“Vivian.” Gene’s voice snapped her to the present. He seemed to be repeating himself.
“Yes?”
“Game’s over.”
It took her a moment to decipher the meaning as literal. Tiles on the scoreboard affirmed she had missed the Indians’ efforts, pummeled by the pinstripes thirteen to one. All around, the crowd was rising, shuffling up the stairs and out of the stadium, as if rushing to evacuate before an explosion.
“Sorry,” she said lightly. She went to stand, but his hand stopped her.
“I’d like us to talk first.”
Despite the gravity of his tone, she retained her smile. “Sure,” she said.
“Vivian, I know there’s something you’re not telling me.”
Her body stiffened in the seat. Had she been as transparent as she felt?
With the confrontation upon her, while undoubtedly inevitable, she had no inkling where to begin.
“It’s your father, isn’t it?” he said. “You’re worried about him. That’s why you’ve been so distant.”
The excuse hung between them, inviting her to latch on. Concern for her father did, in fact, line the edges of her thoughts. And yet she could not bring herself to agree.
“I just . . . have a lot on my mind, is all.”
“You can say anything to me, doll. You know that.” He spoke in such earnest, beckoning her like a winter quilt ready to wrap her in its fibers.
Ironically, it was this warmth that increased her reluctance to tell the truth. Trapping him in this awful predicament would be unfair. Nevertheless, she could not ignore the need for help. With so much at stake, she had to try.
“I’ve been worried for my father too, but, you see . . .” Any spectators were far out of earshot. “I have friends I made back in London, when I was traveling around. We struck up a correspondence. It’s a family that lives in Germany-not Nazis, mind you. As you can imagine, I’ve grown terribly nervous about their safety.”
He shifted in his seat, though his expression didn’t alter. At the absence of dismay, Vivian continued.
“It’s crucial they leave right away. They’re hoping to make it to Switzerland, but as you know, they’ll need special papers to go that far. I’ve been trying to figure out a way. There simply has to be something I can do.”
“How many are in the family?” he asked.
“Five. There’s a woman and a couple and their daughters. They’re extremely lovely people, just stuck on the wrong side of the border. They have no desire to be there any more than you or I would.”
Vivian stopped there, careful not to say too much or to push too hard. Gene gazed out at the field and nodded to the rhythm of his thoughts. A good sign.
But then the motion morphed into a shake of his head. As if to himself, he said, “I don’t know that anything can be done for them.”
Her stomach sank, although it shouldn’t have. He was only affirming what she already knew.
“All the same,” he added, “I’d be happy to find out. Give me a day or two to snoop around. See what I can come up with.”
She brightened inside, a kindling of possibility. “Oh, Gene. You’d do that for me?”
“Of course,” he said, and drew her hand to his lips. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Enduring a pinch of guilt, she smiled without a reply.
The next day, as Vivian connected one call after another, she did her darnedest to keep her hopes in check. Gene could certainly come back empty-handed. As for her father’s colleagues, her dismal streak had not improved. If she arrived at no other solution, Isaak could be sacrificing his family in order to surrender.
He would do that, wouldn’t he? Surrender regardless if necessary? I can’t turn myself in until they’re safe, he had said. But it was an emotional statement, not a resolute vow. Going through with the mission would be incomprehensible....
The blinking of her switchboard diverted her from doubt.
“Number, please,” she answered. The gentleman sounded official as he asked for a colonel’s line. “Thank you, sir.” She plugged in the corresponding cord, rang the officer, and connected the call. But before disconnecting herself, she noted Mrs. Langtree lost in her thoughts, the other operators preoccupied.
Vivian let the curtain of her hair fall forward. Hiding her hand, she covered the mouthpiece to mute sounds of the room. She listened carefully as the men traded greetings and celebratory remarks over the victory in Midway. The naval battle was sure to be a turning point, all the newspapers had raved. These men, too, concurred on this, then proceeded to chat at length about a recent night of . . . poker.