by Lori Dillon
But that was before David came into her life. She missed his laughter, the teasing, the quiet conversations. Now the solitude she had sought so often gave her little comfort. Instead, it allowed unwanted thoughts of what might happen if they didn’t get David out soon to invade her mind.
A man darted into the street in front of her bicycle, snapping her out of her daze as she nearly ran him down. It was then that she noticed the street was more crowded than usual for this time of evening.
Raised voices drew her attention to small clusters of people gathered in the street. The man she almost collided with was now standing among one such group, gesturing wildly with his arms as he talked with his friends.
Looking around, she noted they weren’t the only ones in heated conversation. Anticipation filled the air, the usual talk about the weather or family pushed aside for something more important. From the bits and pieces she overheard, the excitement had to do with the war. That in itself wasn’t unusual. But something was different. She could feel it.
She stopped her bicycle, straddling it in the middle of the street. Hotly spoken words bombarded her from every direction, all talking about the same thing.
“The Presidente Americano said it on the Allied broadcast. It must be true.”
“I’ll believe it when I hear it from Prime Minister Badoglio himself.”
A prickling sensation raced up her spine, buzzing like a swarm of bees at the back of her head. Sera reached out and stopped a woman rushing past her.
“What has happened?”
The woman stopped and blinked in surprise at her question.
“Haven’t you heard? Italy has surrendered.”
*
Marsha nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the front door slam.
Since the first rumors of Italy’s surrender began to surface, she and Hershel had been glued to the BBC. As footsteps pounded down the center hallway, Hershel jumped up and stood in front of the radio in an attempt to hide it with his skinny body.
She shook her head at him. Did the fool even think to just turn it off?
Before Marsha could reach for the knob, Serafina barged into the room, her face pale and strained.
“Did you hear?”
Marsha breathed a heavy sigh of relief and relaxed.
“Yes. We were just listening to it on the radio.”
Serafina stepped further into the room, coming to sit on the ottoman beside Marsha without ever taking her eyes off the small radio on the side table.
“What are they saying?”
Hershel returned his attention to the radio and attempted to tune into the Allied broadcast. Static ripped through the small speaker, interspersed with the occasional voice of a reporter or advertisement.
“Well, it appears that Italy signed an armistice with the Allies last week, agreeing to our unconditional surrender.”
“Last week?” Marsha squawked, looking at Hershel in surprise. She’d somehow missed that little tidbit of information in the last announcement. “Why haven’t we heard anything about it until now?”
Hershel made a grunting sound of disgust as he banged on the top of the radio with his fist, apparently trying to improve the tuning with brute force. “Probably because Badoglio didn’t want Hitler to get wind of it until the Allies could take firm control of Italy. Now that the news is out, there’s certainly going to be hell to pay from Germany.”
“Heberto!”
He grimaced at his slip of the tongue. “Sorry, dear.”
Finally giving up on getting a clear signal from the BBC station, he adjusted the knob to pick up the local Italian broadcast.
“Let’s see what Italy has to say about all of this.”
Huddling around the radio, the trio didn’t have long to wait. Fifteen minutes into the regular broadcast, the Prime Minister’s announcement broke in, his deep voice flowing out over the radio waves.
“The Italian forces will cease all acts of hostilities against the Anglo-American forces, wherever they may be. They will, however, oppose attacks of any other forces.”
Serafina glanced back and forth between Hershel and Marsha, her brow creased in confusion.
“Does this mean that the war is over for Italy?”
Hershel sighed heavily.
“No. It means we’ve switched sides. We’re fighting against Hitler now.”
Marsha saw hope flash in Serafina’s eyes.
“Then, does this mean that David is safe, even if they discover who he is?”
Hershel didn’t answer her right away. He switched off the radio, and Marsha watched as his eyes lit on every surface in the room—anywhere but on Serafina’s expectant face.
An uneasy feeling churned in the pit of Marsha’s stomach. He only avoided eye contact like that when he was in trouble or trying to evade the subject.
“Heberto?” Marsha prodded.
Finally, he cleared his throat, and when he looked at Serafina, Marsha saw regret and sorrow etched in the deep lines of his face.
“I honestly don’t know, sweetheart. David was spying on the Germans before the surrender. If I don’t miss my guess, Hitler will be sending more troops down here to try to hold onto Italy any way he can. If the Nazis ever find out who David is and get their hands on him…”
The threat to David, trapped as he was in a jail cell, hung heavy in the air.
“Plus, there’s still the problem of the murder charge against him.” At Serafina’s stricken look, Marsha could have bitten off her tongue. She hadn’t meant to add to the girl’s worry.
“Oh, God.” Serafina wrapped her arms around her waist and curled in on herself. “What’s going to happen to him?”
Her heartfelt plea nearly broke Marsha’s heart.
“There now, dear,” she crooned, taking Serafina into her arms. She looked over at Hershel, exchanging a look of helplessness with her husband. “We’re doing all we can. He’ll be released soon. You’ll see.”
Serafina held onto Marsha like a lifeline, then pulled out of the embrace and shook herself, visibly drawing on some inner reserve that was rapidly draining before Marsha’s eyes.
“I should go now.”
“Oh, Serafina. I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet. Why don’t you stay and have dinner with us?”
She shook her head. “Thank you, Maria, but no. I need to be alone right now. Please understand.”
Marsha watched Serafina leave the apartment, her shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world were upon her. She’d never seen the poor girl look so sad, so lost. Not even after her mother’s death.
As the door clicked shut, she turned swiftly to her husband, drawing herself up to her full four foot, eleven-inch height.
“Hershel, we have got to do something now. This has gone on long enough. I don’t know how much more of this Serafina and David can take. Frankly, I don’t know how much more I can take.”
“But what more can we do, dear?” Hershel plopped down in his favorite chair. “I had Harry intercept the first report on David and conveniently ‘lose’ it. Then Ted had his boys play field hockey with the second one until it barely resembled a letter anymore. Every time the constable phones Naples, Sam dances on the lines until the call is rendered a jumble of static. We’re stalling the authorities as much as we can.”
“I know.” Marsha rubbed at her throbbing temples. “I’ve had Gertrude on double over-time hovering around that judge in Salerno, making sure his little gastro-intestinal problem stays flared up so he can’t get out of bed and come here.”
“So what more can we do?”
“I’m afraid we’ve only been delaying the inevitable. Although I believe this crisis has drawn them closer, David and Sera have been apart too long. We need to get him released soon.”
If possible, Hershel sunk even deeper into his chair.
“How? If we let the judge come here, he’s just going to make David wait in jail until the report comes from Naples. If we let the report come, then he’ll be char
ged with being a spy on top of murder.”
Marsha paced the living room. She hated to do this, but at this point, they really had no choice.
“We need more help.”
“From who? We’re running out of favors to call on. It’s going to look suspicious if too many guardian angels make unplanned visits to Italy.”
“I think it’s time we notify Smithers.”
“Noooo.” Hershel shook his head in tiny jerks. “We can’t do that. Then he’ll know we’ve botched things again.”
“Well, it can’t be helped. If we get demoted, we get demoted. But we need to get David out of jail now, before things get any worse.”
*
Sera was becoming such a familiar face at the Pompei jailhouse, she was surprised they didn’t give her a key. Of course, that would make getting David out of his cell a little too easy, and the fates seemed to be conspiring to make her life as difficult as possible lately.
She arrived just after visiting hours started. After a long, sleepless night worrying about how Italy’s surrender might affect him, she wanted to see David as soon as she could. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, she wasn’t the only one who hadn’t slept well the night before.
“I guess you’ve heard the news.”
David stifled a yawn and tunneled his fingers through his hair, making the waves look more tousled than usual.
“It was kind of hard to miss. The guards even had themselves a little party. Of course, I wasn’t invited, but I got to enjoy the noise of the merrymakers all night long.”
“I know. The celebrations in the street kept me up half the night, too.” Even though she worried for his safety, she couldn’t help but feel some of the excitement radiating through the town. “You should have seen it. The bonfires, the people dancing in the streets. It was just like the night they arrested Mussolini.”
At the shared memory of what almost happened that night, David smiled.
“At least we’re on the same side now.”
She reached up and held his hand where it dangled over the cross-bar of the cell door.
“Oh, David. I’ve been on your side for a long time. I just didn’t realize it until it was—”
Familiar voices echoed down the hallway, drawing Sera’s attention. She turned to find a guard escorting the Angelicos toward David’s cell.
“Heberto, Maria? What are you doing here?”
“Well, we came to visit David, of course.” Maria beamed a smile at David. “You’re not the only friend he has in this town, you know.”
Sera stood stunned. She’d had no idea they’d been visiting him at all.
Her surprise must have been evident on her face, because David started laughing.
“Don’t look so shocked. They’ve been coming once or twice a week. Signora Angelico browbeats the guards when she doesn’t think they’re feeding me well enough, and Heberto’s been keeping me up on all the bocce games.” David reached through the bars and shook Heberto’s hand. “How did it go on Sunday?”
Heberto grinned. “Lost the first match, but won the other two.”
“Not bad. When I get out of here, I’m going to have to challenge you to a game.”
“You’ve got yourself a match.” Heberto winked at Sera, then looked back at David. “But I warn you, it’s a game of skill, not brawn. Think your pride can handle an old man beating the socks off of you?”
David chuckled. “We’ll just have to see about that… old man.”
The sound of the outer door grating open ended the friendly banter. Sera felt her heart leap into her throat as two guards made their way toward them. Without questioning how, she knew they were coming for David.
“Signore Corbelli. The giudice della corte di circuito is in office and will hear your case now.”
Sera didn’t know whether to be excited or scared.
“But I didn’t think the judge was going to make a decision until the background report came from Naples.”
The guard didn’t even glance her way as he unlocked David’s cell.
“As a matter of coincidence, the report arrived just before he did, about an hour ago.”
Sera’s heart plummeted to her stomach from where it had been lodged in her throat. Dear God, this was it. She might be only moments away from losing David forever.
Following David and the guards down the hallway, with Heberto and Maria trailing behind her, Sera felt as if she were the condemned instead of David. How did he manage to walk so tall and seem so brave when she was falling apart inside?
The officers led them through the main area at the front of the jailhouse and up a wide, wooden staircase to a large room on the second floor. Crammed bookcases lined the walls on both sides, and a large wooden desk sat in front of a row of windows allowing bright sunlight to flood the cluttered room. As she stood in the doorway, the smell of cooked onions and over-ripe olives battled with the musty odor of old books and dust. A heavy-set man sat behind the desk in his shirtsleeves, a plate with the remains of his recent malodorous lunch resting on a stack of papers.
Sera, Heberto, and Maria hovered just outside the open door as the guards brought David to stand before the judge. Sera held her breath while Maria and Heberto each clasped one of her hands. If it weren’t for their support, she probably would have melted into a quivering puddle on the floor.
Judge Buscelli looked up at David and eyed him with interest.
“Signore Corbelli, you are being held under suspicion of murder in the death of Giovanni Ragusa, is that correct?”
“It was self-defense, Your Honor.”
The judge patted a paper on his desk with his hand. “So it says here in your statement. Do you have anything you’d like to add to it?”
David held his back stiff, looking straight ahead.
“All I can say is what I’ve said before—that I acted in self-defense. Signore Ragusa shot at myself and Signorina Pisano. When he ran out of bullets, he attacked me with a knife. I had no choice but to fight back to save both our lives.”
“I see.” Judge Buscelli leaned back in his chair, the wooden legs groaning under the strain of his weight. “And why, exactly, was Signore Ragusa trying to kill you both?”
David didn’t speak right away. The air grew heavy with expectation as everyone in the room waited for his answer.
“He was stealing artifacts from the ruins and selling them on the black market. It was because of me that he was discovered and wanted by the authorities.”
The judge nodded his head. “Revenge is often a strong motive, along with greed and love.” Buscelli glanced down at a paper on his desk and adjusted his dark-rimmed glasses to read it. “It says here that you and Signore Ragusa had a previous altercation, just prior to his being charged with stealing the artifacts. Did that have anything to do with the thefts?”
“No, that was over me.” The words flew out of Sera’s mouth before she could stop them.
Buscelli looked around David at her.
“Ah, Signorina Pisano, I presume. Please do come in.”
Sera walked on shaky legs to stand before the judge, forcing one of the officers who flanked David to move to the side.
“I’ve read your statement also, Signorina Pisano. Care to elaborate on any of it, since you were there when this unfortunate incident took place?”
Sera looked at David standing beside her, her mouth suddenly gone dry. What if the judge’s decision hinged on what she said now? What if she said the wrong thing?
“What he says is true. Giovanni was angry at David and blamed him for ruining his career.”
“And was that the only reason?” the judge prompted, glancing back and forth between them as if he already knew the answer.
“No. Giovanni and I were engaged for a time. He said he wanted me back, and I refused him.” She felt David stiffen by her side. She’d never told him about that.
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, afraid he might be angry that she’d kept it from
him. She licked at her dry lips and continued on. “Giovanni knew I was developing feelings for David. I think he believed that David was taking his rightful place, in the ruins and in my life.”
David turned to look at her, his brown eyes darkening ever so slightly. Sera’s heart began to pound again under his scrutiny, and she wondered what he was thinking.
“Sì, well. Since Signore Ragusa is no longer able to tell his side of the tale, I only have your word for it.”
Sera felt hope fade. The judge didn’t sound convinced of David’s innocence.
“Fortunately, I recently received twelve additional statements from tourists who were in the Amphitheatre at the time of the altercation.”
“Witnesses? What witnesses?” Maria blurted out.
Sera was as surprised as she was. There hadn’t been anyone else in the arena with them until the police arrived.
Buscelli cast Maria a quelling glance, then turned his attention back to David.
“They have each sworn an affidavit attesting to the fact that they witnessed the fight and that it did, indeed, appear to be self-defense on the part of Signore Corbelli.”
“So does this mean David is free to go?” Sera asked.
“Not quite. There’s still the matter of the background information the public prosecutor requested on Signore Corbelli since he is virtually unknown in Pompei.” The judge looked to the officer standing beside David. “I understand the report has finally arrived?”
The officer handed Buscelli a large tan envelope.
Panic swamped Sera, and a bead of sweat trickled between her breasts. As the judge cut open the envelope with a silver letter opener, the tearing sound ripped through her already frayed nerves. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt a desperate need to grab David’s hand and run as fast as she could.
Buscelli reached in the envelope and frowned. “What is the meaning of this?”
Sera held her breath, uncertain of what was happening.
“It’s empty. The report is not in here.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sera saw Maria glance sharply at Heberto. He shrugged his shoulders at her, obviously as perplexed as everyone else.