The Italian Villa: An emotional and absolutely gripping WW2 historical romance Read online

  “Leo…”

  He looked at me with a ferocity in his eyes I’d never seen before. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

  But I didn’t want to conversation to end like that. “Tell me more about the place you’re going to at least.”

  “It’s up in the mountains. Not far from France. A few of us from Montevino are going: Davide and Lorenzo…”

  “Davide Carpentieri? The mayor?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And Lorenzo Pigna? He’s only…”

  “Fourteen. Pietro’s age.”

  At the mention of my little brother, my anxiety increased. They were enemies, now, weren’t they? Leo and Pietro. Fascist or partisan, there was nowhere the people I loved could be safe.

  “Your father knows,” Leo said.

  “What? Is he one of you?”

  “Not officially. But he helps us.”

  I swallowed. “You’re all crazy.”

  “No. What’s crazy is bowing to them!” Leo burst out. “How can you not understand?”

  “I’m not bowing to anyone. I’m learning to save lives, not blow people up!” I was almost shouting now.

  “You’ll end up putting back together people who’ve been blown up by someone else! Nobody is happy to be doing this. I’m a farmer, for God’s sake! I never even thought I would hold a weapon. But what choice do I have? Elisa, I’ve been called to the front.”

  “What?”

  “It was bound to happen.”

  “But… But I thought they didn’t call widows’ only sons?”

  “Now they’re calling everyone who’s left. I’m not afraid, Elisa. I’m not afraid of fighting. But I’m not going to join Mussolini’s army. I’m not going to wear the fascist uniform and kill for them.”

  There was a moment of silence, where I could hear my own erratic heartbeat. Then, before I knew it, I’d thrown myself into his arms and pressed his warm body against mine. He found my mouth and kissed me desperately, like it was our last kiss, even though it was our first. He held me so tightly it hurt. He felt strong, invincible, but I knew how easy it was for a man to die, for a heart to stop beating, and I was terrified.

  “I love you, Elisa,” he said.

  In such circumstances, I didn’t care about conventions. The only choice I wanted to make right then was to follow my heart.

  “I love you too,” I said, and it was like a long-buried truth had finally come out. I was so relieved. I hadn’t realized how hard it had been to hide my feelings for him, to push them down, until I finally allowed them to breathe.

  We kissed for a long time beside the uncovered weapons, and then held each other, clinging tightly, because we knew our separation was imminent. My heart was breaking in two, and yet I was so happy.

  When I finally spoke again, the only thing I could think to ask was, “When are you going?”

  “Tonight. We’ll be there by dawn.”

  “Tonight? But…” I couldn’t find any more words to say. I desperately wanted to make him stay with me, all through the night, and go with him when morning arrived. But I knew it could not be so. “When will I see you again?”

  The pained look returned in his eyes when he finally met my gaze. “I don’t know. I’ll try to come visit some time, but as from tonight, I’m a deserter. I could be put in prison or shot.”

  I shivered, remembering the Blackshirt’s words: We’ll squash them like bugs.

  10

  I awoke a couple of hours later to the sound of someone calling my name, somewhere. I blinked and tried to come back to the surface. Was it a dream? Or was someone calling me?

  “Callie! Callie!” A male voice. Tommaso. He was shout-whispering, that way when you’re trying not to shout but you need to be heard.

  The sound came from the open window. I looked at my phone: 4 a.m.?

  I dragged myself downstairs, freezing in the cold house, and flicked the light switch before opening the door to Tommaso, who was wearing his trademark checkered shirt and a woolen hat that accentuated his deep, dark green eyes. Around his neck hung a camera, and he had a backpack slung over one shoulder. “Sorry it’s so early, but I want you to come somewhere with me,” he said, almost echoing Leo’s words to Elisa – I was still half asleep, and hearing those words aloud after having just read them felt strangely natural.

  “But it’s… four in the morning!”

  “I know. The earlier, the better.”

  “For what?”

  “Trust me. Get dressed in jeans and good walking shoes and take your jacket. We’re going on an adventure.”

  Twenty minutes later I was sitting in Tommaso’s Jeep, sneakers on my feet – did they count as good walking shoes? – still groggy and disorientated. We hadn’t mentioned Federica yet: it was too early for words, so we drove around impossibly steep curves, up and up the mountain in a comfortable silence. When Tommaso finally stopped the car, there was no more road ahead of us. Now it was just grass and flowers, rocks and trees. Where were we?

  As though sensing my apprehension, Tommaso turned to me. “I promise you this will be good.”

  I nodded and stepped out the car. Suddenly, a gust of wind hit me. It was laden with natural perfume, of herbs and dew and wild things.

  “Follow me,” Tommaso whispered.

  We walked through some trees, reminding me of the High Woods Elisa and Leo often ran away to, and soon arrived at a clearing where a small bench beneath a protective wooden roof beckoned. Tommaso headed straight toward it, plopping himself down and shifting the backpack into his lap. “Breakfast time,” he said and took out a Thermos and two plastic cups. I all but snatched the steaming cup from his hand as he handed it to me.

  As the coffee made its way through my veins, I began to feel more human and enjoy the moment. It was barely five o’clock now, and the sky was still inky, but there was a corner of lilac-pink in the east. Dawn would soon break.

  After a while, Tommaso ventured, “Better?”

  I smiled and nodded vigorously, tightening my hold on the cup. “A lot better. So, where are you taking me to?”

  “We’re going to walk farther ahead, just a little way, but we need to whisper if we talk. We don’t want to scare the wolves.”

  After hiking in silence for a short while, we finally stopped before a large lake, surrounded by trees teeming with leaves. The surface of the lake was the clearest I’d ever seen, reflecting the gray of the clouds above. The mountains towered above, seeming to reach the sky. I’d never seen a landscape so beautiful, so perfect. I was speechless.

  “Lake Nourissat,” said Tommaso.

  “Wow,” I managed.

  “I know,” he whispered back. “And now we wait.”

  We crouched beneath some rocks beside the lake, staying as still as we could, our breath turning to steam in the cold morning air. I could feel the warmth of Tommaso’s body beside mine. In the stillness and silence, I watched the pink and gold of the rising dawn reflected in the glassy lake water.

  Just as I was about to lose all feeling in my legs, something stirred in the distance. The flicker of a movement. I felt Tommaso tense; his lips parted slightly, and his eyes narrowed a little. I followed his gaze, and my heart skipped a beat as a wolf appeared out of the trees, its coat gray and tan, moving silently over the grass and rocks towards the water’s edge. It sniffed a trail along the ground, then lifted its head to check the air.

  The wolf turned its head in our direction, but didn’t approach. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Soon, more wolves followed, their coats in hues of gray and brown. Then I saw another behind it, and another one, and another; five wolves, one pack.

  Beside me, Tommaso lowered himself even further to the ground, his camera poised. I heard the quiet snaps of pictures being taken. The wolves all moved so well together, like a dance. I could’ve watched them forever.

  “That is a male,” Tommaso whispered, pointing at the leader of the pack, the first wolf we’d seen: he was a strong-looking, sinewy beas
t with a regal air about him. “And that’s one of the females.” The animal he indicated this time was smaller but still strong, exploring the grass and stones for scents and possible sources of food.

  I heard Tommaso suck in his breath. “The pack is bigger now than when I first saw it. One more wolf… a female. Very young. Two males and three females,” he whispered. “Usually there’s an alpha couple, a beta couple, and several omegas, the younger ones.”

  It was easy to see which one was the alpha female. She was the smallest, with a coat that was a slightly fairer shade of gray, and the one who appeared to be the most alert. She seemed to gravitate around the alpha male, with a mixture of respect and self-assurance. Her dark eyes shone in the dawn light. She was beautiful. The pack seemed to have a language of its own, communicating effortlessly through touch and smell as they moved in harmony. I held my breath, overwhelmed by the natural miracle in front of me. I never wanted the moment to end.

  The alpha female was the first to notice us; alert all of a sudden, she ran a short distance along the lake’s shore, stopped, and stood waiting for the others. The pack, seeming to sense her urgency, followed her at once. Once they’d all caught up, they stopped as one and looked in our direction for a beat before sprinting off, disappearing along the shore and past the lake, scaling the rocky ground, quick and agile. Tommaso and I exchanged glances.

  “That was amazing! I can’t believe how close they were. Those were wolves, Tommaso! Real wolves! You weren’t kidding. That was incredible. Thank you!”

  His familiar grin flashed across his face. “You’re very welcome, signorina.” Then he grew serious. “We’re the lucky ones. Some people spend a lifetime trying to see them. They collect paw prints, find tracks, but never actually see them in the wild.”

  I didn’t need to be told what a gift this was. “I don’t know much about wolves, but what I do know is that they live in packs.”

  “Yes. Small packs. A couple usually, male and female, and a few other members.”

  “Yes. I’d love that,” I said, almost to myself.

  “To be a wolf?” Tommaso smiled.

  “To have a pack.”

  “You know,” Tommaso continued, “a while ago, I had a really hard time in my life. It’s still hard, in many ways, but back then I was… broken. I couldn’t find peace anywhere. I started coming up here almost every day. I wasn’t even looking for wolves. It just happened. There’s something about being with them that brings me… freedom. It’s like these creatures make me see there’s another way to be in this world, and it’s just about being alive. Making survival your only burden.”

  “Yes. I see what you mean.”

  He shook his head, glancing at me apologetically. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all heavy on you.”

  “Tommaso… I know. The whole story. About Federica, about Gioele.”

  He looked at me, surprised. “You do?”

  “Nonna Tina told me.”

  “Well. What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” Before I could think, I slipped my hand in Tommaso’s, and he held on to it without looking at me.

  “I rocked that boy to sleep. I gave him his bottle. He called me Papa. And now I’m not even allowed to speak to him.”

  The whole thing was too painful for words. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah.”

  We were still holding hands – mine was lost in his, it was so much bigger than mine. “I’m better now,” he said after a moment. “Nothing will ever make me forget him or stop longing for him. But things aren’t so bleak. I think… life is in color again.”

  “What happened?” I tilted my head on one side.

  “You came,” he said, and I had no reply but a smile.

  11

  We made our way back to Montevino in Tommaso’s Jeep, driving away from the magical, rarefied atmosphere of the mountains and back to real life. The wolves, the glassy lake, Tommaso’s presence: it had all given me new courage, new determination. Tommaso and I, that morning, had shared our struggles and our dreams, both looking for a resolution; I wasn’t alone.

  “Could you let me out at the community center? My car is still there.”

  “Sure.”

  Outside the community center, Tommaso parked just down the road from the red Fiat, then turned toward me. “Was it worth it then, to be woken up in the early hours and dragged up a mountain?”

  I laughed. “More than worth it. It was amazing. I never thought I would see wolves so close to me. It makes me think that” – I hesitated, looking for the right words – “that life is surprising. Really surprising. If you only allow yourself to take a risk, to stray from your safe routine… I mean, last week I was in Texas, right? And this morning I’m crouching behind rocks in the Alps, watching wolves with an Italian guy!”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine how it must feel to be in your shoes. My life has been eventful enough, up to now, but yours… finding out all that about your past, ending up in the other side of the world…”

  “I can’t either. I mean, I don’t really know how it feels to be in my shoes, if that makes sense! I don’t think I’ve fully digested all that has happened.”

  “It will take time. Time is a great healer. Do I sound like some kind of wise man?”

  “A little like Yoda.”

  “Who?”

  “Never mind. Thanks for this morning. Really.” Once again, I hesitated. I was about to say “I hope to see you later,” but I stopped myself, not wanting him to think I was expecting to see him again soon.

  “No problem. I hope to see you later,” he said, and a smile started from inside me and spread to my lips. I opened the door and got out of the Jeep before he could ask me what was funny.

  I still had the scent of mountain wind in my hair as I walked up to my car. A couple of people said hello, and I replied pleasantly with ciao, without having a clue who they were, but it made me happy to be recognized in the community. I wondered if any of those strangers had known Malva. In this village there were people who’d been closer to her than I ever could be…

  I drove home, got out of the car and went back into the house, but I soon found it impossible to stay inside. The morning had blossomed: blue sky, poplar seeds dancing in the air, flowers swaying in the warm breeze. In the brief time I’d been in Montevino, spring had turned into summer.

  I fished a blanket out of a chest of drawers and headed back outside to a grassy corner underneath a chestnut tree. I sat with my back against the tree to read, a soft breeze blowing the branches and my hair. I had the eerie feeling of being in a secret garden, in a timeless, enchanted place, as I dived into Elisa’s story once again.

  July 9, 1942

  Caro Diario,

  Finally, the exams are finished. I passed, which is a miracle considering how much I had on my mind, and the chaos the university is in. Some students were thrown out of courses, and some professors too, because of the Racial Laws. They’re Jewish and therefore, the Laws say, not Italian. Initially, they were allowed to continue studying if they’d enrolled already – no new Jewish students would be accepted. But later, they all had to leave.

  Professor Bacher is among the ones who were thrown out. He refused to leave, so was escorted out by a few Blackshirts: tall, burly young men dragging an old and fragile man by the arms. I can’t think about that without bubbling with rage inside: nobody can stay out of this conflict, nobody can avoid taking sides. Pietro has chosen to go to war, Leo has chosen his side, but Professor Bacher has spent a life of healing and teaching people: he has no place in this war. All he wanted was to do his job.

  And the worst thought is, I don’t know where they took him. Home arrest, I hope, but he wouldn’t be the first to just disappear.

  Professor Bacher worked hard all his life, he saved so many lives. Anybody in their right mind would see the injustice of all this. But people are not in their right minds anymore, it seems. People have been taken over by a sort of collective madness. And Papa, out of
all of us, saw it first; even before Leo.

  Underneath all this darkness is a little light. I’m going to spend the summer at home, helping my parents before starting my training with Dottor Quirico. In spite of the chaos around me, I feel this deep sense of satisfaction every time I think of how I’ll be following him to people’s houses, bringing children into the world, curing illnesses and offering advice. I’m going to learn so much from him and do a little good in a time of such great evil.

  “Not as much as you can learn from your mother,” Zia Costanza would say if she read this, deadpan as always. She might be right, but I don’t think she can see the progress that medicine has made, everything that a doctor can do nowadays. I want to make a difference in Montevino. There are so many people who suffer here. I still cannot believe I’ve been given this chance. I’ll be busy every minute of the day, and sometimes nights too. Which is good, because I think about them all the time, always at the back of my mind, always there like a hole in my heart.

  Pietro, and Leo.

  I haven’t seen Leo since the night he left. I’m so afraid for him. I tried and tried to convince Papa to tell me where the partisans are based, so I could walk up and see Leo, but he refused, for my safety and theirs. He knows I would never betray them, but we’ve heard things about how they convince people to reveal what they know. Yes, it’s better if I am left in the dark. But I still fear for Leo, for Papa, for Pietro. All are weighing so heavy in my heart. Papa’s friends come to the house more and more often, and they shut themselves upstairs, discussing business we are to know nothing about. I know for sure that there are more of those jute bags I saw up in the High Woods, going back and forth between our homes and the mountains.

  Oh, Leo, my love. Where are you?

  July 12, 1942

  Caro Diario,

  So much has happened. I’m so happy, and so scared. And everything in between.