The Rules in Rome (18 page)

“It’s best to turn the engine over slowly a few times, then start it,” he explained, leaning close so she could hear him over the engine. “Clutch in, then switch into first and slowly let the clutch out as you give it gas. We’ll start with just getting it into first for now.”

Gracie nodded, then choked the engine twice in a row.

“That’s all right,” Ley said. “It takes some practice. Try giving it a little more gas next time.”

After five additional failures and only two successes, Gracie was frustrated. But Ley was patient. Gracie kept trying, and it got better—enjoyable even—as she slowly mastered shifting up and shifting down. By noon, her transitions were smooth, and when she took her first hill, Ley said she did it as if she’d been riding over hills for years.

He jogged over to her when she pulled to a stop past his position. “Take it back to the truck so I can get mine. It’s getting hard to keep up with you. When you get the speed up, go straight. I haven’t talked to you about countersteering yet.”

Gracie nodded. She guided the machine through the first three gears but didn’t push it any faster than that. She was content at that speed, feeling the wind on her face and the sensation of rapid movement as the grass swished past her legs. There wasn’t any way she could control what happened in Rome, but out here, now that she’d figured it out, she could at least control the DKW. It wasn’t so different from operating her radio—it took time and practice, but once she learned, she could use the machine the way it was intended, and that was immensely satisfying. She held in the clutch and moved into fourth gear, deciding to increase her speed after all.

She risked a quick glance at Ley. He was far enough back that she couldn’t see his face, but his plan for a carefree morning was working. She was glad, for her sake, and for his. She felt a surge of gratitude for him. Somehow, in the last four weeks, he’d managed to convince her that she was beautiful despite her mother’s disapproval, and today he’d taught her that a few decade-old mishaps with a bicycle didn’t mean she couldn’t master a motorcycle.

She spotted a hole in front of her and was there almost before she’d processed it. She turned to the right, but her motorcycle moved to the left—directly into the hole. She tried to shift down as she turned, thinking she’d have more control at a slower speed, but it only got worse. In desperation, her right hand clamped down on the brake, but she’d already lost control of the motorcycle.

The front wheel locked up, the DKW tilted toward the dirt, and she crashed. Hard.

Gracie’s helmet banged into the
ground, and the weeds grabbed at her hair and clothing. A few of them ended up in her mouth. Everything happened quickly, but in the end, she was lying on her side with the motorcycle over her left leg. Her shoulder, head, and hip ached from the impact. The wind had been knocked out of her, and she gasped to fill her lungs with air again.

Gracie could finally inhale normally when she heard Ley running toward her. He knelt next to her, breathing hard from the run. “Can you move your neck?”

“Yes, but it hurts.”

Ley stood and lifted the motorcycle off her leg. She knew it was heavy, but he moved it in seconds, then was on his knees at her feet. “Does it hurt when I move your legs?”

Gracie winced as he gently pulled her left leg straight. “Yes.”

“Bruised or broken?”

“Just bruised.” But it was probably the worst bruise she’d ever had.

He helped her to a sitting position, one hand supporting her back and the other cupping her neck. “Lightheaded?”

“A little.”

“Just sit here for a while. It should get better. That was a nasty crash.” He unbuckled her helmet and looked over her head, picking a few weeds from her hair as he checked for bleeding.

“I can’t figure out what happened. I tried to go one way, and the bike went the other.”

“That’s what happens when you’re going fast. If you turn the front wheel right, the back wheel drags the bike left. I’m sorry. That was going to be our next lesson. Along with tips like how it’s unwise to downshift while turning.”

Gracie hadn’t realized there was still so much to learn.

Ley’s fingers brushed along her hairline. “You’ve got a cut on your forehead.” He took out his handkerchief and pressed it into her wound. “And a sore neck and a bruised leg. Anything else?”

“I hit my shoulder.”

“I’m sorry. I should have been a better teacher. It just looked like you were having fun, and I didn’t want to make you stop.”

She had been having fun, but now she felt nauseated. “I think I need to lie down again.”

Ley helped her back into the weeds. “Should I take you to a hospital?” He studied her eyes as he used his hand to shade her face, then expose it to sunlight again.

“No.” Gracie felt too frazzled to keep her cover story straight.

Ley sat beside her for a while. Even with the clouds, it was hot staring up at the sky. “Would you be all right if I went and pulled the truck around? Or at least went and got the blanket for you to lie on?”

Gracie wanted him to stay, but a blanket sounded nice. The weeds kept poking the back of her neck. “I’ll be fine.”

He checked her motorcycle, but it must have been too damaged to ride because he walked back to the truck. When he returned, he found some shade, spread out the blanket, and helped her to it. Sometime while he was
peering through the binoculars at a bicycle in the distance, she fell asleep.

“Concetta?”

She opened her eyes and found Ley leaning over her.

“I don’t think you should sleep so soon after a crash like that.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Gracie sat up. “But a nap sounds nice.”

Ley nodded, and she caught him yawning. “Maybe if we didn’t have to
worry about the Gappisti.” He yawned again. “Sorry. I was up all night.”

“You were? Why?”

“That’s how I got today off.”

Gracie was flabbergasted. He’d not only found the motorcycles, the truck, and the food, but he’d also given up his sleep to give her a break. And she’d ruined it.

“How are your bruises?” he asked.

“Still there.”

“Well, we’ve got a while before we have to go back. They say when you fall off a horse, it’s best to get right back on. I assume that holds true for motorcycles too.”

The thought of getting on a motorcycle again made her stomach churn. The DKW had been fun for a while, until it had dumped her into the weeds. She was lucky she hadn’t broken a bone or gotten burned by the muffler. “I’d rather not.”

“Lunch, then?”

Gracie nodded, glad Ley hadn’t insisted she try another ride. She didn’t want to disappoint him more than she already had, but she wasn’t ready to try again. She might never be ready to try again.

The meal wasn’t as amazing as breakfast had been, but living in Rome was making her grateful for any food at all. “How much did you have to pay the woman for two baskets of food?”

Ley smiled. She liked the way his face softened when he was happy. “Not as much as I had to bribe the guard at the motor pool to lend me two motorcycles and a truck for nonofficial purposes.”

“Do you think he’ll get in trouble?”

“Not unless American paratroopers land in Rome and someone needs to move troops around. But if that happens, he might not be alive to be punished anyway.”

Gracie sighed. “I wish the army would hurry up and get here.”

“Italy’s a hard country to fight in.”

“And spy in.”

Ley nodded his agreement. “They’ll get here. Germany’s going to lose this war.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. There are too many people like me who will never give up until Hitler is defeated.”

“There are plenty of fanatical Nazis who will never give up either.” Gracie thought of Ostheim and Zimmerman, wondering if they’d ever voluntarily surrender.

“Call it my blind faith, then.”

“Faith that we’ll win just because we’re on the right side?”

One of Ley’s feet tapped against the other. “I’ve lived under Hitler. I don’t think God wants His children governed that way.”

“So you do believe in God?” Underneath his talent for spying, Gracie sensed Ley was a good man, and she suspected he was more religious than he let on.

“I never said I didn’t.”

“No, you just change the subject whenever anything gets too personal.” Gracie remembered his story about Julie and wished she could take back her words. Maybe he didn’t want to talk about the past because it was painful. A murdered father, a dead fiancée, his fatherland taken over by a madman. “Well, most of the time.”

“We have a job to do. Colonel Ambrose didn’t send us here to gossip.”

“Occasional conversations about you and your past hardly constitute gossip.”

“Hmm.”

Gracie couldn’t decide if she found his noncommittal sound infuriating or endearing. “It’s not like it’s keeping you from doing your assignment.
With all the information you gather, it’s a wonder the Allies weren’t in Rome weeks ago.”

“My information can’t help them get through the mud faster or crack Cassino.” Ley frowned.

“If the Allies win, will you want to live in Germany when the war’s finished?”

Ley scanned the horizon with his binoculars as he answered. “I like the United States. If I survive, I’ll go back.” The way he said his last sentence
made Gracie think he thought his chance of survival was small. “You?”

“I’ll go back to America. If I’m still alive.”

He gently nudged her arm with his elbow. “Don’t sound so gloomy about it. Your chances of survival are good.”

“I seem to remember you telling me that radio operators normally last only six weeks. I’ve been here almost four, and I think the army is more than two weeks away.”

“Most radio operators don’t have me watching their backs.” Ley winked
at her. “And you’re better than most radio operators, so you should last longer than average.”

“That’s not what you said in Switzerland.”

“Maybe I’ve changed my mind after seeing you in the field for a while.”

“So you think I’ll survive, but you think your own chances are slim. It seems like we’d go down together if anything happened.”

He frowned slightly. “If we’re caught, I think you’ll be sent to a camp. It would be horrible, but your faith would sustain you, and maybe an Allied Army would free you before you starved to death.”

“And you?”

“I’d be executed.”

Gracie shuddered, wondering which fate was worse. She felt Ley’s hand on her arm.

“I’ll do everything I can to make sure you aren’t caught,” he said. “First thing next week, I’ll find you a new apartment so your other contact won’t
know where you live. He seems to have someone chasing him every time you meet him.”

Gracie nodded.

“You know, we got matching cuts this week.” He leaned closer to get a better view of the sliced skin on her forehead. “But I think yours will heal without a permanent mark.”

Gracie hoped he was right. She already had a birthmark on her face. She didn’t need a scar too.

“If it doesn’t, I don’t know what you’re going to do when you get back to the States.” Ley’s words confirmed Gracie’s fears, but he was grinning, so she didn’t think he was serious.

“Why is that?”

“A scar might put a damper on your dating prospects. You’ll be limited
to men with their own fleshy anomalies.”

Gracie glanced at Ley’s scarred hands, then at his eyes, which seemed to laugh at her. He was teasing, but it was more fun to play along than to get upset over it. “I can think of worse fates.” She could cut bangs if her forehead scarred, and she didn’t think scars were that ugly, not compared to her birthmark. Since coming to Rome, she’d gradually realized that outward beauty wasn’t as important as she’d been raised to think it was. She stretched out
on the blanket, enjoying the pleasant weather and the even more pleasant company. “Are you going to tell me your real name yet?”

Ley shook his head. “Not yet. We should probably get back to Rome. How bad is your head?”

“It hurts, but not as much as it did right after I crashed.”

“And your leg?”

Gracie bent her knee and flexed her ankle, wincing. “Still a little sore.”

“Then I’ll carry you to the Opel.”

“It’s only ten yards away.”

“I won’t be able to help you much come Monday, so let me do what I can today.” He helped her sit up, then scooped her into his arms and straightened. She rested her head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat. She couldn’t remember anyone carrying her since she was a little girl, and she liked it. She felt safe in his arms.

He set her down gently when they reached the truck so he could open the door for her. Then he brought his lips to within an inch of hers and stopped. They were in the middle of the countryside, so there was no one to see them kiss. As he pulled away with a sheepish smile, she willed someone to ride past on a bicycle, someone to drive by in a cart, because despite her headache, there wasn’t anything she wanted more in that moment than for him to kiss her.

“Sorry,” he said. “Habit, I guess, but it looks like we’re alone.”

She was tempted to close the distance between them again, but she wasn’t sure how he’d react. He had planned the whole day to help her, and he’d just promised to do everything he could to protect her, but that didn’t mean he loved her.

She accepted his help up to the cab and squeezed her eyes shut when he closed the door, wishing she hadn’t been so clumsy, wishing someone had appeared and given them an excuse to kiss, wishing she knew whether their day together had been a real date.