Shadowed by Grace

by Cara Putman

  Scott eased back another step, then watched as Tyler edged Rachel to the jeep. Her eyes pleaded with him to do something.

  His mind raced, trying to concoct a plan.

  The problem was, his brain refused to work. He wasn’t a real soldier. He was here to work with art, not subdue the enemy. This time the enemy wore his country’s uniform, and he felt inept.

  Rachel’s life depended on him doing something heroic.

  If things continued on this course, he’d fail.

  He had to think. Tyler pushed Rachel into the jeep, then forced her to slide across. In that moment his attention was on her instead of Scott. This might be his only chance.

  Scott launched at the vehicle, putting every ounce of effort into driving his legs as hard as he could. His feet pounded, and he covered the distance before Tyler turned around.

  One more step.

  Then he jumped on top of the man who’d turned toward him. In that moment he pinned Tyler’s gun arm. “Run, Rachel! Get away from here.”

  She stared at him a moment, then scrambled out the other side of the jeep and ran screaming for help. Maybe one of the remaining light infantry men would finally come.

  Tyler threw an elbow at him.

  Not again.

  Scott didn’t want to repeat the well-house fight.

  He pressed all his weight onto Tyler and pulled back his right arm for a punch.

  He put all he had into it and it smashed Tyler’s cheek. The man grunted but acted like it hadn’t hurt more than a bee sting.

  Tyler kicked, throwing Scott off balance.

  His hold on Tyler’s gun arm wavered.

  Scott gritted his teeth and reached inside for the force to push back. “You can’t have her.”

  “Then neither can you.” Tyler jerked his head forward, catching Scott in the nose. A flood of warmth flowed down his face.

  Scott slammed Tyler away through a haze of pain that made his eyes water. He rolled to the side with all his weight, pulling Tyler out of the jeep.

  They crashed to the ground, Scott rolling until Tyler was under him again.

  Tyler gasped but pulled nothing in, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

  “What’s going on?” The accent had never sounded better, but Scott didn’t tear his gaze from Tyler to see who went with the Indian tone.

  “This man has stolen art from the Italians, abducted a captain in the American army, and attacked an officer.” Scott grunted as Tyler shifted sharply. Then he stilled as the barrel of a rifle came alongside his face.

  “Then it seems you should give your gun to me.” The rifle shifted closer to Tyler. “Now.”

  Tyler’s features tightened into a mask of anger. The gun dropped from his fingers. Scott knocked it to the side, then shifted away.

  “We’ll take it from here, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  The soldier prodded Tyler to his feet.

  “I’ll take the keys to the jeep.” Scott waited for Tyler to do something, but the man remained rigid. “May I?” After a moment the Indian nodded. “Thank you.” Scott patted down Tyler’s pockets until he retrieved the keys. “I’ll come find you in a few minutes to give you my statement.” First, he had to find Rachel and see for himself that she was okay.

  He wanted to hold her and say aloud the words he was no longer afraid to say. Only then would he secure the paintings from the well house.

  Rachel paced back and forth in the courtyard, trying to stay out of sight, but her stomach tightened in knots as she prayed Scott would be okay. Tyler had transformed into someone she barely recognized. The anger and bitterness seemed deep set, and he had scared her as he shoved her toward the jeep. She hadn’t known what he would do. And no one came to her aid. No one except Scott.

  Then Scott had told her to run.

  She should have stayed and helped. Instead she’d abandoned him. She braced to hear a gunshot at any moment but prayed it never happened.

  She couldn’t wait like a schoolgirl who was afraid of her own shadow. She could do something even if it was throwing more rocks.

  Rachel looked around the courtyard for something she could use. An old rake leaned against the wall. That would do. She grabbed it and started back toward the jeep, keeping to the shadows as she moved.

  A man came toward her. He staggered a bit and wore a uniform. Blood leaked from his nose, down his chin, onto his shirt. Could it be Tyler coming after her? She stepped deeper into the shadows, then braced the rake to bring it down on the man’s head.

  “Rachel?”

  The word had to be the sweetest she’d ever heard.

  “Scott?” She dropped the rake, and it clattered against the ground and his foot.

  “Ouch.” He jumped back, then held his arms open. “You’re okay?”

  She raced into his embrace, feeling sheltered and protected as he wrapped her in a hug. She nestled into his chest, listening to his racing heartbeat slow. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” He stroked her hair in a soothing motion.

  “For coming for me.”

  “There was no way I’d let him drive away with you.” Scott sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of protecting you.”

  She pulled back enough to see his eyes in the faint light coming from the kitchen windows. “Shhh. You’re my hero. Without you I don’t know what back road Tyler would have me on or where I’d end up. Thank you.”

  His gaze skimmed her face like a feathery touch that sent shivers down her spine. Her breath caught with anticipation. The moment stretched as if he couldn’t decide whether to lean down. She lifted onto her toes, bringing her face closer to his. His breath brushed her cheek, and she ached to know the feel of his lips on hers.

  “I don’t want to react to the moment.” His words breathed against her nose.

  She tipped his chin, brushed a dribble of blood away. Then she cupped his cheeks. “I do.”

  He leaned closer, and the moment their lips touched, she felt the sensation of coming home. This was where she was supposed to be. Lost in his embrace, sheltered by this man.

  The moment the kiss ended, Scott placed his forehead against hers. “I love you, Rachel Justice.”

  She reached toward him, and he sealed his declaration with another kiss.

  Chapter 34

  August 4

  Rachel languished in bed the next morning. Her dreams had been filled with thoughts of Scott. She’d feared nightmares filled with Tyler, but Scott’s kiss and his promise had filled her slumber with sweet things.

  A brisk knock startled her from her introspection.

  “Just a minute.” She scrambled from the bed and started grabbing clothes and the other things she would need to get ready for the day.

  “Meet you in the kitchen in five minutes?”

  Scott’s voice warmed her, and she was grateful he stayed on the other side of the door. “Give me ten.”

  As she dressed, Rachel wondered what Scott wanted. She hadn’t heard him after he escorted her back to her room. He’d checked it thoroughly, then said he still had much to do. It had been a relief in one way, even as another part of her had felt keen disappointment when he walked away. She’d known he had a list of things to do, not the least of which was offering testimony that would keep Tyler far away.

  When she reached the kitchen, he waited at the table with an empty plate in front of him and a full plate for her. “We leave as soon as you give your testimony to the Indian CO. We’ve got other deposits to check.”

  “What about Tyler?”

  “I’ve alerted General Tucker. He’s asked the Indian Division to accept responsibility for transporting Tyler back to him. All they need is your account. So pack. We might return tonight but better to be prepared. While you give your account, I’ll ready the jeep.”


  Within the hour they were on the road.

  “What did you do with the paintings?”

  Her question seemed to startle him as he looked at her before turning back to the road. “Where?”

  “Those in the well house.”

  “Brought them back to the castle and inventoried them. They’ll be safe here until we can identify where they belong.”

  Rachel swiped a clump of hair out of her face. “Where are we headed today?”

  “No permission to travel to Florence yet, so we’ll stick close to Montegufoni.” Scott sounded disappointed but shook it off. “At least I’ve got time with you.”

  Rachel blushed and settled in the passenger seat. She’d wondered how she’d feel alone with Scott, but his declaration of love hadn’t made things uncomfortable. If anything she felt complete, like being together was enough. Without Tyler around she relaxed into the rhythm of time with Scott.

  Several days passed as they inventoried the art secreted at Poppiano. She took photos and helped Scott as he identified the collections stored in the villa and castle. The collected art wealth of the two castles and villa was staggering. Scott explained as much as he could about the pieces, helping her see the details that made them irreplaceable. At night she sent developed film back to Rome, each time with the vague hope an image would be radioed to the States.

  Then a couple days after the incident with Tyler, a return package from her editor included the film and chemicals she needed. But it also contained a stack of papers with a note:

  NY office thought you might want to see some of the places your photos have been published. Checks going to your mom as requested.

  An amount was scribbled next to Dick’s signature. Rachel covered her mouth to control the gasp that pushed against her lips.

  “Everything all right?” Scott touched her hand, his eyes soft with compassion.

  Rachel nodded. It took a moment for her to clear the lump from her throat. “Yes.” She handed him the note, then gestured to the stack of newspaper pages. “I had no idea so many papers had picked up my photos.”

  Scott flipped through them, a growing grin stretching his face. “I remember when you shot most of these.” He handed the papers back. “Does this mean your mom can afford treatment?”

  “I don’t know.” Rachel’s hands trembled as she collected the clippings into a pile. “It should. There’s certainly enough money there.”

  “Then trust she is.”

  “I have to.”

  “Does this change your need to reconnect with Renaldo?”

  She shook her head. “The treatment will be ongoing. This just means she could restart. Without that the doctors offered no hope. Maybe now . . .” Tears welled, and she turned into Scott’s arms and sobbed.

  He stroked her back, making no attempt to stop her. He murmured quiet words, words she recognized as prayers.

  Eventually she pulled back, dabbing at her face with her sleeve. “Thank you.”

  “We’ll find him again, Rachel. I’ll do all I can to make that happen.”

  “I know.” As she clutched the clippings, knowing her momma could start treatment was as important as finding her father and praying he would help with the next piece.

  The days morphed into a week filled with checking art deposits in surrounding communities while they waited for permission to approach Florence. Grassina, Castel Oliveto, Montagnana. Each day was filled with nervous travel on winding roads followed by unexpected delights and treasures at their destinations. At night they backtracked to Montegufoni for soft beds and a warm meal. A small British guard replaced the Mahratta battalion that moved closer to Florence.

  With each day Rachel reminded herself she had a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to explore the byroads of Tuscany, but her gaze traveled to the horizon where, if she squinted hard, she imagined the outlines of Florence.

  Finally, on August 12, Scott acquired permission to slip into Florence. The city remained under attack, even though the Germans had pulled back to the northern parts of the city on the eighth.

  “Are you sure you want to come?” Scott eyed her with a palpable concern that she hoped wouldn’t translate to a refusal to let her come. “I can find him and then bring him to you.”

  “No. I’ve driven everywhere else with you.” After all this time she would finally see the city that had fueled her dreams of coming to Italy. “I can’t risk getting stranded.”

  “All right. We’ll leave at first light.” He tugged her close, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. “I love you, Rachel Justice.”

  She smiled. “I know.”

  “So?”

  “What?”

  “Aren’t you going to say it back to me?”

  Rachel couldn’t control the smile that erupted from deep within her. “I love you, Scott Lindstrom.”

  Rachel repacked her bags and settled into a restless sleep. What would morning bring? Only God knew, and she tried to rest in that knowledge.

  The next morning as they traveled the road, a tight, winding, narrow passage, she could hear the intermittent shelling. It had become such a constant undertone to her days. She barely noticed it other than to determine the shells fell out of range.

  Scott’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. “Watch for mines. A farmer warned me the Germans were active along here as they left.”

  Her eyes soon tired as she kept a close watch on the road. As soon as she pointed a spot out, Scott swerved to avoid it. Destroyed tanks and other military vehicles lined the road. One overturned as if tipped by a giant. Another exploded into a pile of tank parts. Rachel imagined the area had overflowed with chaos and confusion, and her heart broke when she saw a child’s pram splintered in the mix. What pain for that family unless it had trundled treasures rather than a child.

  She turned away. “What is Florence like?”

  “It was a magical city when I was there in ’36.” Scott steered the jeep around a crater, and even that jarred Rachel. The roads were like an old-fashioned washboard, rutted down to the quick with nothing left to soften the trip. “It’s like stepping back to when the Medicis ruled.”

  “With modern touches?”

  “A few. But the best part is the area around the Arno, where you can sense the generations of history. Families have lived in the same place for centuries.”

  Rachel tried to conjure up images but didn’t have much to draw on. “So it’s like Naples and Rome?”

  “No, it’s Florence.” Scott shifted into a new gear. “You’ll understand when we crest the right hill and you see it rising in front of you.”

  Like so many drives, this one took hours longer than it should have. Montegufoni sat a mere twenty-five kilometers from Florence, but the drive took all morning rather than a relatively quick forty-five minutes. The closer they moved, the slower the approach. The roads clogged with military transports crawling toward the city.

  The artillery barrage continued in the distance, growing closer as they entered the valley, which reverberated with shell fire.

  Scott pounded the steering wheel. “They weren’t supposed to fight in Florence. It’s supposed to be open with the armies honoring its status. It was declared an open city!”

  Rachel stayed silent. It was clear he loved Florence, and as she watched it grow across the horizon, she sensed its magic.

  The jeep inched forward. At this point walking would transport them faster. Maybe they’d need the jeep when they arrived, but otherwise she’d abandon it to others. “Where are we going when we reach the city?”

  “Headquarters. The tried-and-true destination. It’s supposed to be located in the Giardino Torrigiani. The army’s using a villa there.”

  Rachel had no idea where that was, but Scott would manage to find it like he did everything else.

  “MFAA office
r Captain Ellis got into Florence a couple days ago. The Allies are bottled up on this side of the Arno while the Germans dug in on the far side. Ellis reported the destruction is horrific.” Scott’s jaw hardened and he swallowed. “But we can enter the city to interview the chief personnel of the superintendency. Then we’ll leave. There’s conflicting information about the status of deposits and the monuments in Florence, and I’m to sort through it and create a plan. Even though I can’t see anything.”

  “Why you?”

  “I want to help you find Renaldo.” His knuckles were white, he clutched the steering wheel so tightly. “I’m too late to help much with the monuments. The Germans blew the bridges. Monuments that have stood since medieval times.”

  As they reached the outskirts of Florence, the buzz of artillery never eased. Somewhere in this madness the Seventy-First Garrison had set up an interim headquarters at the Giardino Torrigiani. The problem was, Scott didn’t know how best to work his way through the mess of Florence. People on the streets were drawn, pale, and terribly thin from the weeks of siege. Where the Florence streets of his memory rang with vibrancy, shell-shocked silence and quick movements stirred now. Men were scarce. Why?

  “Are we getting close?” Rachel’s voice sounded tight and tired as she snapped a photo.

  “As long as we find the Seventy-First, we’ll find someone who can help us.”

  The Porta Romana roundabout came into view, and Scott relaxed. They would make it to the villa. The intensity of driving with never knowing where the next shot would come from or if the jeep would hold together long enough to get them off the road had left him with rock-hard shoulders.

  A hurly-burly collection of jeeps, trucks, officers, soldiers, and Italian citizens filled the gardens, making it hard to penetrate the space to find the villa. “Let’s park here.”

  Rachel nodded and he found a spot.

  Inside the villa finally, the provisional commissioner for American Military Government hailed Scott. “Lindstrom, you’re finally here.”