Mrs. Tuesday's Departure: A Historical Novel of World War Two Read Online Free Page B

marble tiles. She rarely saw any of her neighbors, though the building was large, with two or three apartments on each floor. Quietly elegant, she’d heard a realtor call the building, old money , she heard her whisper when she thought Mrs. Tuesday was out of range. This comment made Mrs. Tuesday chuckle since the money belonged to her late husband, and the only thing old about it was her age.
    “Good evening,” she said to the doorman who held open the front door.
    “Good evening, Mrs. Tuesday, on your way to Mass?”
    She smiled and nodded at the young man dressed in the same maroon wool uniform that all of the building staff wore. He was new; she peered at his nametag. She tugged a red felt beret halfway down her forehead and over the tops of her ears. “Thank you, Joseph.”
    “Let me get you a taxi,” he said, taking her elbow as she stepped out onto the icy sidewalk. “You shouldn’t walk in this weather.”
    Mrs. Tuesday shook her head, “The church is only four blocks away, I’ll be fine.”
    “You wait right here,” Joseph said, already turning back toward the door. “I’ll grab my coat and walk you there.”
    “You’ll get in trouble.”
    Joseph laughed, “I won’t. I’ve made a sign just for these occasions.”

Chapter Twelve
    I rushed to Mila’s side, my heart pierced by the vacant, questioning look on her face. I gathered her into my arms. Her body was limp, cold, weighted against mine. Over the top of her head I saw Anna standing in the midst of the crowd, holding our suitcase. Our eyes met and she shook her head. I wondered, and then knew from the look in her eyes, that despite her bouts of delusion, she understood what had just happened.
    I buried my face in the sweet tangled mass of Mila’s hair. We stood together, crying as the station continued to pulse and swarm around us. I knew everything had changed. I knew things would get worse before they got better.
    The train had been my last hope of getting Mila to safety. I looked at the empty track and knew that I would never see Ilona again.
    “Why did she leave without me?” Mila whispered.

Chapter Thirteen
    We swam agains t the current, along the train platform, up the stairs to the main hall. We pushed our way through the crowds still encamped in the terminal. Our heads down, we climbed the steps leading from this particular level of Dante’s hell and pressed through the heavy doors leading out onto the street.
    The sun broke through the clouds and we shielded our eyes. It was the first real sunlight we’d seen in weeks. The brightness seemed surreal. We walked for a few blocks, regaining our bearings. Mila’s breathing steadied, though she continued to stumble along, head down, allowing us to guide her. Under the pressure of my hand on the back of her coat, I could feel the sobs that had racked her chest subside. Anna was silent.
    Within a few blocks of the station, we managed to shove our way onto a crowded tram. The steamed windows made it impossible to see the familiar blocks as we re-traced our path toward home. I leaned over to put our bags on the floor by my feet and a stout woman next to me shoved me back with a curse. I realized how little our concerns mattered to anyone else.
    I knew why earlier generations once believed that the sun circled the earth. Because, in our limited imaginations, that is how we lived our lives. I understood how crimes could be committed in plain view. That myopia, I feared, would be our downfall.
     
    We got of f the tram a block from our building and trundled up the steps to our apartment. The door stood open, as if awaiting our return.
    The light eerily slanting through the windows and across the floor highlighted the broken relief of the shattered plates in the kitchen.
    Walking down the hall to Mila’s room, I glanced into my study remembering the events of last night.
    What could I have done differently?
    Last night it seemed so certain.

Chapter Fourteen
    Now, Mila stoo d with her