by Alexa Kang
He bowed his head and made another prayer. He knew he was blessed. What other people hoped for, be it wealth, talent, or health, he had always had in abundance. He should be humbled and should not ask for more. But despite all that he already had, he dared to ask the Lord to grant him one more wish. He prayed that he and Tessa would have a long, happy future together.
"And now, I will conduct the next part in English." Father Lorenzo told the congregation when the sermon concluded. "Will the wedding party please rise?"
Tessa and Anthony stood up as the priest instructed, as did everyone present.
The Father then uncharacteristically broke his solemnity and said, "I hope you will pardon my bad English." A spark of humor twinkled in his eyes. Tessa and Anthony could hardly hold their smiles.
"Anthony and Tessa, have you come here today freely and without reservation, to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"
A lightness, like wind, rushed to Tessa's head. Her heart was skipping so fast, she could hardly breathe. She dug her nails into her palm to make sure this moment was real.
"I have," Anthony said, his voice firm without any hesitation.
"I have." The words poured out of Tessa from her heart.
"Will you love and honor each other as man and wife for the rest of your lives?"
"I will." They both answered at the same time over each other. Tessa let out a nervous laugh. Anthony beamed.
Father Lorenzo continued. "Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, you will now declare your consent before God and his Church. Will you please join hands?"
Anthony held out his hands and Tessa took them. For her, the moments that followed went by like a dream. All she could do was look at Anthony. Vaguely, she heard Father Lorenzo say to Anthony, "Repeat after me," but it was Anthony's voice that spoke to her.
"I, Anthony James Ardley, take you, Tessa Graham, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."
Father Lorenzo directed her to speak. This was it. The seal of their love. "I, Tessa Evangeline Graham, take you, Anthony Ardley, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until…" She paused. She could not bring herself to say the remaining words of her vow, not with the war still going on. "Until…" she tried again, but could not. She didn't want anything to happen to him. She didn't want death to ever come. She didn't want them to be apart.
Everyone was now watching her. With the pressure mounting, she said instead the next words that came to her, "for all eternity."
It was against the Catholic church's rules to go off script, but she could not help herself. Father Lorenzo looked at her, surprised. Anthony looked outright bewildered. He tightened his grip on her hands. This time, his were the hands that trembled. But she would not apologize. With determination in her eyes, she looked at Anthony. He returned her gaze, his eyes filled with emotion and tenderness.
Father Lorenzo let her transgression slip and continued on. "What God has joined, men must not divide." He opened the Bible and said to Rocco. "May I please have the rings?"
Rocco came forward with the wedding bands in a small jewelry box. Father Lorenzo put the rings on the Book and blessed them. He then held up the Bible with the rings on the open page and said to Anthony and Tessa. "You may place the rings on each other and repeat after me…"
Anthony picked up Tessa's ring and slid it onto her finger. "Tessa, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity." He repeated the words as instructed by Father Lorenzo. "In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit." Then, digressing from the script himself, he added, "Tessa, I love you for all that you are, and all that you will become. From the day I first held you in my arms, I have loved you, adored you, and cherished you. I will continue to love you for the rest of my life, and for all eternity."
When he said this, Tessa's eyes moistened. A teardrop fell down her cheek. She didn't expect him to go off script too. She didn't expect him to make such a dramatic declaration. In that moment, she knew that whatever the future might hold, she would always follow him wherever he went. She would follow him to the end of this world.
"Anthony, take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit." She placed the other ring on his finger. As soon as she finished, he grabbed her hand, pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was a kiss of unsuppressed emotions, a kiss that encompassed more than a thousand words of love, all conveyed in one moment in time.
The Father concluded the ritual with Holy Communion, blessings, and prayers. For the rest of the ceremony, Tessa could not stop smiling, and neither could Anthony. They were now bound to each other. Forever.
After the ceremony, they joined hands once again and proceeded down the aisle. Outside, the Montellos were waiting. They cheered and showered them with rice when they exited the church.
And poor Dr. Haley. He finally had a chance to speak to them. "Congratulations. It was a beautiful ceremony."
"Thank you for coming," Tessa said to him.
Paolo, the Montellos’ son, released a pair of doves into the air. The doves flew away, circling each other for a long time in the sky.
"Do you know what this means?" Signora Montello asked Tessa and Anthony.
"No," Anthony said.
"It means you two will be together for a very long time to come."
In the early evening, after a festive wedding dinner at the Montellos' home, Anthony and Tessa wandered and roamed the streets before they returned to their hotel. They wanted to leave behind memories of their footsteps on every street and every corner. This way, their presence today would become part of this ancient city's history.
On the Ponte Sant'Angelo overlooking the Tiber River, they paused to admire the view of the sunset behind the Vatican Basilica. The Ponte Sant'Angelo, the bridge of angels, was said to be the most beautiful bridge in Rome.
Tessa looked below at the sunset reflecting off the water flowing under the bridge. Today had been like a dream. She could not believe it was almost over. She wished she and Anthony could be free, and the current of the river could carry them away.
"Do you think the war will end this year?" she asked.
"Anything's possible." Anthony embraced her from behind. "We've taken Rome. We've taken Normandy. We have to have faith."
"I just want us to be together."
"We'll always be together. You know why?"
"Why?"
He looked out to the horizon. "Because we got married in the Eternal City."
III
Part Three - Despair
8
In an abandoned building that was once a bar, Jesse sat on the floor in a drunken stupor with a group of four American soldiers. They were all grunts except him, but he didn't care. Right now, he didn't care about anything.
They had been here for hours. Maybe days. Exactly how long? No one was counting. Certainly not him. They were all too drunk to care. Two of them were so drunk, they had passed out.
Jesse leaned back against the wall as the others sprawled out around him. The bottle of liquor in his hand had dried up. He tossed it next to the pile of leftover food containers and empty liquor bottles. How many bottles had they finished? No one was counting those either.
"So this is it, boys," one of the soldiers said. His name was Loman. He had been griping nonstop for hours. "We're here finally. Rome! What a fucking let down. This is what I fought months and months for? To be drunk here with you bastards in this abandoned shithole?" The more he talked, the blotchier his face got. "Where are the parties? Where are all the women?"
"Shut the fuck up, Loman. Go fill out a T.S. slip and send it to the chaplain. Am sick of your bitching," said another soldier named Weaver.
"You shut the fuck up. I'm telling it like it is. We gave them Rome, and all them brass and
bitches back home could talk about is Normandy. Fuck them, man! It's enough to make me wish they'll fail." The soldier named Loman gulped a mouthful of wine from the bottle in his hand. The wine dripped from the corners of his mouth as he drank. "Back in that shithole Anzio, they told us Rome was the prize. Every single fucking day, Petey and I swore we'd eat, drink, and fornicate like Roman emperors when we got here. When in Rome, know what I mean?" The loud snore of one of the soldiers asleep on the ground interrupted his tirade. He shoved the sleeping soldier awake. "Hey. Petey. Wake up, you fucking ass. You're snoring worse than a pig. You sound like a fucking Stuka."
Squinting, the soldier named Petey lifted his head. He grabbed the flask beside him, poured alcohol down his throat, and fell right back to sleep.
"Useless piece of shit." Loman kicked the sleeping Petey with his foot. "We had a bet going, Petey and I. Which one of us would be the first to bed a dozen ladies when we got here? Look at him. All talk and no balls. All he's done since we got here is sleep. You'd think he's in a fucking coma." Loman picked up his wine again and finished it to the last drop. "Garland. You got more booze? I'm out."
Jesse raised his eyes. His head ached and he could not think straight. He dug into his bag and pulled out a bottle of aged scotch. After a careless look at the label, he leaned his head back against the wall. "This stuff's too good to drink just to get drunk."
"Nothing's too good for drinking to get drunk," Weaver said.
"Gimme that." Loman grabbed the bottle of scotch from Jesse, took off the cap, ready to chug. The liquor label caught his attention. "Talisker, aged 20 years... Shit, Garland. This is good stuff."
"I want some of that," Weaver said. Loman took a gulp and handed the bottle to Weaver.
"This is top shelf," Weaver said. Unlike Loman, he poured the scotch into a cup and took a slow sip, savoring the taste. "The wine tastes like piss water now." He kicked an empty wine bottle, and it rolled away on the floor. "How do you get this stuff?" he asked Jesse.
Jesse didn't answer, but lit a cigarette.
"This stuff's too good. We ought to make a toast," Weaver said.
"A toast to what?" Loman asked.
"A toast to the victory," Petey said, waking up from his stupor. "We conquered Rome."
"Victory my ass," Loman said. "Rome ain't no victory. It's just another fucking rest stop if this fucking war doesn't end. And from where I'm sitting, there ain't no end in sight."
"Loman," Weaver said. "I can't listen to you anymore. You're depressing as shit."
"Fine. A toast to Stalin then." Loman grabbed the flask next to Petey. "To Uncle Joe for kicking some German asses. If he crushes the Krauts before we do, then we can all call it quits."
"Fuck that," Weaver said. "I ain't toasting to no Russian victory. I've been fighting this war too damn long. If there's going to be any victory, it better be ours. I ain't putting my life on the line for the Ivans to get the credit."
"Our victory means you have to fight," said Loman. "All you've been doing is bitch about having to fight."
"No, I haven't."
"Yes, you have."
"You're drunk."
"No, I'm not."
"I have a toast," Jesse said, interrupting them. He took the bottle of Talisker back from Weaver and poured it into his cup. "A toast to the girl I love. Today's her wedding day." He held up the cup. "Here's to her living happily ever after." He drank the entire cup of liquor.
"Her wedding day today…" Loman said, "Wait, that means she's marrying someone else?" He leaned closer to Jesse. "Did she cheat on you?"
Jesse shook his head. He took a drag of his cigarette.
"She turned you down?" Weaver asked in disbelief. "A girl turned you down?"
Jesse stared ahead. He saw nothing but vacant space. No amount of alcohol could numb his senses. Giving up, he let his pain and anguish meld into a hopeless, bittersweet smile.
"She ain't worth it." Loman took the bottle of Talisker and poured another shot into Jesse's cup. "A woman ain't worth it," he slurred. "You don't need to be tied down with a girl. If I have women swarming around me the way they swarm around you, shit, I'd never get married." He raised the bottle. "A toast. To Lieutenant Garland. Here's to him forever being a lady's man, and to his stockpile of booze."
"Yeah!" Weaver said.
Even Petey sat up. He took the bottle from Loman. "To Garland."
While they cheered, Jesse lowered his eyes to the floor. "I'd marry her in a heartbeat," he said. His voice was so low, nobody heard him.
9
An eruption of laughter from the staff caught Fran Milton's attention as she came down the hospital corridor on her way to her meeting with Colonel Callahan. In the commons room, a group of young doctors and nurses had gathered. Brent Doyle, the new physician who had recently joined them, and Ellie Swanson were among the people inside. Doyle was telling his stupid jokes again.
"Two fish are in a tank. One turns to the other and asks, 'How do you drive this thing?'"
Another wave of laughter broke out. Annoyed, Fran scowled and continued walking. Brent Doyle's jokes were terrible. She couldn't understand why everyone thought he was funny.
Worse yet, he was dense. Fran wouldn't have found him so irritating if he wasn't thick as a block. Since they came to Rome, she had given him many chances to be alone with Ellie Swanson. If he had any sense, he would have gotten the hint by now and be pursuing Ellie. Couldn't he see that he and Ellie Swanson made a good, logical couple?
Instead, Doyle always drew a crowd. If he was assigned to work with Ellie, somehow other staff members would end up working with them. If he and Ellie had time off together, he would inevitably turn it into a group outing. Time and again, he ruined every chance Fran had given him. The only thing that came out of Fran's efforts was that Aaron believed Brent Doyle and Ellie were an item. Aaron seemed to have come to terms with it too. When he saw Doyle and Ellie together, he would leave them be and withdrew from them.
Still, Fran worried. Aaron's misconception could only last so long. If Doyle didn't make a move soon, Aaron might get ideas again.
No. Fran hunched her shoulders. She couldn't let that happen. She had to figure out a solution, quick.
She entered the administrative office. Colonel Callahan was already seated at the table. She took a seat across from him. "Good afternoon, Colonel. Sorry to keep you waiting."
"Not a problem, Captain. I was early."
Fran shifted her glasses and opened the file in front of her. "We've set up the hospital as you requested last week. Three hundred beds, all ready to receive patients. Twenty-three beds are currently in use. Eighteen cases of common flu. Five local civilians and Red Cross volunteers with some illness or another, nothing too serious. We have no combat-related cases right now." She closed the file. "I guess all is going well for the Fifth Army."
"Yes," said Callahan. "Everything is going better than expected. I thought we'd see more German counter offensives outside of Rome going up north, but that hasn't happened. The Gerries are in full retreat. Thank the Lord."
"Indeed."
"Our next phase is to reorganize and regroup for Operation Anvil." He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "This is still a top secret mission. All details are strictly confidential. The information I'm telling you comes straight from army command."
Fran clasped her hands on the table and waited to hear more.
"We'll be taking the American troops out of the Allies' Fifth Army. Our Sixth Army Corp. will be replaced by the Brazilian Expeditionary Force. They'll be reassigned to the Seventh Army to join the Free French for our next attack in Saint-Tropez," Callahan said. "D-Day is planned for mid-August."
"That's six weeks from now."
"Yes. Of course, the 33rd and the rest of our evac hospitals will be reassigned to the Seventh Army too."
"That won't be a problem." Fran folded her hands. "With six weeks, we'll have plenty of time to work out all the logistics."
"Good," Callahan relax
ed into his seat. "Outlook for our next offensive is good. From our intel reports, there is no major German defense stationed in the South of France. Conditions are favorable to us at the moment."
"That sure is good news after Anzio."
Rather than agreeing with her, Callahan took a deep breath and frowned.
"What is it?" Fran asked.
"All may be good here where we are, but things aren't going so well up in Normandy. We've taken a lot of casualties up north. It's a blood bath there. The army's falling short on fighting men and staff on all fronts. Conditions are getting critical."
"What about medical personnel? Are the hospitals up north sufficiently staffed?"
Callahan's frown grew deeper. "They need more support. We have enlisted medical corpsmen and nurses scheduled to arrive from Stateside. Problem is, they aren't arriving fast enough."
Fran stared at her hands. She tried to remain calm, but her mind was racing. "Colonel, may I make a suggestion?"
"Yes?"
"If the situation there is so urgent, why don't we divert some of the medical staff here up north now. We aren't engaging in serious combat right now. There's no point in having people here idled. The 33rd can transfer a number of nurses up to Omaha Beach. Maybe the evac hospitals can do the same too."
Intrigued, Callahan rubbed his chin and considered her proposal. Fran could tell he liked the idea.
"Wouldn't that create a personnel shortage for us here when we move to southern France?" he asked.
"You can arrange for medical replacements to be sent here. If our hospital will be stationed in Rome for six more weeks, the replacements can arrive with plenty of time to spare before Operation Anvil starts. In the meantime, our experienced nursing staff can give immediate support to the hospitals in Normandy. Doesn't that make sense?"
Callahan's lips curled into a half smile. Fran knew then he needed no further persuasion. "Great idea, Captain. We can transfer not just nurses, but other medical staff as well. I'll contact our medical HQ in Normandy. They'll be pleased. It'll be a relief for them, I'm sure."