“Of course. Well, off you go now, and don’t let Nico and Father get so caught up in talking that they forget the time. Supper will be your first proper meal in your new home—you don’t want to be late.”

Chapter 7

Nico took her arm as they walked away, and even after they turned onto the road he didn’t let go. Perhaps he, too, needed a bit of comfort after their awkward homecoming and her mortifying mistake in admitting a prior acquaintance with Father Bernardi.

“I can’t believe I was so stupid just now.”

But Nico was unconcerned. “My father barely noticed. Don’t trouble yourself over it.”

The rectory where Father Bernardi lived, only a few meters distant from the church, was a modest stuccoed building, its window baskets brimming with leggy geraniums. The priest opened the door himself when they knocked, beckoning them into a cozy entranceway that smelled of furniture polish, incense, and the faintest whiff of strong coffee.

He led them into his study, past his desk stacked high with papers and books, to a sitting area at the far end of the room. With Nico’s help he cleared yet more books off the furniture and, after some ineffectual plumping of the upholstery, directed them to sit on the settee.

“I have a little coffee left. I’ll just ask dear Signora Vendramin to prepare it for us.”

“That’s all right, Father,” Nico said. “We can’t stay for long—supper is almost ready. Maybe another day.”

“Very well,” the priest said, and made himself comfortable in his chair. “How are you both? How was the journey?”

“Long,” Nina said, and though she was glad to see her father’s friend again, she didn’t have the energy, or the spirit, to indulge in conversational niceties. “When I saw you in Venice last year, did you know?”

“Of your father’s wish that I hide you? Not then. Not until last month, when he wrote to me and asked if I would find a safe place for you to see out the war.”

“Why only me? Why not him and my mother, too?”

“I asked him—more than once I asked—but he was worried that a move of any kind would be too disruptive for your mother. Too upsetting.”

“He didn’t seem very concerned about upsetting me,” Nina grumbled.

“Only because he knew you were strong enough to bear it,” Father Bernardi countered, his tone reassuring rather than reproving. “And you can. You’re among friends here.”

“I don’t know anything about living on a farm. I don’t know how to cook, or clean, or do anything useful.”

“You’ll learn. Niccolò will help you.”

At this Nico nodded. “I know my sister wasn’t very friendly when we arrived earlier. I’m sorry about that.”

“It feels wrong to deceive her and your father.”