His face scrunched up, and he glanced away to a Swan Boat being pedaled across the lagoon with half a dozen families and couples on board. “Don’t know if I’d call it love. Just a foolish, one-sided crush.”
“Unrequited love is still love.”
“And foolishness is still foolishness.” Something restless squirmed inside him, and he pushed away from the stone pillar. “Now, come on. I promised you ice cream.”
Mary swiped aside the curls. “Then I’ll let you help me burn this wig.”
He headed across the bridge. “Arch will be heartbroken. It’s his favorite.”
She rewarded him with an amused sidelong glance. Good. He’d actually cheered her up. Even if it meant he had to admit something he preferred to keep hidden. But so had she.
Now her fear made sense. It did. An embarrassing moment like that couldn’t be forgotten.
No wonder she hated attention. No wonder she didn’t want to draw attention to herself, even for something as noble as catching a saboteur.
Jim stopped in his tracks, and Mary gave him a quizzical look.
Before him rose a statue of George Washington. He circled to the front. The great general rode on horseback, sword drawn and ready to attack, to defend. “Our founding fathers were willing to fight for what was right, to risk their lives for the sake of freedom.”
“True.” She inclined her head.
“You don’t want to report your findings for fear of drawing attention to yourself. But what if something happens? Someone gets hurt?”
Her eyes went from blue peace to silver shock.
Above them, George Washington stared down the future, ready to take on any enemy for the sake of liberty.
“So...” Mary cleared her throat. “So I should be willing to stand up and speak out.”
He tweaked her pancake of a hat. “And maybe wear a little red.”
Her expression solidified, and something new lit in her eyes. “Maybe I will.”
7
Tuesday, April 29, 1941
Mary climbed Monument Avenue on her way to work, notebooks in her arms, her camel-colored spring coat swinging unbuttoned around her knees.
“You shouldn’t do it.” Yvette’s heels clipped on the sidewalk beside her.
Basswood trees waved their new spring leaves above Mary’s head. After all the hard work of talking herself into this, she didn’t need any discouragement. This was the right thing to do, and as long as she didn’t yield to the temptation of taking pride in her actions, she’d be fine. “I need to let Mr. Pennington know my suspicions and ask his advice.”
“Americans are so naïve. You do not see the danger.”
“But I do see the danger. That’s why I need to act.”
“You do not understand.” Yvette waved her red-tipped fingers in front of her face. “The war will come here. The Nazis will not stop. They are ruthless and powerful.”
“If that’s true, I need to help.”
Yvette’s brown eyes riveted her. “Do you not see? If the Nazis are here, sabotaging our ships, do you not think they will hurt those who stand in their way? They are brutes. Man, woman, child—it matters not. They can hurt you and no one will ever know.”
Mary let out a sigh. Strange that the thought of public acclaim frightened her more than physical danger. “Don’t you always say the biggest mistakes the French made last year were trusting in false security and ignoring the warning signs?”
“Yes, but—”
“I won’t make the same mistake.” The Bunker Hill Monument rose high before her on a green hill, the granite obelisk puncturing the blue sky. Almost two hundred years earlier, colonists had hunkered behind wooden ramparts, outnumbered, fighting against impossible odds.
