Read Online Shadowed by Grace by Cara Putman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Cara Putman
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but salvaging frescoes and stained glass was a different matter altogether.
At the end of long days, he wished for dozens more men trained in repairing and shoring up the great edifices. Then there were the paintings, altarpieces, and sculptures that begged for the careful, cautious hands and skill of restorers. His work as a curator hadn’t prepared him for those kinds of challenges. He applied what he’d learned from watching others and talking to the Monuments and Fine Arts Administration officers in Naples.
While trapped in Naples, Scott and the other MFAA soldiers found a sort of stasis, a place of tolerated assignments while restlessness built. Tyler Salmon appeared day after day, and Scott worked with the man, but he wasn’t a good fit with the MFAA since he showed no interest in the mission.
One morning Tyler leaned against a pillar pitted with bullet holes as Scott walked around a neighborhood church, evaluating the local Italian workers’ progress. Watching him lounge day after day ate at Scott. His pulse throbbed until he could hardly move. He marched toward the man. “Get up and do something.”
“What do you want me to do, Lieutenant?”
Scott pointed at a broom. “At least sweep up debris. Make yourself useful.”
Tyler shifted until his chest puffed out like a rooster’s. “You don’t have authority. Someone else gives me orders to babysit you.”
Scott clenched his jaw to the point he had to relax or crack a tooth. Not what he needed in the decimated city. “I suggest you wait with the jeep. I’d hate to have it disappear while you support a column.”
“Sure. I can do that.” Tyler grinned, and Scott wanted to knock the cockiness from him.
What gave Tyler the idea he was untouchable? Maybe reality. Scott had less authority than most lieutenants and less training than the rest. His art knowledge was what got his commission enhanced, not his prowess on the battlefield. Though if he were a wagering sort of man, he’d say odds were good Tyler didn’t have a lick more battle sense than he had.
Rachel’s new assignment with the Fifth Division didn’t move her closer to Tuscany. She’d spent several days waiting for the Fifth to move. Her editor, Dick, kept her busy at the United Press offices as he mumbled about not liking her moving into the unknown with the division, as if to convince her to decline and stay in the office. But she needed to do something more than stay in place.
She’d wandered the city when she could, but Naples was old news. No more photos would be published until she left the city behind. After Scott found her in the hotel, she wondered where he’d spent his days. She’d asked to be reassigned to him while she waited, but the request was denied. Any moment the Fifth would move, but it evolved into the longest moment of her life. She couldn’t do a thing to move the war forward. With each wave of mail and no letter from home, the noose of worry tightened around her heart.
Waiting. What a horrid word when she knew the tuberculosis wouldn’t wait as it ravaged her momma’s body. It might slide to the side, but it wouldn’t disappear without aggressive treatment.
She had to find a way north to Tuscany. Since that’s where her mother spent most of her time in Italy, it seemed the best place to search for her father.
One night when the other girls had gone to dinner with a few officers, Rachel stayed behind and pulled out her momma’s diary. She closed her eyes and imagined her mom in Italy. A young woman, soul full of dreams, heart filled with ideas of love as she learned all she could about art.
The opportunity to study abroad could launch my artistic career. After a year of studying in Florence, I could take a place next to Mary Cassatt. Paint and teach. Instead the romance of Italy, the very word vibrates with beauty and love, distracted me. Now I return to the States with a steamer trunk filled with canvasses and shattered dreams. My womb filled with a
At the end of long days, he wished for dozens more men trained in repairing and shoring up the great edifices. Then there were the paintings, altarpieces, and sculptures that begged for the careful, cautious hands and skill of restorers. His work as a curator hadn’t prepared him for those kinds of challenges. He applied what he’d learned from watching others and talking to the Monuments and Fine Arts Administration officers in Naples.
While trapped in Naples, Scott and the other MFAA soldiers found a sort of stasis, a place of tolerated assignments while restlessness built. Tyler Salmon appeared day after day, and Scott worked with the man, but he wasn’t a good fit with the MFAA since he showed no interest in the mission.
One morning Tyler leaned against a pillar pitted with bullet holes as Scott walked around a neighborhood church, evaluating the local Italian workers’ progress. Watching him lounge day after day ate at Scott. His pulse throbbed until he could hardly move. He marched toward the man. “Get up and do something.”
“What do you want me to do, Lieutenant?”
Scott pointed at a broom. “At least sweep up debris. Make yourself useful.”
Tyler shifted until his chest puffed out like a rooster’s. “You don’t have authority. Someone else gives me orders to babysit you.”
Scott clenched his jaw to the point he had to relax or crack a tooth. Not what he needed in the decimated city. “I suggest you wait with the jeep. I’d hate to have it disappear while you support a column.”
“Sure. I can do that.” Tyler grinned, and Scott wanted to knock the cockiness from him.
What gave Tyler the idea he was untouchable? Maybe reality. Scott had less authority than most lieutenants and less training than the rest. His art knowledge was what got his commission enhanced, not his prowess on the battlefield. Though if he were a wagering sort of man, he’d say odds were good Tyler didn’t have a lick more battle sense than he had.
Rachel’s new assignment with the Fifth Division didn’t move her closer to Tuscany. She’d spent several days waiting for the Fifth to move. Her editor, Dick, kept her busy at the United Press offices as he mumbled about not liking her moving into the unknown with the division, as if to convince her to decline and stay in the office. But she needed to do something more than stay in place.
She’d wandered the city when she could, but Naples was old news. No more photos would be published until she left the city behind. After Scott found her in the hotel, she wondered where he’d spent his days. She’d asked to be reassigned to him while she waited, but the request was denied. Any moment the Fifth would move, but it evolved into the longest moment of her life. She couldn’t do a thing to move the war forward. With each wave of mail and no letter from home, the noose of worry tightened around her heart.
Waiting. What a horrid word when she knew the tuberculosis wouldn’t wait as it ravaged her momma’s body. It might slide to the side, but it wouldn’t disappear without aggressive treatment.
She had to find a way north to Tuscany. Since that’s where her mother spent most of her time in Italy, it seemed the best place to search for her father.
One night when the other girls had gone to dinner with a few officers, Rachel stayed behind and pulled out her momma’s diary. She closed her eyes and imagined her mom in Italy. A young woman, soul full of dreams, heart filled with ideas of love as she learned all she could about art.
The opportunity to study abroad could launch my artistic career. After a year of studying in Florence, I could take a place next to Mary Cassatt. Paint and teach. Instead the romance of Italy, the very word vibrates with beauty and love, distracted me. Now I return to the States with a steamer trunk filled with canvasses and shattered dreams. My womb filled with a
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