Chasing Sylvia Beach (21 page)

“You okay, Lily?”

She looked at him without responding. Watching his lips move so close to her, a warmth began to invade her body. She smiled nervously and he smiled back. And on impulse, she kissed him. Paul pulled back with a surprised look, and she kissed him again, as if trying to get all the emotion of the moment out of her. This time, he responded.

After a moment he paused, stroking her cheek, and Lily closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand on her skin. He continued caressing her wavy hair and whispered, “How beautiful you are.”

Lily opened her eyes to look at him before Paul’s lips enveloped hers again. She put her arms around his neck and closed her eyes again—but suddenly the door opened, exposing them in the bright daylight. A man and a woman came in and stopped, as if surprised to see them entwined near the entrance.

The man cried out, “Mais qu’est ce que vous faites!”

Startled by this interruption, neither replied. Finally, their answer was to escape through the open door and flee, their laughter trailing behind them.

They held hands going up the now deserted street, kept holding hands in the subway, and were still locked together as they approached Shakespeare and Company. They spoke little but looked at each other a lot. Lily spied Sylvia at her window upstairs. She turned back to Paul.

“I have to go in now.” She opened the door but he stopped her. They kissed passionately, as if their lips couldn’t bear to be parted. Lily pushed him back gently and gazed into his eyes. She stroked his face, inhaling his scent, a hint of sharpened pencil. She smiled, kissed him again.

“A demain, Paul,” she said softly.

He stepped back, unable to stop smiling. “A demain, Lily.” Lily shut the door and leaned against it, euphoria infusing her body.

LILY HURRIED THROUGH the corridors of the metro. It was a lovely Monday in May and she was going to meet the handsome Nazi at the Expo. But what was she going to do with these new feelings for Paul? She felt both confused and lighthearted. As the metro chugged toward Trocadero, she considered her situation. Here she was starting a love affair in 1937 when she should be focused on getting home. But why? What was waiting for her in Denver? Here, in Paris’s dark past, she was experiencing what she’d always wanted: she was writing; she was working alongside Sylvia Beach, her cherished heroine; she had met and kissed a very charming French man; and she was finally involved in something bigger than her—even if she didn’t know what it was about—and didn’t that make life more interesting than any day she’d spent in Denver?

If she got the book today, what would she do? She couldn’t bear to hurt Paul. He was so sweet and had been more than kind to her. His mother had been right. Paul was entitled to happiness, and who was Lily to spoil that? But at the same time, she knew that something had engaged in her yesterday in that dark passageway. Lily again felt Paul’s lips on hers, smelled the scent of his skin, recalled the desire in his eyes. His words repeated in her mind:
Comme tu es belle, Lily. Comme tu es belle . . .
She was eager to see him again that afternoon.

Bright sunlight pulled her out of her thoughts. She found herself outside the entry of the Trocadero station. She followed a group leaving the metro and joined the line of people awaiting entry to the Exposition Internationale. She paid her six francs, and ticket in hand, she approached the parapet that provided an unobstructed view of the Eiffel Tower. This was the same spot where she had first seen the Eiffel Tower when she was visiting with her parents. Later, she had loitered here with her student friends. But while this vantage point still framed fountain water cannons dancing in the long rectangular pool, with the awe-inspiring Eiffel Tower in the background, everything else was different.

Along both sides of Trocadero Square, temporary buildings had been erected by participating nations, extending all the way to the base of the Eiffel Tower. The true story of what was developing in Europe was immediately apparent. Two pavilions framed the Eiffel Tower at the banks of the Seine. The German pavilion dominated all the others, even the one directly across from it, the Soviet pavilion. The hefty sculptures of the Soviet peasants, despite their determination, were no match for the emblematic German eagle spreading its wings to dominate everything in sight.

Visitors in their Sunday finest strolled the walkways, pausing to peek into other pavilions, but mostly heading straight to the German tower. A sick feeling pervaded Lily, knowing that these peoples’ lives were about to be irrevocably changed. And she was the only person here who knew what was coming. She was about to enter the Nazi nest and had no idea what to expect. She turned away from the viewpoint and descended the stairs to join the crowds.

Walking toward her meeting with Heinrich, Lily decided she had no right to give Paul hope for something she couldn’t follow through on. No way was she going to get stuck in Paris on the verge of war. She had to get this book. She couldn’t fail. Her future was at stake, and perhaps taking this book away from the Nazis would save people in ways she couldn’t know now. She was irritated that Louise hadn’t told her more, but if she admitted it, she liked being part of something bigger than herself.

She didn’t have any trouble locating the German pavilion. Large letters on the pedestal told her she was entering Deutschland. A statue of two men and a woman, all naked and extremely buff, guarded the entry. She shook her head. What were they suggesting with this arrangement? They were backed by Nazi flags, swastikas fluttering on both sides of the looming tower. A shudder wracked her body and she was forced to lean against the pedestal, its stone warm and solid in the afternoon sun. Seeing the red of the Nazi flag in person was more powerful than all the black-and-white photos she’d seen. The bright fabric with its spidery symbol of doom snapped in the breeze. After a few minutes, the horror passed enough for her to continue on. She mounted the stairs with the other visitors and entered the devil’s lair.

Inside the great hall, she was halted by the display of power. Hitler’s megalomaniac grandeur loomed. Lily almost laughed at the blatant attempt to mimic the excesses of ancient Rome in modernist style of the thirties. Everything was of a grand scale: the giant paintings, the impossibly high ceilings, the vast entry hall, all letting the French know who dominated. Lily hurried to the information desk and addressed the woman there.

“Excusez-moi, madame. I have an appointment with Heinrich Werden. Can you tell me where to find him?”

“Herr Werden?” She pronounced his name with a German accent.

“Oui,” Lily replied.

“I’ll let him know you are here. Whom shall I announce?”

Lily gave her name, hoping it wouldn’t end up on some register somewhere, embedded in the Nazi files.

“Please take a seat, Miss Heller.” She pointed to a nearby bench, then left. Lily lost sight of her as she disappeared in the enormous showroom. Visitors paused in the entry to get their bearings, then descended the stairs into the temple to Nazi advances in science and technology. The woman returned and announced that Herr Werden was busy and would join her in a few minutes.

Lily thanked her and idly watched her return to her post. What would the woman be doing in a few years? Lily wondered. Guarding a concentration camp? A huge painting hanging over the red benches depicted an architect showing his blueprint to eager workers, a not-so-subtle allegory of Germany’s empire building. Lily frowned.

“Miss Heller!”

She turned, and there was Heinrich, wearing a sharp suit, his hair carefully combed. He took her hand and smiled hello.

“I’m glad you’re here. Since our last conversation, I’ve been eager to show you that your fears about Germany are not justified.”

Lily knew she had to act like the queen of hypocrites. She smiled back.

“Of course I expect you will show me otherwise, Herr Werden.”

He insisted she call him Heinrich.

“Then you may call me Lily, Heinrich.” She forced another smile. He held out his arm and taking it, they began their tour. They paused at the entrance to the exhibit hall, where he bowed and waved Lily in. She started back with a small cry. It was impressive, a broad corridor flanked on both sides by glassed-in display cases. Above, deco chandeliers hung from both sides of the incredibly high ceiling, a lit panel that gave the impression of bringing the outdoors in to shine on the Nazi empire. At the far end of the grand hall, a short staircase led to a huge mosaic depicting, again, the eagle, spreading its reach wide.

“Tell me, how do you find our pavilion?” Heinrich asked.

“A little too pompous for my taste!” Lily burst out, then thought to herself,
Crap, why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

But Heinrich just laughed. “What I admire, Lily, is your frankness. It is true that I also found the building a bit bombastic. But that doesn’t indicate evil, just a big vision, right? International expositions are a bit of a competition, a bit of flag waving, don’t you think?”

Lily nodded, choosing to stay silent this time.

“The German pavilion has been admired by visitors since the opening of the Expo. That’s what’s important. You know, it’s one of the great architects of the Third Reich, Albert Speer, who designed the pavilion.”

He led her down the stairs to the enormous hall. They joined a crowd pausing to inspect the showcases insisting upon the renewal of science and technology in Nazi Germany. A large painting seemed to Lily a glorification of work, of family, and of the fatherland in the style of Stalinist propaganda posters. The only difference was that the painted figures met the Nazi’s Aryan criteria.

This “art” interested Lily not at all. But she didn’t reveal this to Heinrich. She smiled, asked questions, and adopted a look of perpetual amazement at what he was explicating. Heinrich glowed under her attention and continued the tour with relish. They passed more than an hour contemplating the greatness and splendor of Nazism. Lily looked for an opening to broach the subject of the book, but didn’t find one. As they approached the end of the hall, she despaired at ever having a chance to bring it up. A silver Mercedes, with sleek, aerodynamic contours, attracted visitors, particularly male ones. To Lily, the car resembled a spaceship or a wing of an airplane, its sleek surface revealing no discernible moving parts. Lily drifted away and lingered in front of a display case holding what looked like complicated dental instruments. Just as she was about to bring up the book as a complete non sequitur, someone called out to Heinrich. A man with clipped dark hair and a military demeanor approached.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Heinrich told Lily.

“Of course,” she murmured, but the pair had already stepped away. Lily gazed at the high ceiling, a panel of lights that illuminated the room in what seemed like daylight. She tried to come up with a plan to get at the book, but grew distracted when she heard Heinrich’s voice raised. The conversation had grown heated, and Lily caught the other man gesturing at her with a look of great displeasure. But Heinrich smiled and placed a hand on the man’s arm. His friend shook it off and glowered at Lily. She shrank against one of the pillars of the hall. Finally, the men parted and Heinrich rejoined Lily, who grew more nervous the longer she stayed in the exhibit hall. The grand hall had become even more crowded and Lily had begun to perspire.

“Everything okay?” she asked, smiling nervously.

“But of course,” Heinrich assured her. “That is my childhood friend Karl, who seems to think I need looking after. I know his family well, and he has plans for me to marry his sister.”

“Oh,” Lily said, startled. The thought of him having a normal family life at home in Germany was at odds with her image of him as a Nazi.

“No matter, nothing to concern yourself with. My dear Lily, how about if we go outside for a breath of fresh air. I imagine you’re tired by this long visit.”

“Lovely,” she said, as if he had just suggested a stroll in the countryside.

“Allons-y, alors.”

Together they made their way through the crowd toward the entrance. Heinrich complimented her along the way, expressing his delight at her company, claiming she had been the most charming and attentive visitor he’d ever received.

I’m a shoe-in for Hollywood
, Lily thought, and with this, she began to giggle. To her horror, found herself unable to stop. Heinrich peered at her with curiosity.

“But my dear Lily, what is so funny?”

Hearing that she had by dint of her attentiveness become “his dear Lily” renewed the giggles. Hand over her mouth, she tried to stop. But like laughter started in a solemn church, the forbidden emotion continued unabated. Between gasps, she got out, “I . . . don’t . . . know . . . it’s not . . .”

Heinrich joined in laughing, apparently delighted to see Lily in such a state.

“Aah! You are a constant surprise, my dear Lily. Perhaps if you rest you will feel better.” He led her to a nearby bench and tried to get her to sit down. She apologized between jolts of laughter, wiping tears from her eyes with the handkerchief that Heinrich had offered her. Two old women, primly dressed in long skirts, noticed her outburst and frowned. Finally, Lily regained her composure.

“All better?” Heinrich asked with a condescending smile.

“Yes! Oh, I don’t know what came over me. I must have been nervous.”

“No matter! Nervous or not, I enjoy your laughter. It’s refreshing, Lily.”

He was holding her hand. While laughing, Lily hadn’t noticed that Heinrich had taken the opportunity to touch her while giving her his handkerchief. She gave it back to him and kept her hand to herself. They mounted another set of stairs and emerged onto the roof of the pavilion. People strolled while others lounged on deck chairs under parasols. The more adventurous sat on the parapets. The cool breeze on her face calmed Lily, and she wished Paul were at her side instead of Heinrich. Together, they leaned on the parapet, taking in the stunning view of the Exposition along the Seine and past the Eiffel Tower in the Champs de Mars. Beyond, the city of Paris sprawled in its magnificence. From here, the flow of people in the aisles of the Expo looked like ants. She was happy to avoid the crowds. Looking at the loop of the Seine, she breathed slowly, closing her eyes to better appreciate the feeling of expansiveness. Despite the oddness of her circumstances, she felt a thrill to be perched above Paris, her favorite city, like this. Next to her, Heinrich spoke gently.

“I like to take the air here when I work at the pavilion. Sometimes there are too many people down there. It becomes oppressive after a while.”

“I understand completely,” Lily said. “I felt it, too, that I really needed this breath of fresh air. Thank you for bringing me up here.”

He smiled. “Would you like a refreshment?”

“Sure.” The longer she stayed with him, the more she’d have a chance to mention the book.