Out of the Ashes

by Lori Dillon

  The flapping of the canvas tent over their heads seemed to rip at the silence between them, the sound of the meager breeze tearing large holes in the delicate fabric of her emotions.

  “And did you find him?” he finally asked.

  She nodded.

  “It took a while, but I finally did. In Arizona. I even spent a year studying archeology at the university there, trying to get up the courage to knock on his door and meet him face to face.”

  She could feel the sob welling up in her chest, threatening to burn a hole in her heart. The memory of his distant, dispassionate eyes when she told him who she was. The sound of the door slowly closing in her face, shutting her out of his life forever.

  “He told me that he already had a family. He told me… to go back home.”

  Before she realized what he was doing, David slid down into the shallow pit and took her into his arms.

  “I’m sorry, Sera. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

  His arms felt so strong and comforting around her, she wanted to sink into his warmth. His smell, of musk and sunshine, surrounded her.

  “He didn’t want me,” she sobbed, the dammed up emotions bursting forth as she clutched at his shoulders. “He didn’t… want me.”

  He rocked her as if she were a child, one arm around her waist while the other cradled her head against his chest. Her tears dropped one by one on his skin, leaving wet streaks down the dust and dirt where his heart hammered beneath her cheek.

  He held her for what seemed like an eternity, and then she felt his fingers beneath her chin. Gently, he tilted her head up and looked deep into her eyes.

  “How could he not want you?” His gaze flicked to her mouth, then returned to stare at her eyes with a burning intensity. “How could anyone not want you?”

  His brown eyes held all the warmth and compassion she’d never received from her father. From any man, for that matter. She felt herself falling into their depths, drowning in the fire blazing within them. She was lost.

  He bent his head and kissed her, gently at first. She let him in, clutching at him and pulling him closer. The kiss deepened until his tongue crossed the boundary of her lips to delve inside. She welcomed the invasion, sinking deeper into his hold.

  The thumping of the canvas overhead echoed the beating of her heart. Her head swam as he crushed her to him. She had never felt so comfortable, so desirable, so wanted. All were foreign feelings to her, and yet they felt so familiar with him.

  David’s hand moved from her waist to cup her cheek as the other held her head firmly in place for his kiss. His passion obliterated the painful memories, and, for the moment, they were the only two people on Earth.

  Then he pulled away, leaving her bereft of his warmth. She tried to follow his mouth, but his hands on either side of her head would not let her.

  She slowly opened her eyes, and the fog of desire quickly evaporated. A strange look had replaced the fire that had burned in his eyes only moments ago—a look that spoke words her mind could not decipher. He traced the curve of her moist lips with his thumb, a wistful expression clouding the passion on his face.

  She could have sworn she’d seen that look on his face before, but for the life of her, she couldn’t recall when or where.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t,” he said. He gently released her and leaned back, putting a wide gulf between them. “I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t want it to be like this… not this way.”

  What did he mean? That he wanted to continue this, at some other time, some other place? Did she want to? Her emotions were in such turmoil, she wasn’t sure what she wanted.

  But it didn’t matter. David took the choice from her.

  He stood abruptly and walked away.

  *

  Marsha glared at Hershel, her hand fisted on her boney hips.

  “You were supposed to get the boys to horse around with them so that Serafina could show her fun, nurturing side, not get David nearly killed.”

  “He wasn’t nearly killed.” Hershel crumpled his hat in his hands as he stood in the doorway of their kitchen. “It was a minor rope burn. Not like he lost a leg or anything.”

  She shook her finger at him.

  “Lucky for you. With our record, we can’t afford any minor anythings. They have a way of turning into major somethings, like the death of one or the other.”

  “Nobody died, and he did get to see her caring nature when she tended to the scrape on his back, just like you wanted.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.”

  Marsha wiped her hands on her apron and took Hershel’s lunch bucket and hat from him, setting them on a counter crowded with cheap porcelain bric-a-brac.

  Hershel rubbed at the back of his grimy neck as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

  “I’ll tell you, Marsha, being mortal again is hard work.”

  “Oh, stop whining, and tell me what else happened,” Marsha said as she joined him.

  He hesitated a bit too long, and she gave him the look, the one that said she could tell he was hiding something.

  “What went wrong?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Spit it out, Hershel. I can tell something went wrong. What is it?”

  He winced. “Well, it appears David knows about her being half American and all.”

  She gaped at him like a fish tossed on the beach.

  “He knows? How on earth did that happen?”

  Hershel shrugged and started picking at the dirt under his fingernails.

  “I guess it was when Serafina told him.”

  “She told him? How do you know?”

  “I heard her tell him about it. I went to their area of the dig to check on how our little plan with the boys was progressing.” Hershel looked pointedly at Marsha, just to make sure she knew he was doing his part of the job. “And I found them together.”

  “Together? What do you mean together?” She stepped closer, eager to hear any bit of juicy gossip.

  “Well, when I got there, he was holding her, and she was crying about her father.”

  “Holding her? Holding her how?”

  He was confused for a moment. “What do you mean how? His arms were wrapped around her. How else do you hold someone?”

  “Think, Hershel. Was he holding her like a friend or like a lover?”

  “I don’t know. Is there a difference?”

  “Of course there’s a difference,” Marsha grumbled, then shook her head. “And you wonder why we never had any children.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Never mind.” She turned her attention back to the issue at hand. “What happened after he found out? How did he react?”

  “I suppose he looked a little pale to me. Maybe even a bit queasy. Of course, she was really carrying on, sobbing all over him. It’s enough to make any man uneasy.”

  “Of course you’d think that.” She frowned at him. “Any time I get the least bit emotional, you run and hide.”

  “I do not.” Hershel stiffened his spine. “At least not always,” he conceded as his shoulders resumed their normally stooped posture.

  Marsha glared at him, calling him a liar without saying a word.

  “Well, can you blame me? Once you get started, you sound like an alley cat with its tail caught in the screen door.”

  Now it was her turn to get defensive. “I do not sound like a screeching cat.”

  “Oh, you’re right, dear. It must be all the real ones in the neighborhood joining in the chorus who make all that racket.”

  “Now you’re just being silly. Let’s get back to David and Serafina. What else happened?”

  “I don’t know. I left. I didn’t want them to catch me spying on them at such a tender moment.” Hershel raised his bushy grey brows at Marsha, letting her know that he included the last bit of romantic information for her benefit.

  He stood to go change out of his dirty work clothes, but stopped just before he left the kitchen. With his hand resting
on the doorsill, he turned back to Marsha.

  “Oh, yeah. And he kissed her.”

  “What?” She jumped up, knocking over her chair and sending it clattering on the tile floor. She chased after him down the narrow hallway. “He kissed her?”

  “Yes. Almost forgot that part,” he said as he entered their bedroom.

  “How could you forget that? It’s the most important part.”

  She plopped herself down on her small twin bed and stared across Hershel’s matching one as he stood beside it unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugged out of the dirty garment, revealing his thin, boney body in a white undershirt stained yellow under the arms from long, hot days digging at the ruins.

  “This is fantastic.” Her eyes took on a dreamy glow. “He kissed her… even after he found out about her tainted background. I was so worried it might be a problem.”

  “Why would it be a problem?” Hershel pulled a clean shirt out of the armoire. “I mean, I can see if she found out about him, it could get ugly. But what’s wrong with him knowing about her?”

  Marsha pursed her lips, making the thin lines around her mouth more pronounced.

  “I would have thought it would have put him on guard around her. After all, if his true identity is discovered, it could jeopardize his mission, even his life. Of all people, he now knows that Serafina might pick up on any Americanisms he may let slip.”

  Hershel finished buttoning his clean shirt, only to find he’d misaligned the holes and had to start over again.

  “He certainly didn’t seem too worried about it when I left them.”

  “Obviously not, if he was kissing her.” Marsha stood and smoothed down the wrinkles on the bedspread. “This is just wonderful. At this rate, our mission on Earth might be over sooner than we anticipated.”

  *

  American?

  How could he not have guessed? The American Big Band tunes she liked to sing. The sky blue eyes, highlights of red in her caramel brown hair, and freckles on an otherwise dusky complexion. It seemed so obvious now. It took everything in him not to slap his hand against his forehead at how he could have missed it.

  What kind of spy was he? David berated himself as he rode his bicycle through the narrow streets of Pompei.

  Then he reminded himself that such physical characteristics in Italy weren’t uncommon, especially in northern Italy where the Swiss, Germans, and French had infiltrated the population centuries before. He recalled Sera’s fluent Italian and all her mannerisms. She may have been born with some of her American father’s looks, but she had certainly gotten her fair share of her mother’s Italian character.

  Still, he should have known. Should have sensed it somehow.

  In a way, he supposed he had suspected something. That’s why he’d kept pushing her, trying to get her to open up. For the longest time he hadn’t thought she would. Why should she? Why should she confide in him when they hardly knew each other?

  But she had. She’d trusted him with her darkest secret.

  The hurt when she spoke of her father was undeniable. Apparently, he had reopened deep wounds she kept hidden from the rest of the world. He ached for the lonely child she must have been. No wonder she was so aloof. She’d grown a very hard shell years before.

  And he had cracked it wide open with a few well-aimed words.

  Thinking back to the previous afternoon, all he had wanted to do at the time was comfort her, to somehow make things right. And so, idiot that he was, he’d slid down beside her in the pit and taken her in his arms.

  It had seemed innocent enough and the right thing to do at the time. Something a friend would do. But even as he held her, he’d thought, Better to keep your distance, Corbin. The closer you get, the more likely she is to find out who you really are.

  Then when she turned her tear-filled eyes up to his, his concern for his mission had gone flying out the window. At that moment, he just worried about her, and he comforted her in the only way he could.

  He’d kissed her.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  The word was becoming a mantra in his head as he made his way to the weekly rendezvous with Frank. This time they were meeting just outside of town, on the main road leading to Naples. There was plenty of tourist traffic, so two men stopping to chat with each other generally went unnoticed.

  “Where have you been?”

  David hopped off his bicycle and took the offered cigarette without question this time.

  “My landlady tried to talk me into going to Mass with her this morning. I had to convince her that my soul wasn’t in dire jeopardy of burning eternally in hell.”

  “That’s what you think. She might have a point there.” Frank grinned, obviously not feeling the least bit sorry for him. They strolled to the top of a hill, away from traffic.

  “Any luck finding out where the Germans are stashing those munitions?”

  “Not yet. The ruins are crawling with krauts, but they’re behaving more like tourists than soldiers. Other than the weapons they carry on them, I haven’t seen a single piece of heavy artillery come through the gates.”

  “Well, they’ve got to be putting them somewhere.” Frank took a drag on his cigarette. “And you need to find out where soon.”

  “I know. I’m doing as much searching as I can without drawing suspicion. Speaking of which, I’ve got a big problem to deal with.”

  Frank’s amused demeanor instantly turned serious. “What’s up?”

  “That woman, the one I work with… for? I just found out she’s half American.”

  Frank blew out a long whistle along with the smoke he’d just inhaled.

  “How can that be? Weren’t all Americans still in Italy put in detention camps in forty-one?”

  “That’s what I thought, too.”

  “So, why isn’t she in one? Just how American is she?”

  David shrugged, reluctant to rehash Sera’s painful childhood with someone who didn’t know her.

  “She’s a World War I by-blow. Apparently, her father was an American G.I. stationed in Naples, but he never married her mother. She’s spent some time in the States, but I guess since she considers herself more Italian than not, she’s not considered a risk. Plus, she’s made her loyalties painfully clear, and it isn’t with our side.”

  Frank pointed two fingers with the cigarette wedged between them at David.

  “Yeah, but she’s a big risk to you, my friend.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” In more ways than one, he thought as the memory of their kiss flashed through his mind. Stupid, stupid, stupid chanted through his head once more.

  Frank dropped his cigarette in the grass and crushed it beneath his heel.

  “If I were you, buddy, I’d get myself as far away from that lady as I could. One slip from you, and she could blow the whole mission.”

  David knew that. His mission, his life, might depend on it.

  But how could he stay away from her when all he wanted was to kiss her again?

  Chapter 13

  David parked his bicycle beside the others left outside the entrance to the ruins. Sera’s was already there, and his stomach tightened into a knot knowing she was somewhere behind the stone walls.

  He couldn’t be sure if the feeling was one of apprehension or anticipation at the thought of seeing her again. All weekend, he’d thought of nothing but Sera and the fact that she was part American.

  That, and the kiss they’d shared.

  Frank was right. He needed to get far away from her as fast as he could before she discovered who he really was. She was simply a risk he couldn’t take.

  He passed several groups of people standing about and caught fragments of their conversations. The fact that people still found the time and money to travel during times of war amazed him. Each day the ruins literally crawled with tourists eager to look at the tragedy the archeologists were slowly uncovering in the ancient town. He supposed people used to come from all over the world, but for the mome
nt, only the Italians, Germans, and Japanese were welcome. U.S. citizens did not dare travel abroad. He was the only American within a hundred miles.

  Except for Sera.

  A chorus of giggles filled the air as he made his way down the rutted street. He glanced over at a group of teenaged schoolgirls dressed in matching green plaid skirts and white short-sleeved blouses. They clustered with their teacher around one of the archeologists as he basked in the circle of their admiration. The man spoke Italian in a deep voice, explaining to the girls the rudimentary methods of excavating the ruins.

  He held the class in rapt attention, but David couldn’t tell if their focus was on the lesson or the lecturer. He would guess women might consider the guy handsome with his dark Mediterranean looks. Of course, he didn’t have much competition, given the average age of the other archeologists and laborers at the ruins was fifty.

  As David drew closer, he could tell from the smug look on the man’s face and his cocky stance that he was aware of that fact and not afraid to exploit it.

  One of the young girls laughed at something the man said, and he smiled back at her, revealing a row of perfect white teeth displayed against tanned skin. Christ, the girl couldn’t have been more than fifteen.

  He paused, struck by the feeling that the man was familiar somehow, that he had seen him somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place him. He shook his head in disgust. He had met the man’s kind before and never could understand how women fell for them. Maybe that’s what seemed familiar about him.

  As he passed the group, David overheard the man describing all his discoveries at the site. By his account, he had single-handedly unearthed the whole city himself.

  “Che palle.” Bullshit. David coughed into his fist, half-heartedly trying to muffle the derogatory comment.

  Mr. Showoff glanced in his direction and narrowed his eyes at David until one of the girls drew his attention away with another question about his famous discoveries.

  David shoved his hands in the front pockets of his pants and continued on his way. Let the mother hen of a teacher keep an eye on her chicks while the fox was about. He had his own problems to worry about.