“You should’ve just waited for me to get home, because I have plenty. All you had to do was ask.”
“I’ll remember that for next time,” Vi said, sinking onto her cot. She thought longingly of her pillow but knew she couldn’t head off to dreamland yet. Sergeant Danger might knock any minute now, and she wanted to be the one to answer the door. Which reminded her . . . “Sergeant Danger may be knocking soon. He was out trying to find me some aspirin, too, but I think I got back first.”
“Mmm-kay,” Marcie said sleepily, and then her cot squeaked as she made herself comfortable.
Smothering her own yawn, Vi debated whether she had time to wash her face before he arrived. The bathroom was just three doors down, and it hadn’t sounded like anyone was using it when she was in the hallway.
She could brush her teeth, too. Then all she would have to do was change into her pajamas and she would be ready for bed. Or maybe she should change first. As much as she loved her sparkly costume, it was also rather scratchy from all the sequins. And it had to last at least a score more performances.
Marcie’s soft snores began to fill the room. Deciding to make a dash for it now and change later, Vi grabbed her toiletry kit. She was about to open the door when she heard voices in the stairwell. Male and female. Sergeant Danger and Frances.
Spirits sinking, Vi leaned her ear against the door to listen. She couldn’t believe her bad luck tonight. Ever since she had left the theater, nothing had gone according to plan.
As she waited for Frances to realize whose uniform the sergeant was carrying, for the ax to fall, because she had no illusions that Frances wouldn’t turn her in, despite their little chat tonight, she had to suffer through listening to the woman flirt with the man right outside her door. Worse, he was flirting back, which tied her stomach in a knot. She didn’t want him to be attracted to Frances. She wanted him to fall for her.
The sudden realization stole her breath. She had believed her heart permanently hardened by Robert’s betrayal. Love required trust, and she had lost that ability a long time ago. Hadn’t she?
Frances giggled. Vi’s fingers closed into a fist as she imagined the girl sliding her hand up Sergeant Danger’s strong chest, her full lips parting for a kiss . . .
“I’ve got to turn in now,” the sergeant said, his voice a low rumble through the door.
“See you tomorrow?” Frances asked breathlessly. Vi wanted to throw her hairbrush at the brunette, but the sergeant wasn’t hers to defend. He could like whomever he wanted.
“Probably not. I’ll be moving on tomorrow.”
What? Vi stifled her gasp of dismay just in time. She didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping.
“Aw, really?” Frances said, drowning out any sound Vi might have made.
“Really. So if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get packed,” Sergeant Danger said, his voice moving toward his room at the end of the hall. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Frances called after him.
Vi remained motionless until she heard two doors open and then close, one after the other. She released her breath and considered her new problem. Unless she had missed something, Sergeant Danger had just taken her uniform into his room with him.
What a night. What was it that soldiers called missions that went horribly awry? She leaned her head against the door. FUBAR, that was it. Fouled up beyond all recognition. What an apt description of her current situation.
If she weren’t so tired, she might have laughed. Instead she tucked her toiletry bag under her arm and unlocked the door. After checking the hallway again for unwanted company and finding none, she sneaked out of her room and hurried down the hallway.
She rapped lightly on the sergeant’s door and then waited, praying he would answer. Hesitant to spend too much time in the hallway, she glanced over her shoulder and then rapped again. This time the door opened to reveal Sergeant Danger. Her gaze fell to the misaligned buttons on his shirt. He must have thrown it on seconds before answering her knock. The tantalizing image of a partially undressed sergeant took form in her imagination, and her mouth went dry.
“Good, you’re here.” His low whisper brushed over her nerves like roughened velvet, and her skin tingled. He turned to reach behind him, likely for her uniform, when the sound of a door opening made her pulse leap.
He must have heard it, too, because the next thing she knew he was pulling her into his room. She stumbled as he released her to shut the door. It had barely closed when she heard footsteps in the hall. They both froze as they waited to see where the midnight prowler would go. If she had been seen, she was in an even worse pickle than she was before. She might be able to explain away leaving the theater in her dance outfit. But being in Sergeant Danger’s room late at night, without a chaperone? Not likely.
The footsteps stopped, and then what sounded like the bathroom door closed.
Vi closed her eyes in relief.
“That was close,” Sergeant Danger said softly. “If you’re quick, you should make it back to your room in time.”
Vi hesitated, considered the odds, and then whispered back, “Actually, I think it would be better if I wait until he or she is done. Some people don’t spend much time in there.”
He drew a deep breath and then exhaled tightly. “As you wish.”
He turned back to his bed, where he had his clothes laid out in neat piles.
“You’re packing,” she said in surprise.
“I am.”
It shouldn’t have surprised her, since she had overheard him telling Frances he was leaving in the morning. Yet, from the conversation he’d had with the redheaded woman tonight, it was clear whatever business he had with the partisans wasn’t concluded yet.
“Where are you going?”
He went to the bedside table and opened the drawer. “Elsewhere.”
“Because of what happened tonight?”
“Because I don’t want to endanger everyone in the hotel on the off chance that an SS agent is still on my tail.”
“And I suppose Luciana needs you more than we do,” she said glumly.
He shot her a hard look. “For the last time, Miss Rossi is still injured and in Nettuno.”
“Right. Sorry.” Great, now he thought her an idiot, too. Her spirits took another nosedive. She used to be good at keeping various stories straight. Apparently not anymore.
Returning to his packing, the sergeant removed an oddly shaped item from the drawer and laid it on the bed next to his clothes. Curious, Vi moved closer. She blinked and then blinked again, not quite believing what she saw. It was a small cloth doll with dark hair, a light-blue blouse, bright-yellow skirt, and a black apron elaborately embroidered in vibrant shades of reds and greens. A rose-and-lemon-embroidered shawl covering the doll’s head completed the ensemble. As a costumer, Vi admired the bold mix of patterns and colors. It was very striking.
And quite the unusual item for a soldier to be carrying around.
“That’s beautiful,” she said, gently touching the smooth satin stitching of the lemons. “Where did you get it?”
She hadn’t seen anything as fine in the stores near the hotel.
“From an old lady in the Piemonte. She used to make them for tourists before the war started.” He gently moved the doll out of Vi’s reach. “It’s for my daughter.”
“Daughter?” she echoed, stunned. And, oh, wasn’t that just her luck to fall in love with a married man? He was completely off-limits now, of course. Her morals might not be as top notch as all that, but she drew the line at lusting after other women’s husbands.
“Yeah. She’s just a baby now, but I thought maybe when she’s older, she could look at it and think of me.”
A different emotion stole her breath. “You don’t think you’ll make it back?” Alive, she had almost said, but then stopped, unable to say the word.
He shrugged. “It’s a possibility. I’d be a fool to think otherwise.”
She sank onto the chair by the b
ed. “How can you bear it, the thought of never seeing your daughter again? I . . . well, I couldn’t. I’d have to believe I’d see my baby again.”
He paused in his packing and looked at her. “Maybe because there’s no ‘again’ to it. She was born while I was in North Africa.”
“I’m so sorry. I hope your wife sent you a photo of her, at least.”
“My wife is deceased.” He rolled the doll in one of his undershirts and placed it in the bag. “She died when Melinda was born.”
“I . . . I’m sorry,” she said, completely derailed by the news.
He straightened, his gaze remaining on the bag. “Yeah, well . . . considering I’d been overseas for almost two years by that point, little Melinda is something of a miracle baby, you might say.”
“Your wife . . .” Vi wasn’t sure how to continue, the dots not connecting in a pretty line.
“Was steppin’ out on me,” he confirmed, sounding tired. “I guess she got lonely waiting for me to come home, as if I have any control over this goddamned war. Anyway, Clarice couldn’t even stick around long enough to clean up her own mess. My parents, thank God, did. They stepped in, told everyone some cockamamie story about how I’d come home briefly on leave—very briefly—and that Melinda was really mine.”
“And you’re all right with that?”
He glanced at her then, his face haggard in the light of the single lamp. “Yeah, I guess I am. I figure we’ve both been wronged by Clarice, which makes us kin of sorts, by circumstance if not by blood. And, to my mind, no bitty baby should be made to suffer for her mother’s mistake. After all, it’s not like I haven’t made a few myself.”
Vi couldn’t speak. Her heart was in her throat.
He laughed sadly. “I know what you’re thinking. What a chump for hoping a little girl will remember me fondly after I’m gone, even though I’m not really her dad.”
“No.” Moved by his confession, by what had to be the kindest act she had ever heard, she stood and went over to him. He watched her warily as she raised her hand. She laid it on his bronzed cheek, the unshaved beard hair prickling her palm. Patiently, she waited for his gorgeous blue eyes to meet hers. When they did, her heart skipped a beat at the naked vulnerability she saw there.
“You are not a chump, Sergeant. You are the bravest, kindest man I’ve ever met. A girl couldn’t do better for a father.” Tears blurred her vision, and her chest constricted. “So no more thinking that, you hear? I won’t allow it.”
He caught her hand and pulled it down, away from his face. But he didn’t let go. “You won’t, huh?” Faint amusement colored his voice.
“No,” she said in a fierce whisper.
He wiped her tears from her cheeks. “Not many people cry over me.”
“Well, maybe they should.”
“And maybe they shouldn’t.” He released her hand and started to turn away. “You can go now. Whoever was in the bathroom is done. I heard a door close.”
“I don’t want to go.” The words, which were truer than she wanted to admit, were out before she could stop them. “I want to stay.”
His gaze flicked over his shoulder at her, his eyebrows gathered in confusion. “Pardon?”
She untied the bow of her top and slowly let the sides part. “I said I want to stay. I don’t want to be alone after everything that’s happened tonight. I don’t want you to be alone.”
Not after everything he had told her about his wife, or his little girl, or how he thought he would die soon. She wanted him to live and to feel joy, even if only for a night.
Frank consideration stole into his eyes, and then pure male desire. Her pulse leaped, her need to touch him taking on a life of its own.
Then, to her distress, he shook his head and backed away. “No. It’s late, and you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Her pride hated her for asking, but she wanted him so badly.
“I am.” Gentleman that he was, he came over to open the door for her.
“Will you at least let me mail the doll for you?” she asked suddenly. “It might get damaged if you keep carrying it around. And I’ve likely got more free time than you do.”
He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “No thanks. I guess I’m still hoping I’ll get to deliver it in person someday.” His smile was a little crooked as he looked down at her.
Perhaps it was the late hour or the recent shared confidences that broke down her reserve, or the tantalizing smell of warm male skin filling her head. For the next thing she knew, she was on tiptoe, kissing him. He didn’t react at first, but she didn’t care. This was for her and her alone, because she wanted to never forget him.
Then he began to respond, and all thought vanished.
Pleasure, as heady as the finest bourbon, flowed through her veins. She melted against him, lost in the embrace. His heat, his strength, his taste—it was everything and not enough. A moan of longing escaped her as his strong arms pulled her closer, tighter against him.
Abruptly, he released her, and a sudden, unwanted space opened between them. Her body tingled in protest at being abandoned, and she fluttered her eyes open.
He was staring at her. His expression was . . . enigmatic.
Reality crashed back with a vengeance. She had just forced a kiss on a man. One who had only seconds before turned down having sex with her. What on earth was wrong with her? If anyone found out, she’d be kicked out of the USO in no time flat. And who would blame them?
She swallowed nervously and backed up. “I—I should be going.”
Her back hit the door, and she whirled around, fumbling for the doorknob.
His hand got to it first. “Virginia—”
“No! No, don’t say it. I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as she fought to open the door.
“Virginia,” he repeated more forcefully, holding the door shut. “Will you please hold still and listen?”
Obediently, she stilled, but she wouldn’t look at him. She didn’t dare. Instead, she kept her wet face against the door. Her breath came in soft gasps.
“You’re not in trouble, and I’m not angry.”
“Then what are you?” she asked, her tears welling up again. Oh, why wouldn’t he let her escape?
He exhaled a long, slow breath. “I don’t know. Surprised, maybe? That kiss caught me off guard.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again.
“Well, don’t be. It was . . . nice. But it can’t happen again.”
“No, of course not.” Her heart fractured under the finality of his words. “I understand.”
He bent down and snatched a bundle off the floor. She wanted to kick herself when she saw what it was: her uniform. Lord above, her brain wasn’t working tonight.
“You’ll need this,” he said, handing it to her.
“Thanks.” She held it against her chest as he opened the door for her. Not daring to look at him for fear of falling apart, she scooted out of his room and down the hall.
She had almost made it back to safety when the door to the room across from hers cracked open. She didn’t need to hear the soft snores emanating from the room to know which roommate had caught her. There was no mistaking those cold, green eyes.
Frances.
The door closed again before Vi could speak, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done. Vi was officially in deep trouble.
Chapter 28
“And that’s all I have for notes,” Sue said the next morning. “First call is two o’clock this afternoon, for the matinee. Then we’ll break for dinner and reassemble at seven. Any questions? No? Then I’ll see you all at two. And good job last night.”
Vi stayed in her seat while the other cast members stretched and got up to leave.
So far this morning she had managed to avoid Frances while simultaneously keeping an eye on her. The good news was that Gertie hadn’t treated Vi any differently this morning, which certainly would’ve been the case if Franc
es had said anything about last night. Gertie was one of the most morally upright people Vi had ever met. She would never have been able to look Vi in the eye if she thought Vi was breaking USO fraternization rules.
On the other hand, Vi wasn’t exactly reassured by Frances’s silence. For all practical purposes, Vi had handed her a loaded gun that could, and likely would, be used against her in the coming weeks. The question was when.
Someone tapped her on the shoulder. Springing to her feet, she spun around and pressed a hand to her chest.
Marcie’s eyes rounded. “Wow, are you ever jumpy this morning. Everything all right?”
“Fine.” Vi relaxed her shoulders. “Just a little wound up, I guess. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“I didn’t, either. All I could think about was having two shows today.” Marcie shuddered. “I’m not sure I’ll be up for the challenge. Just one show takes so much out of me.”
Vi threaded her arm through Marcie’s. “Remember to pace yourself and you’ll be fine.”
“That’s what Ann said. Oh, and she recommended a little time in the sun this morning to work on our tans. She says nothing soothes the soul like soaking up the rays.”
“Did she have a place in mind?” she asked as they exited the theater.
Unlike Caserta, there were fewer places with swimming pools for the cast to lounge around. Most of the villas in Rome were still occupied by their owners and had yet to be taken over by Allied officers.
“She said there was a Count Somebody-or-other who is so enamored with American theater and music, he’s given a standing invitation to all USO personnel to use his tennis courts and swimming pool whenever we want.”
“Which would be terrific except I have neither a tennis racquet nor a swimsuit.”
“I’m sure he has extras of both.”
Vi shook her head. “No thanks. I learned my lesson when I borrowed Ann’s swimsuit in Caserta and my bust nearly busted the seams.”
“How about we go shopping to find one that fits better?” Marcie said, undeterred. “I bet we could find something. There were a lot of stores where we were yesterday, over by the clock store.”
The Long Path Home Page 24