“Early Sunday morning,” the announcer said, “the empire of Japan made a daring attack on the American naval base at Pearl Harbor in the Territory of Hawaii.”
Lucie whipped around and sucked in an icy breath. An attack?
“After the United States cruelly cut off their supplies of oil and vital materials, the Japanese took their vengeance. While American sailors slept, hundreds of Japanese planes ravaged Pearl Harbor. Battleship after battleship exploded, destroying the American fleet in the Pacific. A declaration of war is expected later today, but it is unknown whether the cowardly Americans will declare war on Germany as well.”
Her mind whirling, Lucie ran to the radio as if she could extract more information from the box, but the announcer had gone on to another story.
Sunday morning? It was Monday. Why hadn’t she heard yet?
Lucie grabbed an atlas, laid it on the counter, and flipped through. There was Hawaii, a tiny clump of dots in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The time zone was Greenwich Mean Time minus ten hours, while Paris was on Berlin time—Greenwich plus two hours.
Math hurt her brain, so she counted. A twelve-hour difference. Early Sunday morning in Hawaii would have been evening in Paris, and it took hours for news to circle the globe.
“Paul.” Lucie lunged for the phone. She knew his home and work phone numbers by heart, and she poked her finger in the dial.
But her finger froze. She was only supposed to call under two circumstances—if America and Germany declared war on each other or if she had to make an emergency escape due to her resistance work.
Japan’s attack—as horrific as it was—didn’t qualify.
Paul received the morning paper and owned a radio. Wanting to hear his voice was no reason to risk a call. What if the police or the Germans were listening in?
She settled the phone back in its cradle and gripped numb hands together. Once again her impulses had almost put them both in danger.
They had a plan, a smart plan, and Lucie just had to be smart enough to follow it.
The radio announcer had said war might be declared today. Washington, DC, was seven hours behind Paris. By the time Congress met, it would be afternoon in Paris.
Lucie might need to leave tonight. Thank goodness her ballet bag lay in the office, stuffed with necessities.
“You left the door open.” Bernadette stepped inside and held upLe Matin. “Did you see the paper? America is in the war now.”
“I heard on the radio.” Lucie snatched the paper and read the article, which listed more details. And names of sunken ships. So many, many ships, and Lucie’s throat filled with a sob. How many men? How many had died?
Bernadette unwound a scarf from her neck. “It may take a few months, but you will probably be interned.”
“Yes.” The word slipped past the clog in her throat. “I—I’m sorry. The store—”
“Don’t worry about me.” Bernadette’s dark eyes softened. “I found a job at a bookstore on Montparnasse. This is my last day. I’m sorry for the short notice.”
“Thank goodness.” Tension poured out in a sigh. “I was concerned.”
“Thank you.” Her chin quivered, and she gazed around the store. “I hate to think...”
“Me too. Green Leaf Books has meant so much to me, but you’ve been here from the beginning.” Lucie wrapped her armsaround her belly. “All our hard work keeping the store open, but now I’ve lost Hal and Erma’s dream.”
“Lost it?” Bernadette drew back her chin. “They lost the store last June. But you—you kept it going, even with the Otto List and the British interned and the Americans leaving.”
Lucie’s lips clamped together. Only because of darling, generous Paul.
Bernadette tapped the desk in front of Lucie. “More importantly, by buying the store, you gave them the money to go home. If you hadn’t, they might have been trapped here with all the antisemitic laws. They might have been arrested in one of those awful rafles.”
Lucie shuddered. Only so-called foreign Jews, mostly from Poland, had been arrested—like Jerzy. But after the US and Germany went to war, American Jews in France would lose the protection of neutrality.
Bernadette plucked off her gloves and marched toward the office. “You and I will have one more good day together. No gloomy talk.”
“All right.” Lucie lifted a wobbly smile. “If there’s anything you want in the store—books, photographs—please take them.”
The assistant popped her head out of the office. “Anything?”
