“Better for who? Not for the people who need you. I hate it when you’re away—I’m selfish enough to admit it—but I won’t ask you to stop. Not ever. Not knowing that people might die without your help.”

“Very well. Then let’s agree to both be careful. With that, and some luck, we’ll both live to see the end of this war.”

Chapter 20

12 September 1944

The kitchen door was still closed as they ate their breakfast, for it had been a cool and rainy night, and the morning mist still lingered close to the ground. Nina hadn’t slept well, for the baby had been wakeful, its heels finding her bladder with unerring accuracy, so when Selva’s bark heralded a visitor outside she didn’t look up. There had been no crunch of tires on gravel, after all; likely it was a cousin or neighbor come in search of a tool to borrow or an extra pair of hands for the day.

Nico was the closest to the door. Opening it to the youngest of Signora Vendramin’s sons, he listened to the boy’s hesitant message, thanked him with a smile, and told the child he’d be along in a minute.

“What’s that all about?” Rosa asked.

“A message from Father Bernardi. Sent along his housekeeper’s boy to ask me to stop by the rectory.”

“Did he say why?”

“No, but I can guess. Either he’s jammed the keys on his typewriter, or the sink in the rectory kitchen is clogged. I’ll deal with it now.”

When Nico returned, nearly an hour later, he went straight to the fields. Nina was still in the garden, hanging out linens to dry, so she missed him.

“He didn’t say what Father wanted him for?” she asked Rosa.

“No. Just poked his head through the door and said he was off to join Papà and the boys.”

There wasn’t time to talk with him at midday either, for rain was threatening and they all had to hurry about their meal; and before she could say a single word to him he rose from the table, thanked her and Rosa, and went back to his work.

At supper they were all tired, everyone intent on their soup and bread, the men talking of little more than their plans for the next day. Nina was still drying her hands on her apron, thinking ahead to the comfort of bed and Nico’s warm embrace, when he took her hand and led her to the door.

“Nina and I are going into the village. Father Bernardi was complaining that he never sees her. Only a quick hello at the door after church, he said.”

“But it’s getting late,” Nina protested.

“He won’t mind. Do you want your shawl?”

When they arrived at the rectory, Nico didn’t bother to knock but instead opened the door and ushered her inside.