Louise's War (20 page)

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘You’ve done your good deed for the day.’ She reached for the baby.

Remember what she’s been through, I thought to myself. ‘She’s sweet,’ I said, handing the little girl back to her.

‘I’m glad she’s a girl,’ Barbara said. ‘It’ll be easier to raise a girl by myself.’

At the steps to the train she turned to me.

‘For people like you,’ she said, ‘this war is mostly an adventure, the chance to live in a big city, make lots of money, feel important. After the war is over you can pat yourselves on the back. For me, my husband is dead, and I’ve got two brothers in uniform who might be next. Nothing could replace them. You’ve heard the rumors about what’s going on in Europe. If only some of them are true, it’s a calamity, a disaster, for the Jewish people.’

She turned and climbed on her train before I had a chance to respond.

Rachel opened her door. She was ready. She’d been packed for days. She knew she could take one suitcase for herself and one for the children, and she’d sorted their clothing and blankets carefully. She added a few pictures removed from their frames, one of her parents, one of Gerald, and one of herself and Louise one weekend in New York that felt like a thousand years ago. She found room for a pad of paper and some pencils and a couple of children’s books. She’d sewn two silver spoons into Claude’s teddy bear and the last three links from her gold bracelet into the waistband of her dress.

The man who came to fetch them was a Vichy policeman.

‘
Madame
,’ he said, ‘you understand, it is time to go?’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘It will not be so bad,’ he said, taking the suitcases while Rachel grasped Claude’s hand and hoisted the baby to her shoulder. ‘There are children for your son to play with, and extra milk for the baby.’

He loaded the suitcases into the police van and helped Rachel and the children into the back.

‘It’s not safe for you here any more,’ he said.

The Nazis had ordered the Vichy French authorities to clear out the Old Port neighborhoods that lined the Marseille harbor. The Nazis feared the residents would assist any Allied invasion that might come from the Mediterranean, and planned to destroy the medieval buildings and build new fortifications.

Rachel found she didn’t mind leaving so much. Prison was prison.

SEVENTEEN

I
didn’t blame Barbara for her rudeness or her cynicism. She was right about everything she said, except one. It wasn’t too late to save countless lives in Europe, not only Jews, but soldiers, Resistance fighters, refugees and millions of civilians, by winning this war as quickly as possible.

Outside Union Station I joined a queue for the next bus. It was still morning, already so hot the sticky asphalt pavement sucked at my shoes. I was awfully tired, and longed to go home to ‘Two Trees’ and nap on the wicker couch out on the porch under the ceiling fan. Instead I had to get back to the office, with Barbara’s signed leave request for Don to approve and a mountain of papers and memos on my desk to sift through. I felt a headache coming on at the thought of it.

A faded blue Ford coupe pulled up and a familiar voice called out to me.

‘Louise,’ Charles Burns said. ‘I was just driving by. Can I give you a lift?’

‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ I said, clambering into the front seat of the car. ‘It’s so hot, I can hardly bear the thought of the bus.’

‘Glad to be of service,’ Charles said, shifting gears and edging out onto Louisiana Avenue. ‘What are you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘One of my girls up and left work,’ I said. ‘She was on her way home. I brought a leave form for her to sign so that she wouldn’t get in trouble.’

‘That was good of you.’

‘I suppose. What are you doing out and around this morning?’

Charles cocked his head towards the back seat of the car, which was piled with documents and books. ‘A retired geography professor wrote me and said he had a collection of African maps we could have, so I went out to Chevy Chase to get them.’

‘Anything useful?’

‘Haven’t really looked yet, but I sure hope so,’ he said.

He shifted to a lower gear as traffic slowed. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘In lunchtime traffic this will take us forever. How about we stop and get something to eat?’

‘I appreciate the offer,’ I said. ‘But I need to get back to work. Don’s expecting me. If you like, I’ll get out and take the bus anyway, you don’t have to drive me.’

‘No, no,’ he said, ‘it was just an idea.’

I lost myself in thought until I realized we were headed north instead of west.

‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

‘There’s a great cafe a bit farther on,’ he said. ‘I ate there last weekend. It’s refrigerated. You’ll like it.’

Fury boiled up inside me. The gall of the man, ignoring my wishes. I longed to tell Charles that I was on to him, the slug, but I bit my tongue. He was the head of a division of my OSS branch and one of my bosses. I had to be polite and deferential to him.

‘I need to get back to work,’ I said instead of what I wanted to say. ‘Please stop and let me out, and I’ll find a bus or a taxi.’

‘Come on,’ he said, ‘you know you want to go. I’ll clear it with Don. I’ll say we had a flat tire or something.’

I gripped the car door handle.

‘Let me out right now,’ I said. ‘Now.’ Forget tact, I wasn’t putting up with this.

Charles ignored me. While I boiled with anger he kept driving.

‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I need to talk to you. About some stuff at work. Consider this a business lunch.’

‘You know damn well we can’t talk about work in a public place.’

‘This isn’t very public. It’ll just be the two of us.’

With both hands I struggled to open my door, but it was locked. There must have been a master lock on the driver’s side of the car. As I rattled the handle Charles leaned over and grabbed at me with his right hand and dragged at my arm, tearing my hand away from the door handle. His thumb and fingers dug deep into my flesh. ‘Let go,’ he said, ‘you can’t get out. Don’t be so stuffy. We’ll have fun. I’ll cover for you with Don.’

The way he said the word ‘fun’ frightened me. The ugly word ‘rape’ crossed my mind. Surely he didn’t intend to force himself on me?

Oh God, had Charles been waiting for me at Union Station? Found out from one of my girls where I might be and loitered on the curb, with a pile of old maps in the back seat of the car as an alibi, to pick me up?

We passed the Columbia Institute for the Deaf and turned north. Brentwood Park. Tree-filled, quiet and empty on this hot day.

Charles pulled into a shady spot and stopped.

I tried again to open my door.

‘Louise,’ he said, ‘I just want to talk to you about something important. Please.’

I hauled off and slapped him with the flat of my hand. ‘You bastard,’ I said. Charles flinched, whether from the slap or my unladylike language I didn’t know.

‘Who do you think you are?’ he asked, rubbing his cheek. ‘I could get you fired in a heartbeat.’

‘Just try,’ I said. ‘By the time I get done with you, you’ll regret treating me this way. So help me!’

‘All right, all right, don’t blow your top. Christ, you can be a nasty, foul-mouthed broad. I’ll drive you back to the office.’

‘Only if you unlock this car door. Otherwise I’ll scream bloody murder as soon as I see a cop.’

‘Okay, okay. Whatever you say.’

I was still livid, and when Charles stopped for a red light a few blocks away, I flung open my door and got out, slamming it shut after me.

Charles leaned over the passenger seat.

‘Oh, for Pete’s sake!’ he said. ‘Get back in. I didn’t mean anything, honest. I just wanted to have a quiet chat with you.’

‘When I say no, I mean no,’ I said, and turned to find a bus stop.

The light changed, Charles shrugged and drove on by me.

I walked, fists clenched, past the nearest bus stop, a full three blocks, until I calmed down. By that time I was so hot and footsore I hailed a taxi. The cost of the taxi and the unused ticket to Newark would cripple my budget for the rest of the month, but it was worth it.

When I returned to OSS I stopped at the cafeteria for a fast lunch of milk and crackers. Joan was on her way out, in a hurry, smiling at me and waving as she passed by. It was ironic, she was rich and eligible, and desperately wanted a boyfriend, but had so much trouble finding one, and I, a drone in eyeglasses, seemed to be fending off men. It made no sense to me.

I noticed a knot of people gathered around the bulletin board where Administrative posted notices.

A sign lettered in red and blue announced an afternoon reception commemorating ‘a British–American controversy of the mid-eighteenth century. All OSS personnel will participate.’

‘If there’s free food, everyone will turn up, no worries there,’ said a clerk from Morale Ops.

I stood holding my plate and watched Don chat up a blonde secretary from the Foreign Nationalities branch. I was relieved. Much better for my career for him to move on than for me to dump him.

The OSS cafeteria bulged with staff, all of us with small paper American flags pinned to our clothing. Patriotic-themed food crowded three cafeteria tables – celery stuffed with cream cheese dyed red, vanilla-iced cookies shaped like stars, blue swizzle sticks to stir the ginger-ale punch.

Despite the President’s ban on fireworks and public gatherings, most everyone had big plans for the weekend of the Fourth, swim parties, barbecues, picnics and trips to the beach. Betty and Ruth were bound to the coast on a YWCA bus excursion, and had bought new two-piece bathing suits for the trip. They anticipated that most of the servicemen from Fort Myers would be waiting for them.

The USO was hosting parties and cookouts for all the servicemen who wouldn’t be at the beach picking up government girls. Ada’s band was playing at one.

Me, I planned to celebrate Independence Day by breaking into a foreign embassy.

To my surprise Dora appeared at my side. I must have appeared flustered, because she reacted quickly.

‘Fortunately,’ she said, ‘one doesn’t need a top-secret clearance to attend a party in the cafeteria.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘Don’t be. I’m fine. At least in the Library of Congress reading room I don’t have to listen to Guy and Roger bicker.’

She caught sight of Don chatting up the blonde girl.

‘I see you’re out of the running for wife,’ Dora said, nodding at them.

‘Thank goodness,’ I answered. ‘Has he been looking long? Where was I in the queue?’

‘Since he arrived, and second. Men are odd creatures. If they don’t marry the first girl they’re stupidly smitten with, they begin to search for a mate in a most cynical fashion. Don doesn’t need money, so other qualities appealed to him. It’s odd, men seem to need a wife in order to succeed in a career, but women can’t marry and have a career both.’

‘I heard through the grapevine that Don thought I was perfect for him, what with being so reliable and all. Until I hedged when he asked me out a second time.’

‘You’re not interested in remarrying?’

‘I don’t know, I’m confused about that. My parents are pushing me to find a husband, that’s for sure. And I was happy when I was married. But I’m content now, too. Why jeopardize that? Besides, I’ve found I enjoy making my own money and my own decisions. I don’t know if I could give that up. I doubt that Don would make a modern husband.’

‘Wise of you. Tell me, dear, if you don’t think I’m being impertinent, how much education do you have?’

‘I finished junior college, a business course,’ I said, surprised.

Dora nodded, almost to herself. ‘Have you thought of getting a full college degree?’

‘No, not really. I don’t know how I would pay for it.’

‘Think about it,’ she said. ‘I’ll return to Smith after the war. If you want to go to college, come and see me. We’ll work it out.’

‘Thank you so much, I will.’ College! Me! My brain buzzed with the possibilities.

‘Louise,’ she said, interrupting my daydreams, ‘did you ever find that file you were looking for? What was the man’s name?’

‘Gerald Bloch,’ I said. ‘No, I think it’s lost for good.’

‘If you do ever locate it, would you route it to me? I’d be interested in seeing it,’ she said. ‘Just curiosity,’ she added. ‘And after I get my clearance back, of course.’

‘Of course.’

Dora was the second person in my branch today to mention Bloch’s file. I longed to ask her why, but thought it wiser to drop the subject.

A group of Dora’s friends beckoned her over to join them, and I was left munching a sugar cookie, thinking of joining Joan, who was across the room with her crowd, when the sound of men arguing rose above the background noise of the reception. As a circle around the two squabbling men gathered, I saw that Guy Danielson and Roger Austine were at its center. Guy was flushed with anger, and Roger gripped the back of a chair as if he intended to fling it at Guy any second. Don and a couple of others pulled the two men away from each other and into opposite corners of the cafeteria. I couldn’t hear Don chewing out Roger, but I could see the grim expression on his face. Good thing General Donovan and the branch directors hadn’t arrived at the party yet.

The last person I wanted to see, Charles Burns, materialized at my elbow, holding a paper cup in ink-stained fingers. He wobbled a bit, leading me to suspect he’d added something alcoholic to his punch. I tensed, but he behaved as if nothing had happened earlier in the day, when he shanghaied me after I’d refused his ‘lunch’ invitation. I didn’t refer to it. Much as I despised the thought, much as I wanted to dump my punch over Charles’s head or kick him in the shins right there in public, I knew it was best to forget, well, pretend to forget, the whole nasty incident. Charles had an important job at OSS and I was just a file clerk.