Shadowed by Grace (27 page)

“Stop the car.” Rachel tapped Tyler’s back. “Now.”

“Why?” The man didn’t budge as he steered through a curve.

“I need a framing shot.”

“Of course you do.”

As soon as he slowed, she hopped out and snapped a couple pictures. Scott caught her glances at the sky. “Okay, I’m done. Thanks.”

“Dames.”

“Photographers.” Scott corrected Tyler.

Tyler grunted. “Now what?”

“I’ll see who I can find.”

“Know anything about this castle?” Rachel slipped into the backseat, and Tyler pulled back to the road.

“Just what the father told me.”

“And that was . . . ?” Tyler looked at him.

“It’s owned by an Englishman. He’s fighting for the Brits but allowed art to be stored here.”

“Sounds about right.”

Scott stared at the private. “What do you mean, that sounds right?”

“I make it a practice to know what I can about important people and places.”

Scott snorted, then turned away. The man liked to give the illusion he knew more than anyone else, yet he didn’t share fresh information. “Spent time at Montegufoni?”

“In the area as a kid. My father dragged us here for a summer. Thought it’d be our version of a Grand Tour. Such an outdated idea. Bored me to tears.”

Rachel leaned between them. “You spent a summer in Tuscany?”

“Yep. Aren’t you jealous?” The man navigated another turn.

Scott kept his peace as he wondered how much of Tyler’s story was true.

“Actually, yes.” Rachel sighed from her spot in the back. “I would have loved the opportunity. My summers consisted of a once-a-month trip to the beach if we had money.”

“Well, it wasn’t so swell being stuck with a bunch of kids who didn’t speak a word of English when I didn’t know Italian. Got so mad I decided I’d never learn.”

“Why not learn as fast as you could?”

“I didn’t want it to matter.”

“Still, it must have been marvelous. I’ve always wanted to come.” A wistful tone colored her words.

“Why?” Scott turned around to catch her expression as she answered.

“Not Italy so much really.” She looked out of the jeep. “I’ve always wanted to follow my mom’s journey.” The breeze blew her hair across her face, and she didn’t brush it aside like usual. His fingers moved to do it for her, but he pulled back. Her face had closed, and he could feel the wall she’d erected.

With the last turn before the castle, activity on the road increased. It sat on a bit of a raised hill, like a gorgeous peridot set in a ring of deeper emerald hills. Some part of the Allied army had taken residence.

“Tyler, any idea whose military that is?”

“Well, it ain’t the Germans.”

“That’s good, but I’d sure like to know who I’m dealing with.” Scott tried to see the flag, but it flapped too much in the wind.

“No one in headquarters gave an indication?”

“Not much more than it was contested but should be in Allied hands when we arrived. Far as they knew, we were the first headed here.”

“We came before it was secure?” Rachel stared at him.

Tyler muttered something Scott hoped Rachel didn’t catch. “It’d be nice to have good intel once.”

“Like you said, this is war.” Scott squinted to try to make out who held the approach. “Guess I should have paid attention to flags in school.”

“It’s British of some sort.” Rachel pointed where it flew in front of the castle. “See the Union Jack on the background. Maybe New Zealand.”

“Well, boys and girls, I think this is where we stop and hope those folks are friendlies.” Tyler halted in front of a couple men standing beside the road, each holding a Lee-Enfield rifle at the ready.

“Papers.” The lilt to the voice indicated the man had British ancestors, but an independent tone accented the words too.

Scott pulled them out. “Here you are.”

The man took the papers and scanned them while his friend kept his gun at his hip. “Monuments and Fine Arts? You’ve found the right place. Watch for the Italian.”

“What?”

“The chap’s into his art and explaining it to whoever stops.”

The other soldier nodded. “Passionate fellow.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Scott looked beyond them to see a milieu of soldiers milling. “Where to now?”

“Wherever you can park. Be on guard. Locals moved into the castle during the fighting. Children are everywhere.”

“Thanks.”

Tyler launched the jeep into gear, then edged up the incline and parked. A bell hung above the formidable entrance. It bore a slight resemblance to drawings of Texas’s Alamo, if you subtracted the desert and added the Tuscan countryside. Imposing yet with the sunshine-colored plaster welcoming.

“Can’t leave our stuff in the jeep. Especially if this is a refugee camp.”

Scott nodded at Tyler. “Unless you want to stay here while I see what’s happening.”

“Not on your life.” Tyler glanced up the hill.

“All right.” The castle drew Scott to it. He had to know if the rumors were true. Did great masters hide inside its walls?

Rachel eyed the steep hill. It wouldn’t be easy to schlep her gear up there, but with the guys carrying their own, she’d handle hers. Soldiers had deployed their tents on a large field next to the castle, the one sign they weren’t British being their unique patches and the occasional flag. She grabbed one bag and her bedroll, but Scott grabbed her other bag before she could. She offered him a smile, then headed up the hill, sandwiched between Scott and Tyler.

She was so close to her destination. The last map she’d scoured had shown Montegufoni twenty-five kilometers southwest of Florence. She could almost see the city. Once there among its occupants she’d find someone who remembered her momma. She pressed her lips together and jutted her jaw. It might be impossible, but she would.

She staggered over the top and turned to gaze over the vista. Her breath caught at the rows of hills, some with grapevines, others with fields or lines of trees. It looked like an oasis; yet hints of battle remained. At least it hadn’t been as horrible as the fighting around Anzio and Cassino, but to those who lived here, it had been every bit as terrible. To have opposing armies battle for position across your land and home. She forced the image from her mind and tried to memorize what lay before her. A tapestry of immense beauty crafted by an amazing Creator.

A soldier strode toward them, head high and shoulders back. He looked as if he expected to battle them and win as he had over the retreating Germans. “You are?”

“Lieutenant Scott Lindstrom.” Scott dropped her bag and snapped a quick salute. “With me are Captain Rachel Justice and Private Tyler Salmon.”

Tyler didn’t bother with a salute, and the officer’s mustache twitched. “I see. I’ve heard your name. What can I do for you?”

“A place to work, and we’ll take care of the rest. Captain Justice is with the United Press, so she may wander around a bit in her capacity.”

The officer eyed her, his gaze taking in every centimeter of her. Rachel fought the rising heat in her neck, praying it didn’t reach her cheeks where it would be noticeable to the men. Instead, she raised her chin and met his gaze. With a quick jerk of his head, he acknowledged her challenge. “All right. Within reason of course.” He turned back to Scott. “My man will show you where you can set up. Study the way there. This place is a maze. Alcoves and such in every direction. I’d suggest you wait in the courtyard for him.”

“Thank you.” Scott shifted the bags to the ground and stood at ease, even as his fists clenched and released behind his back.

Chapter 25

UNIFORMED MEN MIXED WITH
weary civilians in the courtyard. Each bore the effects of war. Filth, fatigue, with the civilians bearing the added look of starvation. Closer to the land, Rachel had assumed they would have a better source of food, but the initial look belied the idea. While Scott and Tyler conversed with their guide in the courtyard entrance, Rachel looked for a corner of unoccupied shade.

She worked into a darkened corner, her locket thumping against her collarbone. The best photo opportunities would arise once everyone had returned to their activities. If they could forget she was there, they’d show her what life looked like at this castle turned into refugee center.

To one side a child wailed, hidden somewhere in the shadows. Several young children kicked around a ball of rags in a version of soccer. Their dirty faces radiated joy as they scrambled. The kind she would see in children back home who were untouched by war. One child kicked the ball in the path of a soldier. He stumbled to get out of the way, and they cowered. He studied them, their frames slumped and eyes hooded. Then he stepped toward the ball, and the boys backed away. What had they experienced that made them fearful?

The sergeant picked up the ball and tucked a loose rag in the wad. He pointed it toward some of his mates. “Want to play?”

One pulled his cap lower over his eyes and crossed his arms, sinking lower to the ground. Another nodded. “Why not?”

In a matter of minutes, the man had rallied a crowd of weary soldiers to participate in a raucous game with the kids. The children lost their fearful expressions, and laughter rang through the courtyard. Rachel edged from the corner and took several photos, praying some captured the spontaneity, joy, and grace.

Scott found her with the sun warming her back as she framed another photo from her spot on the ground.

“We’re here until Florence opens. I’ve found us rooms inside.”

She pulled the camera down and eyed him. “I’m sleeping in a castle?”

“We’ve got two bedrooms. Almost like a suite. It’s the best I could wrangle unless you want a corner of the courtyard?”

That held no appeal if there was the possibility of a place to relax in privacy after a full day of jostling over a road. “It has a door?”

“Yes, and I’ll even sleep in front of it.”

Her smile grew. “I feel like a princess. Lead on, Lieutenant.”

Scott led Rachel to the rooms, wondering if he needed a piece of chalk to mark the way. There were more twists and turns than he could track. And stairs going in all directions. It’d be a miracle if he didn’t get lost since his guide had returned to official duties. With each room he passed, Scott ached to open the door and scour it for treasures, many waiting in plain sight from glimpses he’d had. Once the bags were deposited, he’d get to work and Rachel could explore.

The cracked doors they passed hinted at the riches waiting. He might need several notebooks to catalog all hidden here and identify what—if anything—had been removed. A retreating army shouldn’t place a premium on moving large paintings, but he didn’t understand German interactions with and demands on Italian art superintendents in this region.

He made a last turn, then opened a large, heavy wooden door. “Here we are.”

Rachel stepped around him then gasped. The room elicited that kind of response. The frescoes across the walls and ceilings were unlike anything he’d seen in the States.

“It’s a museum.”

“In many ways. The owner’s father purchased it on something of a whim.”

“To be able to finance such whims.”

“Right.” Scott chuckled and led her to an interior door. “Your room is here.” She followed him into the smaller space. “Will this work?”

A double bed rested against the wall, with a small dresser carrying a pitcher and bowl next to the bed and a large chest at its foot. “It’s fine.” She dropped her bag and bedroll on the chest, next to the bag he’d already deposited. “Thanks for getting that here.”

“No problem.” He glanced around the small room, then at her. The space closed around them. Where could time of peace to court the beautiful Rachel Justice lead? He inhaled and corralled his thoughts. “All right. I need to find this Italian.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard.” She glanced up at him, a soft smile tipping her lips, lips that begged him to tug her close for a time-stopping kiss. “I heard several soldiers mention him. Seems to get around and isn’t intimidated by them.”

A knock followed her words. Scott hurried back across the main room, grateful for the reason to leave before he did something he shouldn’t, like kiss Rachel. When he opened the door, a smallish man with olive complexion waited. A tenuous smile tipped his lips and broadened as he studied Scott.