Julia, page 10
He met her gaze, and for a long moment, he didn’t look away. When he finally did, he added, “I felt insecure because of Charlie’s education. I sort of went crashing through life after that. Finding odd jobs, from everything like digging ditches in California to building furniture reproductions in Cambridge. I worked as a photographer at a New York advertising agency. And I’ve done several stints teaching in private schools and public schools.”
“You seem to be a Renaissance man.”
Paul laughed, and Julia decided she liked to make him laugh, even though she was awkward compared to his refinement.
“That’s certainly a polite way to say it.” He paused in front of another statue, and Julia stopped too. “I’m old—that’s what’s going on here. I’m forty-two.” He looked over at her. “How old are you?”
Julia swallowed down her surprise at the question. “Thirty-one.”
Paul gave a brief nod, then raised his camera and took a picture of something just beyond Julia. She turned to look, spotting an elephant past the exhibit, standing at the edge of a pond.
“Come on, let’s get closer,” Paul said, walking toward the elephant.
As they started over, Julia bent to give a cat perched on a bench a scratch.
“You like cats, huh?” Paul asked.
Julia straightened. “I do. We always had dogs growing up, like Eric the Red, but I think when I’m on my own someday, I’ll get a cat.”
Paul didn’t comment, his attention caught by Jack waving for their attention. He and Ellie stood on the perimeter of the pond, watching the elephant. The creature seemed oblivious to its audience as it proceeded to bathe itself.
“Have you ever ridden an elephant before?” Paul asked as they walked together.
“Not yet,” Julia said. “But I’d love to.”
He flashed her a smile. “We’ll have to rectify that.”
Julia’s heart stuttered at his smile. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, and everything about him seemed warm and welcoming.
All that was quickly replaced by a jolt of envy when Peachy called out, “Oh, there you are, Paul. I thought you’d turned into a statue with all the Buddhas.”
Julia hated that she was jealous of a woman years younger than herself, and she hated that she was finding Paul Child attractive. And intriguing. And easy to talk to, even when she said blunt and awkward things. Her intrusive questions didn’t seem to faze him, and she liked that he answered honestly from his heart. He didn’t provide the quick and easy answers. Now, if she were really fortunate, this growing crush of hers would quickly burn out. She was too good of friends with this group to let hurt feelings ruin their excursions.
She and Paul joined the group, and Paul took several photographs. Julia was determined to enjoy the day, no matter what happened. She was in a beautiful, captivating location, and there was an elephant bathing itself only steps away. Her letter to Dort would certainly contain this experience, although Julia didn’t know what she might say about Paul Child. Watching his patience in photography, his waiting for the right movement or angle of the elephant, was intriguing. She supposed that all artist types were like that—patient. Valuing the right colors and hues and lighting, whereas other people in the world rushed through life’s experiences.
Julia settled on a bench not far from the group, and while Paul continued to walk about, photographing, the others wandered off. She hadn’t realized she was quite alone with Paul again until he sat next to her. She wondered why he hadn’t followed after Peachy.
“What brought you to the OSS?” he asked.
The question felt out of the blue but was one she’d been asked many times by others—just not by Paul.
“I was working for the Red Cross and the Aircraft Warning Service, but I wanted to do more,” she said. “My friend Janie was in Washington, DC, so I decided to give it a try.” She told Paul about her first job, then finally landing at the OSS, then going through different job titles. “Jack was the one who talked me into applying for an India post—well, it didn’t take much talking me into it. The news coming out of Europe was horrific, and I wanted to make a real difference, you know?”
Paul’s gaze was still upon her. “Are you glad you came?”
His question felt so genuine that Julia wondered if there were a deeper meaning.
“Oh, yes, I’m very glad. The food isn’t great, and the work . . . well, it’s important but quite tedious. I’ve pulled my hair out many times.” She patted her hair. “It’s growing quite thin.”
Paul smiled.
“But where else can I live in such a tranquil place while contributing toward the war effort?” She motioned toward the elephant. “This is absolutely paradise.”
“I can help with the food choices,” Paul said. “Chinese food is delectable—if you know where to eat.”
“I’d never turn down a good meal,” she said. Or an invitation by this man, she thought. “What about you? What led you to the OSS?”
“Oh . . . well, heartbreak actually.”
This answer, Julia hadn’t expected. Was this about his mother and sister? Or . . . about another woman? “I’m sorry,” she began.
Paul lit a cigarette, and Julia recognized his pattern. He smoked like most people around here, but he also smoked when he was speaking of personal things.
“Her name was Edith,” he said, a weight to his voice.
Julia noted how he referred to Edith in the past tense, and her stomach knotted. What had happened to this woman he obviously cared about?
“Our families knew each other in Boston when she was married to her first husband,” he continued. “Edith was an artist—a painter, writer, and musician.”
He paused, and Julia let him take his time. She wasn’t going anywhere.
“When I was in Paris, I bumped into her. She’d been through a divorce and was going through a difficult time.” He shrugged. “Then irony of ironies, a few years later, when I was back in America, her son became one of my students when I was teaching art and French at a school in Avon, Connecticut.”
He paused as a group of people walked past them, heading toward one of the caves.
“I was in love,” Paul said. “Looking back, I wonder if she was in love as much with me as I was with her. She refused to marry again. She was the life and blood of our social circles, which consisted of accomplished artists, creative types, and Harvard scholars. I always felt like I was on the wrong side of the eclipse in those circles.”
Julia found it hard to imagine Paul feeling small and ill accomplished when she saw him in a completely different light.
“Edith lived life to the fullest, never slowing down despite her precarious health condition. I had to force out of her that she suffered from heart disease, and by then, it was advanced.”
The pit in Julia’s stomach grew.
“By June 1942, she was extremely ill,” Paul said, his voice taking on a stilted quality, as if he were merely reciting impersonal facts. “Her breathing became labored, she tired quickly, and her skin grew pale, like the moon. When she began to hallucinate, I begged her to get treatment. But all she wanted was to be left alone. She told me to take a break and visit my brother. I hadn’t seen Charlie for a while, and he and his wife, Freddie, had just bought a house in Lumberville, Pennsylvania . . .”
He broke off, and after a moment, he continued, “Word came a few days later that Edith had died. She . . . she wanted it that way, I think. To not have me hovering and grieving over her.”
Maybe Paul wasn’t crying, but Julia wiped at her eyes.
“She was older than me by ten years, but she was only fifty years old. Too young to die.” His voice faltered.
Julia heard heartbreak in his story, and she rested a hand on his arm. He didn’t seem to notice. “I’m really sorry, Paul.”
He lowered his head for a long moment, his breathing steady. “At the time, everyone was signing up to fight in the war. Charlie and I both wanted to do something, although we knew we’d be turned down for the armed forces because of our age. But we moved to Washington, DC regardless. Charlie found a job at the National Planning Association, and I landed at the Visual Presentation Branch.”
“And Ceylon was next?” Julia asked.
“Not quite,” Paul said. “In the summer of 1943, I went with my brother to visit an astrologer—Jane Bartleman—and I wasn’t prepared to believe much of what she said . . .” He glanced at Julia.
She raised her brows. “But she saw into your soul,” she quipped.
His mouth twitched. “Something like that. She said that I’d be involved in a secret mission, which would require a lengthy journey to the Far East.”
“Oh.” What else could she say?
“I didn’t think much of it, but a few months later, I received a call from General Donovan asking if I’d consider a position as the OSS representative to Lord Mountbatten. In New Delhi, of course.”
“And the astrologer was suddenly correct?” Julia asked.
“Well.” He spread his hands. “Here I am. So you’d better believe I was in Jane Bartleman’s office the very next morning.”
“You went back?”
Paul’s smile appeared. “I did. And she told me that I’d get the job, and it would be highly secretive work. I’d make many invaluable friends. There would be adventure and excitement, and to top everything off, I’d fall heavily in love in about a year.”
Julia’s mind reeled. “Well, you’ve still got time.”
Paul laughed. Loud and long. Which made Julia laugh too.
When they both caught their breath, Julia added, “Is that what all this dating is about? Rosie? Marjorie? Peachy?” She went absolutely still. Surely she’d gone too far.
But again, his answer wasn’t what she’d expected. “The astrologer’s prediction rattled me a bit, sure, but do I really believe her? Maybe? Maybe not. It did give me hope that one day I’ll not feel so heartbroken all the time. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop missing Edith, but I need to move on. And it would be wonderful if I could fall in love again.”
Julia had never had such a serious and frank conversation about love with a man before. Paul Child was keeping his heart wide open.
“I think people can fall in love again,” she said, not sure where her conviction was coming from. “Just as completely and deeply as the first time.”
Paul straightened and ran a hand over his head as the breeze picked up around him. “There’s one thing I’ve learned about myself,” he said in a wry tone. “Women in their twenties are certainly not for me.” His gaze was on her again, his expression seeming to blink between past and present. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this,” he said matter-of-factly. “I suppose you’re an easy woman to confess private matters to, Julia McWilliams. You’re not a judgmental person, and I admire your zest for life. Somehow, being around you has lightened this old curmudgeon’s soul.”
Julia was determined not to let his compliments go to her head . . . but they did anyway.
Chapter 10
Kandy, Ceylon
July–October 1944
“Ceylon was an Elysium far removed from reality where everyone had an academic interest in the war but found life far too pleasant to do anything too drastic about it. To the red-blooded Americans . . . Ceylon [was either] another form of British tyranny—frustration without representation [or] . . . a palm-fringed haven of the bureaucrat, the isle of panel discussions and deferred decisions.”
—Letter from Jane Foster to Betty MacDonald
Julia wasn’t sad when Paul eased off his flirtation with Peachy, or with other women, for that matter. And yes, Julia noticed. She noticed everything about Paul Child, which was easy since they spent almost every free moment together—either in groups or the two of them. And their mutual friends were noticing.
Julia repeated what she told every person: She and Paul were friends. There was no indication that he thought of her romantically—he’d never tried to kiss her or said anything that could be considered deeper than friendship. So, she’d wait. And if the wait proved fruitless, she’d move on. Realistically, everyone knew the flings and flirtations taking place in their bubble of paradise would likely not transfer to the real world once the war was over.
Julia wasn’t blind to Paul Child’s faults; they were just eclipsed by his attributes. Paul could be stubborn, to say the least. Cora had called him “difficult”—and Julia understood her viewpoint. Cora had worked with Paul in DC, but they’d never become great friends. Julia was more compassionate toward his nature because she knew the tragedies he’d experienced. He was also a bit of a perfectionist, whereas Julia was far from that. It created a sort of mad pairing between them. Yet Paul seemed to enjoy explaining things when Julia asked questions. He possessed endless teaching patience, and she supposed it was because he had a lot of experience teaching.
Spending time with Paul was her only bright spot during the evenings since she was back to working around the clock, including late nights and four hours on Sundays. So she was more than grateful when OSS staff member Patty Norbury arrived and was assigned to be Julia’s assistant.
After introducing Patty to their boss, Colonel Dick Heppner, Julia led Patty into the registry office.
“Come in, come in,” Julia said.
Patty was around five and a half feet tall, with a pretty face and friendly eyes behind her glasses. Now her eyes widened at the sight of the room crammed with stacked files.
“Believe it or not, it’s all very organized.” Julia pulled out a chair on one side of the central desk. “Where are you from, Patty? Tell me a little about yourself. We’re going to be spending dozens of hours a week together.”
“I’m from Ohio,” Patty said. “I asked to be transferred here so I can find my fiancé.”
Julia frowned. “Is he with the OSS too?”
“No,” Patty said. “He was shot down by the Japanese and pronounced missing in action. I’m certain he’s still alive, and I’m going to figure out a way to locate him.”
Normally, Julia would have inwardly scoffed at the notion of a woman thinking she could track down her fiancé in the middle of a war. If he was alive, he was in prison somewhere. There had been rumors of prisoner-of-war camps throughout Japan holding captured Allied pilots. But Patty’s gaze was fierce and determined, almost challenging Julia to disagree with her.
“We’ll keep our eyes out for any information that might lead to your fiancé’s rescue,” Julia finally said. “Once you learn my filing system, you’ll be an expert researcher yourself.”
Patty folded her hands atop her lap. “I’m looking forward to it.” Her gaze strayed to the stacked files.
Over the next hour, Julia walked Patty through her code-number system and how to cross-index. “This work takes the utmost seriousness and astuteness. You have to be completely transparent in the cross-referencing and not make any errors—an error can cost a life. There’s also suspicion of spying between the Americans and the British—so nothing inside this office can be discussed outside of it.”
Patty nodded, her demeanor somber.
“Not to say I don’t play the occasional trick on Washington or on our comrades here.” Julia waved a hand toward the files. “Keeps the boredom away.”
Patty looked at Julia then. “I thought the British are our allies.”
“Of course they are, but we are still allegiant to America first and foremost, even though our commander is British.” She drew in a breath. “For instance, our American OSS are the most fluent in Japanese, but the British have other attributes. Together, we’re cutting through Japanese supply lines and creating underwater sabotage. One of the main focuses of Admiral Lord Mountbatten and US Army Major General Stilwell is to reopen a land route to China since Japan controls the Burma Road.”
“Is that possible?” Patty asked.
“If they can recapture all the Ledo Road, which will provide the alternate route. But there is a portion of that territory that the Allies will have to retake. And once we retake the land, someone will have to build the road itself.”
Julia cleared off a place at one of the tables for Patty to sit down. “Our priority is to cross-index without any errors,” Julia said. “We’ve been working hard to establish a foolproof system so that when needed, we can locate the right information for the right entity, whether it’s the Office of War Information, the theater commander, or the air force. With intercepted messages and encrypted commands disrupting the flow of information between entities, our office’s intelligence has to be the one to tie everything together.”
By lunchtime, Julia assumed that Patty’s head was swimming. They’d been working on information about the day’s Japanese rail and troop movements, which had been received by shortwave radio, then translated by the Communications Branch, so that Julia could file the information on index cards.
“Let’s grab some lunch,” Julia said to Patty, “and I’ll introduce you around.”
They headed to the mess hall, traipsing in the stifling humidity, and stood in line to get their plates of food.
“There you are,” a peppy voice said.
Julia turned to see Jane Foster. She was as short as Julia was tall. Jane’s blonde hair and freckles and jolly personality made her seem younger than she was. They’d become fast friends over the past couple of weeks, with Jane easily integrating herself into their group. Her smile focused on Patty. “You the new girl?”
“This is Patty Norbury from Ohio,” Julia said. “She requested the transfer so she could track down her fiancé, who’s MIA.”
Jane slipped an arm through Patty’s. “Sorry to hear about your fiancé, Patty. Don’t you worry, though, we’re your gals, and we’ll help you find your man.”
