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Authors: A.L. Sowards
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cuisine. There hadn’t been a line at the bookstore next to the bakery, so Gracie had also bought a few books of Roman poetry and was carrying them now.
Gracie’s contact was late but only by a few minutes. “Sorry to keep you,” the woman said, twisting her luxurious dark hair away from her neck.
“It’s fine. Did you get your water?” Gracie looked around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear their conversation.
“Yes. And I got it up to my flat without spilling any. Such a nuisance. I think I’m just about ready to leave Rome and join my husband’s partisan band in the hills. It can’t be much worse than living here.” She looked down at her abdomen. “Except they might not have midwives there, and my mother lives with me now. She’d be furious if I left and she didn’t get to see her first grandbaby.”
Even though she was complaining, the woman’s voice sounded cheerful. Gracie had a feeling this new contact would be a pleasure to work with. “I’m Concetta.”
“I’m Otavia. I know some people in the country, and they know people. Word of what the Germans are doing outside Rome is brought to me, but for the last few weeks, I haven’t been able to do anything with it.”
“From now on, you can give it to me.”
“Good.” Otavia glanced at the bread still in Gracie’s hand. “That’s what you’re eating?”
“It was all they had left by the time I got there. I don’t have a kitchen, so I can’t make my own food.”
Otavia grinned as she waited for a few pedestrians to stroll out of earshot. “ Tesorina , you’re obviously new in town.” Otavia used the term of endearment Gracie’s grandparents had used. “Unless you want to starve, you’re going to need to shop at the black market.”
“But isn’t trading on the black market punishable by death?”
Otavia laughed as she took Gracie’s arm and led her away, then she whispered. “Yes, and so is operating an enemy radio or getting caught with a four-pointed nail or riding a bicycle or violating curfew.”
“You can get shot for riding a bicycle?” Maybe that explained why Gracie had seen several bicycles with useless third wheels tacked on.
“The Gappisti had a few too many successful assassinations by bicycle.”
Gracie had to think for a few moments before remembering that the Gappisti were Italian partisans, members of the Gruppi di Azione Patriottica, a resistance group working against the Nazis.
Otavia pointed across the street, and the two of them crossed to the other side, conveniently avoiding a pair of Italian Fascist police. “So today I’ll show you where to get your food. And then Friday we’ll meet again at the Piazza Navona, by Neptune’s fountain.”
“You like meeting by famous landmarks?”
“Gives us an excuse to loiter if one of us is late. And I love Rome. I know I talk about leaving, but I don’t really want to. I miss my husband, but if I went to join him, I think I’d miss this city. So I’m doing what I can to help the Allies get here quickly so I can have both my loves at the same time.” Otavia pointed out a quiet side street and turned onto it. “The Amis and Tommies are certainly taking their time. I expected them to be here by now.”
“Us too.” Gracie thought of Ley’s anger that the landings in Anzio and Nettuno had been so badly botched. “Where’s your husband?”
“Somewhere to the east. They were going to send him away for forced labor, so he joined a partisan band instead.” Otavia sighed. “At least I get letters. It could be worse.”
Gracie wondered how she’d react in Otavia’s position. Not as well , she knew.
“Have you seen Rome before?” Otavia asked.
“Yes, but not recently. I grew up in Nettuno, then my family moved to the United States when I was eleven. My oldest sister had married a few years before and they had immigrated. My brother-in-law started his own business and convinced my dad to come work for him.”
“Didn’t you
Gracie’s contact was late but only by a few minutes. “Sorry to keep you,” the woman said, twisting her luxurious dark hair away from her neck.
“It’s fine. Did you get your water?” Gracie looked around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear their conversation.
“Yes. And I got it up to my flat without spilling any. Such a nuisance. I think I’m just about ready to leave Rome and join my husband’s partisan band in the hills. It can’t be much worse than living here.” She looked down at her abdomen. “Except they might not have midwives there, and my mother lives with me now. She’d be furious if I left and she didn’t get to see her first grandbaby.”
Even though she was complaining, the woman’s voice sounded cheerful. Gracie had a feeling this new contact would be a pleasure to work with. “I’m Concetta.”
“I’m Otavia. I know some people in the country, and they know people. Word of what the Germans are doing outside Rome is brought to me, but for the last few weeks, I haven’t been able to do anything with it.”
“From now on, you can give it to me.”
“Good.” Otavia glanced at the bread still in Gracie’s hand. “That’s what you’re eating?”
“It was all they had left by the time I got there. I don’t have a kitchen, so I can’t make my own food.”
Otavia grinned as she waited for a few pedestrians to stroll out of earshot. “ Tesorina , you’re obviously new in town.” Otavia used the term of endearment Gracie’s grandparents had used. “Unless you want to starve, you’re going to need to shop at the black market.”
“But isn’t trading on the black market punishable by death?”
Otavia laughed as she took Gracie’s arm and led her away, then she whispered. “Yes, and so is operating an enemy radio or getting caught with a four-pointed nail or riding a bicycle or violating curfew.”
“You can get shot for riding a bicycle?” Maybe that explained why Gracie had seen several bicycles with useless third wheels tacked on.
“The Gappisti had a few too many successful assassinations by bicycle.”
Gracie had to think for a few moments before remembering that the Gappisti were Italian partisans, members of the Gruppi di Azione Patriottica, a resistance group working against the Nazis.
Otavia pointed across the street, and the two of them crossed to the other side, conveniently avoiding a pair of Italian Fascist police. “So today I’ll show you where to get your food. And then Friday we’ll meet again at the Piazza Navona, by Neptune’s fountain.”
“You like meeting by famous landmarks?”
“Gives us an excuse to loiter if one of us is late. And I love Rome. I know I talk about leaving, but I don’t really want to. I miss my husband, but if I went to join him, I think I’d miss this city. So I’m doing what I can to help the Allies get here quickly so I can have both my loves at the same time.” Otavia pointed out a quiet side street and turned onto it. “The Amis and Tommies are certainly taking their time. I expected them to be here by now.”
“Us too.” Gracie thought of Ley’s anger that the landings in Anzio and Nettuno had been so badly botched. “Where’s your husband?”
“Somewhere to the east. They were going to send him away for forced labor, so he joined a partisan band instead.” Otavia sighed. “At least I get letters. It could be worse.”
Gracie wondered how she’d react in Otavia’s position. Not as well , she knew.
“Have you seen Rome before?” Otavia asked.
“Yes, but not recently. I grew up in Nettuno, then my family moved to the United States when I was eleven. My oldest sister had married a few years before and they had immigrated. My brother-in-law started his own business and convinced my dad to come work for him.”
“Didn’t you
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