Mother is gone. I’ve sent her to Rome, to be with her sister because she is worsening, and I fear what trouble Tory will—has—brought upon us.

Men emerge—the Waffen-SS, charged with rooting out the partigianos. “They are looking for your brother,” Fred says, and I look at him.

The light illuminates his face, his eyes and they hold worry.

“How do you know?”

“He is not as secretive as he thinks. He stores his supplies—wires, C-4, even a radio—in a cask in the grotto.”

“Has he seen you?”

Perhaps my words are too loud because he puts a hand around me and pulls me near, whispers in my ear. “No.”

His voice, his breath, send a shiver through me despite the warmth of the night. Fred smells of the earth, and perhaps the heat of the day but his embrace is oddly calming.

“Will they find anything in the house?” he asks as the SS push the door in, the stream from their flashlights shining against the panes.

“No. I don’t think so.”

He breathes out, nods. “We’ll hope they don’t go to the grotto.”

“Your bed —“

“Shh. They won’t find it. Or the supplies. But I can’t promise they won’t find the Janowitz family.”

He knows.

Oh—

I must have gasped because his voice is soft in my ear again. “They have three young children. Did you think I wouldn’t hear them?”

“They are too loud.” I knew they would be too loud. I should have never let them stay, but how does one turn away a family, a mother, her daughters, a desperate father? “I should have moved them, but…I have no one. They took father, and Mr. Giuliani, and the others and hung them. And…now there is no one to take them to the border.” My voice is breaking, and I want to stop talking, but all of it simply rushes out. “And now Tory—this —“

I can’t look at the house, can’t bear the sounds that lift from the dark yard, of dishes breaking.

Please, don’t fire the house.

Suddenly, his arms move around me, pull me against him, holding me to himself. “Shh.” His hands are big, strong, and I can’t stop myself from sinking into him.

And am suddenly very, very aware of how I am clinging to him, my arms around his strong torso…

I lift my head and see him looking at me.

As if he can read my mind, his gaze goes to my lips, and I want him to kiss me so badly I nod. I know how foolish I am. But right here, right now, he is here. And I need him.

But he shakes his head. “Angel, I…this…”

“Please.” Oh, my voice betrays me, but I let my word linger. “Please, Fred.”