going to say if you ever need someone to go with you somewhere or help you with something, I’d be glad to fill in until Luciana is back on her feet.”
Ann considered Vi for a long moment. “That’s very kind, but what’s the angle?”
“Angle?” It was Vi’s turn to be surprised. “There isn’t one.” Except the small niggling of guilt told her that might not be true. As the older woman continued to study her in suspicious silence, Vi tamped down her annoyance and considered the question honestly. The answer was not a comfortable one.
Having been betrayed by love herself, she had thought it was because she felt empathy for Ann. Now she realized her compulsion was less about easing Ann’s loneliness than absolving herself of guilt, for she had also been part of a betrayal: her sister’s. Somehow she had hoped that by restoring Ann’s faith in humanity she might be forgiven for hurting Fern, no matter how unwittingly she had done it. The fact remained that Vi had slept with her sister’s eventual fiancé, and it would forever be a breach of trust between the sisters.
Though how was I supposed to know Fern would change her mind? a part of her traitorous brain protested. She told me she was tired of him, and I believed her.
Which was why she no longer believed in the truth of mere words. She had been too badly burned, by Robert and Fern both.
Suddenly wanting to be somewhere . . . anywhere else, Vi backed up a step. “I should start packing. But the offer stands if you should ever need me.”
To her relief, both of the airplane’s engines remained happy and healthy, purring like well-fed lions the entire trip. Even better, the flight was blessedly short, mere minutes in fact. By the time they landed in Rome and Vi had followed everyone out into the beatific sunshine of central Italy, her spirits had fully recovered. The only fly in the ointment was that there was no room at the inn, so to speak.
Their new liaison, one Lieutenant Holland, looked truly apologetic. “Another USO unit was dropped off unexpectedly last night, and since you were delayed, we gave your hotel rooms to them. But not to worry! It’s just a little snafu I’ll soon remedy. Maybe you’d like to see the theater while you wait?”
“That would be wonderful,” Sue said with a strained smile, even as Vi was cheered by the news they would be staying in a hotel versus army barracks. Being around soldiers twenty-four hours a day was fine and all, but she wouldn’t mind a bit more privacy.
“I hope we get a chance to rehearse,” Marcie whispered as Lieutenant Holland left to make arrangements. “I’m terrified I won’t be ready in time for our first performance.”
“Marcie, darling,” Ann called out from where the actors were standing. “We need you over here.”
Vi’s eyebrows rose at the request. After last night and this morning, she had hoped the artificial social gap between leads and dancers would become a thing of the past. Apparently not. Still, she found the actors’ snobbery annoying and more than a little counterproductive. Shows lived or died on the whims of the audience, sure. But shows could also be self-sabotaged from within by a divided cast.
Quashing her irritation, and with nothing to do but wait while Lieutenant Holland made arrangements for them, Vi looked around the airfield. Even though she knew they were nowhere near the center of Rome, she was disappointed to have not even a glimpse of the ancient wonders, like the Colosseum. Everywhere she looked it was all new construction, military in nature. Rather a bust, in her opinion. Still, the bright Italian sunshine was nice.
She turned her face up, letting the warmth soak into her.
“Have to say it looks a lot different now than when we first liberated it,” a familiar male voice said.
Startled, she opened her eyes to see Sergeant Danger. “You’ve been here before?”
“Yes.” Shadows flickered in his eyes as he looked out over the fields.
Her heart squeezed. “I’m sorry.”
He glanced at her, startled. “For what? It wasn’t you who started this damn war.”
“No, but I wish . . . I just wish you didn’t have to be here. That none of this was necessary.”
He laughed without much humor. “Might as well tell mankind to stop living, then. War is in our genetics.”