The Words We Whisper by Mary Ellen Taylor

CHAPTER TWELVE

ISABELLA

Rome, Italy

Saturday, October 9, 1943, 5:30 a.m.

I rose before dawn, washed my face, and dressed in my white blouse and black suit. I took the stairs down to the second floor and knocked on Mia’s door. When I did not hear her quick breathing, I opened it, expecting not to see her. But she lay curled on her side.

“Yes, yes,” Mia said. “I am awake.”

“We must go to work.”

“I know.”

On the main level, I discovered Signora Fontana in the kitchen, kneading her daily bread dough.

“Good morning, Signora Fontana.”

“Coffee is ready. Get yourself a cup. There’s no sugar, and I wonder if we’ll ever see cream again.”

After pouring a cup, I sipped. It was remarkably strong and bitter. “You found coffee at the black market?”

The old woman grinned. “A luxury, I know, but sometimes one must splurge.”

“Can I help you with breakfast?” I asked.

“Sit at the table.” She wiped off her hands with a towel, ladled watery oats into a blue bowl, and set it in front of me. I ate, finding the mixture flavored with a touch of honey and a pinch of salt. Another luxury. When I had finished, Signora Fontana took the bowl. “I am going back to the market today. I might be able to get more flour. That will allow me to bake bread for some of the neighborhood children.”

“That is very kind of you.”

“The money goes fast at today’s prices.”

“You’ll spend it wisely. It’s good to know the children will get warm bread.”

“I almost forgot. Carlo came by early. Padre Pietro would like to speak to you.”

“Of course.” I wiped my hands and reached for my purse. “Mia can meet me at the shop. Make sure she does not fall asleep.”

“I didn’t hear her come in last night.”

I slid on my coat and wrapped a blue silk scarf around my neck. “Do you think she saw the boys?”

“If she did, she won’t say. She’s silly but not cruel.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Out the door, I hurried along the cobbled alley toward the church. As I climbed the side steps, the clock tower chimed six times.

The church’s interior was dimly lit with candles and small gas lamps. I drew my scarf over my head, and as I passed in front of the crucifix, I crossed myself and hurried up the side aisle toward the priest’s office.

I knocked on the door. “Padre, it’s Isabella.”

“Just a moment.”

Papers rustled, and a curtain drew back before he stepped outside. “You came by last night. Are the boys doing well?”

“Sleeping and eating.”

“I’ll have someone come for them this afternoon. There’s a farm in Tuscany that’s willing to take them. Because they’re Jewish, it’ll be better for them out of the city.”

“Signora Fontana will be sad to see them go.” I leaned closer. “Padre, if you have connections in the Jewish community, tell them roundups are planned any day. If people are going to escape, it has to be now.”

“Have you spoken to Signora Bianco about this?”

“How do you know about her?”

He regarded me in the dim light. “I received a young couple here late last night. Signora Bianco mentioned they should come to me if they needed help.”

“It’s her grandson and his wife.”

“They did not know where you live?”

“No. I thought your church would be easier to find.”

“I can house them in the church today, but they cannot stay beyond that. You’ll have to hide them.”

“Mia is spending more time with a German officer, Hauptmann Karl Brenner. I’m not sure I truly trust her. She came home last night but with luck will not venture upstairs toward the boys’ room.”

“She’s too clever for her own good.”

“Since the baby died, she’s been running from party to party. I know how grief can change your life.” I stood straighter. “Signora Fontana and I will find a way for the Biancos. I’ll come for the couple this evening before curfew.”

“Given this new development, you understand the consequences for hiding Jews will be more severe.”

“So be it.”

He stared at me with an intensity that suggested there was another request, but he said nothing. “Go with God.”

Out the door I noticed the man across the street immediately. He was turned away from me, but I could see he wore the uniform of the Italian police. When I closed the door behind me, he turned. The uniform had thrown me, but now I could see it was Riccardo. He smiled and crossed the street toward me, his strut sensual and full of confidence.

“I missed you at Signora Fontana’s house. She said you came here for confession.”

My growing bundle of secrets suddenly grew heavier. “I didn’t know you were with the police.”

“It’s a recent appointment. An army friend had connections.”

“Did you see Mia?” I asked.

“Yes, we spoke for several minutes. All is well between us.”

That I doubted. “What are you doing here?” Even the simplest questions were dangerous, considering the conversation I had just had with Padre Pietro.

“I came to walk you to work,” he said.

I looked around, half expecting to see more police ready to arrest me. When I saw no one, I began walking. He fell in step beside me, as if I had openly accepted his invitation for company. “Why are you here?”

“You were kind to me, and I appreciated it.”

Aware that several people had taken note of me with a police officer, I dropped my voice a notch. “This is not necessary.”

“I am going to take you to dinner tonight. It’s the least I can do.”

“Perhaps another night.”

“There is a small café I know. I’ll meet you at your shop. When will you be finished for the day?”

“I cannot tonight.”

“Then perhaps another night.”

“Yes, of course.” I hoped he would take my yes and leave me be until the Biancos were safely tucked away.

We strolled the road, and I could not shake the feeling that he had another motive. He was either using me to get to Mia, which would have been a relief, or he had heard that Signora Bianco was sending her money and grandson away. The family was worth a fortune, and the Roman officials would not want so much gold and treasure to escape them.

“Mia said you’re very talented,” he said.

“Did she?”

“She also told me what you did for her child.”

“I see.”

His face lost the last traces of humor. “We have forgiven each other, as blood does.”

“Good.”

“I visited the child’s grave and saw Padre Pietro.” He glanced at me, regarding me closely. “You took a chance forcing the priest’s hand.”

“I simply do what must be done.”

“Which in these times requires risk.”

When I saw the red door of Sebastian’s, I was relieved to be rid of him. “This is where I work.”

“Ah, too soon,” he said. “I’ll see you again. Maybe tonight. We can walk together, and you can tell me more about your story.” He bowed.

“I look forward to it,” I lied.

I waited for him to vanish around the corner and then hurried along the alley toward Rene’s hair salon several doors down from Sebastian’s. Though I had never had the luxury of having my hair done here, many of my clients had in recent weeks.

When I entered, the manager, Giorgio, approached me. In his early fifties, he was a tall, thin man who wore a gray suit with a white shirt and a red tie. He and Sebastian had been close friends for years.

“Isabella?” he said. “What brings you here?”

“I need a bit of acetone. I have a blue ink stain I need to remove.”

“Ah, blue is a very persistent color.” He moved to a small station, where one of his ladies would soon be doing the nails of a wealthy woman. He plucked one of the vials off the stand and handed it to me. “There seems to be an epidemic of blue stains in the last few weeks.”

Though tempted to ask him what he knew, trusting anyone now could cost me my life. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

Giorgio heard all the secrets in Rome. Just as in the dress shop, women chatted when they had their hair and nails done. “Well, good luck with your stain removal.”

“Thank you, Giorgio.”

I arrived at Sebastian’s minutes after seven. Sebastian stood by the door, waiting for me. “Isabella, Mia has once again beaten you to work. Should I be worried about you?”

“The damage from the bombings delayed me.”

“Ah, the bombs. That excuse will not work for me on Monday. Isabella, I have work for you that must be done immediately.”

“Always an emergency.”

“Rush orders mean more money.”

In the sewing room, I hung up my coat and scarf and slid on my clean white smock. As I secured the tie at my waist, Sebastian brought me a black evening dress made of beaded silk. “That dress belongs to Frau Brenner. She’s coming for a fitting on Monday. Maria was going to handle it.”

“Maria is sick, and the Frau has changed her mind. She wants the dress this afternoon. I told her if she could pay her balance, we could accommodate her.”

“This isn’t how we do things, Sebastian. There’s no way of judging if the dress will fit properly.”

“You will see that it does.”

I ran my fingers over the fine fabric. “I only took her measurements once. I cannot make guarantees.”

“Yes you will. That’s why I adore you.”

“Very well. I’ll get to work.”

As he left, Mia walked up to me. She looked thinner, and I could see she had used powder to cover dark circles under her eyes. “The dress is for a party at the German embassy on Monday night.”

“Is there a reason for the party?”

“Does there need to be?” Mia shrugged. “And Sebastian is softening the truth as he always does. Maria is not sick. Her husband was shot yesterday. He’s expected to live, but the poor fellow is ailing.”

“Who shot him?”

“A soldier, I suppose. I don’t know.”

“Your brother was waiting for me outside the church this morning,” I said. “He wants to take me to dinner. I said no, but he won’t hear of it.”

“He can be very insistent.” Mia’s voice held a slight hint of bitterness.

“I’ll not go with him. I’ll make an excuse.”

“No, you should go out. If there was ever a woman who needed a man’s attention, it’s you.”

“What does that mean?”

“The virginal Isabella. So chaste.”

The way she said it suggested it was wrong. Irritated, I snapped, “My late husband never thought I was that pure when we were alone in bed.”

Mia regarded me with surprise. “You were married?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“How come I never heard of it?”

“He died on the Albanian front soon after we wed.”

Mia regarded me closely. “So you’re even better at keeping secrets than I thought. Very wise.” She nodded to the dress. “Better get to work.”

I barely looked up from my machine over the next few hours. The dress was nearly complete, but what remained was the fine finishing details that would silhouette Frau Brenner’s body perfectly. When the lunch bell rang, I watched Mia and the other girls stroll outside as I kept working.

Three hours later, when I came upstairs with the dress, I found Sebastian speaking to Frau Brenner and Frau Schultz. Sebastian summoned me forward, and I entered the room with the dress draped over my arms. “Frau Brenner, Frau Schultz, you, of course, know Isabella.”

“And you have finished my dress?” Frau Brenner asked. She motioned toward the dress, as if signals would take care of the language barrier.

“Yes.”

“Would you like to try it on?” Sebastian asked in German.

Frau Brenner nodded, and I stepped into the large changing room with her and Frau Schultz. My gaze downcast, I accepted her blouse and skirt and laid both on a chaise to my right.

Wearing just her silk slip, Frau Brenner waited as I lifted the dress and held it while she stepped into it. I pulled it up, and then, as she faced the floor-to-ceiling mirror, I fastened the twenty individually covered buttons.

Frau Brenner regarded the dress with a critical eye, smoothing her hands over the fabric. The garment hugged her full waist and rounded hips exactly as it should.

She turned sideways and glanced at the dress’s high back. She frowned.

“Problem?” I asked.

“The dress is lovely. But not quite right. It makes me feel . . . old.”

“You look quite respectable,” Frau Schultz said.

“But is it the kind of dress that will catch Karl’s attention?” Frau Brenner asked. “He has ignored me too long.”

“Do not blame him. My Heinrich is the same.”

“They are both busy with the pending roundup,” Frau Schultz said. “And Karl with his Mia.”

“I assure you he’s not had time for the girl. I would wager he’s already losing interest.”

I kept my gaze averted, but my first thought was for the Biancos.

“You’re right, of course. Karl is worried the Jews will cause him trouble.”

“Once that is cleared up, he’ll settle down, and your lives will return to normal. Don’t worry. No more families will evade the police,” Frau Schultz said. “They’ll finally all be swept away.”

Frau Brenner regarded her reflection with the wary expression of a woman who understood her husband too well. “So many families.”

“Don’t be soft again, Greta. Your sympathy will get you in trouble again.”

As Frau Brenner smoothed her hand over the fabric, she regarded her reflection before she quickly looked away. “Yes, of course. I’m just moody because the dress does not feel right.”

“The party is Monday, Frau Brenner?” I asked in Italian.

“Yes.”

I removed scissors from my pocket and carefully raised it to the back’s top center seam.

“What are you doing?” Frau Brenner said.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed, but I would like to try something,” I said in Italian.

“This dress is costing my husband a fortune,” she said.

I ran the scissors through the fabric, splitting the dress open to her waist. Either way, Frau Brenner would have to return on Monday morning for another fitting. Perhaps she would have more to say about her husband.

I peeled the seams open, creating a dramatic plunge. “See?”

Frau Brenner looked at me and then into the mirror. “It’s striking. You said the back should be more dramatic.”

I nodded. “It looks good, no?”

“You have very good instincts, Isabella.”

“Every time you move around the room, you’ll be noticed,” I said.

Her shoulders straightened, as if she was proud of her reflection. “It’s rather daring.”

“I can put it back as it was,” I said.

“No, no.” Off the dais, she walked around the room, glancing at her likeness. “This would not do in Munich.”

“What shall I do?” I asked.

“Keep the back open. I’ll return on Monday morning to pick it up.”

“It’ll be ready,” I said.

“Good. I need a bit of brightness.” Frau Brenner dressed, gathered her purse, and donned her red hat. She nodded her thanks and, with Frau Schultz, left the shop.

Barely seconds passed before Sebastian burst into the salon. “That was a daring risk, Isabella. Very dangerous.”

It was a dress. A seam. And in light of the true losses this city had and would endure this weekend, it did not feel daring. “She was happy.”

“Thank God.” He crossed himself and looked toward the heavens. “We want her to spread the word about Sebastian’s. Her kind will keep us in business.”

Outside, a car horn blared, and a woman screamed. I crossed to the window and saw a crowd gathering around someone who had been struck by a car. “There’s been an accident.”

I hurried out the door and raced to the growing circle of people. Several women had turned their faces, and the men looked grim.

“Who is it?” I asked.

No one seemed to know, but one man stepped forward and announced he was a doctor. When the crowds parted slightly to make room for him, I saw the woman’s face. It was Frau Brenner.

Mia’s words returned, and I remembered how she had said the woman would not be a problem much longer.