Unknown Victim by Kay Hadashi (top 10 books of all time txt) 📗

setting the cup down again. “Already been marching for weeks, fighting almost every day. The Nazis, dirty bastards, were dug in everywhere. Had to push them back into Germany, wherever that was.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Not your fault.” He waved for her to be quiet. “One day in May, really bad day for us, almost end of the war. Advance twenty feet, fall back ten. All day like that. Just about sunset, we fought our way to Fabbiano. No one knew what to expect from that place. Just a little village. Maybe people still there, maybe not. Maybe all dead already. We didn’t know. But the place made from stone, solid rock. Good place to hole up for the night.”

He picked at his lap blanket before taking it off his lap and setting it on the bed. Every movement he made was deliberate, slow, as though it took all his energy to perform. Watching him cope with being in a wheelchair, Gina still didn’t know if she was expected to offer an apology for being Italian.

“Most of those houses were empty. Some had a few people hiding. Two buddies, Yoshi, Fuji, and I went into one place that was dark. I’d been shot, not so bad, but needed first aid.” He lifted his sleeve to display a long scar on his arm. “No more lights in those places, but it was warm. We could smell cooked food. Fuji lit a match. That’s when we saw several faces look back at us.” He smiled a lop-sided grin. “Fuji lit another match, and we aimed our rifles at them, ready to shoot. Didn’t know if they were Germans or who they might be. One of them lit a lantern. Got a big laugh when we saw a father and mother with their two kids. A family had stayed behind. We’d walked in right in the middle of their dinner.”

“I’m glad they weren’t Germans.”

“Us, too. When they sat down to eat, we decided to stay there. Yoshi took first watch at the door, guard duty, while Fuji started to wrap the wound on my arm. The wife said something to the daughter, who came over and did it right. The whole time she worked on my arm, she whispered things and smiled. I hadn’t seen many Italians up close, not live ones, but she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen. I thought a few things, and hoped she was old enough for me to think those things. Maybe it was because I was so tired, and that she looked a heck of a lot prettier than our medic, but I think my heart fell in love right then.”

Gina couldn’t help but hold the old man’s hand. “What a sweet story.”

“We got out the last of our rations to eat. Wasn’t much. Then the man said something to us in Italian. We didn’t know what he wanted, but he wasn’t getting our rations, that was for sure. But he raised his hands like he wanted to surrender and went to Fuji. Very careful like, he put Fuji’s rations back in their container and set them aside.

“I gotta tell you, all three of us had itchy trigger fingers then, and didn’t like the idea of someone messing with our food like that. We were hungry and needed to eat. But his wife brought bowls of food for Yoshi and Fuji, the same stuff they’d been eating. The daughter brought me a bowl of food. They even gave us little cups of wine. When the daughter brought mine, she sat with me. I didn’t understand a thing she whispered to me, but it sure sounded nice. Never been much of a wine drinker, but it tasted good that night, with her there with me. They were sharing their dinner with us, by golly.”

“It was very kind of them,” was all Gina could think to say. “Did the girl tell you her name?”

He nodded his head slightly. “Sofia. Nobody else said a word all evening. We ate, the father played with their son, the mother cleaned the dishes, their daughter swept the floor. Maybe there wasn’t much of a difference between friends and enemies that evening, but we got the idea they liked us more than they did the Nazis. When it came time for them to go to bed, they gave us blankets to use, one for each of us, even taking one off their bed. The mother, she was strict with the kids praying to the cross on the wall. They didn’t have much, but they had blankets and food, and that cross on the wall.”

He reached for his cup of water, but it was empty. Gina poured more for him.

“They say to be a good Christian, someone needs to live the life of one, not just pretend on Sundays. I never been in a Christian church in my life, but those guys lived like good Christians. They showed us kindness, shared their food, and gave us shelter for the night.”

“I’m glad you were safe in their home.” Apparently, she was there to hear his story, not to give an apology. “You have a very nice memory of the daughter.”

He smirked and nodded his head toward the window to the patio. “The rest of them don’t know about her.”

Gina made a crossing gesture with her finger on the palm of her hand. “My secret.”

He looked at Gina with wet eyes. “Next morning, not long before light, we had to leave. New assault on the same hill as the day before. We didn’t know how to say thank you in Italian, so we gave the mother a little bow and shook the father’s hand. We told him our names, and he told us theirs. Then at the end, he told us their family name.”

“Do you remember it?” Gina asked.

He nodded. “Santoro.”

“Oh.” Now she understood why he wanted her to work on their project. Even if she was no relation to them at all, she represented the family