by Alexa Kang
Contents
About the Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Disclaimer
Acknowledgements
Part One - The Rose Garden
Chapter 1
Part Two - The Pool Party
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Part Three - America First
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Part Four - The South Side
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Part Five - The Hand of God
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Part Six - A Chicago Summer
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Part Seven - Star-Crossed Lovers
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Part Eight - The Rose Pendant
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Part Nine - Mary Winters
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Part Ten - Moonlight
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Part Eleven - Cadet Nurse
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Part Twelve - Dream of Love
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Part Thirteen - New Years Eve, 1942
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Email list
About the Author
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Alexa Kang’s writing career began in 2014. She grew up in New York City and is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania. She has travelled to more than 123 cities, and she loves to explore new places and different cultures. When not at work, she lives a secret second life as a novelist. She loves epic loves stories and hopes to bring you many more.
ROSE OF ANZIO
Book One ~ Moonlight
Alexa Kang
Copyright © 2016 Alexa Kang
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 1523253614
ISBN-13: 978-1523253616
For Maria Ting
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. The author has made every effort to ensure that major historical facts are accurate, but has taken some artistic license for fictional purposes. This book is not intended to be used as reference material and in no way should it be treated as an authority on any subject on any account.
Acknowledgements
Rose of Anzio began as a personal challenge for me, but over the course of last year, I discovered that writing a full-length novel (four novels, in fact) is a group project. Words alone cannot express my gratitude to everyone who had encouraged me and helped me bring this series to its completion. I am still amazed at the time and efforts of those who volunteered to help me make this story stronger and better.
Thanks to Anneth White, who first encouraged me to write this story and continuing to inspire me by following it faithfully throughout. Thank you to Pamela Ann Savoy, who gave me great feedback on story ideas and development along the way, and took time out of her super busy schedule to proofread my work as I wrote. Thanks to Eleanna Sakka, whose shoulder was always available for me to lean on every time I hit the wall. My utmost gratitude to Brandon Bjorklund, a fellow writer and good friend who reached out to teach me the ropes of self-publishing, and gave me valuable advice and support throughout the process. Also, a very special thank you to Ms. CandyTerry, who gave me a huge amount of moral support, as well as the first platform for me to introduce this story.
My heartfelt thank you to both Kristen Tate, my content editor, whose suggestions and insights helped me improve my story significantly, and Geoff Byers, for his tremendous help and advice on how to create and construct my battle scenes throughout the entire series so I could keep the story as realistic as possible. Thanks to Stephen Reid, for making sure Tessa speaks proper British English. Thanks also to my copy editor Fiona Hallowell, and proofreader Margaret Dean and T.J. Moore, for making my story a truly polished piece of work.
Last but not least, thanks to my husband, Dan, for his unending amount of patience and support.
PART ONE
The Rose Garden
Chapter 1
It all began in the rose garden.
A light blue Buick convertible pulled up to the entrance of the driveway leading to a limestone mansion. The mansion itself was barely visible from the street, but from there, the passersby could catch glimpses of the magnificent rose garden in front of the house.
Anthony Ardley got out of the car, said goodbye to his friend who had driven him, and walked toward his home. It was only the end of May, still early in the summer, but the Chicago heat had already started to swell. He didn’t mind though. With the heat, his summer vacation had begun.
Home at last.
Exams, over. No more term papers. No more endless debate team meetings. His first year at the University of Chicago, finished.
He slung his duffle bag over his shoulder. In the familiar front yard ahead, the roses in the garden should be in full bloom.
Indeed, the blossoms were as spectacular as he expected. What he didn’t expect was a teenage girl kneeling on the ground, chopping away at the flowers surrounding the tiered water fountain. Her brown hair, cut just below her shoulders, fell forward down her neck. Her arms were lithe and quick as she gathered the cut roses. He had never seen her before.
Vandal! He walked closer. She was an unusual-looking girl. She wore her hair straight. Girls didn’t usually wear their hair straight. Her bangs dampened by perspiration, she wiped the sweat dripping down the side of her face, leaving a dirt mark on her left cheek. Her hands and slender fingers were covered in soil. So immersed in her task of ravaging the roses, she didn’t look up when he approached.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “You’re trespassing.”
“Who are you?” she asked him back, surprising him with her British accent. “Why do I have to answer to you?”
“Because this is my home,” he said. A large patch of the flowerbed was now in disarray. “What have you done? You’re destroying private property.”
The girl barely raised an eyebrow. Without answering him, she picked up the cut flowers and put them into a bag next to her, then got up and walked away.
“Hey!” he called out after her. “Come back here! I’m not done talking to you.”
Ignoring him, she disappeared onto the street, leaving him with no answer except the gurgles of water flowing down the fountain.
He looked at the ravaged scene she left behind. His family had set aside this part of the garden as a dedication. They had planted the most beautiful species of roses here. Several home and gardening magazines had even printed feature articles about it. Now, patches of leaves and shrubs were crushed. Headless stems stuck out from what was once an enchanting arrangement of flowers. The garden’s beauty
was ruined.
Their gardener would surely have a fit tomorrow.
He crouched down and removed the leaves that covered the small memorial plaque lying flat on the ground. Designed in the shape of a rock, the plaque was placed in a conspicuous spot of the flowerbed to naturally blend into the garden’s landscape. Engraved on the plaque were the words, “Anthony Browning, 1903-1919 ~ Gone but not forgotten.” He had never met the person named on the plaque. Anthony Browning, who was his father’s cousin, had passed away before he was born. He did, however, feel a special kinship with the deceased. His father named him in memory of Browning. Growing up, many people had said he and Browning looked alike, with the same blonde hair and athletic built.
The memorial garden. What a mess it had become. Who was that girl? Was she a neighbor’s kid? Perhaps a British family had moved into the neighborhood? He needed to tell his mother and ask her if she knew the girl. They should tell the girl’s parents what she had done. He hurried up the lane toward the circular driveway in front of the house.
Inside his home, his Uncle Leon was visiting with his parents in the main parlor. Actually, Leon Caldwell was his father’s other cousin. But as far back as he could remember, he had always called him Uncle Leon.
His mother, Sophia, rose from her seat when he walked in. “Anthony! You’re home.”
“Mother.” He threw down his duffle bag and gave her a hug. “Father,” he said to his father.
His father, William, also got up to greet him. “Welcome home.”
“Did you see what happened outside? A girl stole roses from the memorial garden. She made a total mess of it. Do you know who she is? Is she a neighbor’s kid?”
“She’s not a neighbor.” Sophia took his arm and walked him into the room. “That was Tessa. Tessa Graham. She’s staying with us.”
“Staying with us?”
“Come. Take a seat,” William said. “We’ll tell you all about her later.”
Anthony sat down next to his mother. “Uncle Leon, what brought you here today?”
“Came to talk to your father about trade opportunities in Latin America,” Leon said. “Europe is having widespread shortages of everything with that war they got themselves into. Oil, metals, sugar, everything. If all I care about are profits, we should absolutely invest more in South America, for access to raw materials if nothing else. As it is, though,” he said and rubbed his chin, “I have a lot of misgivings about putting my money into anything that might get us more involved with that pot of trouble in Europe. A lot.”
“What’s happening with the war?” Anthony asked. “I haven’t kept up with the news. Been buried with exams the last few weeks.”
“Things aren’t looking good,” William said. “The war. It’s spreading like a disease through the Continent.”
“Tell me about it. It’s a plague. They better keep their illness in quarantine. Don’t let us catch a whiff and infect us with it,” Leon said, finishing the last drop of his brandy. “I don’t understand those people. Wasn’t the last time bad enough? Wasn’t it supposed to be the war to end all wars? But no, they’re at it all over again. Well I say, let them stew in their own juice this time. Keep us out of it.”
Neither William nor Anthony disputed him. They knew well how vocal Leon could be with his anti-intervention views. Few people were as well-versed as he in the political and economic arguments against American involvement, and he would be the first to debate anyone on the subject. As his family, though, they knew the real reason why he felt this way. His brother, Lex, had been an Air-Force pilot. Lex died in the Great War twenty-two years ago. Before he died, they had been close.
William Ardley, Leon and Lex Caldwell, and Anthony Browning. The four cousins had grown up together and were very close.
“But Juliet and Dean are over there in London,” Sophia said. Her mention of Juliet piqued Anthony’s attention. Juliet was an unspoken taboo in the Ardley household. He didn’t know all the details as to why. Juliet left the family before he was born and he had never met her. All he knew was, Anthony Browning’s father had adopted her after his son passed away, and as a result, she became part of their extended family. Something happened afterward and led to a fall-out. The fall-out was so bad that his late grandmother Helen Ardley had absolutely forbidden anyone from mentioning Juliet in her presence when she was alive. Even now, with his grandmother no longer here, his parents and uncle became somber at the mere mention of Juliet’s name.
“Since we’re on the subject, Anthony. The girl you asked about before, Tessa, she’s Dean and Juliet’s daughter,” William said.
“Dean and Juliet’s daughter? Are you serious?”
“We didn’t tell you earlier because you were busy with exams and there was no reason to disturb you. I went to London last month to see Juliet and Dean. London’s unsafe. I invited them to come back with me but they didn’t want to. They did agree Tessa should come live with us until they’re sure England is safe.”
“Oh.” He couldn’t believe his father had gone to London. No one in the family had spoken to Juliet in years.
“It must be tough for Tessa,” Sophia said. “She’s young. She’s in a foreign country away from her parents, living with people she never met before she came.”
“I don’t know about that, Sophie,” William said and smiled at his wife. He always called her “Sophie” as a term of affection. “If she’s anything like her mother, she won’t be fazed by any of this.” He spoke with the tone of fondness he used whenever he talked about Anthony Browning and Lex. Anthony had never heard his father speak this way about Juliet before.
“She’s been good with Alexander,” Leon said, referring to his ten-year-old son. “I wish she and Katherine could be friends though. They’re the same age. I thought they would become best friends.” Katherine was Leon’s fourteen-year-old daughter.
“You want them to be the way we used to be with Juliet,” William said. Leon smiled and didn’t deny it.
“Sometimes, you just can’t go back.” William looked over at a framed photo on the display cabinet. In the photo, he, Leon, Lex, and Anthony Browning were still teenagers. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders.
“At least Juliet is back on speaking terms with us,” Sophia said. “Anthony?”
“Yes, Mother?”
“Try to make Tessa feel welcome and at home, will you? We must all try.”
“Of course.” Feeling a little ashamed, he shifted his eyes away from her. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so confrontational with the girl earlier. “But why was she picking the flowers in the rose garden?”
“She takes them to the hospital. Apparently, Juliet planted a rose garden in memory of your uncle Anthony in London too. Juliet’s a nurse now. When the flowers bloom, she brings them to her patients. In the summer, she always took Tessa with her.” Sophia took a sip of her tea. “Tessa asked us if she could take our roses to the hospital. I guess it’s a way for her to keep something consistent in her life.”
“Isn’t it strange to take flowers away from a memorial garden?”
“Not for Juliet,” William said. “Anthony and Juliet used to bring roses to the hospitals every week for the Great War veterans. They started doing that after Lex died. As for taking roses from the memorial garden…” He glanced at Leon. “She said that’s what Anthony would’ve wanted.” He turned back to his son, “You know, our rose garden was originally her idea.”
That their rose garden was Juliet’s idea was news to Anthony. The garden had been there since before he was born. He had never thought to ask how it came about. He wished he had been friendlier when he met Tessa earlier. He would have to properly introduce himself and make it up to her later.
“Leon, why don’t you and Anna bring Katherine and Alexander over this Sunday?” Sophia asked. “Now that Anthony’s home, we can have a nice family reunion, and Tessa can get to know everyone better.”
“Sure. I’ll tell Anna.”
“How abo
ut we make it a pool party?” Anthony said. “Katherine and Alexander can invite their friends.”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Sophia said. “Tessa can meet some new friends. What do you think, Leon?”
“I’m all for it.”
“It’s settled then.” She leaned back into her seat. A gush of admiration rose in Anthony’s heart. His mother was always so thoughtful and considerate. She knew exactly how to make everyone around her feel important. His father’s success owed no small part to her ability to make his clients feel special when she accompanied him to social functions.
“What?” she asked, noticing her son staring at her.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just, it’s good to be home.”
# # #
When Leon left in the late afternoon, Anthony finally had time for the swim he had been looking forward to all day. Back in high school, he had been a swimming champion and the captain of his academy’s swim team. He competed at the university level now, usually with excellent results.
He couldn’t wait to dive into the pool. His parents built this swimming pool especially for him. In the water, he could move around with the kind of freedom he had nowhere else. For him, swimming felt like flying in the air.
On his way to the pool, he saw Tessa lying under a tree. The girl didn’t tell anyone she had come back and no one knew she had returned. So aloof, he thought.
Remembering what his mother had said, he decided to take a detour to reintroduce himself. Beneath the tree, she lay with her eyes closed and a book by her side. He couldn’t tell if she was asleep or if she heard him coming.
“Hello, Tessa?”
She opened her eyes. Standing under the tree, he towered over her. He thought she would get up but she didn’t. Without acknowledging him, she closed her eyes again.