Read Chasing Sylvia Beach Online

Authors: Cynthia Morris

Tags: #literary, #historical, #Sylvia Beach, #Paris, #booksellers, #Hemingway

Chasing Sylvia Beach (20 page)

“Miss Lily, what can I do for you?”

“You forgot your book on the degenerates!” She said, handing him Gertrude’s book.

Heinrich laughed. “It’s true. Where is my head? Thank you for your diligence, mademoiselle.” The window started to rise. Then, he lowered it. “Miss Lily,” he started.

“Heller!” she said.

“What?”

“My name is Lily Heller.”

“Very well, Miss Heller. As I see that you are passionate about Germany, I’d be happy to guide you in the German pavilion of the Exposition Internationale to show you firsthand the revival of Germany.”

Seeing her only ticket home on the seat next to him, she made her decision.

“Yes, of course. I would be delighted.”

“Bon! I will be there in the afternoon on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday of next week. If you can come one of these days, it would be me who would be delighted.”

Without thinking, Lily said, “Monday. I’ll come Monday.”

“Very well. Until Monday, Miss Heller.”

She stepped back and he tapped the shoulder of the driver, saying, “Los gehts!” The car started and moved down the street. Lily paused before returning to the shop. What was she doing? She did not know. All she knew was that her only chance to get the book back was to become close with Heinrich. She crossed the street and was about to enter the shop when she heard her name. Looking up, she saw Paul hurrying toward her.

“Lily, I was so worried after hearing your argument with my mother this morning. Are you okay?”

She smiled, trying to look reassuring even as she shook from her encounter with the Nazi. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

“Who was that?”

Lily glanced down the street and saw the car slip into the place in front of the Odéon Theater.

“Just a customer.”

Paul looked at her earnestly. Lily saw how young he was compared to Heinrich Werden. He apologized again for his mother but Lily brushed it off. Paul insisted, more for him than her, it seemed. Seeing him so frustrated made him even more charming to Lily. She smiled and touched his arm.

“Forget it, Paul. It’s no big deal.”

Paul gazed into her eyes. “Seriously, Lily, you can sleep in my room whenever you want when I’m at the reception. You will not have a problem with my mother. I set the record straight with her.”

“Thank you, Paul, but really, I don’t need to bother you anymore.”

“But where will you sleep?”

“Sylvia graciously offered me accommodations. And I really don’t want to create problems with your mother.”

Just then, a toc-toc sound came from the bookstore. It was Sylvia, making signs for Lily to come back in.

“I have to go, Paul. Work’s calling.”

“Yes, I see!” He grinned. Lily took the door handle.

“Wait, Lily,” Paul said. “I’m always there if you need me, you know?”

She smiled, wishing she didn’t have to go in.

“Oh, Paul, you don’t know how much that means to me.” She stepped reluctantly into the shop but he called her name again. She turned.

“Do you want to visit the bird market with me on Sunday afternoon?”

She smiled. “I’d love to. But I have to go now, otherwise, Sylvia will kill me.” With a little wave, she went into the bookstore. At the desk, Sylvia stood smiling over her cigarette.

“You have a French sweetheart now, Lily?”

“Oh, no, he’s a friend . . . just a friend.”

“The way you look at one another says something else, I think,” Sylvia teased. Lily blushed, which made her boss smile. “Come! Joking aside, the day is not over yet. You still have some books to shelve, do you not?”

Lily hustled to work in order to forget the embarrassing moment. After a few minutes, she approached Sylvia, holding a stack of books in her arm.

“Sylvia, can I ask a favor?”

Sylvia placed her finger midway down a list of names in a notebook and glanced at Lily. “What is it now?”

“Can I have Monday afternoon off?”

“Monday? A date with the young man?” She smiled at Lily.

Lily wished it were as simple as a date with Paul. But it wasn’t. It was her only chance out, the chance to see Heinrich again. She shook her head.

Sylvia returned to her list, making marks next to names and book titles. “Go ahead,” she said. “There is never anyone on Monday anyway.”

“Thanks!”

Lily plunged back into the shelves. While arranging the books in alphabetical order, she tried to imagine what strategy she would employ with the German to retrieve the book. But the image of Paul looking at her persisted.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON ARRIVED, beautifully sunny. Lily felt a shiver of delight strolling the aisles of the bird market with Paul beside her and the sunlight caressing her face. Families milled about, everyone taking advantage of the warm day. Children marveled at the aviaries, discovering finches, canaries, parakeets, and other birds both common and exotic. Bird owners passed Lily and Paul, new cages in hand. A connoisseur and a merchant argued over the purchase of a rare bird.

Lily was amused, seeing all this fuss over the featured creatures. Never a fan of birds in cages, she preferred pets she could touch and cuddle. Birds as ornaments or baubles in a house seemed wrong to her. She liked to believe that they would be happier in nature among their own kind. Still, they were pretty, and she refused to let these thoughts dampen her afternoon with Paul, which was going so well.

“Look how beautiful that is!” Lily pointed out a tiny cockatoo with pink feathers and a red crest. The bird preened in its cage as if enjoying the attention.

Paul smiled. But mostly he watched and seemed content that Lily was relaxed. A toddler in a frilly yellow dress held the hand of her father. She laughed and jumped with excitement, watching a parrot fluffing its white and yellow crest whenever someone approached too near the cage.

“As funny as she is cute,” Lily said, enjoying the child’s twinkling eyes.

They strolled through the aviaries near the quay. An old man passed, carrying a small cage containing a lark. Two women in the middle of the path offered their opinions to a third woman who displayed an ornate cage harboring a pristine white bird on its perch.

“Everything goes well at the bookstore?”

Lily nodded.

“Miss Beach is not the harpy she appears to be?”

Lily slapped him lightly on the shoulder.

“Paul! That’s wicked! She is very endearing. It just takes time to know her.”

“Oh, don’t take offense, Lily. I’m just joking, and wondering if everything goes well?”

“Yes, absolutely. Sylvia is a character, but very nice.”

“It’s great that you like this job. Even if you are just twiddling your thumbs all day,” he said mischievously.

This time he dodged Lily’s slap. Thwarted, she tried to catch him.

“No, you will not get me this time!” Like a bullfighter, he darted away from Lily’s charge and hid behind a lamppost.

“Wait until I catch you,” she said playfully.

“In your dreams!”

Paul slipped out from behind the lamppost and hid behind a large woman who protested immediately.

“Jeune homme, s’il vous plâit!”

Lily faced the woman, trying to get around her to catch Paul. But he skirted the woman, going around and around while Lily gave chase.

“Stop, you kids! Have fun elsewhere!” The woman hid a smile under her protests.

“But madame, she wants to kill me!”

“She has good reason, I see. Because it will be me killing you if you do not stop now!” She grabbed at Paul’s sleeve.

“That’s right, hang on, madame,” Paul said, then he cried “Help!” while pretending to struggle.

Lily pounced on him. “Gotcha!” Lily gave him the slap she’d been trying to deliver since the beginning.

“Ouch!” Paul pretended.

“Do what you can with him, young lady. A couple of slaps . . . or marriage. He’ll be at your feet!” With that, she turned away, smiling.

“You are really goofy sometimes, Paul.”

“No! I really liked seeing your eyes shine like a little girl’s when you chased me. You were so fun.”

Lily gave him another sharp slap on the shoulder. Paul rubbed it in a false pain.

“You’re so violent! I cannot tell you anything.”

“Yes, I am always ruthless with idiots!” Lily said, more amused than bothered.

“But I am not an idiot. Remember, I am your angel.” He grinned and rubbed her arm in truce. “Let’s go see the parrots.”

He took Lily to the quay, where they found a pair of red and gold parrots that had caught the attention of a little boy. The child’s gaze swung back and forth between the two birds, his mouth slightly open.

“You know, Paul, I still work hard in the bookstore.”

“I know. I was just teasing.”

Lily observed the birds. “Is it true that you’re engaged?”

Paul gave her a surprised look. “Fiancé? No! I’ve never been and don’t plan to be anytime soon. Where did you get that crazy idea?”

“From your mother. She threw that in my face the last time I ran into her.”

“Oh, my mother, of course. She dreams this. Surely she was thinking of Claudine. But I’ve already explained that there will be nothing like that between us. We’re just good friends.”

They resumed their stroll among the market-goers.

“What can we do now, now that we’ve toured the bird market? It’s almost four o’clock.”

“You tell me, you’re the Parisian.”

“We can go strolling in the Jardin des Tuileries.”

“Lead the way,” she said, and they set off.

Nearby, two women inspected a parakeet in its cage.

“It’s cute, isn’t it, Adelaide?” said the one with the light blond hair.

“Yes, but I don’t like the hooked beak. It nips too easily.”

“Only if you’re not paying attention.” The woman cooed at the bird, then changed the subject. “So, do you understand why this Lily Heller was brought as a candidate?”

“No, not really,” Adelaide replied. “I found this as unusual as you, Evelyn. The rules weren’t followed, were they?”

“It’s quite odd, especially from Louise, who’s always on point about procedures.”

“Not to mention she was silent on this choice.”

Evelyn shrugged, squinting to inspect the bird. “She has her reasons and we cannot question her decision.”

“Fine. But this is too strange, in any case.” Adelaide turned to the bird tamer and asked how much the parakeet cost.

“Thirty-six francs with the cage, ma’am.” He went back to reading his newspaper.

“Hmm! What do you think, Adelaide?”

“Whatever you like, Evelyn.”

Evelyn smiled wryly. “So rarely is it about what we want, isn’t it?”

Adelaide shrugged. “Maybe that’s why Louise disobeyed.” She gazed at the bird. “I’d like to disobey sometime. But I don’t. I made my choice long ago.”

Evelyn appeared not to have heard. The sun shone on the women, the caged birds, and the man sitting on a crate nearby selling bundles of cut lavender. The bird trilled a short song, sparking a smile on both women’s faces.

“I’ll take it,” Evelyn announced to the seller.

In the Jardin des Tuileries, Paul and Lily sat in silence, enjoying the children playing with their boats on the pond. Paul asked her how she found herself in Paris. Lily didn’t know how to answer. After all, she didn’t know how she had found herself in Paris in 1937. Again, she was obligated to lie or at least expand on the lie she had told Sylvia. Gazing at the tiny boats sailing at the edge of the pond, she took a deep breath and began.

“It’s a long story.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “But basically, I came a few months ago to help my sick aunt at Versailles. She was really sick. A disease that doctors said was incurable. Then overnight, the damage worsened and she died suddenly.” With that, Lily opened her eyes and saw a little boy nearly fall into the pond, saved only by his vigilant mother.

“Oh! I’m sorry to hear that,” Paul said.

“If there was only that,” she said. Paul’s interruption was a hindrance to her fabrication. Perhaps one day she’d even write this story. She continued.

“Worse yet was the atmosphere at home. Horrible! Her husband wanted nothing to do with her. He had no use for her when she was sick and dying.”

“What a con!”

“I tried to get him to give some attention to his wife. But he was cold, distant, the worst kind of alcoholic. He was always going out. I suspected that he was seeing other women.” Lily thought she was perhaps going too far.

“So I tried to always be there with her and to be a comfort. I was there until her last breath.”

“It’s only natural,” said Paul.

Lily was surprised to see how the story flowed out of her so easily, without even thinking too much.

“After my aunt’s funeral, I had a violent argument with her husband. He dared to make a move on me. But forget it! I read him the riot act. And then I found myself outside with my suitcase and what little money I had in my pocket. He even chased me down the street! But I couldn’t stay in the house with him anyway.”

“I would like to put my hands on this man to give him a real correction. What a despicable scoundrel!”

Lily suppressed a giggle and kept going, even though she didn’t know how to end it.

“So I took the first train to Paris. I thought I could get another train to Le Havre and take a boat to New York. But arriving in Paris, the night was falling. So I tried to find a room in a hotel, but it’s not easy for a young woman to find a suitable room with the little money I had. I had to keep most of my money to pay for the train and the crossing.”

“Especially since the hotels were full because of the Exposition Internationale,” Paul inserted.

“Probably. So I was wandering in the night with my suitcase when I was attacked by a robber who threatened me with a knife. He stripped me of everything I had, including my suitcase and money.” She took a serious tone.

“But this jerk wanted more. So I used all my strength, desperate to free myself from him and run as far as possible. Then I came upon your hotel, my only light, my only hope. And there you were, Paul. You were my savior. I can never thank you enough.”

Lily was pleased to have finally come up with an explanation for Paul. She felt a twinge of guilt for having lied to him, the one person she could trust no matter what. But the truth was too bizarre, and she didn’t know the whole truth anyway.

Paul looked sad. “I suspected there was something dramatic that you were hiding,” he said. “But not that bad! I am sorry for everything that happened to you. That’s awful!”

Lily shrugged. “That’s life!”

“But why have you not caught your boat to the United States, Lily? You had money from the ring. You could use that to pay for the crossing.”

“But no! The thought of leaving my ring behind makes me sick. I told you when I wanted to pawn it that I never planned to leave it for long. I’ll get it back as soon as possible. And for that I have to earn money. So I am happy to work at Sylvia’s until I have enough to get my ring back.” On this matter, she was sincere. There was no way she’d go back without her mother’s ring.

“Oui, oui, you told me.”

Not wanting to be on the spot, Lily buttoned her jacket, pretending to be chilled.

“Are you cold?” he asked.

She nodded and they rose to head toward the garden’s exit. On the other side of the bridge, at rue de Solferino, they decided to take the metro. On the way to the station Paul asked, “Lily, can I see you again tomorrow afternoon?”

She considered it. “Tomorrow? In the afternoon, I have to go to the Exposition. For work,” she added quickly.

“Perhaps afterward?”

“Sure, but I don’t know what time I’ll be done there. I’ll probably be there until five or six o’clock.” She had no idea how long she’d be there, or even what she was going to do. Would she be able to get the book from Heinrich then? A creeping trepidation built inside her at the thought of having to cozy up to the Nazis. No, just one Nazi, she told herself. But Paul wouldn’t be dissuaded.

“I can wait. I have nothing to do until eight o’clock. I can wait from five o’clock at the entry of the Trocadero, if that’s okay.”

“Okay, if you want.” With this, Lily relaxed. Someone trustworthy would be waiting for her in case she got in trouble with Heinrich. “But I can’t guarantee I’ll be there at five precisely.”

“I’ll wait. I’m getting used to it.” He winked at Lily and she laughed.

They paused at the boulevard Saint-Germain, hearing shouts from a crowd from nearby.

“Mais qu’est-ce qui se passe?” Paul said, breaking into French, a worried look on his face.

Dozens of men and women came from around the corner and ran past them. The sound of horse hooves hitting pavement and the shouts of the crowd increased. Uniformed guards on horseback appeared, followed by police on foot, who didn’t hesitate to beat the people with batons. The majority of the police continued on the boulevard Saint-Germain, while three riders plowed toward Lily and Paul, followed by several officers on foot, ready to bludgeon anything that moved.

“Merde! It’s a strike that has degenerated. We must get out of here!” Paul grabbed Lily’s hand, pulling her away. They ran without clear direction. Protesting shouts from people being clubbed by the police grew fainter. A mounted guard crossed the street in pursuit of three people who were throwing stones at his horse.

“Lily, don’t let go!” Out of breath, she clung to Paul’s hand and ran with him. They fled along the walls to avoid the mounted police who moved along the middle of the street. Paul tried repeatedly to open doors they passed, with no success. Finally, he found a gate open.

“In here, Lily!” They rushed inside, Paul immediately shutting the heavy door. They remained motionless, Lily’s back against the wall, Paul against her, as if to protect her. Paul whispered, “Chuut!” The sound of hooves rushed past, accompanied by people running and screaming. On the other side of the door a policeman shouted orders. The noises slowly faded. Lily’s heart beat wildly.

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