The Long Path Home

by Ellen Lindseth

  “And you’ve got a suspicious mind.”

  “What I’ve got is experience.”

  “Really?” Marcie scoffed. “Just what kind of experience does a virginal corn princess like you have? Stealing kisses behind the barn? Holding hands while milking the cows? Oh please.”

  Vi opened her mouth to reply, a scathing set-down on her tongue. Then she remembered who she was. Or rather who she was supposed to be. She quickly closed her mouth and turned away. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see the truth in her eyes. “You’re right. You go ahead and do what you want. Sorry for worrying about you.”

  Victor sighed. “Ladies . . . save all that passion for the stage. Though Virginia does have a point. A lot of these men have been away from their wives and sweethearts for a long time and may not remember how to treat a lady. Not that I want to say anything against our men in uniform! But you might not want to trust them if they get you alone.”

  Marcie sat back and crossed her arms. “I wouldn’t. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “Of course not,” the older actor said soothingly. “But you are extraordinarily beautiful.”

  Marcie blushed while Vi fought not to roll her eyes. Her travel buddy was pretty at best. Luciana was the real looker. And Ann wasn’t far behind.

  Still, Marcie had cheered up, which Vi took as a sign that it was time to get them both out of there. She pushed her chair back and grabbed her mess kit. “Only forty-five minutes to showtime. Ready to go, travel buddy?”

  Marcie sighed. “If we must.”

  “You don’t want the wrath of Sue for being late. And she wants us limbered up and in full costume twenty minutes before the curtain rises.”

  Marcie hesitated, her eyes turned once more to the soldiers who were all but preening for attention. Then to Vi’s relief, she followed Vi’s lead and picked up her kit.

  Hungry, hopeful gazes followed the two of them as they left, but it no longer worried her. The men could look all they wanted, as long as they didn’t touch. She was pretty sure Papa Maggio would be less than pleased if his daughter returned pregnant, and Vi didn’t trust Marcie to take the necessary precautions to avoid such a disaster. Assuming Marcie even knew what to do. It wasn’t something nuns or parents taught good Catholic girls.

  After dropping off their mess kits at the barracks and brushing their teeth, Vi and Marcie headed over to where an open-air stage had been hastily erected. Scaffolding to hold the lights and backdrop had been pieced together with ladders and poles. The stage itself was little more than wood planking nailed to the top of crates. But at least it looked more or less level.

  The sharp bang of hammers, interspersed with shouts, greeted them as they stopped to watch a crew of soldiers working on the stage. A last-ditch effort was being made to attach steps to either side. Wyatt was busy testing the sound system, which consisted of military-grade loudspeakers connected by loops of wire to a record player backstage, and the microphones dangling down in strategic places. Sue was checking the placement of props with the help of two grizzled mechanics.

  “Well, it’s not the Shubert,” Ann said, coming up beside Vi and Marcie. “But—by God—it’s a stage.”

  “That it is,” Vi agreed, strangely moved by the sight.

  It seemed only fitting and right for their first USO performance to be here, on this makeshift stage in the middle of the Italian countryside. Far better than a royal theater in Caserta or a posh one in Rome, though she would like to play somewhere ritzy eventually. But not tonight.

  Tonight she would give the performance of her life. It no longer mattered that she had been forced into this role. Tonight she would seize the chance to prove herself. She would bare her soul, if not her body, to the audience with the hope of lightening their burdens if only for a moment.

  Eager to get going, she carried her things toward the area designated as cast only. Dressing rooms had been created by draping sheets over head-high ropes. Two rags, one red and one blue, distinguished the women’s room from the men’s. Inside the roped-off area, a dozen or so shaving mirrors had been scrounged up to allow for makeup and hair checks. Flashlights were stacked in a pile to provide additional lighting once the sun set. There was even a small bouquet of flowers in a Coke bottle balanced on a crate in the corner.

  Vi was touched by what had obviously been an all-out effort on the soldiers’ part to make them feel welcome.

  Sue echoed that thought when everyone gathered for the preshow briefing.

  “No slacking,” Sue admonished them. “These men have gone to great lengths to make sure we have everything we need.”

  “And if all that commotion coming from the front of the house is any indication, they’re also going to be an enthusiastic audience,” Victor added. “So, let’s give ’em a show to remember!”

  Vi bit her lip. Lord, she hoped the men wouldn’t go away disappointed.

  The field commander was up next. Stern faced, if a little soft around the waist, the fortyish commander met each and every one of their gazes with a direct, piercing one of his own.

  “As this is your first performance as a USO unit, I want to reiterate what you’ve probably already been told. These men—not boys, mind you. Never boys. Not after what some of them have lived through—these men are not your usual audience. Many have never been to a theater performance before and may not behave as you might expect. The MPs will do their best to keep things under control, but you can assist by eliminating any provocative content. To be blunt, no kissing. No extended physical contact between men and women. And absolutely no mention of sex! Is that clear?”

  The troupe nodded.

  “Also be prepared for hoots and hollers, especially if you make any reference to Italy or any other cities here. And if things get out of hand, we may have to stop the performance. Any questions?”

  Ann raised her hand. “Excuse me, sir, but you make it sound like we’re performing in front of a bunch of animals.”

  “These men have been out of polite society for a while now, if they even knew what that was to begin with.” The commander smiled grimly. “And what are we really anyway, under all our urbane sophistication, but a ‘bunch of animals’?”

  Vi snorted softly, his frank assessment of mankind echoing her own. She’d been on the receiving end of man’s baser nature so many times in the past, she knew firsthand how thin the veneer of civilization really was.

  The commander bade the company good luck and then disappeared around the curtain to join his men.

  Sue drew a deep breath. “All right. You heard the commander. Tone down whatever you can. Particularly you dancers. And be prepared for anything.” She turned to Mr. Stuart. “Anything you want to add, Gerry?”

  The company all leaned in, curious to hear what he might say, after all these weeks of virtual silence.

  His gaze traveled around the gathered players, and then, to Vi’s shock, a slight smile erased his usual scowl. “I know I’ve had Sue push you hard these last few weeks, and I know some of you were starting to question why you had given up lucrative contracts and risked your personal safety to come here. I hope the next hour and a half answer that for you. And even if it doesn’t, I want you to know that I am so proud of each and every one of you. You’ve not only met my expectations. You have exceeded them. So let’s go do what we came here for. Let’s entertain those troops. And break a leg.”

  “Three cheers for Mr. Stuart,” Victor said. “For launching this production and bringing it to fruition.”

  “And to our indomitable Sue, and Wyatt, too,” Ann added, her voice wobbling a bit. “We wouldn’t have made it without you.”

  Tears filled Vi’s eyes as she cheered with the others. Her heart swelled almost to bursting. In this moment, she didn’t want to be anywhere else. Yes, she hated being away from Jimmy, but to feel a part of this wonderful ensemble, to be so accepted, it was the second chance she hadn’t known she wanted. Standing here, it was almost as if Robert had never happened. Not that she would w
ish Jimmy unborn, but, oh—to feel like herself again! The her that had existed before her foolish mistake.

  It was as if a mantle of lead weights had been lifted from her shoulders, letting her stand free and unencumbered by shame. Something Lily had never managed to do, for all her defiance and success.

  An overall-clad soldier whistled from the stage to catch their attention and then gave a thumbs-up.

  Sue glanced at her watch and grinned. “Right on time. Places, everyone!”

  Chapter 18

  The first act went off without a hitch. The audience ate up Ann’s portrayal of the girl next door fresh off the farm, seeking fame and fortune in Hollywood. They tolerated Matt, her devoted high school sweetheart, who came next, their attention rapt when he begged her to come home and marry him. Her refusal had even been greeted with a smattering of boos and several hollers from the crowd of “What’s the matter with you?” Then came Luciana’s sultry entrance that, even though toned down, nearly had the stage rushed. The whole valley reverberated with an avalanche of wolf whistles and shouts of “Share a little of that with us, will ya?”

  It was a bit unsettling, and Vi traded nervous glances with Marcie, who was positioned on the other side of the stage. The MPs soon had everyone settled down, and Victor, playing the part of movie director, handled the interruptions like the professional he was. Luciana, on the other hand, looked pale and a bit shaken, perhaps unused to such a boisterous audience. Lord knew it had thrown Vi, and she was used to being propositioned in the middle of her act.

  Charles, as the faux movie’s hero, in all his over-the-top smarminess, was the last to take the stage. The audience, fully engaged now, greeted him with sarcastic hoots. And then it was time for the first song and dance number. Vi held her breath as Ann took center stage, ready to sing about how terrifying it was to chase her dreams, how she was torn between love and fame, yet the siren call of the movies was all she could hear. Matt moved downstage left, his clear tenor picking up the countermelody as Victor and Luciana disappeared offstage so that there would be room for the dancers.

  Vi’s heart began beating so furiously it nearly choked her as she waited for her cue. Marcie, pale and determined, stood in the opposite wing, doing a last-minute back stretch right behind Frances. Gertie’s breath fell warm and fast on Vi’s skin. Vi hoped the girl wouldn’t hyperventilate.

  Sue, from her position just offstage, lifted her hand as she whispered cues into her headset. Her hand fell, and the lights changed. The dancers were on.

  Vi threw her shoulders back and strutted proudly onto the stage, the footlights temporarily blinding her. She had to trust Marcie was doing the same from the other side. Gertie and Frances would follow two beats later. Not that Vi could hear their shoe taps, given the roaring wave of cheers and whistles that greeted them.

  Elation, sweet and electric, lit up her veins, making her feet light as air. Unable to help herself, Vi winked at Marcie as they met in the middle. Marcie wobbled a smile back, and then all four of the chorus girls turned toward the audience.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  She had seen plenty of audiences, from farmers in overalls to old women in their Sunday best, from young children to rough-edged workers fresh from the docks. She had gladly performed in front of them all. But never had she seen anything so moving as this: a veritable wall of khaki men, some sitting two to a chair, others standing, and still others clinging to the side of the packed bleachers.

  Only experience kept her feet moving to the beat, her smile in place, as she drank the sight in.

  She’d had no idea so many soldiers would attend. They must have come from miles around just to see this modest little musical that honestly would have never even made it off-Broadway—though she would never tell Mr. Stuart that. It humbled her. And inspired her. And suddenly she wanted to never do anything but dance her heart out for these boys, these men who were throwing so much love her way. She wanted to return it all in equal measure. She wanted to give them more.

  The second act flew by as smooth as butterscotch. Vi had peeked around the curtain to watch the soldiers leaning forward in their seats. In the reflected stage light, their faces revealed their total absorption. They shouted their opinions with increasing enthusiasm to Ann when she sang about how she couldn’t decide between Charlie or Matt, fame or family, success or true love. They hissed when Luciana, playing the part of the jealous diva, schemed to ruin Ann. And, of course, they cheered when Vi and the other chorus girls returned to the stage for their second dance number.

  Mr. Stuart positively beamed as he took in the action onstage and the audience’s reactions to it. Maybe the show would prove a hit, after all. Vi hoped so. She had nothing but love and respect for the man in this moment.

  Everyone’s spirits were running high backstage as the third act opened. Everything pointed to an unmitigated success as the play unspooled toward the climactic scene. And then disaster struck. As Luciana strode across the stage, her character gesturing wildly in a high dudgeon, her foot apparently caught on an uneven board. Her eyes widened as she tried to catch her balance. Victor noticed first and rushed toward her, but it was too late. Luciana landed in an ungraceful heap at Victor’s feet.

  A confused silence settled over the audience as Luciana’s glassy, pain-filled eyes glanced up at Sue offstage, begging for help. Vi winced as Wyatt’s voice came through Sue’s headphones, loud enough for everyone around her to overhear. But mostly her heart went out to Luciana.

  It was every actor’s nightmare, to be caught onstage out of character.

  Even Mr. Stuart paled as the action onstage froze, the actors unsure what to do. Vi thought fast. Luciana’s next lines were the setup for Ann’s character’s decision to go home. Vi knew the lines, having heard them enough times to memorize them: “You want success, you’ve got to be willing to sell your soul . . .”

  Improvising on the fly, Vi grabbed Sue’s playbook, earning a shocked look from Sue, and dashed onto the stage. Portraying boundless enthusiasm, and still in her dance costume, she flourished the playbook as she ran toward the fallen Luciana.

  “Miss Diablo, I’m so glad I found you! I read your memoir and wanted to tell you I’m so inspired! I’m ready for stardom. I’m ready to do whatever it takes, just like you advised. Even if it means selling a piece of my soul . . .” Vi glanced pointedly at Ann, willing her to take the cue.

  Ann hesitated for what felt like an eternity, though it was likely no more than a second. Then, God love her, she picked up the tossed bone and declared that she wasn’t prepared to make that same sacrifice. She would rather know true love than be famous.

  Victor followed suit, smoothly delivering his lines like the old pro that he was while he knelt to help Luciana up. Charlie fell in line and, staying in character as the enterprising movie star, escorted both Vi and a limping Luciana off the stage with talk of fictional projects he could envision for all of them.

  From there the play hurtled unimpeded toward its romantic ending, with Ann and Matt returning to their hometown, engaged and in love. To Vi’s relief, the soldiers shouted only approving remarks at the departing couple, perhaps hoping for a similar happy ending when they got home.

  With one last song-and-dance number before the curtain came down, Vi crossed her fingers that no further disasters would strike. Sue gave the cue and Vi strutted back onto the stage with the other chorus girls. As the soldiers whooped and stomped their feet in approval, a high more potent than any from a mere drug surged in her blood. All her worries vanished. Rough opening nights didn’t necessarily mean the rest of the run was doomed. And likely Luciana had only turned her ankle and not broken it. Everything would be all right. Because, in that moment, with the lights in her eyes and the music in her ears, nothing less seemed possible.

  The rousing cheer that greeted the fall of the curtain surely had been heard all the way in Rome. Practically dancing in ecstasy, the whole cast went out, a limping and yet smiling Luciana supported on eith
er side by Charles and Matthew. Then, arm in arm, the unit bowed as one. Not just once but three times as the applause and whistles kept coming. Finally, Wyatt cut the lights, signaling all involved it was time to call it a night.

  “Oh my! Can you believe it?” Marcie squealed as they came off the stage. She seized Vi in a bear hug, laughed excitedly, and then turned to give Frances the same treatment. Vi smiled at her friend’s reaction, her own spirits soaring on a postperformance high. It was like celebrating Christmas, Thanksgiving, and her birthday all at once. The only thing dimming it was her concern for Luciana, whom Victor was seating on a crate.

  No sooner had Sue knelt beside the actress to examine her injured leg than a white-helmeted MP appeared.

  “Excuse me, ladies. Gentlemen,” he said, nodding at them all and somehow managing to sound both bashful and authoritative. “Sorry to interrupt, but the men . . . they want to know if they can come back and thank the cast in person. We’ll run them off, if you’d like. But . . . well, they’re just so grateful for you all being here.”

  Sue and Mr. Stuart shared a surprised look, and then she spoke up. “I think that would be fine. We don’t have anywhere to be.” She glanced down at Luciana. “Are you up for it?”

  Luciana hesitated and then nodded.

  Sue turned to the rest of them. “Line up, everyone. Over here next to Luciana, so she won’t have to stand. We’ve got some well-wishers to greet.”

  To Vi’s astonishment, it wasn’t only a few who wanted to meet them. Not by a long shot. When the MP hollered to his buddy to let them back, a whole line of men formed within seconds. In fact, near as she could tell, the whole audience must have stayed behind, waiting for the chance to see them, their caps in hand, their faces creased with shy grins.

  She soon lost track of how many hands she had shaken, how many questions she had answered about where she was from and did she know so-and-so, and how many spur-of-the-moment marriage proposals she had to gently turn down. It broke her heart, really. These men were so desperate for reminders of home, for any scrap of reassurance that the American people hadn’t forgotten about them.