The Words We Whisper by Mary Ellen Taylor

CHAPTER SIX

ISABELLA

Rome, Italy

Saturday, September 18, 1943, 11:43 a.m.

I was pinning together the muslin pattern of Signora Bianco’s gown on her mannequin when the air-raid sirens wailed. Seconds later the first bombs exploded. The building shook, and as the next two bombs detonated, the lights blinked on and off and then went out completely.

Each of the girls stopped work and looked up toward the window overlooking the street level. I could see people running past the shop, hear screams mingling with the rumble of German vehicles grinding through gears as they drove faster. The building rattled, and crumbling stone fell to the street.

Sebastian stared toward the ceiling, and with each new explosion his face grew paler. Several girls looked to him for leadership, but he did not seem to notice them as he wrung his hands.

“Ladies, let us go upstairs,” I said.

Mia stared out the window. “They won’t hit this area. They have vowed not to bomb this part of the city.”

“Have you spoken to the Allied pilots today?” I asked. “Of course you have not. Go upstairs. Sebastian, follow us.”

Sebastian, always so sure and confident, suddenly aged, and for the first time I realized the toll this war was taking on him. Though the bombs sounded as if they were hitting outside the city, there was no guarantee the bombers would not shift directions.

The women were eerily silent as they quickly gathered their purses, jackets, and hats and climbed the rear staircase to the alley. Outside I looked up toward the azure sky and saw the precise formations of planes flying east. Running toward the street, I tracked the planes and guessed they were hitting the airport to the south.

“It’s the Americans again,” Mia said. “Karl said there would be more bombings.”

“Hauptmann Brenner knew about this bombing?” I asked.

“Not this one exactly. But we’re the enemy to the Allies,” Mia said. “It was a matter of time.”

Mia had returned home late last night, well past the curfew, thanks to her captain. Last night, I had sat up late waiting for her, determined to make her see the folly of her actions.

“What do you think will come of this?” I demanded.

“It’s fun. And that’s all that matters!” she shouted. She held up her hand so I could see a diamond bracelet winking in the light. “He gave me this.”

“He barely knows you. Why would he give you such an extravagant gift?”

“He likes me.”

Shaking my head, I did not bother to hide my disgust. “I would have thought you learned.”

“I have learned to be more careful. There will be no baby this time.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I won’t allow it.”

The arrogance had astounded me, and we had argued for another fifteen minutes until she had finally stormed off to her room.

More explosions followed in rapid fire, and as I looked for the billowing black smoke, I found its dark tendrils rising in the south near the airport.

I thought of Padre Pietro’s church in the district and the apartment buildings filled with people. I thought of Signora Fontana in her kitchen. She was but ten blocks from the rail yards and the switching stations, and there was no guarantee that the area was not on today’s target list.

The skies filled with scattered black puffs of flak as the Allied planes moved like birds of prey in wave after wave.

Several of the women wept and screamed for family and friends. “I need to get home to my husband,” Maria said.

“You must wait for the bombs to stop,” I said. “Mia is right. So far this area has been untouched by the bombs, and we must hope it remains that way. We must survive.”

“But he could be dying,” Maria said.

“There is nothing you can do for him or anyone else if you’re dead. Stay here.”

“What do we do?” Sebastian shouted.

“We wait,” I said in a firm voice. “Everyone, sit close to the walls.”

“How will the walls keep us safe from the bombs?” he demanded. More explosions rocked the ground under our feet.

“Sit now!” I ordered.

Sebastian and the women complied, as if my sharp order was their refuge from danger. I stood, staring toward the skies, my anger toward our attackers growing. I refused to imagine the anguished shrieks mingling with the explosions.

In less than a half hour the skies went silent, and the flak finally thinned. The acrid scent of smoke thickened the air as the fire brigades raced through the city, their sirens blaring.

None of us moved, fearing a second wave, but when the skies remained clear, I said, “Go home and see to your families.”

I clutched my purse close as I looked at Sebastian. “I must check on the people in my neighborhood. I’ll return as soon as I can.”

“We have work to do,” Sebastian said. “What about the dress for Signora Bianco?”

“I have plenty of time.” The comment sounded almost comical. “It’ll get done. But not today. Mia, you’ll come with me.”

“I need to find Karl.” Her voice had taken on a childlike quality.

“There’ll be time for that. Now we’ll check on Padre Pietro and Signora Fontana.”

“It won’t be safe,” she said.

“We’re in a war, Mia. No one is safe.”

I took her by the hand and pulled her past the growing crowds of people who hurried around dazed and confused. The walk normally took twenty minutes, but today it took us an hour to push through the people. Some were crying, looking helpless and lost; some were taking advantage of the confusion and rushing from markets with eggs and chickens; and others stood in stunned silence.

I was relieved to discover our area had not been the bombers’ target today. The people moved about the streets, shocked and nervous, chatting to each other and sharing cigarettes, all the while glancing toward the skies.

After pushing through the front door, I hurried toward Signora Fontana’s kitchen. I found her by her stove, stirring a pot of stew.

“Signora,” I said.

She stood still, her gaze on the polenta, and as I approached the stove, I could smell the burned cornmeal. I pushed the pot off the burner and took the spoon from her hand.

“Signora.”

She looked at me, her face pale and drawn, her gaze vacant. “Isabella.”

“Come. Mia, pour us all some wine.”

Mia moved to the corked bottle and filled three glasses. The three of us sat at the table. Mia greedily drank her wine, but the signora simply stared.

“Drink,” I ordered, pushing the glass toward her.

She complied, her hands trembling. “When the bombs started to fall, I was certain I would die.”

“You did not die,” I assured her.

“So much noise. My ears still ring with the blasts.”

“They must have been going for the airport,” I said.

“I may have burned the polenta,” Signora Fontana said.

“It’s okay. I’m sure your burned polenta is better than most.” Even if it was not, we would still eat it. In these times, nothing went to waste. “Mia, I want you to sit with the signora.”

“I want to see Karl,” Mia protested.

“You’ll not leave tonight,” I said. “It’s too dangerous. You’ll know soon enough how your new lover fared in the morning.”

“How can you be so cruel?” Mia asked.

“Go to your room,” I said. “It’ll do Karl no good if you’re accosted on the street. Think of him.”

“He could think I’m dead!” Mia shouted.

“He knew you would be in the Via Veneto and that it was untouched today.” All the German vehicles parked near our shop, the most affluent portion of town, and so far they had rightly guessed that areas like that would be spared.

A fist pounded on the front door, and I hurried toward it. I was surprised to see Aldo Rossi standing on our doorstep. He was wearing a dark suit dusted with powdered concrete. “I was in the neighborhood. I came to see that you were all right.”

“We’re fine. What did they bomb this time?”

“Judging by the sounds, the Ciampino Airport. The Allies are finished with us today.”

Mia was running her fingers through her hair as she approached. She glanced at Aldo and then to me. “I need to find Karl.”

“I have said no.” My voice had turned harsh, frayed by shattered nerves.

“You’re being so cruel,” Mia said. “I won’t stand for it.”

“You can, and you will,” I insisted.

“I’ll take her to find Brenner,” Aldo said. “She won’t give you any peace until she knows.”

“She belongs here,” I said.

“You need rest,” Aldo said. “I’ll look after Mia.”

“I can go by myself,” Mia said.

“No,” I said through clenched teeth. “Mia, tell Signora Fontana you’re leaving. As a guest in her house, you owe her that much.”

Mollified, the young woman returned to the kitchen.

“She’s young,” I said by way of apology.

“So are you,” he said. “Be careful. The Germans will be on high alert, as will the Roman police. Stay clear of them all.”

“All the more reason Mia should stay.”

“The girl will sneak out,” he said. “She’ll be safe enough with Brenner.”

“I don’t know why she’s so obsessed with that man. It’ll come to no good.”

Aldo frowned. “Let us hope not.”

When Mia appeared with her purse, the two left, and I locked the door behind them. I glanced out the window and saw Aldo reach for Mia’s arm, but she jerked it away. They were speaking to each other, and I could tell by their expressions that they were fighting. “Mia, do you have any sense?” I returned to the kitchen and found the signora back at her stove. “We must put you to bed, Signora Fontana.”

“The polenta.”

“I am sure it’s salvageable. Do not worry.”

I guided her into her bedroom, and when she sat on her mattress, I pulled off her shoes. She reclined and stared up at me. “It’ll be all right, Isabella.”

Smoothing my hand over her forehead, I smiled. “Of course it will.”

After selecting a light quilt folded at the end of the bed, I covered her and gently tucked the soft folds around her before I kissed her on the head.

When I reached my room, I crossed to the small washstand and poured water into it. I dunked my hands and watched the dirt taint the clear water. I scrubbed, thinking of the two girls named Gina and the other children I had seen over the last few weeks searching the rubble for belongings and loved ones.

As I raised my gaze to the small mirror, I looked into bloodshot eyes ringed with dark circles. I washed my face, trying to forget the scenes of the day. I thought of my father and mother, who had both passed last year, and was glad neither was here to witness this destruction.

Squaring my shoulders, I reached for a towel and dried my face. “We will endure. All of us.”