From Sand and Ash(46)

“She’s in the closet.” Giulia laughed hollowly. “She slept through it all.”

The sudden pounding at the front door had Lorenzo crying out and Giulia staggering to her feet, babe in arms.

“Quiet!” Eva hissed, urging them back toward the closet as she raced for the door, determined to hold it closed once more.

“Giulia! Giulia!” A desperate voice, barely muffled by the door. A key scraped in the lock and Mario Sonnino pressed his face to the small crack in the now opened door.

“Giulia!” he cried.

“It’s Mario!” Eva called, her voice cracking with relief. “Giulia, it’s Mario!”

“Papà!” Lorenzo shouted, racing from the room, ahead of his mother.

“Help me move the table!” Eva instructed, shoving at the heavy furniture, and the little boy was at her side, pushing it out of the way.

Mario fell through the opening, grabbing at his son with one arm, embracing his wife with the other. Eva took the baby from Giulia and held the tiny body against her chest, kissing his downy head and patting his little back. The baby quieted instantly, but Eva’s heart was slower to calm. The stress of the last hour was slowly unraveling her control.

“They are rounding up all the Jews. Going from house to house. I ran all the way here. I was in the queue when the news hit, and everyone left the line, running in different directions, afraid for their lives. I didn’t get our rations, Giulia,” Mario said sadly, as an afterthought. “I thought I was too late. I thought they’d taken you and the children and left me behind.”

“You were lucky!” Eva spoke up. “If you’d arrived when they were still here, you would have been taken. And you might have given us away.”

“How did you manage? How?” Mario was weeping now, relief and joy seeping from his eyes, unchecked. “Is everyone all right? The baby? Emilia?”

“We hid in the ripostiglio.” Lorenzo puffed out his small chest and placed his hands on his hips. “And we were so quiet they thought no one was home!”

“You hid in the closet? All of you?” Mario whispered. His gaze lingered on his wife’s face, noting her pallor and the strain that tightened her mouth and lined her eyes.

“Not Eva! Eva held the door closed,” Lorenzo offered up.

All eyes were suddenly on Eva, Mario’s wide with awe.

“Your neighbor told them no one lived here. I don’t know if they would have moved on if not for her.” Eva’s mouth trembled.

“Signora Donati is gone,” Mario whispered. “Her door was wide open. All the doors are open. All down the hall. All, except ours. The SS police must have entered each one, making sure no one was left behind. It looks like the phone lines have been cut too.”

“They didn’t find us!” Lorenzo crowed.

“Where will they take them, all those people?” Giulia asked quietly.

“I don’t know.” Mario shook his head in disbelief. “But it won’t stop with the ghetto. I heard someone say they have addresses. Names. Rome is no longer safe for Jews.”

“My sister and her family!” Giulia cried, suddenly realizing, now that Mario was safe, that she had others to be worried about. The same thing had just occurred to Eva. Uncle Augusto and his family needed to be warned.

“I have to go.” Eva thrust the baby into Giulia’s arms and turned toward the door, halting as she realized she was shoeless.

She ran to the lumpy sofa, shoving her feet into her shoes and her arms into the long red coat she had always loved. Now she wished for a coat in the drabbest brown, something that wouldn’t draw attention or admiration. She needed to be invisible. Hadn’t Babbo always said, “Keep your head down and your manners in place”? The thought of him made her stomach clench painfully. She missed him! Oh, God, she missed him so much. Had the SS dragged him away like Isabella Donati? Loaded him up in the back of a truck, never to be seen or heard from again?

“Oh, Eva. Be careful!” Giulia warned.

Eva kissed her cheek and embraced Lorenzo before looking up at Mario.

“Will you be okay without me?” she asked softly. “I will come back when I can, and we will finish your new documents. Giulia needs to be in bed, resting. But you know you can’t stay here. If you have nowhere else, come to the Convent of Santa Cecilia. We will figure something out.”

“I will take care of my family,” Mario said firmly, but his eyes found hers and held. “Thank you, Eva. Don’t worry about us. We are the lucky ones today. Do you have your pass?” She nodded, knowing that he wasn’t referring to the papers that labeled her a Jew. He was referring to the fake ones, the ones that claimed she was Eva Bianco from Naples.

“Mamma?” a sleepy voice said from the bedroom doorway. “Are we playing hide-and-go-seek? I want to count.” Little Emilia was rubbing at her eyes and yawning widely, completely oblivious to the terror of the morning. Her parents laughed quietly, and the laughter broke into grateful tears as they clung to each other and to their small children.

Eva slipped out then, letting the young family have a moment together, her mind on what remained of her own family, and the danger they all faced.





CHAPTER 11


TRASTEVERE


The alley leading out onto the Via del Portico d’Ottavia was eerily quiet, the four cramped blocks wedged between the Tiber and the Teatro di Marcello gutted of their inhabitants. The dome of the church in the nearby piazza peered down at Eva, making her feel exposed and small. She wanted to run from doorway to doorway, from tree to bush, hiding herself in spurts, but she made herself walk at a leisurely pace.