The Words We Whisper by Mary Ellen Taylor

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ISABELLA

Rome, Italy

Friday, November 5, 1943, 5:00 p.m.

The streets were filled with patrols as police searched for any Jews in hiding. As the days and weeks passed, Edoardo and Eva Bianco kept to themselves and rarely said much to me when I brought them food. Finally, in the first week of November Padre Pietro sent word he had arranged for a car at the church. My job was to guide the couple to a waiting car.

I would have preferred to wait until the sun set, but Padre Pietro said it was too risky. The nighttime patrols had doubled, and anyone caught without a pass would be taken to prison. Our best defense was to travel by day.

I knocked on the Biancos’ apartment door. “It’s me, Isabella.”

On the other side, I heard the heavy dresser being dragged away from the door, a habit Edoardo had developed since the police had shown up at the front door.

When he opened the door, he stood erect, his gaze filled with a mixture of anger, frustration, and fear. Eva stood behind him, her hand on his arm, as if she were ready to fight.

“Take this suitcase, put on the garments inside, and then pack what you’re wearing inside the case. I’ll return in fifteen minutes, and we’ll leave immediately.”

Edoardo opened the case and removed a priest’s black cassock and a nun’s habit. “We are to be a priest and a nun?”

“Yes. There’s still respect among some of the Fascist and German soldiers for the clergy, so we must hope they don’t look past the vestments.” I reached in my pocket and removed their papers. “They’re not perfect, but they’ll do if no one looks closely.”

“What if they do?” Eva asked.

I hoped my slight smile hid my worries. “I don’t think they will if you’re dressed like holy people.”

“I don’t know how to put this on,” Eva said.

“Put on the tunic, and I’ll help you with the cowl,” I said.

“Go on, Eva,” Edoardo said. “It’s a good idea. Who would think to look for Jews dressed as a priest and a nun?”

“Exactly,” I said.

“Was there any other word of my grandmother?” Edoardo asked as he shrugged off his jacket.

“No.”

“Have you been by the apartment again?” he asked.

“There is a German couple living there now.”

His jaw tightened as he unfastened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. “Thank you for checking.”

I faced Eva and took the young woman’s garments as I would for a client in the shop. When she removed her shirt, I saw that her belly was indeed rounding nicely. “A tunic hides a great deal.”

Eva’s hands went to her belly. “I’ll die to protect him.”

“I know. I would do the same.” Threading my hands through the tunic, I held it high so she could slip her head and arms through it. Carefully, as I straightened the lines of the garment, my gaze dropped to her fine leather heels. “The shoes will not do. A nun would not own footwear so nice.”

“I have no other shoes,” Eva said.

I slipped off my worn brown leather shoes. “Try these. They’re quite comfortable and will serve you well if you find you must walk a long way.”

Eva slipped her foot into the shoe. “They are a little big, but they’ll work.”

“I’ll take that as a good sign.” I slipped the white cowl over her head and centered it. To finish the look, I produced a large cross and a gold chain. “To sell an outfit, you must have the right accessories.”

Next, I attached the white Roman collar around Edoardo’s neck and then buttoned the front of the cassock. The two stood side by side. “You’re now two proper Catholics on a mission to help refugee children in Tuscany.”

When we came downstairs, Signora Fontana was waiting for us with a muslin bundle made up of supplies provided by Sebastian. “It’s enough to keep you for a couple of days.”

“We can’t thank you enough,” Edoardo said.

The old woman waved away his thanks. “Go on with you now. The streets are fairly quiet, but soon there’ll be more comings and goings from people who’ve been at work.”

I slipped on a pair of older shoes and retrieved my Bible. I handed it to Eva. “Take this. Think of it as another accessory.”

She smoothed her hand over it. “It looks very old.”

“It is. But one day we’ll see each other again, and you’ll return it to me.”

Eva’s eyes glistened. “I swear I’ll return it.”

“Good.”

We hurried out the back door and took the series of alleys to the church. When I saw the black Mercedes parked at the side entrance, I paused.

“Walk slowly with me, but let me get ahead of you so I can see who’s in the car.”

The two dutifully followed behind and paused as I walked to the vehicle’s door. When I saw the driver, my heart nearly stopped. It was Riccardo.

I thought perhaps we had been caught. I took a step back, but as I did, he turned and saw me. He rose out of the car, his gaze lingering on me, and then it shifted to the priest and nun. “Good, they’re here. Now we’ll go.”

He opened the rear passenger door. “Padre, Sister, if you please.”

The couple looked at each other.

“Please,” Riccardo said. “We must go now.”

The couple sat in the rear seat, and he closed the door.

“Where are you taking them?” I asked.

“That is for me and Padre Pietro to know. It’s better that way.”

“How do I know you aren’t working for the police?”

“I do work for the police. And sometimes I help the priest when he needs a special favor.”

“What kinds of favors?”

He shrugged and leaned a little closer. “You do favors for him, too, no? Otherwise we both would not be here. There are many Romans very happy to help Padre Pietro.”

“When will you return?”

He arched a brow. “Are you worried about me?”

I was. And for the Biancos. The consequences for us all if we were caught were quite grave. “Be careful.”

He grinned. “And when I return, will you go out to dinner with me?”

I shook my head. “No.”

He opened his door and looked at me unabashed. “I think you will.”