“No, I agree with you,” Gertie said. “You and Frances could dance circles around me and Marce. I can’t tell you how much I’ve learned from working with you two. And Vi is right. If worse comes to worst, the whole cast will benefit from having a knockout chorus like you and Vi to distract the audience from Marcie’s and my performance. They might not even notice how awful we were.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself,” Marcie said with a mock growl.
“You won’t be awful.” Vi gave Gertie a hug. “Either of you. Sue won’t let it happen, and you’ll have Charles, Matt, and Victor helping you every step of the way.”
Marcie put her spoon down and turned troubled eyes toward Vi, her oatmeal forgotten. “You’re not upset that you didn’t get the part, are you?”
Vi smiled reassuringly at her. “You’ve been in the show since the beginning. It’s only fair you get first shot at being a star.”
Gertie’s forehead furrowed. “I still don’t know why we can’t wait another day. I don’t like leaving Luciana behind.”
“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Frances said, sounding slightly exasperated. “The lucky girl is probably getting breakfast in bed as we speak, with over a dozen fellas at her beck and call.”
Gertie’s expression lightened. “Do you think so?”
“Not only that,” Vi said more seriously. “She’s likely safer here than going up in another airplane with the rest of us.”
Marcie shivered. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. Think Sue will let me walk to Rome?”
“Congratulations on your promotion, Miss May,” Ann said, sauntering up with a cup of coffee in her hand and a cool smile on her lips.
Despite the sentiment’s kind delivery, the actress’s gaze held no warmth.
Marcie shot to her feet. “Thank you. Though to be honest, I’d trade it all for Luciana to be hale and hearty again.”
Some of the ice melted in the older woman’s eyes. “That’s kind of you to say so. If you need help with your lines, let me know. I have notes from early rehearsals that might prove useful.”
“I would love—” Marcie began, when a commotion at the door of the mess hall cut her off. A harried-looking corporal—Vi was getting better at identifying rank—glanced around impatiently as if seeking someone in particular and then strode over to where the directors sat.
A hush fell over the hall. As one, the whole company strained to listen in without being overly obvious about it. Holding her breath with the rest, Vi watched as Mr. Stuart nodded, asked a question while Wyatt and Sue paid close attention, and then nodded again at the answer. Her nerves jittered as she waited for some kind of sign whether the news was good or bad.
Mr. Stuart stood. “I’ve just been informed that we will have a transport plane at our disposal at eleven o’clock. Please plan accordingly. Anyone not packed and ready to go by ten thirty will be left to the tender mercies of the MPs. Is that clear?” Mr. Stuart met everyone’s eyes one by one. “Excellent. That is all.”
After he sat, conversations sprang up around Vi like daisies. If any were meant to include her, she didn’t notice. Instead her attention was on Ann, who stood to the side, alone. The hard set to her jaw was meant to warn people off, but the slight tightening around her eyes and mouth spoke of a different emotion. Sadness. Vi felt a deep tug of empathy as she watched the actress. She utilized that same expression herself whenever she felt alone and vulnerable but would have been damned first before admitting it.
Before she could talk herself out of it, Vi picked up her tray and carried it over to where the dishes were being collected. On the way back, she didn’t return to the table with the dancers but stopped in front of the blonde actress.
Ann pretended not to see her, but Vi wasn’t about to let her off that easy.
She touched the actress’s arm to catch her attention. “I wanted to thank you for supporting me last night. With Luciana injured, it seems more important than ever that we pull together to keep the show running smoothly.”
Ann looked startled. “Of course. And you’re welcome.”
“I know it’ll be hard for all of us,” Vi rushed on. “Especially given some of our experiences in past productions.”
Ann stilled. “How so?”
Vi screwed up her courage and went for broke. “Luciana told me about your fiancé and how he fell for a chorus girl. I can only guess how much that stung. And if I could apologize on behalf of all dancers for the awful behavior demonstrated by that one, I would.”
“I see.” Ann’s expression hovered between amusement and annoyance.
“Since it looks like Luciana will be remaining here for a couple of days while we move on,” Vi continued, though she was starting to wonder why she was even bothering, “you won’t have a travel buddy, and so . . . I was going to say if you ever need someone to go with you somewhere or help you with something, I’d be glad to fill in until Luciana is back on her feet.”
Ann considered Vi for a long moment. “That’s very kind, but what’s the angle?”
“Angle?” It was Vi’s turn to be surprised. “There isn’t one.” Except the small niggling of guilt told her that might not be true. As the older woman continued to study her in suspicious silence, Vi tamped down her annoyance and considered the question honestly. The answer was not a comfortable one.
Having been betrayed by love herself, she had thought it was because she felt empathy for Ann. Now she realized her compulsion was less about easing Ann’s loneliness than absolving herself of guilt, for she had also been part of a betrayal: her sister’s. Somehow she had hoped that by restoring Ann’s faith in humanity she might be forgiven for hurting Fern, no matter how unwittingly she had done it. The fact remained that Vi had slept with her sister’s eventual fiancé, and it would forever be a breach of trust between the sisters.
Though how was I supposed to know Fern would change her mind? a part of her traitorous brain protested. She told me she was tired of him, and I believed her.
Which was why she no longer believed in the truth of mere words. She had been too badly burned, by Robert and Fern both.
Suddenly wanting to be somewhere . . . anywhere else, Vi backed up a step. “I should start packing. But the offer stands if you should ever need me.”
A curious shadow passed behind Ann’s eyes. “I will. Thank you.”
Chapter 21
To her relief, both of the airplane’s engines remained happy and healthy, purring like well-fed lions the entire trip. Even better, the flight was blessedly short, mere minutes in fact. By the time they landed in Rome and Vi had followed everyone out into the beatific sunshine of central Italy, her spirits had fully recovered. The only fly in the ointment was that there was no room at the inn, so to speak.
Their new liaison, one Lieutenant Holland, looked truly apologetic. “Another USO unit was dropped off unexpectedly last night, and since you were delayed, we gave your hotel rooms to them. But not to worry! It’s just a little snafu I’ll soon remedy. Maybe you’d like to see the theater while you wait?”
“That would be wonderful,” Sue said with a strained smile, even as Vi was cheered by the news they would be staying in a hotel versus army barracks. Being around soldiers twenty-four hours a day was fine and all, but she wouldn’t mind a bit more privacy.
“I hope we get a chance to rehearse,” Marcie whispered as Lieutenant Holland left to make arrangements. “I’m terrified I won’t be ready in time for our first performance.”
“Marcie, darling,” Ann called out from where the actors were standing. “We need you over here.”
Vi’s eyebrows rose at the request. After last night and this morning, she had hoped the artificial social gap between leads and dancers would become a thing of the past. Apparently not. Still, she found the actors’ snobbery annoying and more than a little counterproductive. Shows lived or died on the whims of the audience, sure. But shows could also be self-sabotaged from within by a divided cast.
Quashing her irritation, and wi
th nothing to do but wait while Lieutenant Holland made arrangements for them, Vi looked around the airfield. Even though she knew they were nowhere near the center of Rome, she was disappointed to have not even a glimpse of the ancient wonders, like the Colosseum. Everywhere she looked it was all new construction, military in nature. Rather a bust, in her opinion. Still, the bright Italian sunshine was nice.
She turned her face up, letting the warmth soak into her.
“Have to say it looks a lot different now than when we first liberated it,” a familiar male voice said.
Startled, she opened her eyes to see Sergeant Danger. “You’ve been here before?”
“Yes.” Shadows flickered in his eyes as he looked out over the fields.
Her heart squeezed. “I’m sorry.”
He glanced at her, startled. “For what? It wasn’t you who started this damn war.”
“No, but I wish . . . I just wish you didn’t have to be here. That none of this was necessary.”
He laughed without much humor. “Might as well tell mankind to stop living, then. War is in our genetics.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Then you’ve never been on the front lines. You’ve never seen what men can and will do to each other.”
“No, you’re right.” She bit her lip and looked away, unsure whether she wanted to continue this conversation. It had dimmed the sunshine for her.
“Hey.” He touched her arm, and she glanced back. A small, crooked smile quirked his otherwise unfairly perfect lips, and a sudden urge to make him smile more fully tugged at her. His face had been designed to reflect joy, not sorrow. He continued, “Look at the bright side. If it weren’t for a bunch of fascists, you—and I—might never have seen Rome.”
Vi squashed the fluttering of nerves generated by his touch. “Speak for yourself, because I haven’t actually seen Rome yet. Remember?”
He laughed, the rough, whiskey warmth of it curling low and unwanted in her stomach. “That’s what I like about you. You don’t hesitate to speak your mind.”
She chanced a glance up at him and then immediately regretted it. If he was handsome when solemn, he was devastating when amused. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be, Sergeant?”
“I’m sorry.” His smile faded. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. I guess I’m out of practice talking to decent women. There aren’t that many near the front. Make that none, except for terrified locals or the occasional prostitute, and neither of them are much interested in conversation.”
“I suppose not,” she said, both shocked and appreciative of his candor.
He drew a deep breath. “I’ll go away.”
“No,” she said quickly, surprised at how much she wanted him to stay. “I . . . I like your company. I just don’t want to get kicked out of the USO.”
“Ah.” Understanding gleamed in his eyes. Then the killer half smile reappeared, sending her pulse racing.
Oh, for the love of everything. The man was too attractive by half.
Forget how handsome he is and focus on finding out if he’s a threat to Marcie!
“I was surprised last night, when you seemed worried over the show being canceled,” she said casually, trying to stay focused on reading his expression and not become distracted by the strikingly pale blue of his eyes. “I thought you couldn’t wait to be free of us.”
“A soldier follows his orders, miss. What I want or don’t want doesn’t play into it.”
“And what are your orders, exactly?” she asked as nonchalantly as she could. “Lieutenant Holland is here to take care of us in Rome. And Lieutenant Guilford was in Naples handling our arrangements. Why do we have an infantryman attached to us as well?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because you have somewhere more important to be, like with your men?” She let her eyebrows climb in silent challenge.
He laughed softly. “Throwing my words back at me isn’t nice.”
“Neither is dodging an honest question.”
“You know, some dolls would actually appreciate having extra protection around in the middle of a war.”
“I’m not your typical doll,” she pointed out.
His gaze took on an appreciative aspect as he glanced at her. “No, you’re not, which is why I’m practicing my rusty conversational skills on you.”
“Because I’m the kind of girl who won’t take things the wrong way?” Her mood slipped as she said the words. “Not like Gertie or the others.”
“Which is a compliment, by the way. I wouldn’t know what to say to a gal like Gertrude. I’d live every moment in terror that I would do or say something wrong and terrify her. Life is too short for a man to live in such fear.”
She laughed; she couldn’t help it. “Wait, you, a battle-seasoned infantryman, are terrified of Gertie? You, who dodge bullets and defy death at every turn?”
His cheeks turned a dusky red. “I take back what I said about you being easy to talk to.”
“I’m sorry.” She tried to put on a serious face, which lasted all of a second before she sputtered into more laughter. With an effort she pulled herself together. “I’m sorry, truly. I think I just needed a good laugh after all the disasters of yesterday. And the stress of the flight today, even though it was—thank the Lord—uneventful!”
“Hmm.” He looked unconvinced.
“No, I’m serious,” she said, suddenly afraid she had insulted him. “I have nothing but respect for you and all the others over here, fighting the good fight, helping to free the world from the shackles of tyranny.”
“You sound like a goddamned recruiting poster.”
“Tsk, such language,” she scolded, but she couldn’t keep her lips from twitching.
A reluctant warmth came back in his eyes. “Sorry, miss.”
“You’re forgiven,” she said as primly as she could. And then both of them began to laugh. “Fine, guilty as charged. My beauty is only for show. Underneath lurks the heart of an unrepentant tomboy.”
“And I, for one, am heartily glad. Pretty girls are a dime a dozen. Give me the one who is smart and brave and loyal.”
“In other words, a real dog,” she teased.
“Stop that,” he said, his mood shifting on a dime. “If someone gives you a compliment, don’t go shooting it down.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Complimenting me?”
“Don’t you like being considered those things?”
“Sure, if I thought they were true.” She tried to flash him a smile but failed.
“Well, I know you’re smart. Wyatt told me how you rescued the show last night with your quick thinking.” He held up a finger when she opened her mouth to argue. “Wait. I also know you’re brave, because you didn’t panic on that flight out of Caserta.”
She batted his finger away. “I was scared out of my mind, for your information.”
“Which would make you also courageous. Congratulations.”
She shook her head. “You’re wrong. I’m neither brave nor courageous. I just act like I am.”
“Which is literally in the definition of both words. Acting as if not afraid: bravery. Acting in spite of being afraid: courage.”
“And cowardice?” she asked a touch bitterly as she looked back on her life. “Any room for that in your ideal girl?”
“Hey.” His strong fingers lifted her chin, making her gaze meet his. “You are not a coward. Not from what I’ve seen.”
She pulled back, away from his hand. Away from the temptation to turn her cheek into his palm and believe his mistaken words. “Then you don’t know me very well.”
“Or maybe you don’t see yourself as you really are. It’s not as uncommon as you think; I deal with it all the time with men under my command. And I’ll tell you what I tell them.” He caught her chin again. His earnest blue eyes bored into hers, willing her to pay attention. “You are more than you think you are. You can do more, survive more, and conquer more than you ever tho
ught possible. But the key is up here.” He tapped his temple. “You gotta believe it in order for it to happen.”
Shaken, Vi pulled away. “Now who sounds like a recruitment poster?” Then she groaned as determined-looking Frances began striding toward them. “Oh no . . . what now?”
“I think I see Lieutenant Holland waving me over,” Sergeant Danger muttered.
Vi huffed a laugh in spite of herself. “Coward.”
But he was already striding off.
Vi slapped on a serene smile. “Hiya, Frances. Are we ready to move out?” She hoped she sounded less unsettled than she felt. Her skin still tingled from the touch of the sergeant’s fingertips.
“What were you two talking about?” Frances snapped. “I saw you two over here being all cozy.”
“We were talking about the war.”
“Sure you were.” The girl’s cat eyes glittered maliciously. “But you’re wasting your time, you know. It’s me he can’t keep his eyes off of.”
Vi sighed and looked around for Marcie. “If you say so.”
“Just because you landed Janet’s spot doesn’t mean you can come in here, snap your fingers, and get whatever you want.”
“Whatever I . . . ?” Vi stopped as sudden understanding hit her. The angry and frightened look in Frances’s eyes was one she had seen before. “Look, Fran, I have no interest in trying to upstage you. Or taking away any man you’ve claimed for yourself,” she said quietly. “So put down your dukes. I’m just here to perform for the troops.”
Frances narrowed her eyes, as if not sure she believed Vi.
“I’m serious. Truce?” Vi held out her hand. A beat of silence greeted her offer, long enough that Vi suspected the answer was no.
Sure enough, Frances crossed her arms over her chest and gave a dismissive sniff. “You didn’t think I was going to fall for the false friend act, did you? Ha! I’ve met your type before. And I’ll be keeping a close eye on you and the sergeant from now on. After all, there’s no fraternization allowed between USO personnel and soldiers, as someone was so kind to point out to me in Caserta. None. At. All. So if I were you, I’d forget about him.”
The Long Path Home Page 18