Footprints in the Snow
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With her thick black hair tamed in a knot at the nape of her neck and her maroon turtleneck tucked neatly into her black ski pants, she looked nothing like the passionate woman from last night…until she smiled with those full, ripe, kissable lips.
Calmly, she said, “I might have stayed in the cabin if you’d told me there were gunmen wandering the slopes. Or that I might be in danger.”
“I didn’t think you were.”
“You should have explained.”
She was right. He should have taken the time this morning to tell her that Camp Hale was heavily guarded while the scientists from Project Y were on the premises. Instead, he’d allowed his emotions to overrule his common sense.
When he woke up this morning and realized that he’d rescued such a beautiful woman, something inside him shifted. Their kiss reminded him that he was still alive, still capable of passion. Still a man.
He hadn’t felt that way since his tour of duty in Italy when he saw the devastation of battle firsthand. Small villages shattered under the boot heel of war. Families torn asunder. The suffering. The pain.
Luke was a soldier; his duty was to follow orders. But the first time he’d looked into the eyes of a German soldier and pulled the trigger, the first time he saw a man die, he was changed. He’d gone numb inside. Become a hollow man.
Roberto had given him a reason to hope, but he had to leave the boy behind. The emptiness consumed him. He’d felt nothing until last night with Shana. This morning, he should have been thanking her instead of running away in confusion.
She cocked her head and looked up at him. “Why do your men think I’m a spy?”
“Are you?”
Her beautiful brown eyes narrowed to angry slits. “Of course not.”
He shrugged. “If you were a spy, you wouldn’t tell me.”
Henry and Martin were convinced that she was Mata Hari. They’d waved her International Driver’s License in front of his face, pointed to her weird fiberglass skis and the little mechanical device she claimed was a telephone. However, Henry and Martin were idiots. Luke didn’t put much stock in their opinion.
He has suspicions of his own. Yesterday, she’d appeared out of nowhere. Last night, she attempted to seduce him. “You’re pretty enough to be a spy.”
“Give me a break.” She scowled. “I work for AMVOX Oil. I’m a geologist. Remember?”
Though he didn’t want to believe that she was spying, her profession dovetailed with the work of the government scientists he was here to protect. It would be a hell of a thing if she turned out to be the enemy. “We’ve had intruders in the vicinity. I don’t suppose you were up here with anyone else.”
“I saw you chasing two men. Shooting at them.” She shook her head. “I have nothing to do with them.”
Her beautiful dark eyes regarded him steadily and seriously. If she was lying, she was damn good at it. “I have to detain you, Shana. It’s procedure. You’ll have to stay here until we check out your background.”
“That doesn’t work for me. My project in Rifle starts in five days. I need to be there.”
“This won’t take long,” he promised. “Just give me the name of someone I can call, someone who can verify that you’re an innocent geologist on a ski trip.”
“There isn’t anyone I can call.” Before his eyes, her composure crumbled. Her gaze dropped to the floor and stuck there. “I don’t know anybody.”
“Your supervisor,” he suggested. “Or a family member.”
“There’s no one.” She sank into the hard-backed chair beside the cleared desk, doubled over and buried her face in her hands. “I can’t think.”
The enormity of her situation weighed on her shoulders like a ten-ton boulder. How could she explain? Of course, Shana knew people, important people. Her father was a career diplomat with connections in high places. She knew the CEO for AMVOX. But none of those people were available. In 1945, her father would have been two years old.
She looked up at Luke. He leaned his hip against the wooden desk in this plain square office that was cleared of all paperwork. His arms folded across his chest. He’d been right when he said she was in serious trouble.
She was stranded here. Without a bank account. Neither her credit cards nor her ATM card would work. She was homeless, completely without resources.
“I don’t have anyone I can contact.” Not here. Not in 1945. “I can’t remember…”
“Are you telling me that you have amnesia?”
She seized on this excuse. “That’s right. I can’t remember anything.”
“Except that you were in the Middle East.” His tone was suspicious. “You told me that last night.”
What else had she said? Last night, they hadn’t done much talking. Between her headache and her intense attraction to him, she hadn’t told him much. Now, his lack of information might work to her advantage.
“I have amnesia.” She rose to her feet to emphasize her words. “I need to get to a doctor in Leadville.”
“We have medical personnel here on base.”
But she didn’t want to stay here, trapped in 1945. If she left Camp Hale, she might be able to find the way back to her own millennium. “I need a specialist, a psychiatrist. Or a neurologist. Please, Luke.”
His jaw set in a firm, stubborn line that made her think he had little intention of accommodating her wishes. “Where were you staying in Leadville?”
“A hotel.”
“Which hotel?”
Her lodging probably didn’t have the same name as it did in 1945. It might not have even existed. “I don’t remember the name. I left the receipt in your cabin. I wrote a goodbye note on the back.”
“You must have driven to get up here. Where’s your car parked?”
“When I was skiing, I got lost. I don’t know where my car is.” That much was true. “You have to take me to Leadville. From there, I can find my way back to Denver. Or I might find a specialist in Aspen.”
“Aspen?” He gave her a puzzled look. “You won’t find much of anything in that sleepy little town.”
Of course not. The development of Aspen into a glittering, world-class ski resort took place after World War II. If she remembered correctly, returning soldiers from the 10th Mountain Division were largely responsible for that growth.
The door to the office swung open and a stocky man dressed in old-fashioned ski knickers strode inside. “I have been looking for you, Luke. You promised to show me the best trails.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We will leave soon. Very soon.” His accent was Italian. His dark eyes sparkled when he noticed Shana. “But first I must meet this charming young lady. You are?”
“Shana Parisi,” she said. “Buon giorno.”
Obviously delighted, he responded in Italian. Shana used rudimentary Italian she’d learned from her grandmother to make polite conversation about the weather and the scenery.
He took her hand and lifted it to his lips in a courtly gesture. “I am Enrico Fermi.”
“The Nobel Prize winner?”
“You know my work?”
“Absolutely.”
He was one of the most brilliant physicists of all time, the father of nuclear fission. She’d studied his theories, seen his face in textbooks. Fermi worked on the Manhattan project and had been at Los Alamos where the atom bomb was developed.
A realization struck her. The first atomic bomb test had taken place in 1945 at Alamogordo, New Mexico. Shana even recalled the date because it was the same as her sister’s birthday, and their father always called her sister a bombshell. July 16, 1945.
“What’s the date today?”
“May seventh,” Luke said.
In two months, Dr. Enrico Fermi and the other scientists at Los Alamos would change the world.
Chapter Four
In the back of her mind, Shana heard the wail of a siren. An ambulance. Though faraway, the scream was all-consuming, echoing inside her skull.
She wanted to reach up and touch her head, but her arm wouldn’t move. There were loud voices. Slamming doors.
Then a terrible silence.
IN THE OFFICE at Camp Hale, Shana glanced from Dr. Fermi to Luke. Had she heard an ambulance? How did she get here?
Coldly, Luke asked, “How do you know Dr. Fermi’s work?”
Brushing aside her strange auditory hallucination, she tried to focus on an explanation. She reminded herself that this was 1945, and very few people were aware of the top secret Manhattan Project. No one—not even Fermi himself—had witnessed the mushroom-shaped cloud that would loom forever across political horizons. The bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki had not yet taken place.
The importance of those earthshaking events made her own predicament seem light as a Nerf ball. Still, she had to choose her words carefully. Or else she might find herself locked up in a prison, accused of treason. She avoided looking directly into Luke’s honest blue eyes as she said, “Anyone who’s studied physics knows Dr. Fermi. He won the Nobel.” She turned to him. “Which year?”
“Nineteen thirty-eight,” he said. “When I went to Sweden to collect my prize, I emigrated to the United States. Italy under the dictator, Mussolini, was unsafe for my family. My wife is Jewish.”
“Our country is lucky to have you, sir.” If Fermi had stayed in Europe, his work in nuclear fission might have led to another nation being the first to develop the atom bomb. “May I ask what you’re doing at Camp Hale?”
“I am here with a team to explore some of the mining operations.”
The logical deduction was that Fermi had come to Leadville to test the quality of uranium ore being mined in this area. A high grade of enriched uranium was needed to make yellow cake for the reactors.
“Perhaps I can help,” she offered. “I’m a geologist.”
“Bella e brillante,” he said.
“Beautiful and smart?” she translated. “I don’t know how true that is.”
“No need for modesty.” He tucked her arm through his. “Come. You will meet the rest of my team.”
Luke cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Dr. Fermi. Shana isn’t feeling well. We were on our way to the infirmary.”
“I feel much better,” she said quickly. Fermi was offering her a way around Luke’s difficult questions, and she’d be a fool not to take advantage. “I’d be delighted to meet the rest of Dr. Fermi’s crew.”
As they walked through the door, Luke leaned close and whispered, “I’m not letting you out of my sight. Not for one damn minute.”
“Lucky you,” she whispered back.
Shana knew her behavior was suspicious. If she actually had been a secret agent, her first order of business would be to get close to Dr. Fermi, to encourage him to trust her so she could kidnap him. But a far different agenda was taking form in her mind. There had to be a scientific explanation for how she’d traveled back in time. What could be better than to have one of the greatest theoretical physicists of all time helping her figure out the process? Unfortunately, she didn’t think time travel and relativity were Fermi’s specialty. “Do you know Dr. Einstein?” she asked.
“Albert? Sure, I do.”
“What do you think of his theories of speed and time?”
Fermi gave an elaborate shrug, a gesture that reminded her of her Italian grandfather. “Until we are able to exceed the speed of light, his ideas will be untested. This is not to say they are untrue. Physics shows us that almost anything is possible.”
“I like the way you think.” Nothing was impossible. She’d shot backward in time. Reversing the process ought to be within the realm of possibility.
“You are an interesting woman, Shana Parisi. Bella e brillante.”
She tossed a glance over her shoulder at Luke, who was positively fuming. His tense jaw made it look as if he was grinding his rear molars together. Too bad! If she had Dr. Fermi on her side, she didn’t need Luke’s approval.
They left the long whitewashed administrative building and stepped onto the sanded, hard-packed pathway that led through the snow. Dr. Fermi directed her toward the large two-story house where he and his crew were staying.
As they walked, two soldiers in full battle gear fell into step behind them. She assumed that their assignment was to protect Dr. Fermi, but they could also be keeping an eye on her because she was so terribly suspicious. The thought made her grin. Her personality had always been straightforward, direct and responsible. Hardly a woman of mystery.
In spite of the size of the camp and the number of barracks, there were only a few soldiers on the pathway. She asked, “How many men are stationed here?”
“There are only a couple of administrative types and four rifle squads left. About sixty people altogether,” Luke said. “Everybody else has shipped out to Italy. The Po Valley.”
Dr. Fermi’s fingers tightened on her arm. “The Apennine Mountains. In better days, it was a magnificent place for skiing and climbing.”
“The war will be over soon,” she promised. In May of 1945, it was almost a year since the D-day invasion. The Allied Forces were close to victory in Europe.
“Not soon enough.” He turned to Luke. “In the meantime, we ski. Yes?”
“We will try to accommodate your request, sir.”
“Tonight, I will commandeer the kitchen and make pasta for everybody. My wife’s recipe is—” Fermi kissed his fingertips “—perfecto.”
“Down!” Luke shouted.
Before she had a chance to react, he’d thrown himself on top of her and Fermi, dragging them both to the snow and covering them with his body.
From faraway, there was the sharp crack of a rifle being fired. She heard the thud of a bullet hitting the barracks behind them.
The two soldiers who had been guarding them moved into position and returned fire.
Cautiously, Shana lifted her chin from the snow and peered up into the forested slope leading into camp. She couldn’t see the person who’d fired at them. When she tried to rise, she couldn’t move. Luke ordered, “Keep your head down.”
His muscular thigh pinned her to the ground. He had saved her life. Again. Rescuing her was turning into a full-time occupation for him.
While barking orders at his men, he yanked her and Fermi to their feet and hustled them into the main building. Inside, he brushed the snow from her shoulders. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, aware that her heart was beating faster. Camp Hale was turning out to be a dangerous place for her. Either she was going to be locked up as a spy or someone was going to shoot her.
They rushed up a staircase to the second floor and entered a large room with a conference table. Two other men stood in front of a blackboard that was covered with mathematical equations. Their eyes were watchful. Their manner, tense. One of them asked, “What happened?”
“Sniper,” Luke said. “Don’t leave this room. Stay away from the windows.”
As he turned on his heel and left, the enormous implications of the sniper attack sank into Shana’s consciousness. What if Fermi had been shot? Or killed? The Manhattan Project was only a few months away from the first test in Alamogordo. If Fermi wasn’t there to oversee the final stages, the project might fail. History would be changed.
Fermi smoothed his thinning hair across his forehead. He seemed little affected by the fact that someone had been shooting at him. In Italian, he muttered a curse. “I suppose this means there will be no skiing today.”
“Probably not,” Shana said. “The risk is too great.”
He led her toward the other two men and introduced them: Dr. Schultz and Dr. Douglas. Both wore thick glasses. Both had the distracted air of men who spent more time thinking than working out.
Fermi added, “Dr. Douglas is a physicist. He is very interested in theories of time.”
A shy grin twitched the corner of his mouth, and his long face brightened as he shook her hand. “Call me Dougie.”
“Tell me, Dougie. What do you think of time travel?”
“Interdimensional reality.” He gave a curt nod. “Relative planes of existence. And psychology.”
“Okay.” She had no idea what he was talking about. “How does psychology relate to time travel?”
“You’ve heard the phrase living in the past,” he said. “Sometimes, when we think about past events, they seem real. We recall details—very specific sounds and smells—that were not evident at the time they happened.”
“But those are memories,” she said.
“Are they? Isn’t it possible that we have actually returned to a prior event?”
With a glance toward Dr. Fermi, she said, “Anything is possible.”
Dougie nodded. “There’s so much more to learn. We haven’t yet begun to explore the nonlinear functions of the brain.”
Though Shana didn’t exactly understand, she was encouraged. The sheer brainpower generated among the three men in this room was enough to move mountains and possibly return her to her own century.
“Good news,” Dr. Fermi announced to his colleagues. “We no longer need to wait for the geologist from Denver. Miss Parisi can take his place.”
“Excellent,” Schultz said. “We can complete our analysis of tuballoy from the four sites and return to Los Alamos by the weekend.”
“I’ve never heard of tuballoy,” she said. “Is it a mineral?”
Fermi studied her intently for a moment before he spoke. “Tuballoy is a code name. I wonder how much I can trust you, Miss Parisi.”
Again, she was faced with the dilemma of having no one in this time period who could vouch for her. She could only rely on herself. Shana straightened her shoulders and spoke in a clear voice. “If there’s anything I can do to help you in your work, to help you end this terrible war, I’m ready, willing and able.”
He glanced at the other two men, then back to her. “I believe you.”
His vote of confidence touched her. Unfortunately, she didn’t think it would be so easy to convince Luke.
LUKE STALKED DOWN the second-floor corridor of the main house with Shana following close behind. They turned the ninety-degree corner leading to the uninhabited south wing.
He had a couple of hard decisions to make. Fermi had outlined his plan to use Shana to provide the expert geological analysis at the four mine sites. If she was a spy, they’d be handing over valuable information to her. But Shana’s involvement wasn’t the worst of Luke’s worries. He couldn’t think of a safe way to transport Fermi across the open countryside to the mines while there was a sniper in the area. “This is one hell of a SNAFU,” he muttered.
“A what?”
“SNAFU,” he repeated. “Situation Normal: All Fouled Up.”
Shoving open the door to a bedroom, he marched inside and unceremoniously dumped Shana’s knapsack and skis on the floor beside the three-drawer knotty pine dresser. “You’ll be staying here.”
She glanced at the bare whitewashed walls of the small square room. The only window was covered with blinds. “Am I a prisoner?”
“You’ll be watched.” He didn’t like having her here. She was a problem, a possible security risk. And he was damn sure she didn’t have amnesia.
Casually, she sauntered over to the bed, leaned down and pushed against the mattress with both hands. She frowned. “Hard as a cement slab.”
“Government issue,” he said. “In case you haven’t heard, there’s a war going on. Luxury is not a top priority.”
She perched on the edge of the bed, crossed her long legs and looked up at him though her thick black lashes. Though he doubted that her intentions were sexual, his mind went in that direction. Their night together had been unforgettable. Too easily, he remembered her arms wrapped tightly around him, could almost see the way she’d leaned toward him, filled with longings and desires as great as his own.
“Thank you,” she said, “for saving my life again.”
“The sniper wasn’t aiming at you.”
Twin frown lines creased her brow. “Do you think he was after Dr. Fermi?”
“Yes.”
“Luke, it’s very important that you protect him.”
Just what he needed. More of her so-called “expert advice.” For a woman, she was damned pushy, not a bit hesitant to give orders. “Do me a favor, Shana. Don’t tell me how to do my job.”
“If anything happens to Fermi, the course of history will be forever changed.” There was an urgency in her voice. “Don’t ask me how I know, but I do.”
Her dark eyes glittered with a passion that had nothing to do with sex. This fire came from the soul of a true believer. A fanatic. Who was she? Why had she come here?
He took out his pack of Lucky Strike cigarettes and tapped one out. Before he could light up, she said, “I’d appreciate if you didn’t smoke in my bedroom.”
“Fine.” He returned the cigarette to the pack. “If I’m going to give the go-ahead on Fermi’s plan to take you along on his visits to the mine, I’m going to need some answers, Shana. And I need them now.”
“There’s only one thing that’s important. I promise that we’re on the same side.”
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