Anna gave him a light kick in the shin.
Pino startled. “What?”
“You are someplace else tonight.”
He sighed, and then whispered, “Are you sure they’re asleep?”
“I’m sure they’re in Dolly’s room.”
Pino still whispered. “I didn’t want to get you involved, but the more I think about it, you could be a big help with something important that could also be dangerous to the both of us.”
Anna gazed at him with excitement at first, but then her expression sobered, and then showed fear. “If I say no, will you do this thing alone?”
“Yes.”
After several moments she said, “What do I need to do?”
“Don’t you want to know what I want you to do before you decide?”
“I trust you, Pino,” Anna said. “Just tell me what to do.”
Even amid war, destruction, and despair, Christmas Eve is a day when hope and kindness flourish. Pino saw it early in the day as General Leyers played Weihnachtsmann, Father Christmas, down on the Gothic Line, overseeing the distribution of stolen bread, beef, wine, and cheese. He saw it again that evening when he and Anna stood at the back of the Duomo behind thousands of other Milanese crammed into the three vast apses of the cathedral for a vigil Mass. The Nazis had refused to lift curfew for the traditional midnight celebration.
Cardinal Schuster celebrated the Mass. Though Anna could barely see the cleric, Pino was tall enough to see Schuster clearly as he gave his homily, which was at once a discussion of the hardship of Jesus’s birth and a rallying cry to his flock.
“‘Let not your hearts be troubled,’” the cardinal of Milan said. “Those six words of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, are more powerful than any bullet, cannon, or bomb. The people who hold these six words true are unafraid, and they are strong. ‘Let not your hearts be troubled.’ People who hold these words true will surely defeat tyrants and their armies of fear. It has been this way for nineteen hundred and forty-four years. And I promise you it will be this way for all time to come.”
When the choir rose to sing, many in the crowd around Pino looked uplifted by Cardinal Schuster’s defiant sermon. As they opened their mouths to sing along with the choir, Pino saw battered, war-weary faces taking hope, rejoicing even at a time of sparse joy in the lives of far too many.
“Did you give thanks in there?” Anna said as they left the cathedral after Mass. She shifted a shopping bag she was carrying from one hand to the other.
“I did,” Pino said. “I thanked God for making you a present to me.”
“Listen to you. That’s so nice.”
“It’s also true. You make me unafraid, Anna.”
“And here I’m as afraid as I’ve ever been.”
“Don’t be,” Pino said, putting his arm around her shoulder. “Do what I sometimes do when I get scared: imagine you’re someone else, someone who’s far braver and smarter.”
As they walked past the dark, damaged hulk of La Scala, heading toward the leather shop, Anna said, “I think I can do that. Act like someone else, I mean.”
“I know you can,” Pino said, and he walked all the way to Uncle Albert’s feeling invincible with Anna at his side.
They knocked at the rear door off the alley. Uncle Albert opened the door to the factory sewing room, and they went in, the smell of tanned leather everywhere. When the door was locked, his uncle flipped on the light.
“Who is this?” Uncle Albert asked.
“My friend,” Pino said. “Anna-Marta. She’s going to help me.”
“I thought I said it would be done better alone.”
“Since it’s my head on the block, I’ll do it my way.”
“Which is how?”
“I’m not saying.”
Uncle Albert did not look happy about it, but he also showed Pino some respect. “How can I help? What do you need?”
“Three bottles of wine. One opened and recorked, please.”
“I’ll get them,” his uncle replied, and went up to the apartment.
Pino began changing from his street clothes back into his uniform. Anna set down the shopping bag and walked through the workshop, taking in the cutting tables, the sewing stations, and shelves of fine leather goods in various stages of completion.
“I love this,” she said.
“What?”
“This world you live in. The smells. The beautiful craftsmanship. It’s like a dream to me.”
“I guess I’ve never seen it that way before, but, yes, it’s nice.”
Uncle Albert came back downstairs with Aunt Greta and Baka. The radio operator was carrying that tan suitcase with the straps and false bottom Pino had seen back in April.
His uncle watched Anna, who was still admiring the leather goods.
Pino said, “Anna loves what you do.”
He softened. “Yes? You like these?”
“It’s all so perfectly crafted,” Anna said. “How do you even learn to do this?”
“You’re taught,” Aunt Greta said, eyeing her suspiciously. “You learn from a master. Who are you? How do you know Pino?”
“We work with each other, sort of,” Pino said. “You can trust her. I do.”
Aunt Greta wasn’t convinced, but she said nothing. Baka handed Pino the suitcase. Up close, the radio operator looked haggard and drawn, a man who’d been on the run for too long.
“Take care of her,” Baka said, nodding at the radio. “She’s got a voice that carries everywhere, but she’s a delicate thing.”
Pino took the case, remarked on how light it was, and said, “How did you get it into San Babila without being searched?”
“Tunnels,” Uncle Albert said, looking at his watch. “You need to hurry now, Pino. No need to try this after curfew.”
Pino said, “Anna, can you bring the shopping bag and the two unopened bottles?”
She put down a tooled leather bag she’d been admiring, grabbed what he needed, and went with him to the back of the shop. Pino opened the suitcase. They put the wine and the contents of the shopping bag inside, covering the false bottom that hid the radio components and the generator.
“Okay,” Pino said after they’d strapped the case shut. “We’re off.”
“Not without a hug from me,” Aunt Greta said, and embraced him. “Merry Christmas, Pino. Go with God.” She looked at Anna. “You as well, young lady.”
“Merry Christmas, signora,” Anna said, and smiled.
Uncle Albert held out the leather bag she’d been admiring, and said, “Merry Christmas to the brave and beautiful Anna-Marta.”
Anna’s jaw dropped, but she took it as a little girl might a treasured doll. “I’ve never had so wonderful a present in my whole life. I’ll never let it go. Thank you! Thank you!”
“Our pleasure,” Aunt Greta said.
“Be safe,” Uncle Albert said. “The two of you. And merry Christmas.”