Courage, My Love - Softcover

Beck, Kristin

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593101561 ISBN 13: 9780593101568

Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2021

Inhaltsangabe

When the Nazi occupation of Rome begins, two courageous young women are plunged deep into the Italian Resistance to fight for their freedom in this captivating debut novel.

Rome, 1943

Lucia Colombo has had her doubts about fascism for years, but as a single mother in an increasingly unstable country, politics are for other people--she needs to focus on keeping herself and her son alive. Then the Italian government falls and the German occupation begins, and suddenly, Lucia finds that complacency is no longer an option. 

Francesca Gallo has always been aware of injustice and suffering. A polio survivor who lost her father when he was arrested for his anti-fascist politics, she came to Rome with her fiancé to start a new life. But when the Germans invade and her fiancé is taken by the Nazis, Francesca decides she has only one option: to fight back.

As Lucia and Francesca are pulled deeper into the struggle against the Nazi occupation, both women learn to resist alongside the partisans to drive the Germans from Rome. But as winter sets in, the occupation tightens its grip on the city, and the resistance is in constant danger. 

In the darkest days, Francesca and Lucia face their pasts, find the courage to love, and maintain hope for a future that is finally free.

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Kristin Beck first learned about World War II from her grandmother, who served as a Canadian army nurse, fell in love with an American soldier in Belgium, and married him shortly after VE Day. Kristin thus grew up hearing stories about the war, and has been captivated by the often unsung roles of women in history ever since. A former teacher, she holds a Bachelor of Arts in English from the University of Washington and a Master's in Teaching from Western Washington University. Kristin lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and children. This is her first novel.

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ONE

 

Lucia

 

Rome, July 1943

 

It wasn't until Lucia stepped into the streets, with Matteo's hot little palm gripped in her own, that she noticed the leaflets. Squares of paper spattered the cobblestones like windswept petals. One, caught in a breath of air, still drifted. She shaded her eyes and studied the strip of sky between buildings. Allied planes must have flown over Rome, dropping their propaganda, but when? Could she have slept so hard last night, with Matteo curled in her arms, that the sirens failed to wake her? Of course, air-raid sirens failed to rouse most Romans these days. They were used to planes passing over, destined for some other populace. Rome was the Eternal City, home to the pope. It would never be bombed.

 

She glanced at Matteo, who tugged on her arm so he could snatch up a leaflet. His cheeks were red, his eyes still bright with fading tears. Moments earlier, Lucia had mentioned, unwisely, that he had an appointment with the pediatrician after errands. Matteo had sat down on the stairs, refusing to budge. She'd insisted and then pleaded with him. Their cupboards were empty, and the lines for bread and eggs and flour would stretch with the morning. Eventually, she carried him down the steps and through the door, and now here they were: already exhausted.

 

"Mamma, what does it say?"

 

She plucked the leaflet from his fingers. "Did you hear sirens last night, Matteo?" She scanned the printing on the square of paper. He shook his head, sniffing. The final sentence rose from the text and hung, for an uncomfortable moment, in Lucia's mind.

 

Italians shall die for Mussolini and Hitler-or live for Italy and for civilization.

 

She frowned. "Never mind," she murmured, dropping the leaflet and squeezing Matteo's hand, prompting him to match her stride. The sun was barely up over Rome's rooftops, but her lower back trickled sweat. With her free hand, she adjusted the itchy waistband of her skirt and gathered the hair off her neck, a handful of black curls, savoring the air on her skin. Die for Mussolini? That's exactly what she, and especially her brothers, had been raised to do.

 

Matteo skipped along in his short pants, his arm yanking on hers as he hopped at random intervals, playing a game with the cobblestones. The message on the leaflet wasn't new. Just the other night, Churchill had slipped through some gap in the state-controlled radio, imploring Italy's people to shake off the yoke of fascism and secure a separate peace. Lucia puffed air through her lips. Right now, she was more concerned with securing bread.

 

"Think we'll get some eggs today, piccolo?"

 

He looked up at her and shrugged, blinking under his fringe of curls. He matched her completely, a lighter version of her with his thick hair, nut-colored eyes, and double dimples.

 

"We need at least four eggs," she said, composing a mental list. "And perhaps we'll find a fish for supper. What do you think, Matteo? Will we be lucky today?"

 

He wiped his freckled nose. "You have cigarettes for the man?"

 

She laughed. "Yes, for the fisherman." She did have some, saved from her rations, but who knew if she'd catch someone along the Tiber who would make a deal?

 

They rounded a corner onto a wider street, and Signora Bruno, sweeping her front steps, glanced up. A stripe of sunlight fell over the stoop, brightening the old woman's hair. She was nearly always outside, either pruning the bougainvillea that swept over her ground-floor apartment, or feeding stray cats, or propped in a chair to watch the world trot by.

 

"Buongiorno, Lucia. Why are you out so early?"

 

Flowers fluttered over Noemi Bruno's head like butterflies. Matteo dropped Lucia's hand and ran to the elderly neighbor, thumping against her belly. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and her arthritic hands patted his back. Lucia followed suit, kissing both of Noemi's papery cheeks before answering her question.

 

"Just trying to get some shopping done before an appointment." She glanced at a pile of leaflets stacked neatly on her neighbor's step. "I see you, too, heard from the enemy last night?"

 

Noemi shrugged. "I don't know who the enemy is anymore, cara mia. But, by the look of it, they dropped their entire bundle on our neighborhood." The old woman laughed, the map of her face transforming.

 

Lucia smiled, but her chest tightened like a fist. Nobody seemed to know who the enemy was anymore. Her father, a Fascist official, and her mother, German by birth, were steadfast. Their rhetoric against the Allies was like a wall; every time a plane passed over Rome, they added another brick. But in the streets? There, she heard everything. People whispered in cafŽs, hoping for a coup d'Žtat and peace with the Allies. Anti-Fascists plastered posters on walls and ran. People blamed the air raids on Mussolini himself, whispering that if he hadn't sided with Hitler, if he'd stayed out of the war, their sons and cities would be safe.

 

Noemi fingered her silvery bun. "I, for one, think we should break with Germany and stop fighting the Allies. The minute they landed in Sicily, Il Duce lost his war."

 

Lucia hitched her shopping bag up on her elbow. With the Allies pushing into Italy on one side and the Germans on the other, wasn't every path a gamble? She opened her mouth to say so but stopped mid-breath. Because what did she know? Her mother's voice murmured in her thoughts. Leave opinions to the men.

 

"Honestly, right now I'd rather worry about filling my cupboards than war and politics." She reached for Matteo's palm, but he ducked into the frothy shade of the bougainvillea. She tried to give him a scolding look, but a smile crept in. She'd have to catch him if they were to beat the lines. The stones of the city, wrapping under their feet and over the ancient walls, were heating up. "Can we get you anything from the shops?"

 

The old woman clutched the broom as if to hold herself up. She shook her head, pursing her lips and squinting at Lucia, caught in thought. Matteo squatted behind her, elbows on his knees, and extended a hand toward a cat as thin as a whisper. The creature eyed him, hesitating from a safe distance.

 

"Noemi?" Lucia knew Noemi Bruno well enough to know she had more to say.

 

"Cara mia. There's something I need to tell you." She shifted the broom and hesitated, looking up and down the street. Then she beckoned Lucia closer, lowering her voice. "I saw Carlo. Last night."

 

It was like a rock dropped into Lucia's stomach. She shook her head, whispering, "No. No, you couldn't have." She glanced at Matteo. He hadn't heard, or didn't know what he was hearing, because he was still crouched under the flowers, his hand cupped toward the cat in offering. Lucia shook her head again. "It must have been someone who looked like him."

 

"It was Carlo." Noemi reached out and gripped Lucia's wrist with her crooked fingers. "I don't want to upset you, cara, but I thought you should know."

 

A tiny cyclone started to spin in Lucia's heart, yet she persisted. "Noemi. It's been six years. Perhaps you've forgotten what he looks like?"

 

"Few men look like him. And he stood right outside my window, close to where you are now, staring at your street corner. He's back, Lucia."

 

Matteo rose into a half crouch and tottered a few steps across the cobbles. The cat curved like a fish and darted away. Matteo frowned, scuffing his shoes as he walked over and placed his palm in Lucia's,...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2021
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593101561
• ISBN 13: 9780593101568
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 384
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: eucomply OÜ; hello@eucompliancepartner.com; ; Pärnu mnt 139b-14; Tallinn; 11317; Estland