Footprints in the Snow

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.”