The Words We Whisper by Mary Ellen Taylor

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

ISABELLA

Rome, Italy

Wednesday, March 22, 1944, 6:15 p.m.

I had not seen Riccardo in days, and given what he had said, I suspected I would not see him again. I continued to work, seeing clients ten to twelve hours a day. With the twentieth anniversary of the Fascist Party’s formation approaching, wives of the German and Fascist officials were anxious to find the right dress. They understood that maintaining the best image would help protect their standing as they all maneuvered through the shifting sands.

I arrived in our neighborhood, feeling overly tired as I walked toward the signora’s house. My gaze down, I nearly walked headlong into Mia and her lover, Karl, who were standing on the street corner. They were sharing a wanton embrace. I cleared my throat as I approached.

“Isabella,” Mia said, drawing out of Brenner’s arms.

Careful not to look too scolding in front of the captain, I nodded. “Mia. Hauptmann Brenner.”

The Hauptmann regarded me with a steady gaze. “I have not seen you in some time, Isabella.”

“No, sir. I have been working.” Sounding respectful was important, but the words all but caught in my throat.

“I understand you’ve spent time with Riccardo Ferraro.”

His casual comment sent a chill skimming along my spine. Had he been watching me? “That was months ago. We had dinner, and then he was gone.”

Hauptmann Brenner studied me closely, and I sensed he did not believe me. Mia leaned closer, pressing her breast against his arm, but he was not distracted. “When you see him, let me know. I want to talk to him.”

“Why?” I asked.

“I have questions,” he said easily. “And I still might have a few for you if I can’t find him soon.”

Questions from a Nazi officer never boded well. Riccardo’s warning to stay clear of the soldiers rang clear. “I’ll let you know if I see him.”

Mia grinned and stuck out her hand to display a diamond. “You should congratulate us. We’re to be married.”

As I stared at the glistening gem, my heart sank. If we were alone, I would have grabbed the young woman by the shoulders and shaken her. Instead, I smiled, aware that Hauptmann Brenner watched closely. “How nice for you both.”

“You’ll help my Mia make her wedding dress,” Hauptmann Brenner said. “She tells me you’re one of the best.”

It did not sit well that they had been discussing me. “Thank you. I would be honored.”

“You were coming from the church?” Hauptmann said. “You spend a lot of time with Padre Pietro?”

“I was not at the church tonight, but I am there often. The bombings have displaced many, and the people need help.”

“I hear you’re fond of confession.” He grinned. “They say confession is good for the soul. But I don’t see you as a sinner, or am I wrong?”

“Have you been watching me?” I asked.

“I’ve kept my eye on the priest. There are rumors many of the priests help the enemies of the state.”

The comment suggested terrifying consequences for the priest. The Nazis respected the Vatican’s boundaries, but parish priests might not be so lucky. “Padre Pietro is dedicated to his flock. There are many prayers that need to be said these days. Many lost friends.”

“To the American bombs,” Hauptmann Brenner said.

“Yes. And to the labor camps and the Gestapo prison on the Via Tasso.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you doing this evening?”

“Dinner with Signora Fontana and then to bed. The curfew approaches.”

“Come with us,” Hauptmann Brenner said. “We’re going to a party.”

“I don’t think that I should. It has been a long day, and I am tired.”

“I insist,” he said. “It’ll be fun.”

“Yes, fun,” Mia said brightly.

“But I am not dressed for a party.”

“You look good to me,” Hauptmann Brenner said. “Again, I insist.”

He was being polite, but I was pushing his limits, and soon he would not be so nice. “Of course.”

“My car is right here. Let us go. You’ll be glad, Isabella.”

Hauptmann Brenner opened the door to the black Mercedes, and I slid in first, then Mia and the captain. He ordered the driver to take us to the Excelsior Hotel, which took me toward Sebastian’s and the German commandant’s headquarters.

In the rear seat I scooted to the door and pressed my body against it. My hand grazed the handle as a precaution. I did not trust that we were going to the hotel, and I wanted to be ready to escape the car quickly.

As the car moved through the streets, we did not head north as expected but south. The car slowed and then stopped in front of the gray building that housed the Gestapo’s prison on the Via Tasso. Two soldiers exited the building and paused to light up cigarettes. They were laughing, as if exchanging a private joke.

“It’s where I work,” Hauptmann Brenner said.

Sitting straighter, I tightened my grip on the door handle. Could I open the door and pull Mia out with me? Would she come? How far would we run before one of the laughing guards shot us?

“So many arrests in the last month,” he said easily. “It barely gives me time for Mia.” He laid his hand on her leg and rubbed it possessively.

“Darling,” Mia said sweetly. “I want to dance. You promised no work tonight.”

“I did promise,” he said finally. He tapped on the front seat and ordered the driver to the Excelsior.

As we pulled away, a heaviness settled in my chest as I pictured Riccardo in that building. Hauptmann Brenner was a precise man, and this little side trip had a purpose I could not even guess.

The car moved quickly now, and the transition from the San Lorenzo district to the Via Veneto was quick and a little startling. Normally, when I walked the distance, my mind had time to gradually grow accustomed to the shift. But tonight, it was fast and jarring, and I was struck that there were two very different Romes existing side by side.

We arrived at the Excelsior Hotel, a block-long alabaster building that had once been a palace. A doorman dressed in a red jacket opened the gilded front door, and immediately we were greeted by lively music drifting from a ballroom. The three of us walked across the black-and-white-tiled floor toward the ballroom, where an impressive party was underway. A five-piece band played as a tall blonde wearing red lipstick sang a German song into a microphone.

I was hit by the noise and the laughter and wondered how anyone could celebrate knowing the Via Tasso was less than a mile away.

“Darling,” Mia said. “I must powder my nose. I’ll be right back.”

“You’re a butterfly, Mia,” he said. “Always flitting about.”

She kissed him on the lips. “But I always return to you.”

Mia vanished into the crowd and left me alone with the captain. Gripping my purse tighter, I felt trapped.

“Let me get you a drink,” he said. “You’re as nervous as a cat.”

“I’m not nervous.”

Laughter rumbled in his chest. “Of course you are, but I find it very charming.” He guided me toward the bar, ordered a red wine for me and a beer for himself. Ever the gentleman, he raised his glass to me in a toast. “To an end to this war.”

“Yes,” I said.

“It was very astute of you not to mention my late wife. It upsets Mia to hear such a sad story.”

“I suppose it’s very troubling. Did the police find out who hit her?”

“The driver sped away and escaped. It was tragic.”

“Your wife was a lovely woman.”

“Yes, Greta was a good wife, if not a bit too softhearted. Did she ever gossip with you at the shop?”

“I don’t speak German that well. I wouldn’t know.”

He sipped his beer. “Did she ever talk about the Jews?”

“I don’t know.”

“Too many slipped out of the city last year.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

He regarded me closely. “I think you know more than you let on, Isabella.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Mia’s laughter drew his attention. “Mia is a simple creature, like most of you Italians. It’s refreshing. Though at times tricky.”

“I’m glad you’re happy with her.” Sipping the wine, I discovered it was delicious. Of course, only the best for this party.

“Are you certain you have not seen Riccardo?” he asked.

The wine was cool to the tongue, and it helped ease some of my nerves. “I have not seen him.”

“And you’ll tell me when you do.”

“Of course.”

“See that you do, Isabella. I’m generous with you because of Mia. But even she cannot keep me from doing my duty. If you found the outside of the Via Tasso upsetting, I can assure you the inside is far worse.”

When Mia returned, she had checked her coat, and she was smiling. I noticed the broach pinned to her dress immediately. It was the emerald that had been Signora Bianco’s.

“You like the little gift I gave Mia?” Hauptmann Brenner asked.

Grief and fury stole my voice.

“Quite stunning,” he said.

“Where did you get it?” I asked.

“I don’t remember,” he said.

He remembered. What was the purpose of this game? Was it to scare me?

Mia slipped her arm into Brenner’s and snuggled close. “I would love to dance.”

“And what will people say? I must maintain a respectable image.” He kissed her gently on the cheek.

“I must have wine, darling. Can we abandon you for a moment, Isabella?” Mia asked.

“Of course.” As they walked away, I turned toward the crowd of strangers all laughing, as if bombs had not dropped on the city or the prisons were not full of good men and women suffering at the hands of the SS.

“You look pensive.”

The familiar voice had me turning. Aldo. I’d not seen him since last fall. The lines in his face had grown deeper and his gaze sharper.

“Do I?” Suddenly I did not have the reserves to pretend.

“Your friend, Mia, looks like she’s quite attached to Karl Brenner.”

“Yes, she is.” I looked past him and watched as Mia nuzzled close to her fiancé while he spoke to several men. “They are engaged.”

“I saw the ring.” As he watched the couple closely, he pressed his lips together. Finally, all traces of emotion vanished. “And you’re here alone.”

“Hauptmann Brenner insisted I attend.”

“Would you like to dance?”

“I would rather not. I want to leave, but the curfew has passed, and Hauptmann Brenner knows I’m trapped here.”

“I have a pass,” Aldo said. “I would be happy to escort you home.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? These parties are very redundant. All the same people.”

“You really have a pass?”

“We can leave now.”

I took a liberal sip of wine. “Then let us go.”

He grabbed his hat from the coat checker and, pressing his hand into the small of my back, led me out a side door. When we were away from the music and laughter, I felt as if I had escaped a tiger’s cage.

Across the glittering hotel foyer, we stepped out into the evening air, and he settled his hat on his head. “You live in the same place.”

“Yes. In the Monti district.”

“Lead the way.”

The clip of our shoes fell in step as we walked the cobblestone street. The wine had relaxed me enough to ask, “What business are you doing these days?”

“Again, a little of this and that.”

“And it’s treating you well?” More and more men worked in the shadows of Rome, either in the growing black markets or for the SS.

“I can’t complain.” From his breast pocket he drew out a cigarette, offered me one, which I declined, and with a silver lighter lit the tip. “You still work at Sebastian’s, no?”

“You have quite the memory.”

“It pays to remember details.”

Under the flickering light of a streetlamp, his expression was relaxed, but his presence suggested he was very alert.

“Have you seen Padre Pietro lately?” she asked.

“We have lunch from time to time.”

“Hauptmann Brenner asked about the priest,” I said. “It would be wise for him, and those who know him, to be careful.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. But how do you know I am not forwarding your warning on to the Gestapo?”

The question silenced my response. He was right. I did not know him. Perhaps if I was not so tired or the wine had not hit me especially hard, I would not have been so forthright.

“I’ve seen you at the church,” he said. “Though I doubt you noticed me.”

“I take confession daily. I pray for all the lost souls.”

“You’re a good woman.”

“Is that a question?” I asked.

“An assessment.” He inhaled and let the smoke trickle out over his lips.

“I’ll let God decide if I am good or not.”

From the alley came the sound of young boys. When they crossed the sidewalk in front of us, we could see they were roughly dressed, their faces smudged with dirt. They were from the borgate, the slums, and were searching for food or trouble. They stopped, and several held up crossed fingers to Aldo, who regarded each with cautious concern. Even the young could be dangerous. Finally, the boys, sensing he could be trouble, laughed and ran off.

“What was that?” I asked.

“Their pockets are likely full of the four-pointed nails.”

“For the German tires. But why taunt you? Unless they think you’re German.”

He laughed and inhaled his cigarette. “They’re half-wild with no sense, so they challenge anyone.”

“In their own way patriotic.”

“Perhaps.” We continued on down the street as a German armored truck passed. “Have you seen my friend Riccardo lately?” he asked.

Twice in one night two men had asked about Riccardo. And because I did not believe in innocent questions, my worries for Riccardo doubled. “No, I have not. The captain is also looking for him.”

“Are you sure you have not seen him?” He stared at the glowing cigarette tip.

“Very.”

“You’re the kind of woman who knows more than she lets on.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Even white teeth flashed in the moonlight. “Of course not.”

“What is it you want, Aldo?”

“Nothing more than to enjoy a walk with a beautiful woman.”

Nothing in Rome was that simple.

We approached a building that had been hit by a bomb. Built during the Renaissance, its ancient beauty had crumbled like dried bread into an unwieldy pile of stones.

“There are better times ahead,” he said.

“Is that so?”

He inhaled deeply. “The Americans are pushing closer to Rome.”

They were the devil we did not know. But I was willing to take a chance if it meant ridding us of the Nazis. “The Germans will not surrender this city easily.”

“No. They won’t.”

We reached my building, and I paused at the front step. “Thank you for the escort.”

“My pleasure. Perhaps we’ll see each other again.”

“Perhaps.”

He flicked an ash from his cigarette. “If you should find Riccardo, could you get word to me?”

There was no reason to trust this man, but for Riccardo I would take the chance. “Hauptmann Brenner drove Mia and me to the Via Tasso tonight. We didn’t enter, but the message was clear.”

“Did he threaten you and Mia?” he asked carefully.

“Seeing the prison was threat enough.”

“Be very careful, Isabella. And if I should find Riccardo, I’ll send word to you.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ll see you again.”

“It’s a large city.”

“That can be surprisingly small at times, no?”

The next day I was in the dress shop when I heard the explosion that rocked walls and shattered glass for several blocks. At first, we thought it was the Allies and another bombing raid. But gunfire followed the explosion, and the German trucks parked near the shop quickly started moving in the direction of the commotion.

By the next morning I learned it had not been the Allies but the Resistance. They had set off a bomb in a trash bin on the Via Rasella. When it had exploded, at least twenty German soldiers had been killed, and during the gunfire that followed, another thirteen had died. In all, thirty-three German soldiers had been killed.

Within twenty-four hours the deaths of these SS troops would unleash a new kind of vengeance on Rome.