“Good.” Did Bentley expect Paul to be ashamed he provided better than most? Because he wasn’t.
Bentley made notes on his clipboard. “Have you considered taking her home to America?”
Where she’d never want for food. “Not yet, but if international relations continue to deteriorate...” He chose words lofty enough to soar above Josie’s head.
“Iceland. Quite interesting.”
“Indeed.” A year ago, the British had occupied Iceland to protect their transatlantic shipping routes. But just yesterday President Roosevelt had announced the US Marines had landed in Iceland to relieve the British, which infuriated the Germans.
Over the rims of his glasses, Bentley looked Paul hard in the eye.
Paul didn’t flinch. Refused to.
Bentley cleared his throat. “I’d like to talk to you privately in my office. My nurse will dress Josephine and give her a puzzle to play with while we talk.”
No...
Paul’s heart, his lungs, his thoughts screeched and crashed like Simone’s car. The last time a doctor had spoken to him privately ...Not Josie too. Not ... Josie.
Somehow he steadied himself and followed Bentley down the hall and into his office.
Until the door closed. “Please, Dr. Young. Not Josie. Please. She’s healthy. She’s fine, isn’t she?”
Bentley spun to him, his pale eyebrows high. “Oh my. I didn’t mean to alarm you. Josie’s fine. In excellent health. Please have a seat.”
His breath still chuffing, Paul lowered himself into a chair and closed his eyes.
“I apologize,” Dr. Young said. “I didn’t stop to think how that would sound.” A chair creaked on the far side of the desk. “I wanted to talk to you about something unrelated to your darling and very healthy daughter.”
Paul released a tense breath and opened his eyes. Bentley’s face was kind and open, almost friendly. But most likely this man had called for his ouster from church, and he braced himself. “Proceed.”
Bentley lowered his chin and sighed. “First, I apologize for how I’ve treated you this past year.”
“Why?” Paul let his voice harden. “I’m a ruthless, conniving collaborator who makes tanks for the Nazis. Isn’t that what the rumors say?”
Bentley’s head swung back and forth slowly. “I know that isn’t true. I know you only build trucks. I’m telling people.”
“How kind of you.” He didn’t even try to tone down the sarcasm.
Bentley rolled a pen on the blotter on his desk, his expression pensive. “I understand why you allow everyone to think the worst of you. It’s an excellent cover.”
“Cover?” For the second time that hour, his heart failed. What did Bentley know?
“I talked to Mr. Pendleton yesterday. Your name came up. He didn’t tell me what you’re doing, but he assured me we’re on the same side.”
What on earth had Pendleton done? Paul had spoken to him in confidence. If the Germans or the police heard, Paul could be shot.
“Don’t be angry with Mr. Pendleton.” Bentley eyed Paul over his glasses. “He knows what I’m doing. He only gave me your name because I asked for help. I’m desperate.”
Paul fought to still his expression, his breathing. “I don’tknow what you’re talking about. I’m a carmaker, making trucks, trying not to go bankrupt.”
“Yes, and you have the courage to do something dangerous, something good. That sounds like my friend Paul.”
His life depended on not reacting. His workers’ lives. Duffy’s work. “Thank you for the apology, Dr. Young. Misinformed, but appreciated. I’m leaving now.” He moved to stand.
“Please, Paul. We’ve been hiding British airmen in the hospital since the armistice, helping them escape. We’re out of room. I need help.” Light blue eyes reached to Paul. Begged.
That was dangerous information. Deadly. Information you only shared with someone you trusted.
