The Long Path Home

by Ellen Lindseth

  The radioman popped his head into the cabin. “Okay, folks. Cap’n is going to be setting us down soon as he can. He says not to worry, you’ll all get to Rome as planned. Just a bit later than expected. And . . . uh, don’t worry.” With that he ducked back into the cockpit.

  Marcie grabbed Vi’s arm, her fingers digging in hard. “What does that mean?”

  Vi winced, the pain not helping settle her nerves at all. “That we should keep our seat belts on and hope for the best.”

  “But I don’t want to die,” Marcie wailed loudly enough to draw the attention of everyone in the cabin.

  Aware of all the eyes on them, Vi patted her friend’s hand and then tried to pry Marcie’s fingers off. “We’re not going to die.”

  “There’s so much I still want t-t-to do with my life,” Marcie sobbed. “It’s not fair.”

  There was a lot Vi wanted to do, too. Watching her son grow up being at the top of the list. Tears filled her eyes.

  “Come on, little one. You’re only defeated if you give up.” The memory of Sal’s gruff words fought to be heard over the engines. “Until that moment, you still have a fighting chance. Don’t squander it being afraid.”

  Sal . . . Her chest hurt as she thought about the man who had pulled her off that bridge that fateful day, when she had all but given up on life, and who had later become almost a surrogate father to her. Would he follow through on his promise to watch over Jimmy?

  You’re not going to die!

  Pulling herself together, she looked to see how the others were doing. Everyone, save the sergeant, seemed terrified. Faces pale, hands gripped tightly in their laps or on the overhead straps, no one said a word. Poor Gertie. Silent tears streamed down the girl’s face as her chin quivered. Luciana was now clinging to Sergeant Danger’s arm as if her life depended on it. Even Mr. Stuart looked worried, his eyes wide and alert for what had to be the first time the entire trip.

  Her gaze touched on Sergeant Danger again and then stayed. He was the one bastion of calm in the whole cabin. When in doubt, imitate the ones who know. It was an old dancer’s trick, useful if one got lost in the choreography. And if anyone knew about military airplanes and their capability to fly with one engine, surely it would be Sergeant Danger.

  Following his lead, she straightened in her seat and let herself roll with the bumps. She stroked Marcie’s arm with her free hand and encouraged her travel buddy to talk about what she would do once they landed. She smiled encouragingly at Gertie and even Frances. Ann and Sue both had their eyes closed, as if in prayer, which seemed completely reasonable to her. Wyatt scowled at the floor, his arms crossed.

  After what seemed an eternity later, though likely only ten or fifteen minutes, the radioman reappeared to tell everyone they were getting ready to land and to buckle up. Vi clung to the utter lack of concern on Sergeant Danger’s face as she rechecked Marcie’s seat belt and then her own. Despite her effort to remain cool and collected, her nerves jangled as if in the face of a five-alarm fire with no exit. Still, she wasn’t an actress for nothing. She would be damned if she let her fear show now, especially when Marcie was finally starting to calm down.

  The plane banked farther to the left, the floor taking on what felt like a sixty-degree slant. Vi’s lungs constricted, and she looked over at the sergeant.

  This time his gaze met hers and held. Time stopped as she fell into the intense blue of his stare. The snarl of the last engine faded into the background. Her heartbeat still raced, but for a different reason. Vaguely, she registered that the plane had leveled out and that someone yelled they could see the landing strip ahead. But like a rabbit caught in a snare, she could no more look away from the man across her than she could breathe.

  What did he see when he looked at her like this, so intently? A fool for jinxing the flight? A silly dancer with no brains at all? Except he didn’t look angry. He looked . . . proud? Then—in a surprise to top all surprises—he winked. At her.

  She blinked, sure she had imagined it. But no, his full, sinful lips were actually curving into a slight smile—one that fueled a dangerous desire building inside her. And it scared her. She hadn’t felt this drawn to a man since . . . well, since Robert. And what had that gotten her but disaster?

  Swallowing hard, she tore her gaze away, as unsettled by his interest in her as she was by her reaction to it.

  A hard bump and then the plane shuddered.

  She closed her eyes and forgot everything but heartfelt thanks as the wheels found the ground again. Marcie clutched at Vi’s arm as the plane rattled down the runway, and Vi squeezed the girl’s hand reassuringly as they bumped off into the grass and then slowly rolled to a stop.

  An eerie silence filled the cabin after the remaining engine shut down. Then excited and relieved chatter erupted around her. They had survived! The radioman was greeted with loud cheers and applause when he came back to open the door. Then there were calls for the pilot. Everyone wanted to congratulate the fellow on a job well done.

  With a shaky exhale, Vi wiped her sweaty palms on her uniform trousers as her castmates rejoiced. She let Marcie seize her in a bear hug and then watched her bound away to embrace Gertie and then Sue. Vi didn’t immediately join the celebration, her own emotions were running so high. Now that she had stared down death, never again would she take life for granted.

  Another second chance. One she didn’t deserve but would take with both hands. She wasn’t sure what she would do with it yet, but it would be big, a tribute to her parents. Not that they would ever forgive her, but maybe, just maybe, she could become someone they could be proud of.

  Chapter 17

  “So I have some good news and some bad news,” Sue said to the assembled troupe as they huddled next to the broken airplane, clutching their musette bags and suitcases. Behind her, the soldiers tasked with towing the aircraft off from the runway, so they could reopen the airstrip, shouted instructions to each other, nearly drowning out her words.

  It was quite the production, involving ropes, a few chains, and a truck with a tow hitch. Wyatt looked fascinated by the whole thing. Vi found it hard not to watch, as well.

  “The commander says we are stuck here for the night,” Sue continued, fighting to regain everyone’s attention. “They should be able to ferry another plane in tomorrow if the weather holds. Meanwhile, the good news is they would love for us to perform for them! So get ready for opening night, boys and girls. We’re finally getting a chance to do what we came here for.”

  Vi cheered along with the rest of the company. This was good news indeed! It had been entirely too long since she had last walked a stage.

  Gertie caught her in a hug. “Can you believe it? I can’t wait!”

  “Me either.” Vi hugged her back. She turned to look for Marcie, only to catch Sergeant Danger scowling. His reaction surprised her. Did his dislike of civilians around soldiers include USO performances? If so, why on earth had someone assigned him to be their liaison?

  “Come on.” Marcie snagged her arm excitedly. “Let’s go get settled in.”

  Still perplexed, and a bit vexed by his attitude, Vi barely noticed as Marcie tugged her along after the rest of the troupe. Their destination was a large Quonset hut just to the side of two enormous hangars. A sign proclaiming NETTUNO hung over its metal front door.

  “Is that where we are?” Vi asked Victor as he came up alongside her and Marcie.

  “It is. The pilot said we’re about thirty miles south of Rome.”

  That surprised her. “If we’re that close, why are we spending the night here? With a couple of trucks we could be in Rome within the hour.”

  “Perhaps if we were in the States. But we’re not. I don’t know if you looked out the window at all, but the roads here are in rough shape, thanks to the war. And even if they were smooth as glass, we still would have to wait on official transportation. All army personnel—including USO troops—move at the pleasure of NATOUSA. If they have no free planes to come get us, w
e wait until they do.”

  “I see.”

  Since the North African Theater of Operations, US Army, was paying her wages, she supposed she shouldn’t complain. And performing tonight did a lot toward making up for not getting to Rome.

  Wyatt was already at the door to the hut by the time the troupe got there. He held the Quonset door while everyone filed in. Everyone but the sergeant. He stopped at the door and said something to Wyatt, who nodded, and then Sergeant Danger disappeared. As Vi turned her attention away, she noted she hadn’t been the only one watching the sergeant. Luciana had been, too, with an odd, almost distressed expression.

  Vi frowned, unsettled. Luciana was usually the calm, seemingly unflappable one in the troupe. Had Sergeant Danger said or done something to shake her? If so, maybe Vi should find out what, so as to make sure there wasn’t also a threat to Marcie’s well-being.

  “Welcome to Nettuno,” the officer at the front of the hut drawled with an easy smile, as if theater folk crash-landed onto his airfield all the time. “Sorry y’all had to cut your flight short, but we’re thrilled to see you. The USO passes us over most times, on account of our being such a small outfit. Do you have someone my fellows can work with to get your stage set up?”

  “Wyatt; is he here?” Sue asked, looking around.

  “He and Luciana stepped outside,” Matt said from the back. “They said they’d just be a minute.”

  Sue’s mouth tightened with displeasure. An almost audible tittering percolated through the group, along with a few raised eyebrows and shared knowing looks. Apparently Marcie hadn’t been off base about the two of them, though this was the first time Vi had witnessed Luciana and Wyatt disappearing together.

  “Well, will someone go and bring them back?” Sue asked, the words clipped with annoyance.

  “I will,” Vi chimed in before anyone else could.

  “Thank you, Virginia,” Sue said, still sounding peeved. “That would be lovely.”

  Vi leaped into action, hoping the quicker she was out of there, the less likely someone would volunteer to go with her. Though she still didn’t think Luciana was involved with Janet’s dismissal, she had to admit something wasn’t quite on the up-and-up with the actress’s behavior. No one else had made clandestine phone calls or issued not-so-subtle warnings to Marcie to watch her step. But as Sal would say: better to know than have an opinion.

  Cracking the door open, she cautiously stuck her head out, in case the trio was close by.

  A wind gust carried a whisper of voices to her, one of them clearly female. Vi followed the sound toward the back of the hut. Her skin tingled as the voices grew louder, more impassioned. Her steps slowed as she reached the corner. She peeked around and then instantly pulled her head back.

  Luciana, Mr. Miller, and Sergeant Danger were there, not more than three feet away. Heart racing, she waited for someone to call out that they had seen her. When no one did, she leaned closer to listen.

  Mr. Miller’s furious voice reached her first. “I don’t care what you want. It’s not going to happen.”

  Sergeant Danger responded in a low, soothing rumble, but the words were too quiet for Vi to hear. She leaned even closer.

  “I disagree,” Mr. Miller said hotly. “It definitely is my business. Miss Rossi is key to our production, and anything that endangers her will endanger the entire show.”

  “Are you saying the show is more important than ending the war?” This from Luciana. Her voice was low, cold.

  Vi frowned, surprised that Luciana would take that tone with Mr. Miller, lover or not.

  “We were sent here to perform, not second-guess the generals in charge,” Mr. Miller snapped. “So yes. And your ‘friends’ can go to hell.”

  Sergeant Danger said something, again too low to be deciphered, but this time his tone held a definite note of command.

  “I don’t care,” Mr. Miller said, the words clipped, sharp. “As far as I’m concerned, this conversation is over.”

  Deciding that was her cue, since their discussion was unlikely to get any friendlier or more informative, Vi squared her shoulders and rounded the corner.

  “There you guys are.” She smiled, feigning relief. “Sue sent me looking for you.”

  The three started almost guiltily. Then Luciana pulled it together first.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the actress said with a gentle smile. “Tell her I’ll be there directly. Thank you.”

  “Sure.” Vi shrugged as if it didn’t matter one way or the other to her, but inwardly she was impressed at Luciana’s recovery. Talk about a real actress. She turned to Wyatt. “She particularly wanted to see you, Mr. Miller. About the stage requirements for tonight.”

  “Fine.” Wyatt turned to the other two. “If you’ll excuse me?”

  “I’ve said everything I need to say,” Sergeant Danger said.

  “I have as well,” Luciana said coolly. She turned a warmer smile on Vi. “Let’s go.”

  Vi hung back, letting Mr. Miller and Luciana go ahead of her. “Is everything all right?” Vi asked Sergeant Danger when the other two were out of earshot.

  The sergeant was silent so long, Vi wasn’t sure he would answer. Then he said, “It is. So whatever you think you overheard, you didn’t. Just forget about it, all right?”

  “All right.” What Vi really wanted to do was press for more details, but the sergeant’s stony expression warned her otherwise.

  Following him back into the Quonset hut, she knew there was no way she could “just forget” Luciana threatening to leave the show, nor the mention of ending the war sooner. And then there was Mr. Miller’s reference to Luciana being endangered, along with the entire production. Perhaps she could worm something more out of the technical director after the performance tonight, when everyone was relaxed and happy.

  Because if there was something besides the war out there that could potentially threaten Marcie’s safety, Vi definitely needed to know about it.

  The rest of the day progressed much more smoothly than the blown engine might have suggested. The soldiers cleared out a barrack for the women. A suitable stage was assembled near the airfield. Cables materialized from seemingly nowhere so there could be lights and sound. The weather even looked as if it would cooperate, the dark clouds that had gathered on the horizon slowly dissipating as the day went on, going from gray to white to mere wisps.

  While Wyatt and a few volunteer soldiers worked like madmen to get the lights strung and the speakers connected to overhead microphones, Sue made the cast run through their lines twice, once without the dancers and once with. It was difficult to keep the beat without the help of the recorded music. Victor did the best he could by banging two blocks of wood together. Matt, Charlie, and Luciana handled the vocals better than Vi would have expected, given their lack of rehearsal and a starting pitch. She hoped it would go better once Wyatt had the speakers hooked up.

  Her head positively ached as she imagined all the things that could go wrong, both back of the stage and in front. Good ol’ opening night jitters. She knew the feeling well: the heightened sense of risk, the prickling of electricity running through her veins, the deep-seated terror that made her want to throw up.

  She knew the nausea was temporary and would vanish the moment she stepped onto the stage. Still, as the troupe broke for dinner, she doubted she would be able to eat more than a few bites.

  Standing in the chow line with the others, the tin plate from her standard-issue army gear in her hands, Vi watched the enlisted men, who would soon be her audience, from the corner of her eye. They seemed well and truly excited for the night’s impromptu entertainment, which she took as a good sign. If she were honest with herself, she would admit to being more nervous than usual. Regular theater work was so much harder on a performer’s nerves, in a way, than burlesque.

  Burlesque was so straightforward. The audience came knowing exactly what they wanted, and she knew exactly how to provide it. She imagined it was like slinging hash at a
diner. A hungry soul coming through the diner’s door wasn’t looking for fancy food or a fine-dining experience. They wanted grease and salt and everything that tasted good, and they wanted it in quantity, and they wanted it fast.

  But these men . . . these soldiers deserved something finer, something equal to their sacrifice. She wasn’t sure she was good enough, and she was only in the chorus. She didn’t envy the leads at all.

  It wasn’t that she was stage shy. At the Palace she had never hesitated. She had been the star, the headliner, often the sole presence on the stage, and it had thrilled her down to her soul. Now, though, after watching Ann and Luciana practice all day, she wondered if she had cheated her way into the spotlight. If she hadn’t been willing to take her clothes off, to do what other more modest girls would not, would she have found such success?

  Marcie nudged her. “Penny for your thoughts.”

  Vi blinked away her self-doubts and smiled at her travel buddy. “Just reassuring myself we won’t get booed off the stage tonight.”

  Marcie’s eyes widened. “Is that a possibility?”

  Victor leaned forward and patted Marcie’s hand. “Not even remotely. At least not you, my dear. We men could face a different reality, but you ladies will charm them all. Never fear. Your mere presence here is a boon to their soul. A reminder of all that is good and kind in the world. They will adore you!”

  “Oh, well. That’s good,” Marcie said, a soft blush stealing across her cheeks. A new and speculative warmth lit her dark eyes as she glanced at the young men across the mess hall. A few of them openly grinned back. “I like being adored.”

  “As long as it’s at arm’s distance,” Vi said coolly. “You know the rules, and it’s a long swim back to New York Harbor.”

  Marcie sat back in a huff. “For heaven’s sake, all I’m doing is looking. I swear you’re worse than my aunt Maria Valentina.”

  “And you’re like a kitten in a den full of wolves. You might be just looking, but I guarantee some of those boys are sizing you up for dinner.”