had been in her father’s sunflower garden, and it had been an especially warm day in August. There was a corner of the garden that was set back quite a distance from the house and where the sunflowers and grass were extra tall and dense. Her family rarely came out to this part of the garden, and now that her father was getting older, he often didn’t feel well enough to do the gardening himself, leaving it to Maria or Michele. But the garden was so large that she and her brother mainly tended to the flowers that were more in view of the house. Franco had led Maria here so they could remain hidden as they talked. They both had known they were taking a chance of being seen so near Maria’s house. But Franco had insisted on accompanying her this far. He’d wanted to make sure she reached home safely. They had finished working on the latest issue of the newspaper at the office. It was only three o’clock in the afternoon, but lately, he’d wanted to escort her home whenever he could. Sometimes she felt guilty that she was the cause of his worry. Was she being selfish by refusing to quit FAF, even though she knew how he felt about her involvement? But she worried about his safety, too, and she knew he would never give up the cause—even for her. And that was all right. Maria didn’t need him to make such a sacrifice. She was confident in his love for her.
“I feel the same way, Franco, and I know I’ll never love anyone like this again.”
“Even if I don’t make it?”
Maria had pulled sharply away from Franco. “Stop it! Don’t say that, do you hear me? Don’t even think it!”
“Shhh . . . shhh.” Pulling her to him once more, Franco had stroked her hair. “I’m sorry I upset you. But we have to be realistic. As you said, the time for pretending is over.”
Tears had fallen down Maria’s face. Every day she had to fight to keep the thoughts of what could go wrong from driving her mad with worry.
“Maria, promise me that if something does happen, you won’t let it keep you from living your life fully. I want you to be happy. I want you to love again.”
She remembered how she’d shaken her head furiously, burying her face in his shoulder. “Didn’t you hear me before? I can never love anyone like this again.”
“Naturally, it will be different, but you can still love.”
“What if I don’t make it? I suppose you could then love another woman?” Maria had placed her hands on Franco’s chest as she looked up into his eyes, which filled with tears, much to her surprise.
“I told you. If something happened to you, I couldn’t go on living.”
“So how can you expect me to love another man? I am devoted to you, Franco, and no one can change that.”
Franco then had kissed her. Without breaking the kiss, he’d taken Maria’s hands and crouched to the ground, leading her down beside him. They’d embraced and lain back among the sunflowers as they made love. Though they’d only recently fallen in love, both felt as if they’d known each other for a lifetime. Maria hadn’t wanted to wait to express her love to him, and she’d known she wanted him to be the one she would give her virginity to.
How it killed her not to be able to tell her family of her love for Franco. Only a few of the most trusted FAF members knew they were dating. That is, if you could call their meetings dates when they were forced to just spend time together at the office and lately at Franco’s little apartment above a barbershop. But she didn’t care that they couldn’t go to dance halls or eat at restaurants or do the many things couples did when they dated. She cherished any time they spent together, even when they were in the presence of the other members. That was how much she loved him. She would do anything for him.
After they’d made love, they had lain together for what seemed like hours, but probably was no more than an hour at most. Her family was most likely wondering where she was. But in that moment, she hadn’t cared. For she’d decided that the time for lies was over. She would tell her family the truth about her involvement with FAF—and she would tell them about Franco. Maria didn’t want to hide her love from them anymore. If they could not meet him yet, they would at least know about him. True, they would be frightened for her and caution her against continuing with FAF. But they couldn’t stop her. This was her life now.
The sharp cry of a bird flying overhead startled Maria, returning her to the present, as her bike briefly swerved to the left. Righting the bike, she smiled as she remembered once more the lovemaking she had shared with Franco that day. She noticed her heart rate had slowed down, and she wasn’t feeling as anxious anymore.
Her house was beginning to come into view. The sunflowers were all gone now from Papà’s garden. How bare and lifeless it looked. She missed them. The sky had clouded and darkened c
onsiderably from an hour ago. She’d be making it home in time before the rain came. It was almost eleven o’clock in the morning. Guilt seeped into her as she thought about what she was putting her father through. True to her vow that day in the sunflower garden after she’d made love to Franco, she had told Papà, Michele, and Enza about her involvement with the FAF and Franco. Once more her thoughts traveled to that day.
“You lied to us,” Papà had said in a hushed voice.
Maria had cringed, regretting how deeply she’d hurt her father.
“I’m sorry, Papà. Please know, it is the only time I’ve lied to you. I was just trying to protect you—all of you.” Her gaze had traveled to Enza, who smiled softly.
Maria had then realized that Enza had already known she was involved. But Enza had only questioned her once and had merely asked, “Is there someone you’ve met?” But Maria had been too scared to even tell her about Franco. She now wished she had. For at times, she’d felt alone, not being able to share her secret about her work with FAF and not being able to confide in anyone about the wonderful man she’d fallen in love with. When Maria had shaken her head, Enza had looked hurt. Maria had been foolish for not telling her sister-in-law. If anyone would’ve understood, it would’ve been Enza. After all, Maria was almost certain Enza had been working with her brother in his own efforts in the Resistance. Maria supposed she was too afraid of her brother. And his glare in her direction now, upon learning of her involvement with FAF and Franco, had only proven she’d been right to fear him.
“How dare this Franco put you in harm’s way! I’ll kill him!”
“Michele, stop! How can you of all people say that?” Enza had grabbed Michele’s arm, forcing him to look at her. He’d looked away, his face reddening.
“It is all right, Maria. You aren’t the only one who’s been keeping secrets. Papà, Michele and I have also been helping with the Resistance, and we were even attending secret anti-Fascist clubs before the German occupation. Like Maria, we only lied to protect you. Please forgive us.”
Papà’s eyes had widened. Maria had felt a pang of hurt when she’d seen his expression. The sadness his face had conveyed a moment ago had quickly turned to anger.
“What has gotten into all of you? Do you want to be imprisoned or, worse, killed? You know what those savages are capable of? I will not let my family endanger themselves!” Papà had raised his hand in the air, waving it for a few seconds before letting it drop to his side as he hung his head low, looking defeated.
“See what the two of you have done!” Michele shouted, startling Maria. He then had turned his back toward them and placed both hands on the table, curling them up into fists. Maria had seen how white his knuckles were turning.
“Michele, we should be united. And you should be proud of your sister that she is willing to be brave and selfless enough to help with the cause.” Enza had stood up and had walked over to Michele, placing her hand on his shoulder. After a moment, he’d turned to Enza, taking her hand in his and placing a kiss on it.
He’d nodded before saying, “I’m sorry, my angel. Of course as always you are right. And I know I was being a hypocrite for saying this man whom Maria loves has put her in harm’s way when I’ve done the same to you.”
Wanting to give them privacy, Maria had walked to the other side of the kitchen and had stared out the window. She remembered thinking how hard it must have been for Michele to let his wife participate in his Resistance work, just as it had been difficult for Franco to give his consent to Maria and let her continue with FAF. She had never thought about that before, even though she knew Michele was involved with the Resistance. Although he’d never breathed a word about it to her, she’d overheard a conversation between him and Enza. And she could tell when he and Enza were lying before they left the house to go on whatever mission they were heading out to.
“Maria, I’m sorry. Just like Papà, I am worried about your safety. Now I have to worry about the two most important women in my life being hurt.”
“It is all right, Michele. I understand. Franco feels the same way about my being involved and has asked me several times to quit. But I refuse to.”
“Stubborn as always, I see.” Michele had laughed.
Papà had remained silent. Maria had gone to his side and placed her arm around his shoulders.
“We don’t wish to hurt you, Papà, and we know we are giving you great reason to worry, but you must see that things are only getting more dire in our country. We can’t stand idly by and do nothing.”
Papà had reached up and patted Maria’s hand. “You are good children and truly have good hearts. I have been blessed to have you. I know I cannot keep you from doing what you feel is right. A father will always want to protect his children—and no cause, not even one as noble as the one you are both fighting for, is worth the loss of his kin. But I understand this is what you must do. I suppose I have been a coward for not doing something even if I am just an old man. I have heard of a few of the other elderly villagers hiding former Italian soldiers on their property and even going to the partisans’ hideouts to deliver whatever food they can spare from their farms—of course food that the Nazis haven’t requisitioned yet. Before we know it, we’ll all die anyway from starvation. I suppose, if we’re going to die, it might as well be for fighting for our country. Believe me, I have thought every night about what’s going on in Italy, and I fear for your future as well as for the future of any children you might have. But I was too afraid to talk before and voice my own fear and anger over what’s been going on. I was too afraid that Michele would get involved. I never dreamed, Maria, that you were also in danger of doing so.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman?” Maria’s voice had risen sharply.
“Si. I’m sorry, my dear daughter, but a woman should not be putting herself in such dangerous circumstances. You, too, Enza. I know how strong-willed both of you are, especially you, Maria, but Michele was right before. How could this man you love let you continue this dangerous work? And, Michele, I would’ve never dreamed you would do the same with your own wife. I would never have let your mother do so, even if it meant that I had to shackle her to keep her from going out.”
“Trust me, Papà, the thought has crossed my mind several times,” Michele had said in a teasing voice.
Maria smiled as she remembered how Enza had playfully tugged Michele’s earlobe before they’d all erupted into laughter, even Papà. They’d allowed themselves the brief moment of levity before growing somber once more.
Michele continued. “Maria, I’d like to meet Franco. Actually, I have heard about him and the work that FAF is doing. Although our organization isn’t as big as FAF, we have been quite instrumental as well. I think it is time our group banded with yours. We can use all the help we can get, and perhaps they can benefit from some of the strategies we’ve employed.”
“Franco mentioned as well that he wanted to meet you and learn more about what your group was doing, but he was waiting until I had told you about my involvement, since he knew I was hesitant to do so.”
“So you knew all along?” Enza had asked.
“I overheard Michele talking on the phone once, and it was quite obvious the way the two of you would make excuses when you had to leave the house together. I also noticed the shared glances you’d give each other.”
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised since I suspected there was something going on with you, too, Maria—and more than just a handsome man whom you were rushing off to meet.”
Maria had blushed.
“You are brave, Maria, not only for the work you are doing with FAF, but for telling us the truth. I’ve been a coward all along by not confiding in my family. But I must say, if you hadn’t come clean, I don’t think I ever would have. I am a firm believer that the less your loved ones know, the safer it is for them. But we cannot worry about that now.” Michele’s eyes had darkened when he’d said this. And as Maria remembered his words from that day, she fel
t herself go cold.
Rain came pouring down as Maria got off her bike and made her way through the barren sunflower garden. As she’d become accustomed to doing, she looked from side to side and over her shoulder every few seconds, making sure no German soldiers were in sight. She always feared one day she would see again the soldier who had stopped her and had engaged in conversation when she’d been delivering newspapers. As she walked through the empty sunflower garden, she looked over to the spot where she and Franco had first made love. While the sunflowers had been especially dense in this area and they’d been fully concealed, they were still mad to have made love there. But neither of them had been thinking clearly that day. All that had mattered was their love for each other. And the thoughts they had voiced that day about possibly losing each other had lowered their guards even more.
Maria was drenched by the time she reached her house. Taking her sandals off, she placed her keys in the lock only to discover that the door was already unlocked. They hadn’t kept their door unlocked in quite a while now. Maybe Michele or Enza had forgotten to lock it when they had returned home? As Maria stepped inside, she noticed how quiet the house was. Maybe her brother and Enza weren’t home tonight.
“Papà, I’m home!” Maria called out, making her way to the bathroom.
She stepped out of her wet clothes and put on her bathrobe, which she kept hanging on the back of the door. As she shook the water out of her hair with a towel, she walked over to the kitchen. When she reached it, she stopped in her tracks. There was no food on the table for their supper, but the refrigerator door was open. She then noticed the jars of fruit that she and Enza had canned lay broken on the floor. Her heart raced as she broke out in a cold sweat. She stood very still as she waited to see if her senses picked up on anything. Nothing. It was deathly quiet.
Walking to the kitchen counter, she did her best to quietly open the utensils drawer. She took out the largest knife they owned and gripped the handle with both of her hands as she slowly left the kitchen. Before entering each room, she peered in, holding the knife in front of her chest. But no one lay in wait. Her eyes scanned the rooms to see if anything was amiss. Her father’s bookshelf came into view. All of the books were gone from the shelves and lay open on the floor.
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