Lily
Today was to be the last time.
It had been nearly two weeks since Hannah had brought Matteo and the wounded fighter to the house and since Matteo had asked Lily to meet him. At first, she had thought that she might not go at all. But she had stood him up once in Antwerp all of those years ago. She could not do it again. She would meet him just once. She told herself it would put things to rest between them. She dressed for the meeting without too much care, though going out in the middle of the day in Brussels one still had to look proper, she told herself as she fastened her pearl earrings with shaking hands.
“I’m going shopping at the Old England” she’d announced, referring to the downtown department store. She feared that Hannah would notice her dress, with its trimmer-than-usual bodice, and ask or suspect something, but her cousin was preoccupied. “Please feed Georgi lunch,” she said, hoping Hannah would not be too caught up in her work to remember. She had taken to painting more lately, and while it was good to see her getting back into her art, it often meant she was distracted to the point of unreliability.
She had set out across the square nervously, taking the side streets to the café Matteo had chosen. As she neared, Matteo saw her, and his face broke into a wide smile. Their eyes locked. She knew in that moment that she never should have come.
They walked in the park, strolling beneath the bowed oak trees. The years peeled away, and it was as if nothing had changed. Only when she noticed how low the sun had dipped behind the fountain did she realize how long she had been gone from home.
The deception got easier after that. They met again, and then a third time. Each time Lily found an excuse to go out dressed a bit too nicely. Their meetings were innocent enough, always walks, usually through the Bois de la Cambre, but other days farther afield, like the Parc Reine-Vert, with its panoramic view of the city. Sometimes they talked about life or politics or their dreams that had not yet come true. Other times they strolled in silence, simply content to be in one another’s company.
Lily had thought that by seeing Matteo just once she might ease the nagging feelings that had plagued her all these years, like scratching an itch. Or at least she had tried to tell herself as much. Instead, the itch had grown worse, demanding attention. She needed the visits now, like air or water. She found herself forgoing other things to meet him and lying to Nik to get out.
Nothing untoward had happened between them. A long look, a casual graze of the hand. But there was an unspoken intimacy between them. She was cheating with Matteo as surely as if they had made love under the trees where they walked (a thought she had shamefully entertained more than once before hurriedly chasing it away). And by cheating with Matteo, she was betraying not just Nik but Georgi as well. She came home from their walks feeling soiled and dirty. She felt certain that Nik or Hannah would be able to tell that she had done wrong. But no one seemed to notice, and so the secret festered within her.
And with every visit, the connection between her and Matteo seemed to grow, taking them toward the inevitable. The other day, she nearly slipped on a wet patch of pavement, and he reached out for her so that she did not fall. She took his arm to steady herself. And she did not let go. Instead, she slipped her hand into his, and their fingers laced. His arm circled her waist drawing her closer. With that one gesture, desire rose up and crashed down upon her like a wave. She saw then the full danger of what they were doing. She pulled away. It needed to stop.
She had not gone to their last meeting because she did not want to do something she would regret. But that did not erase the thoughts or feelings. And it did not stop him. He had sent a note to the house, unsigned, with just a single word: Why? She would meet him one last time, she decided, to tell him that it was over. He deserved that much. Today would be the end of the charade.
The rain began to pelt harder now as she approached, and she put up her umbrella to shield herself against it. She saw Matteo across the square, waiting at their arranged meeting place. His expression turned to joy when he saw her, as it always did. She was afraid that she would not be able to leave him, but remembering her resolve and her loyalty to her family, she steeled herself and started toward him.
Matteo’s smile faded as she neared, and she thought that perhaps he somehow knew the grim message she was coming to deliver. But then she saw it, and she knew that his concern had nothing to do with her feelings.
There were two policemen standing between them. And they were looking right at her.
Lily’s breath caught. The police were everywhere these days, and there was no reason to think they were looking for her. Then one of the policemen started in her direction, his focus unmistakable, and the other quickly followed. What could she have done to draw their attention? She turned sideways abruptly, looking in vain for an alternate destination. But the market stalls were too far, seemingly kilometers instead of meters away, and the shops were closing. Her sudden gesture had drawn the attention of the police, who continued toward her.
“Papers,” one of the officers commanded.
It was a perfunctory check, a formality, she told herself. The targeted way in which they had approached her, though, told her it was something more. She calmly reached into her clutch purse for her identification card and passed it over.
“Lily Abels?” one of the men asked. The second man scanned a list that he carried and nodded, as if confirming what they already knew. She was stunned. For the first time in her life, she was seized with the impulse to deny her own name. How did they know her? She was quite certain that she had never seen these men before in her life. Yet something had drawn their attention to her.
“You are under arrest. You must come with us.”
“But this is preposterous. I’m a Belgian!” Until now, only the foreign Jews had been taken. Why was she being treated like one of them? “There must be some kind of mistake. I’m sure if you call my husband...” Although she had come here to see Matteo, it was Nik’s status in which she sought protection. “He’s a professor at the university.” Was, she reminded herself silently. Nik had been stripped of his title and with it any influence or import that might have helped in the situation.
“You’re being charged with sedition,” the first officer said. There had to be a mistake. She tended to her son, went to the shops, worked as a nurse in Nik’s clinic when she was able. She had not engaged in any sort of treason or anything at all beyond caring for her family.
Across the square, Matteo watched with shock and horror. He took a step toward her, as if planning to intervene. Her eyes met his, and she shook her head slightly, willing him not to. Matteo was impetuous and probably known to the police himself for his work with the resistance. His involvement in this would only make things worse and get them both arrested.
The policeman reached for her arm. “One moment, please,” she begged. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Needing a handkerchief, Lily reached into her purse. It fell to the ground, contents spilling. She was too petrified to bend down and get it. In other circumstances, she felt certain, a passerby might have stopped to help. But no one did, and her personal belongings remained splayed on the pavement for all to see.
Beyond the terror of the arrest, what Lily felt most in that moment was shame. People usually looked away from the Germans, averting their eyes so as not to get caught up in the trouble. Now it seemed that everyone, all of the pedestrians and patrons at the cafés, were staring at her and the melee of which she was a part. What had this fine lady done to be arrested? Lily lowered her head. Suddenly she was nothing but a castoff, someone to be avoided and shunned. Everything she had worked for her whole life, everything she had tried to be, disappeared.
Of course, social propriety was not her real concern, and all thought of it faded instantly as the policeman grabbed her roughly by the arm and led her from the square. She was being taken from the street, might never be heard from again. She’d heard stories of it. Part of her wanted to believe that it was all a misunderstanding that would be cleared up. She would be home by nightfall and with an apology from the chief of police. But if she was not... Her mind did the gymnastics of a mother reshuffling her deck of responsibilities. Hannah would be home with Georgi now and would see to dinner and bedtime, while Nik went searching for her. Only how would he know? He would think she was late, but then he would grow worried. Other practical concerns intruded as well, such as the bag she had packed in case of emergency, which sat uselessly beneath her bed at home. She had nothing with her that she would need if this took more than a few hours.
They reached the edge of the square and a waiting police car. Seeing the open door, Lily’s terror doubled. She had never been in a police car in her entire life. But there was no other choice. She shook off the policeman’s grip, insisting upon the dignity of getting in the car herself and ducking her head carefully so as not to hit it.
“Lily! Lily!” She heard Matteo calling her name over and over now, his voice high-pitched and keening, as she slid inside. She could not bear to look up. Then as the door closed, the sound was gone.