“It’s personal,” she said almost reflexively.
“You’re about to be executed for treason,” he said coldly. “Is that really your final word on the subject?”
Executed? Vi’s breath seized. She knew the major had drawn some wrong conclusions about her, but she hadn’t realized how wrong. “I’m not a traitor. I love my country!”
“Then what is it, Violet?” The steely edge in his voice slashed what remained of her defenses. She didn’t want to lose his good opinion, but she didn’t want to die, either. “We can’t trust you if you won’t come clean.”
She twisted her hands in her lap. “I . . . I can’t just leave and start over. I have a son. Jimmy. He’s five, and if I don’t go back to Chicago, I’ll never get to see him again.”
“Well, shit.” Ansel leaned back. He looked as if he’d been punched, and Vi felt her world crumble a bit more. “You have a son?”
“We’ll need to verify that, too,” the major said much more matter-of-factly. “Who’s he staying with?”
She was torn as to which question to answer first. Her heart said Ansel; her brain told her to focus on the major.
“I do,” she said, keeping her gaze on Ansel. “And before you ask, no, I’m not married. Never was. Jimmy was an accident.”
Drawing a deep breath, she turned her gaze to the major. “If you need to verify that, too, I can give you the name of the adoption agency I used. I can also give you the name of his new family if you need it, but they don’t know anything about me. And I’d like to keep it that way if I can.”
“We can be discreet,” the major assured her.
“All right.”
The major handed her a pen and note card.
She jotted down the information needed and handed it back. “Now that I’ve told you everything, may I please go back to the hotel?”
“I’m sorry, but no.” The major opened the door and gestured to someone outside.
Vi stiffened. “Major, wait! If you don’t let me go back, who will watch over Marcie? I can’t just leave her to her own devices. She’ll probably be frantic and go looking for me.”
“I’ll take care of Miss May,” Ansel said. “I’ll talk to her when I pick up your belongings.”
“But what are you going to tell her?” she asked, eyes wide. Somewhere over the past six weeks, Marcie’s friendship had become dear to her. She didn’t want to lose it over this.
He exhaled tiredly. “That you unexpectedly fell ill and I took you to the infirmary. Since the doctor doesn’t know how long you’ll be there, I was ordered to fetch your things. Is that acceptable?”
“Yes,” she said, nearly overwhelmed with gratitude. He was under no obligation to lie for her. That he would gave her hope that he didn’t hate her. “Thank you.”
A soldier appeared in the door, and the major gave him instructions in a low voice. After the soldier nodded, the major returned his attention to her. “If you’ll excuse me, I still have work to do tonight. Corporal Merritt will take you to your room.”
Having been dismissed, she got to her feet. And then almost collapsed, her legs not wanting to hold her.
Ansel was beside her in an instant, his hand under her elbow. “I’ve got you.”
The calm strength in his whiskey-rough voice made her want to cry. If only she were someone else, someone with no past, someone he could love.
Then her mind clicked on to something Ansel had said. What if it did take more than a single night to clear her name? Worse, what if it was never cleared? Someone needed to watch over Marcie, or Vi would be as good as dead herself.
Frantically, she sorted through cast and crew members, assessing dependability against the risk of asking such a favor. If all went well, she would be returning to the troupe, which meant she had to be careful what she said and to whom.
Then it occurred to her who would be perfect for the job: Frances.
The dancer was familiar with the darker side of men. She had a protective streak, which at the moment extended to only Gertie. And the gal was tough as nails and naturally suspicious of everyone. A perfect bodyguard.
The problem was Frances hated all things Italian, including Marcie, even though Marcie would insist Sicily wasn’t part of Italy.
“Is there a problem?” Major Ricca asked, but Vi barely heard him.
Getting Frances to like Marcie might be like asking a leopard to change its spots. But what if she attacked the problem from the other direction?
“Vi?” Ansel’s voice made her look up.
“I remembered something I need to tell Marcie. It has to do with the play and changes to the dance choreography. May I write her a quick note, in case I don’t see her right away, and before I forget?”
“I don’t see why not,” the major said when Ansel glanced at him.
After she was given a pen and paper, Vi quickly wrote what she needed to, basically asking Marcie to warn Frances she might have to redo all the choreography if Vi was slow to recover, and suggesting that maybe she should also teach Frances Lydia’s lines in case she came down with the “same thing” as Vi had.
Satisfied that the prospect of learning Lydia’s lines would be enough to encourage Frances to keep Marcie alive for a few days at least, she handed the note to Ansel.
Ansel immediately gave it to the major, which came as no surprise—good thing she hadn’t said anything personal, though what secrets had she left? After the major read it, he handed it back to Ansel, who folded it and tucked it into his shirt pocket.
“I’ll have your gear here in the morning,” Ansel told her. “Will Marcie know what all you’ll need?”
“She should.” Vi frowned. “Can’t I have my things tonight? I don’t want to sleep in my uniform.”
He glanced at the major before replying. “I’m sorry, but no.”
Understanding slowly dawned. “You’re going to go through everything first because you still think I’m a spy.”
“We take our job seriously, Miss Heart,” the major said, making no apologies.
Ansel wouldn’t meet her eyes.
Recognizing she had no choice in the matter, she nodded her permission anyway. “That’s fine. Be as thorough as you like; I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“Of course not.” Major Ricca then turned to Corporal Merritt. “Miss Heart is ready to see her room now.”
Her room turned out to be what likely had been a servant’s room on the top floor. The armed guard by her door nodded to her politely, his expression as blank as the walls. He was a private, if she read his sleeve correctly. Likely the lowest man on the totem pole. Still, he had a gun, and she didn’t, so the odds were in his favor, no matter his rank.
The corporal showed her in and then left her alone, locked in for the night. She looked around. As prison cells went, she supposed she should be grateful. Even though the room had been stripped of everything but the bed, the walls had nice wallpaper with darker patches where pictures had once hung, and there were blackout curtains on the windows instead of bars.
She switched off the overhead light, and the room plunged into darkness. Almost instantly, a queer claustrophobic feeling swept over her. It was as if all the air in the room were vanishing, taking her ability to breathe with it. A wave of despair and panic rapidly built within her. She groped her way over to the windows. Yes, there was a blackout order, but surely it would be all right to move the curtains aside if she kept the light off. She couldn’t bear to be alone in all this blackness.
Pulling back the curtain, she immediately inhaled a deep breath and looked up. It took a moment, but then the familiarity of the night sky began to anchor her. Pinpricks of hope started to pierce her loneliness like tiny stars. She could tell from the shadows that the moon was on the other side of the building. But it didn’t matter. Its gentle light was a constant in the universe, and would be the same whether it shone down on the soldiers in the North, or her family back home, or Jimmy asleep in his bed.
Her pulse calm
ed. She was still in a terrible fix, but she had talked her way out of being shot, at least for the moment. She had fought her way back from the brink before. She would just have to do it again.
Her resolve restored, she left the window. Tired beyond anything she could remember, she let herself collapse on the bed, uniform and all, and slept.
Chapter 31
“What do you mean, I’m free to go?” She stared at Lieutenant Holland, the unit’s Rome liaison officer, in utter incomprehension. “Did Major Ricca agree to this?”
As much as she would love to rejoin the production, last night’s fiasco was still fresh in her mind. The last thing she wanted was to be shot while “trying to escape.”
Morning sunlight streamed through the window she had uncovered last night. She had been sitting on the bed, contemplating whether she should ask the guard to let her use the bathroom, when the door had opened and Lieutenant Holland had poked his cheerful mug in.
The lieutenant shrugged. “He didn’t seem opposed. He said it was all a miscommunication and that you should get back to your unit ASAP.”
“Really?” She couldn’t quite keep the suspicion out of her voice. Something about the situation didn’t smell quite right. On the other hand, did she want to stick around if she didn’t have to? The answer to that was a resounding no. She needed to get back to Marcie.
But first things first.
She dragged her fingers through her snarled hair. “Let me ask the guard where the bathroom is, and then give me five minutes to freshen up.”
The lieutenant looked puzzled. “What guard?”
“The . . .” She stopped and quickly reevaluated what she had been about to say. Had the major removed the guard before sending Holland up? If he did, then . . . “What exactly did Major Ricca say transpired last night?”
“That you were found wandering the streets alone, lost, and were brought here for assistance. While talking to the major, you began slurring and confusing your words, which made him think you were drunk. Then he found out from Miss May that you hadn’t been drinking and were likely exhausted from the double performances, so he dropped all charges of drunk and disorderly and said to convey his apologies for any inconvenience.”
“Swell.” Vi rubbed her eyes, which still felt gritty from a poor night’s sleep. “Well, I’ll still need a minute or two.”
“Of course,” Lieutenant Holland said cheerfully. He politely got out of her way as she headed toward the door, his gaze roaming around the room. “Not much of a guest room, is it?”
Vi almost laughed but decided her energy was better spent getting herself ready. Less than ten minutes later, she rejoined Lieutenant Holland, looking far more respectable than she had. To her relief, no one stopped them on their way out. On the other hand, she didn’t see Major Ricca or Sergeant Danger, either. Or her belongings.
Lieutenant Holland had a taxicab waiting for them outside the gate. Again, she half expected to be stopped by the guard as she passed, but he merely waved them through.
She couldn’t imagine they had verified her story that quickly. Yes, there was a time difference between Rome and Chicago, but it went in the wrong direction. One in the morning here had been six in the evening there. Everyone would be home with their families then. Though, with the war on, maybe intelligence gatherers didn’t get time off.
“Where on earth did you go?” Marcie whispered the moment Vi sank into the auditorium seat next to her. Sue was just getting everyone gathered for notes on last night’s performance. “And why did Sergeant Danger stop by last night to get your things, only to return them this morning?”
“There was a snafu with communications,” Vi said, deciding to use Major Ricca’s latest story. “The MPs thought I was drunk and were going to throw me in the stockade but then decided I was merely exhausted, and here I am.”
“Meaning they let you sleep it off,” Marcie teased.
Frances leaned forward over the seat back, having sat in the row behind them. “The person you should apologize to is Gertie. She was beside herself this morning when you didn’t show for breakfast, sure we’d have to change all the formations again.”
“Shoot.” Vi looked over her shoulder. “Sorry, Gertie! I didn’t mean to spook you.”
“That’s all right.” Gertie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Vi wanted to kick herself. She hadn’t even thought of Gertie last night. Marcie, yes. Frances, yes. But not the one dancer who had apparently taken her absence the hardest.
Matt strolled up, a cigarette in his hand. Vi’s nerves were so jittery at the moment, she almost wished she had one, too. “So you decided to rejoin us! Charlie was convinced you and Sergeant Danger had eloped after you two vanished last night.”
“Oh, ha ha,” Vi said sarcastically, even as she inwardly cringed. “Not even close.”
Frances leaned forward again. “Didn’t you hear? Vi got picked up by the MPs for drunk and disorderly.”
“I did not!” Vi protested sharply.
Frances rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s right. You were just really tired, which is why you were slurring your words. Personally, I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Hey, it can happen,” Matt said. “I was pretty all in myself.”
“Yeah, Frances. Be nice,” Marcie added. “Remember we’re all in this together.”
“If you’d give me a chance to finish,” Frances said acidly, “what I was going to say was that, rather than being drunk, she probably got herself locked out of the hotel by coming home too late, and that’s why she was picked up.”
Which, despite coming from Frances, was a perfectly rational, much more innocent explanation than Major Ricca’s.
“There was that, too,” Vi allowed. “I’m forever without my key.”
“That’s the truth,” Marcie agreed, and to Vi’s relief, everyone laughed.
“All right, everyone,” Sue said, taking her place next to the stage. “Time for notes.”
While Sue began talking to the actors, Frances leaned forward a third time. “I told Gertie to stay away from that snake last night,” she said close to Vi’s ear. “And I told the front desk not to send any calls through to either our room or yours, so he couldn’t renew his offer.”
Vi briefly closed her eyes in thanksgiving. “Thanks, Fran.”
“You’re welcome. And you know, you’re not the only one who cares about this show.”
“I know, and I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” Vi whispered back, surprised to find it was true.
“Dancers,” Sue called out, and Frances sat back as Vi straightened in her chair. “I saw a couple of late kicks in the last number. Let’s tighten things up. Otherwise, I think that’s it,” she said, glancing at her notes.
“No one leave,” Mr. Stuart spoke up, startling everyone into silence. “I’ve been informed by the USO that we’re to receive additional training in self-protection this morning. Apparently our unit will be moving closer to the front, and they want us prepared.”
Sue turned to stare at her boss in surprise. “When was this announced?”
“Just now,” Mr. Stuart said smoothly. “Instruction will begin backstage as soon as notes are finished.”
Ann and Matt looked at each other. Charlie raised his hand. “Should we change first?”
“Not necessary. The instructors wanted it to be as true to life as possible. So if everyone would please follow Mr. Miller.” Mr. Stuart gestured toward Wyatt, who had taken up a spot by the edge of the auditorium, next to the stage door.
“Well, troops,” Victor exclaimed, getting to his feet. “Let’s go. Hup, hup!”
Marcie dropped back to Vi’s side as the actors and Ann led the way. “Should we be concerned? I haven’t heard of any other units being given extra instruction.”
Vi shrugged, just as confused as the rest. “Maybe we’re particularly hopeless?”
“I hope it doesn’t mean our tour is going to be more dangerous than most.” Gertie shu
ddered.
“If it does, we’ll just be that much more prepared,” Frances said, giving her a playful punch in the arm. “And think how useful all this training will be when we get back to New York!”
Consoling herself with that thought, Vi filed backstage with the others. What she would much rather be doing was taking a nap after last night. She still had a lot she needed to sort out, and she could think of no better place to do it than stretched out on her bed at the hotel.
“Well, well,” Frances said under her breath. “If it isn’t Sergeant Danger and a drool-worthy friend.”
Jerked from her thoughts, Vi looked over toward where their instructors stood. Sure enough, Ansel stood talking to Wyatt, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs slightly apart. Electricity began to hum through her veins the instant his pale blue eyes met hers.
Oh yes. Drool-worthy, indeed, she thought. And likely mad as a wet hen at her.
“He certainly looks a lot nicer than Sergeant Danger,” Gertie agreed, and Vi blinked. She had altogether missed the fellow standing to Ansel’s left. Her stomach sank. It was the corporal from last night, the one who had escorted her to the “guest room.” She really, really hoped he wouldn’t say anything about that in front of the others.
Dread pooling in her gut, she hung back as the others moved ahead.
“We’re going to divide into two groups,” Sergeant Danger announced, his voice assuming a tone of natural command. As one, the unit fell silent to listen. “I want the following people to go with Corporal Merritt: Charles Cooper, Matthew Clark, Marcie May, Virginia Heart, and Sue Daldakis. The rest of you will be with me.”
“At least we get to be together,” Marcie whispered to Vi. “And I wouldn’t mind practicing on Matt. He’s such an ass some days.”
“Ann doesn’t think so,” Vi pointed out.
Marcie sniffed. “Ann also admits to having bad taste in men.”
Sergeant Danger’s voice rang out again, quieting the chatter. “In deference to your performances later today, please take it easy. We’ll be showing you various moves, but take care not to injure yourselves.”
The Long Path Home Page 28