Until Leaves Fall in Paris by Sarah Sundin

Author:Sarah Sundin
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Romance;Christian fiction;World War (1939-1945)—Fiction;Paris (France)—Fiction;FIC042030;FIC042040;FIC027200
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2021-11-29T00:00:00+00:00

28

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 15, 1941

At noon, Lucie stepped out of the bank after depositing checks for the store. She didn’t mind running to the bank as long as Bernadette did the math beforehand.

Only pedestrians remained on the Champs-Élysées, which was cleared for the Nazi soldiers’ daily parade, an event Lucie would rather miss. Too bad the Marbeuf Métro station was closed today and she had to go to the Champs-Élysées-Clemenceau station.

Yellowing leaves of plane trees whispered above her in the cool air, the skirt of her taupe suit brushed her knees, and her wooden-soled shoes clopped, as if saying, “Champs, champs, champs.”

Lucie tilted her head and frowned. On Saturday at the store, a book had been turned in with a message sticking out. When she’d slid the note in, she’d glimpsed the message—“Champs” with symbols she’d never seen before.

A woman strolled toward her clad in a designer dress of deep plum and an outrageous hat. She even had a poodle on a leash.

Lucie didn’t belong on the Champs-Élysées.

But Paul did.

Her stomach twisted, and not just from hunger. As much as she adored him, what sort of future did they have?

If the US and Germany went to war, the men would be interned almost immediately, assuming the Germans followed the same policy they had with British civilians. British women hadn’t been interned until December 1940, several months after the men. Lucie might remain free—but separated from Paul.

If they went to America, then what?

Paul belonged in New England high society. Could Lucie become a bourgeois wife who hired help and attended luncheons? Paul might find her charming now, but what if she broke into a pirouette at a dinner party in front of some stuffed shirt?

The door to a milliner’s store opened, and Alice Young stepped out wearing a burgundy suit. Lucie waved.

“Lucie, darling!” Alice kissed Lucie’s cheek, then lifted a hatbox. “My latest purchase. What would we do without hats?”

“I can’t imagine.” Lucie tapped the green bow on her taupe pompadour beret. With clothing scarce and strictly rationed, Parisiennes kept up their morale and their love of fashion through chapeaux. “How have you been, Alice?”

She sighed. “Not as busy as I’d like. The membership of the American Women’s Club and the hospital auxiliary is falling rapidly. I’m not sure how long we’ll keep meeting.”

Lucie murmured in sympathy. “Will the hospital close?”

“Not if we can help it. This spring we named a French director and placed the hospital under the Red Cross so it couldn’t be requisitioned even if the . . . inevitable happens.”

War, and Lucie nodded.

“Bentley will stay as long as he can, but he wants to send me home.” A frown bent Alice’s burgundy lips. “He thinks the Germans will let him remain free as a physician but might intern me.”

Lucie patted her friend’s arm. “I’d miss you, but I’d understand.”

“How are you? I worry about your store.”

“I’m making do.” Through Paul’s generosity, and her heart warmed.

“Still holding your Children’s Hour?”

“I am.” Although only four children had attended the previous Saturday, and Josie had been accompanied by her nanny, not Paul.

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