“And we have nowhere to immigrate to, now that the war is on. We can’t go to Britain or France anymore, and Poland and the Netherlands are already under Nazi rule.” Rosa looked over. “The only option left is Palestine, but I hear the waiting list is too long.”
“I can’t believe it’s come to this. Still, I can’t believe it.”
“I can.”
“I was wrong, and you were right, all along.”
“Don’t feel bad. You didn’t want to believe it. You love your country. You couldn’t imagine she would turn on you.” Rosa shrugged. “What is a country if not her people?”
“Right.” Sandro felt a rush of regard for her. “You know, you didn’t have to come back. You put yourself in this, all over again.”
“I’m with my family.” Rosa smiled, but Sandro knew she was putting on a brave face.
“Papa’s worse, don’t you think?”
“Yes, he’s anxious and preoccupied, all the time.”
“I don’t know how to help him, other than what I’m already doing.”
“There’s nothing, Sandro. You’re doing enough.”
They turned right, then left, heading out of the Ghetto, and it felt to Sandro that they were entering a different world. Outside, stores and businesses were thriving, and well-dressed Romans went about their quotidian business, living the life that the Simones used to live.
Rosa walked with her head down, a frown marking her pretty features. “I got a letter from one of my British friends, saying it’s terrible in London right now. The city is being bombed, and everyone’s hiding in the Tube at night. Now that Hitler’s taken France, Britain stands alone. Churchill will never surrender, but I don’t know if the Brits can stop the Nazis.”
“How frightening.” Sandro shuddered.
“It horrifies me that Italy is on Hitler’s side—and I’m married to a Brit. My own country is trying to kill my husband. How can that be?”
“Everything is topsy-turvy. The Allies are on the right side, and we’re on the wrong one.”
“I had news of David. He got reassigned to a group called the SOE, a special operations division. They go behind the lines to disrupt the enemy in any way they can, blowing up rail lines and the like.”
Sandro hid his dismay. “But he’s a diplomat.”
“I know. They picked him for his diplomatic knowledge and language skills. I heard that from our old embassy friends. The rest is top secret. I don’t even know where he is.” Rosa bit her lip, and seeing her anxiety, Sandro stopped her and gave her a warm hug.
“It’s going to be okay.”
“Is it?” Rosa released him, her eyes filming. They resumed walking, and she sighed. “Sandro, we talk about David and me all the time. But we never talk about you and Elisabetta. Every time I bring her up, you change the subject. What happened that night, on her birthday?”
“Nothing.” Sandro’s chest ached.
“Come on. You lied to me.” Rosa lifted an eyebrow. “You told me that she chose Marco, but I heard what she said to you that night. She chose you, and you sent her away.”
“It was for her own good.”
“She didn’t think so. She wants you. She told you so.”
“Marco is better for her.”
“That’s her decision to make, not yours. You love her. You should have told her that.”
“Why?”
“It’s the truth. You don’t need a reason for the truth.”
Sandro wished it were that simple. “I couldn’t see her now, even if I wanted to. Mixed couples are under surveillance these days. We can’t have OVRA watching us. If they did, we couldn’t meet our connection. How would we get food or anything else we need?”
Rosa was silent a moment, walking along. “We would figure it out. Elisabetta never gave up on you. She probably still hasn’t.”
Sandro didn’t want to believe that was true. He didn’t want to think he could have Elisabetta back, for it only kept his heart broken. All of the reasons he had let her go still existed, whether she saw Marco or not.
“Sandro, you should go to her. Just tell her you love her, and let the rest fall as it may.”
“Oh, is that your romantic advice?” Sandro smiled, remembering a happier time when she had advised him about Elisabetta.
“Yes, and bring her flowers.” Rosa smiled back.
“I brought her a book. And it worked.”