The Golden Hour Read Online Free PDF Page B

on one of the small swing seats, held the chains loosely in my trembling hands, and began to rock gently back and forth. Only I couldn’t hold on to the fear. I slipped back into my old fantasies of Klaus, and now they were even more exciting, heightened by this new intimacy and tinged with danger. He was a man, a man far from home, a husband and a father. It was at times like this that I longed for Giorgio. I could tell him anything, now that we had passed the point of childhood squabbles. If he were here, I could let him in on this strange new adventure, this attraction to Klaus that I knew I had no business pursuing.

    I hadn’t seen Giorgio since November 25, the last day that the recruits born in 1925 had to turn themselves in to sign up to fight for Mussolini’s Fascist army. Around noon that day German officers came to the villa and told my parents and me the news of the soldier’s disappearance.
    “We know nothing,” Papa had said, genuinely mystified. “He left this morning to get his assignment, and we haven’t seen him since.”
    That night I was sitting in the living room listening to the news on the radio, when the front door swung quietly open. Giorgio appeared in the doorway. I leaped up and ran to him.
    He put a finger to his lips. “Where are Mama and Papa?” he whispered.
    “They know you deserted.” I threw my arms around him. His jacket was rough and cold and smelled of wood smoke. I saw fierce determination on his face despite his disheveled appearance. A shank of straight dark hair hung down his high forehead.
    “I just came to say good-bye and pick up a few things,” he said. “There’s no changing my mind.”
    I knew he had almost as much to fear from our father as he did from the Germans. Papa was deeply ashamed of Giorgio’s disappearance. Mother had sat silently at dinner, worried about her only son, while Father had vented his anger. Words like “yellow-bellied” and “disgrace to the family” had settled over the table. I wasn’t sure exactly what I thought about it. I knew Giorgio was driven by principle, by his resentment of the Germans to be sure, but I also knew him well enough to know that he would hate open combat and the heat of battle. Italian soldiers were hiding out all over Tuscany at that point. They were finding refuge in the woods, in caves, and living off the generosity of peasants and farmers.
    “I think you’re doing the right thing. But where will you go?”
    “I’ll be all right. Just don’t worry about me. Where’s Papa?” he said again.
    “I’m right here.” Father was standing in the doorway, his face clouded with anger. “Where in the hell have you been? Do you know you are putting every one of us in danger by running away?”
    “Father, I’m not going to do the Nazis’ bidding. I’m going to disappear, and you can’t stop me.”
    “I don’t care who’s in command. You’re in the Italian army, and you’re trained to fight. Damn it, you’re going to fight like a man. And I can tell you, when this war is over, you’ll be rewarded for it.”
    He grabbed Giorgio’s wool army jacket and yanked it downward, ripping it off his shoulder. “And if you’re going to be so damn gutless, you don’t deserve to wear this uniform. You can freeze to death, for all I care.” He threw the jacket on the floor.
    Giorgio stood there, struck dumb. His shoulders were rigid, his fists clenched, but he turned his back and stared at the floor.
    Come on, say something. Defend yourself.
    Father stalked out of the room.
    “He’s wrong,” I told my brother. “He’s living in the past. You’ve got to go, do what you can to help the partisans.”
    “Giorgio.” Mother appeared in Papa’s place. “I’m just so worried about your safety. Why don’t you let us hide you somewhere here, at Tonino’s, or in one of the sheds? Your father wouldn’t have to know.”
    “Mother, my safety is not the point. There is work to be done. There’s a war going