Chasing Sylvia Beach (29 page)

“How did you get involved with this?”

Louise smiled. “I was young, like you. I studied without knowing what I wanted to be when I grew up. I had little sense of my prospects and was in the library researching graduate programs when Diana approached me. She invited me to coffee and as I followed her out of the library I caught a whiff of her perfume. The complex scent promised a glamorous life beyond what I had ever imagined for myself.” Louise sighed. “I was taken in like a baby duck after its mother, and I haven’t left Diana’s entourage since. I was intrigued first by her, then with the mission of Athenaeum Neuf.”

Louise continued on. Whenever she came to Paris, for that was her beat, she met people who were used to a turnstile kind of friendship. From them, she gathered information. Louise was more aloof than she needed to be, but intimacy was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

Lily tried it on, like a dress in a shop she wouldn’t normally enter. Life as part of a secret time-travel group. It would be exciting to belong to something beyond herself. Her father was moving on with Monique anyway, and clearly wouldn’t need her anymore. Her adventurous job would get her out from behind the pages of books and into the world. Was it the perfect solution to all of her problems?

The shouts of playing children punctuated Louise’s speech, and as they paused near the big fountain in front of the Luxembourg Palace, they watched two children fight over a small boat. The girl gave a vicious tug, pulling the toy away from her companion, making him fall. He wailed and a young woman rose from her green chair and squatted next to him, drawing him into her for a hug.

“Why the name?” Lily asked.

“An athenaeum is a special library. Named after the goddess Athena.” Louise smiled. “And neuf is French for ‘new’—we like to think of ourselves as a new breed of library. It also means ‘nine.’ We always have nine team members.”

“You’re really not going to tell me how we travel through time?”

Louise shook her head. “I admire your persistence but I simply cannot give you that information. Listen. I’d like to present you to Diana.” Louise clicked her lighter open and shut. “You’ve proven that you can span time and don’t get too shaken about it,” she said. “Just like me, my first time.”

They paused at the balustrade overlooking the fountain and Louise described her first time travel to Lily. She had known she was going, was even excited about it, studying France in 1919, preparing the idioms and clothing of the day. But she had mis-arrived, showing up instead in 1916, with the war dragging on and people’s mood bordering on panic. She stayed only for two weeks, working as a nurse in the field, picking up a valuable item that was in a mansion at the front. The mansion would be razed by German artillery, but Louise got it before the destruction. She had done such a good job, in fact, that she quickly rose up in the ranks. The steady increase of power suited Louise. She took lovers in distant times without repercussions, no ties to hold her down. She loved her independence, craved time alone, but now experienced a new restlessness.

“That’s why I jumped rank and brought you with me. I needed to try something outside the program. And it worked. I did quite well with you. But if you can’t help us, I’m afraid we’ll both be in trouble.”

“But I was alone! You weren’t there when I arrived. You pretended to not know me!” Lily smacked the back of her hand against her palm. “I was scared. It wasn’t like your first time. You knew what you were doing, and did it willingly. You—”

“I’m sorry. I wouldn’t do it that way again. But I was watching you. Harold was with you that whole first day. You did so well, we realized the best thing would be to let you go it alone.” Lily flashed on the man who had brushed past her outside the bookshop and the man at the Luxembourg Garden. Harold. Had he been nearby when she was mugged? When was he planning to intervene? Lily gripped the railing, unable to speak coherently. She wanted to scoop up a handful of gravel and throw it into Louise’s face.

“God! Will I ever get to stop proving myself? What if I don’t want to join? How do I get home?” Her jaw tightened as she tried to maintain some control.

“Calm down. You might like being with us. It’s remarkably freeing, in some ways, after living a small life like you have.”

Lily couldn’t respond. Small life? How did one measure a life? The number of people you touched? The amount of books you read? The money you earned?

“Come, let’s go,” Louise said gently.

They strolled in silence until they reached the entrance of the park. Lily felt the same numbness she had when she heard the news about her mother, the same as when she moved all of her belongings out of her childhood home. She should be used to the disorder of a reordered world. Maybe she could be a time traveler. She turned toward Louise.

“I knew that secret organizations like this existed.”

Louise laughed. “You’re such a romantic. You’re perfect for us.”

“But what if I don’t want to join? I like my life.”

“Really? You’re directionless. Ready for adventure.” Louise arched an eyebrow as she said this and Lily felt unsure about what she wanted. She sighed.

“That doesn’t mean I want to abandon my life.”

“You need time to consider it. I’ve just downloaded quite a bit onto you.”

The lingo of Lily’s era soothed her. But she needed to know her options. “If I don’t go with you, then what? Can you help me get home?”

Louise tilted her head. “I don’t know why you’d want that meaningless life. How trivial. Don’t you want to contribute to a worthy cause?”

Lily considered it. Louise pressed on. “When we get that book, we can help you go back. If that’s really what you want. Now, where is the book? It can’t be tucked in that little bag of yours. Nice touch, by the way.”

I could end up in the heart of the Occupation.
Lily felt anxious.
I could be subject to Hitler’s whims.
The seriousness of her situation struck her. She couldn’t believe Louise was casually commenting on her purse. Did she want to have anything to do with her? She had no choice. Lily thought of her mother, who shirked groups of any kind, preferring her own company and the subtle drama of the plant world, along with the quiet wisdom that came with it, to that of people.

The guard sounded his whistle announcing the closure of the park. They began to drift toward the exit along with the other Parisians enjoying the last sips of a perfect spring evening.

“You’ll have to trust me, Lily. I know I haven’t given you much reason for that. I don’t know if I would trust me. But, alas, that’s the kind of crapshoot you get when you leave home. All kinds of strange people come around. It’s not the safe refuge of your novels. You don’t have to join the Athenaeum, but we do need that book.”

Lily didn’t want to admit that she had the book safe at Paul’s.

At the corner near the café, Louise paused. “Now, I’ll leave you to consider our offer. But tell me, where did you leave the book? With that young Frenchman?”

At the mention of Paul, Lily blushed. Louise nodded. “As I suspected. Now go get it. I’ve got one thing to do, then I’ll meet you at Paul’s.”

Lily turned to go. Louise placed her hand on Lily’s sleeve.

“We’re very proud of you, Lily.”

Her mother had said that when Lily graduated from high school. But she had been too busy trying to get away from her mother’s influence to pay attention. Tears sprung to Lily’s eyes and she turned away from Louise.

LILY MADE HER WAY way through Paris as if in a dream, passing people on their way home to ordinary lives and staid relationships. Home to their spouses, their children, their normal French existence. For once, Lily felt special, like an insider to something important. Hurrying to Paul’s, Lily thought about what Louise had said. A small life? Did she choose a small life? Sylvia had a big life—a big circle of friends, a wide sphere of influence. The work she did was important.

Her mother, if Lily admitted it, had a small life. She was ensconced in the tight circle of her house, garden, and family, her influence small compared to Sylvia’s. Lily felt a twinge of shame, then more shame for betraying her mother with that thought. Her mother had sacrificed her career for Lily. Walking past the Sorbonne and all of her old haunts, Lily let that worry slip away. Her mother didn’t care about things like “big” or “small” lives. She cared about her garden, her home, and her family. Lily felt lighter.

Lily scampered up the familiar curved staircase to Paul’s attic room. She’d miss it. The tiny room had become a refuge for her. And after last night, it now had a totally other feeling, one that made Lily tremble as she took the worn steps two at a time. Oh, Paul. Louise was right—she had connected too much. She found her heart catching, and it wasn’t from the climb. The thought of leaving him was wrenching. She liked it here, with Sylvia. She liked Paul. No one else had treated her with such genuine affection. The men of her generation all wore the jaded affectation of their era. Paul’s straightforward enthusiasm appealed to her. She wasn’t sure she was making the right decision. If she joined the Athenaeum Neuf, would she be able to come back and see him? Could they be together, get married, survive the Occupation? And Sylvia? If Lily left, she might never see her again, never ask her all the questions she still had for her. But if she joined the group, maybe she could see Sylvia more.

At the top, Lily made to knock on Paul’s door. But her hand remained suspended. What would she tell him? She shouldn’t have given him false hope last night, but she had been carried away by the excitement. She rapped firmly and heard rustling inside. Paul opened the door and pulled her in. He wasn’t dressed, the sheet wrapped around his waist, and he drew Lily to him and kissed her.

“Paul,” she tried to speak against his lips.

“Shhhh,” he replied, kissing her lips, her cheeks. “I missed you,” he murmured against her neck.

She shuddered, his breath and touch sending heat through her body. “Me, too,” she said.

Paul stripped her jacket off, and Lily considered resisting. She had to go. She didn’t want to hurt him any more than necessary. But Paul’s lips on her neck, his hands gripping her waist made resistance seem silly.

“I haven’t stopped thinking of you,” Paul said, looking into her eyes. His arms went around her, holding her tight. The sheet had fallen off and she felt him insistent against her. Lily’s resistance dissolved. Before long, she surrendered her mind, her heart, and her body to Paul.

Even though he didn’t know she’d come to say good-bye, a melancholy accompanied every caress and look. Their bodies merged and Lily felt a rush of love for Paul, her angel. Her head back on the pillow, her eyes closed, sadness overcame her. This was the last time she’d be with him. She pressed closer, her face against his shoulder, so he wouldn’t see her cry.

Afterward, they lay entwined on Paul’s bed. Clouds floated past the moon, framed by the skylight. Lily drowsed off. Images—not quite dreams—flickered in her mind. Bookcases in a library, Sylvia’s bedroom, the light pooling on the bed. The pavement in Paris, bumpy and gray, her feet running, a hand grabbing her arm. With this image, she shuddered awake, startling Paul, who had also dozed off. Lily nestled her face in his side, not wanting to leave. She hugged him to her.

“Paul, I can’t stay. I have to go.”

He whispered no and squeezed her tighter, kissing the top of her head. “Come here instead.”

“I’m serious, Paul.

“Okay, I’m listening.” But he didn’t release her. She pressed her nose against his chest and breathed in his scent, gathering her courage. Finally, she spoke.

“I’m leaving tonight.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m going home, Paul.”

He pulled away with a frown.

“I’m finally going back. I won’t see you again.”

“You’re going to the U.S. now, this late?” She nodded and sat up. Paul rose, too. “But I love you!”

“Oh, Paul, me too! I love you, too.”

“Then why are you leaving?” He leaned away from her.

Regret over hurting him coursed through her. “I have to.”

“Sure, you just come to Paris, have some French fun, and leave.”

Lily couldn’t tell whether he was teasing or not. She lifted her head and gazed into his hazel eyes, finding so much kindness and love reflected there. She spoke without thinking.

“You’re not just a fling, Paul. I love you. And not just because you’ve been so helpful to me. Because you’re a good, sweet person. And a lovely kisser.”

She touched her lips to his, overcome with sadness and love at the same time. A tear crept out, and when she pulled back, Paul’s eyes were moist, too.

“Why? Why do you have to go? Tell me!”

Lily couldn’t stand to see him so upset and confused. She began scooting off the bed.

“I can’t, it’s too complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

He grabbed her arm. “Mais non! Of course I would understand. I’m not an idiot. Tell me why. I love you and you just told me you love me. Why would you go?”

Lily wished she could explain everything. But she’d already intruded enough on his life. “I love you, but my life is not here.”

“Look at me, Lily. Look at me. I love you. I want my life with you.”

Lily rose, feeling heavy. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I can’t, Paul. I can’t. I need to go home.” She dressed under Paul’s watchful eye. Once she had her skirt and blouse on, he stood and placed his hand on her shoulders.

“Lily, please. Don’t go like this.”

She dared not look at him. “I’m so sorry, Paul.” She picked up the briefcase, which felt as heavy as she did. Paul took her hand.

“What’s that? A gift from him?”

“No, of course not. It’s something . . . from my aunt. Something I needed to get for her.”

“You don’t trust me with the truth.” Paul turned away, but not before Lily saw the betrayal on his face. Her heart ached for him. She put her hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. Lily went to the door.

“Good-bye, Paul. Thank you for everything.”

He stood. “Wait! Your money, for your ring.”

“Keep it. It’s okay,” she said, the money being the least of her concerns now.

He didn’t respond, and stifling a sob, Lily slipped from the room. Hugging the briefcase, she descended, circling further and further from Paul. She was two flights down when Paul came out into the hallway and shouted, “Go ahead, just disappear. I do not want to see you again! Go!”

Hurrying down the street crying, the book pressed against her chest, Lily felt awful. She was in this horrible mess by no fault of her own, and now she’d hurt the one person who had been unconditionally kind to her. She considered ducking into an alley to cry but knew she had to get back to Louise with the book. She was quickening her pace when she heard a shout behind her.

“Lily!” She turned and saw Paul running breathless toward her. She threw herself into his arms and wept. He kissed her cheeks, her forehead.

“Lily,” he said softly. “You really have to go?”

She nodded against his chest.

“You will never return to France?

She shrugged. He smoothed away her tears, then kissed her.

“I love you, Lily,” he said against her lips.

“I know.”

He took her hand and placed something in her palm. It was her ring, the opal sparkling, the gold shiny. She looked into his eyes, glistening with tears.

“What? I thought you pawned this.”

“I didn’t.” He smiled slightly.

“But where did you get the money?”

“I’ve been saving for years for my travels. It was that money I gave you for the ring.”

“Paul! You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wanted to see your smile. And now it’s useless to discuss it. I have the money, or most of it, and you have your ring. Just take it.” He took the ring and slipped it on her finger. Lily’s tears flooded back and she desperately tried to brush them away when a horn tooted lightly behind them. A black Citroën stopped a few paces away. Lily heard her name being called.

“Lily, we must go now.”

She turned and saw Louise holding the car door open for her.

“I have to go, Paul.”

“Wait,” he said, reaching behind him. He pulled some papers from his back pocket. “I think these are yours.”

Lily took the pages. It was her writing, the notes she’d first jotted when she stayed at Paul’s that second night. She caught his eyes, searching to see if he knew. He smiled.

“You’re very clever, Lily. Maybe someday I see you again.”

“Lily!” Louise insisted.

Lily moved away, unsure whether he knew her secret. With a little wave, she was at the car door. He shouted her name again. She turned back. He was smiling gamely.

“Be happy, Lily.”

She nodded, whispering, “You, too,” and got into the car.

Louise was in the backseat, Harold at the wheel. “Go, Harold,” Louise said urgently.

Lily turned to see Paul one last time. He was still there, watching. He stayed there until the car turned the corner and Lily lost sight of him.

Louise spoke. “I assume that’s the book?”

Lily shoved the briefcase at her, glad to be rid of it.

“Take your stupid book,” she cried. “I don’t like what it’s cost me.”

Louise chuckled. “Ah, but you don’t know what it’s bought you.”

Lily stared at her, puzzled. Harold said nothing, maneuvering the car through the quartier. Lily shrugged and turned away to watch the Paris night slide by.

The car made several turns, and she thought they passed by the same café several times. Finally, Harold came to a stop.

“Here we are,” Louise said. They got out, Louise carrying the briefcase, and Harold drove away. Louise led Lily into a porte cochere, then a wide passageway. Their footsteps were soft on the giant paving stones that lined the narrow path. Louise knocked on a wide wooden door. Nothing moved in the dim alley. Finally, Lily heard footsteps on the other side of the door. It opened, and a short woman with a kind face welcomed them. Louise hurried Lily inside and the door shut with a loud click.

They moved down a dim corridor lit only by a sconce on the wall emitting a steady orange glow. Louise whispered to Lily, “Don’t touch anything. Don’t pick up any books. They’re not for reading. Don’t ask Diana any questions. You’ll learn everything you need to know when you join us.”

She glanced back down the hall, as if she expected someone to be following them. Lily felt a shiver travel along her neck. They passed several closed doors before turning into a large room on the right. The smell that Lily had sensed in the hallway was stronger here: decades of books, a musty and familiar odor. Lily knew it from Capitol Books, but there it was like an infant smell and here the scent was that of an ancient, wise crone. Lily rubbed her arms.

The Princeton librarian stood in the middle of the room, as if expecting them. She wore her African garb again, a long dress crisscrossed with orange and green patterns, her head wrapped in a matching cloth. The woman made no sign of recognition when she saw Lily. Lily felt a weakness in her arms, a strange sensation of wanting to reach out and hug this woman. She’d seen her only briefly in Princeton and couldn’t claim to know her at all, but the fact that someone she had seen from 2010 was here with her in 1937 undid a knot of tension in her stomach.

The woman moved to the desk and took a seat, resuming her posture from the Princeton library. Lily looked around: the room was appointed like a private library. Well-worn Persian rugs covered the paving stones in the center of the room. Dimly lit lamps dotted the periphery of the sitting space. A sideboard with a liquor cabinet stood near the door. All that was missing was a fire in the fireplace, but Lily immediately knew that no fires were ever burned in this space. The walls were lined with glassed-in shelves full of books. Locks gleamed on every case.

On the sofa two women sat, formally dressed and at attention. It took a few seconds before Lily recognized them from the metro. Had they been following her this whole time? It felt oddly comforting to know that they’d been watching over her.

“Have a seat.” Diana gestured to a wingback chair. Lily sat and perched on the edge of the red cushion. “Would you like a drink?”

“No, thanks,” Lily said. She felt jittery, her adrenaline pumping. It was hard to keep her legs from jiggling. Louise poured herself a thimbleful of amber liquor and squirted in some seltzer. The bottle made a loud phhhhhht noise. The woman behind the desk spoke.

“So you got the book?”

“I did,” Lily replied. “What’s the deal—Norse mythology? What’s so vital about that book now?”