“The resistance? There’s so much Mr. Aubrey and I don’tunderstand. Josie can’t tell us much.” Mrs. Aubrey glanced at the door and raised a trembling smile. “Josie, darling, look who’s here.”
Josie stood in the doorway in a green plaid dress with a green bow atop shiny curls, staring at Lucie.
“Josie,” Lucie murmured, and she pushed to standing.
“Maman?” Josie took a few tentative steps, then ran to her.
Lucie fell to her knees and pulled her into her arms. “Josie! Sweetheart!”
Josie sobbed, big heavy sobs, clinging to Lucie with arms and legs, her face burrowed in Lucie’s neck.
Lucie rocked the child, her worries melting into tears. “It’s all right, sweetie. I’m here.”
A hand cupped Lucie’s elbow, and Mrs. Aubrey helped her back onto the sofa. “Dora, please. More handkerchiefs. Lots of handkerchiefs.”
Lucie settled onto the sofa as well as she could with little legs wrapped around her, and she rocked and murmured, her tears dampening Josie’s curls.
Mrs. Aubrey sat beside them, wiping her eyes.
Josie’s sobs quieted to sniffles, but she clung hard. “I was brave, Maman. I prayed, and I sang our song, and I made sure Monsieur Meow and Feenee weren’t scared.”
“Good girl. I’m proud of you.”
“Your song—” Mrs. Aubrey’s voice broke. “Your song brought our girl home.”
“Oh, I’m so thankful.”
Dora handed Lucie a handkerchief.
“Thank you.” Lucie blotted her tears, then lifted Josie’s head and wiped her face. “Let me look at you. My goodness, I think you grew another inch this week.”
Josie nodded, her face slippery in Lucie’s hands. “They have milk here. And candy, but it tastes different.”
Mrs. Aubrey rubbed her granddaughter’s back. “She hasn’teaten much, poor thing. But you’ll eat better now, won’t you, my little lamb?”
“Uh-huh.” Josie snuggled up to Lucie.
“Thank you, Dora.” Mrs. Aubrey took another handkerchief from the maid. “Would you please make up a room for Miss Girard? Draw a bath?”
“A room?” Lucie said. “Oh, I—”
“I’m sorry.” Mrs. Aubrey pressed a hand to her chest. “How presumptuous of me. I assumed you’d stay until Paul came home. Do you have plans?”
Lucie had thought little about what she’d do in America, but she didn’t want to impose on Mrs. Aubrey’s hospitality. “I—I should see my family in New York.”
Mrs. Aubrey stroked Josie’s curls and gave Lucie a kindly look. “Could you ask your parents to visit you here? We’d be honored to have you stay with us.”
Her expression communicated plenty. Josie had been through an ordeal, and she needed Lucie. And Lucie was more than welcome. Besides, she craved this connection to Paul.
She pressed a kiss to Josie’s forehead. “I’d like that very much.”
48
LISBON
SATURDAY, JANUARY31, 1942
In the American Legation, Paul smiled at the official at the typewriter. “Thanks again. A city this big, and I couldn’t find a typewriter to buy.”
