Free Shadowed by Grace by Cara Putman Page B

carried from inside the structure. Curiosity propelled her to the steps. At the bottom she hesitated, then worked her way up the path someone had cleared. With each step her thoughts turned to her day bouncing across the countryside looking for the altarpiece, but this time Scott wouldn’t work inside.
    Too many churches dotted Naples and the surrounding countryside to think she’d find the handsome lieutenant inside. If he was, would his smoky gray eyes meet her gaze? What then? He was one of thousands in town, all in uniform, stranded far from home with the threat of death never far from their minds.
    She froze, her hand poised over the doorknob. She closed her eyes and sucked in a bracing breath. This was ridiculous. Lieutenant Lindstrom was not in there. Even if he was, he wouldn’t notice her. The army had assigned her elsewhere, and their paths would never cross again.

    Scott brushed the layer of dust and dirt that coated the front of his uniform. “If we shore up that wall, it will support the roof.”
    Anatole Origo nodded as he studied Scott’s sketch, but agreement didn’t enter his eyes.
    Scott puffed out a breath and tried to relax his shoulders. The man was polite but didn’t hide his distrust of the American who told him how to fix his church. They’d worked together for a couple days. By now he should trust Scott, yet his posture remained wary.
    “It will work.” Scott pointed to the sketch and explained again.
    “I see.” Anatole gave the barest nod. “We make happen.”
    The man knew his business—construction of Italian churches—but retained the ability to accept input. He might suggest alternatives but accepted Scott’s opinions on how to proceed. The allure of American dollars to finance the renovations and rebuilding didn’t hurt. Anatole spoke in rapid Italian to one of the laborers, and Scott turned his attention to the tiny prayer chapel. Nothing less than a miracle had protected the magnificent fresco in the alcove. Scott could imagine God’s hand outstretched to protect the image of what occurred during creation. The colors remained vivid as if the artist had dabbed the paint into the wet plaster mere months earlier rather than centuries in the past.
    The screech of the doorknob caused Scott to turn toward the small foyer. Whoever had opened the door stood framed in shadows the faint light filtering through the cracked door couldn’t pierce.
    Scott took a step toward the foyer, then thought again. What if it was a partisan? He wouldn’t see anything in time to protect himself or the workers. Anatole’s men didn’t need the distraction of what could go wrong. Neither did they have anyone to protect them. Maybe that was something Scott should request. With the priceless paintings, altarpieces, and relics many of these churches held, he should have someone secure them.
    “Hello, Scott.”
    The soft words drifted to him. He squinted and she stepped closer. Rachel Justice, a welcome sight in her army-issued skirt and jacket. Her dark hair brushed her shoulders in soft waves he longed to touch. “Captain Justice, Naples is treating you well.”
    She studied him. “Thank you.” She glanced around the interior, then stepped closer. “Reports continue the Fifth will leave soon.”
    “That’s what you want?”
    “Yes.” She paused as if considering how much to share. “I can’t stay in Naples.”
    “The water’s running, and there’s a working sewer system now.”
    “I’m not a delicate flower.”
    Could have fooled him. Her features carried the light gracefulness of a rose opening from its tight bud to embrace the sun.
    “Will you stay?” Her words startled him.
    “I’m at the mercy of the army.” He motioned to the activity around them in the nave of the church. “There is still much to do here. I’ll shore up these broken beauties until the army orders me to move.”
    She stepped closer as her gaze swept the activity, then returned to him. “Do you