Chasing Sylvia Beach

by Cynthia Morris

“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 fir
st 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.

  “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.

  B
right 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.