Her eyes snapped open. Sunlight flooded her brain, and she winced. Slowly the details of an unfamiliar room swam into view. No, not unfamiliar. She was in a hotel room, in Calcutta, sharing the room with . . . She jerked upright, all remnants of sleep sliding away.
Her gaze swept the room. Nathan was standing beside her bed, dressed for the day. Brother Marcus stood just inside the door, and . . . Oh Lord.
She snatched the sheet up to her neck, even as the bearded missionary flushed and tried to look anywhere but at her.
“Genie, where is Lavinia?” Nathan’s tone, as frigid as a snow-fed mountain stream, yanked her attention back to him.
Her heart thudded painfully as another peek around the room told her what she had already guessed. Lavinia was gone.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know. She was here last night.”
“I’m fully aware of that. I was the one, after all, who walked you back to your room after dinner. Remember?” His thinly veiled sarcasm did nothing to lessen her panic.
How could she have missed the girl leaving? She blinked away the sudden burn of tears. Yes, she had been tired, but Brother Marcus had entrusted her with the safety of his sister. She had failed him. Honor demanded that she try to remedy the situation.
She leaned forward, reaching for her blouse lying folded at the end of the bed. “I’ll go look for her. If you’ll give me a moment to dress—”
“There’s no need, Miss Baker.” Marcus focused his gaze on the opposite wall. “She won’t get far without money or passport. But thank you.”
“Perhaps she was hungry and went to the hotel’s restaurant,” she said, not quite seeing what passports had to do with anything. Her brain sorted through all the possibilities. “Or maybe she’s in the communal shower area. We should check the lobby, too.”
Nathan and Marcus shared a look. That’s when she realized they were keeping something from her. Something important.
“We can check those areas if it will make you feel better,” Marcus said, his gaze returning to the wall. “However, knowing she cannot succeed without the right documents, really there is nothing to do but wait until she realizes it as well.”
“She’s trying to find a way back.” The statement felt right the moment she said it. Then another worse thought occurred to her, and her stomach twisted. “You didn’t sedate her yesterday merely because she was afraid of flying. There was something else.”
Marcus held out his hands in a silent plea for understanding. “We had to leave, and she was being unreasonable. To stay was no longer safe for any of us. So many of our friends had already lost their lives to the war. I couldn’t allow her to die, too.”
Of course not. Genie’s father had said much the same thing when he had ordered her out of China. The difference was she had listened and ultimately obeyed the edict, no matter how much it had hurt. Lavinia had apparently been of a different mind and had fought back. And the result? Both of them were now in India against their will, caught between the immutable forces of men and war.
Or maybe not. Lavinia was at least still fighting for what she wanted. Disconcerted by the thought, she dropped her gaze to the bedspread.
“The consulate will be open until three,” Nathan observed to Brother Marcus. “Between the two of us, we can check the airport and harbor. Eugenia can wait here in case she comes back.”
“No,” Marcus said sharply. “The risk is too great. I won’t be responsible for either of you being arrested.”
Arrested? Startled, Genie looked up.
Nathan waved his hand dismissively. “I care less about that than what we discussed last night.”
“And that will be only as the Lord ordains.” Marcus turned to leave, and then paused. “However, if she’s still missing when you get back from the consulate, then you can help me look.”
“What’s this about being arrested?” she asked after Marcus had left.
Nathan shot her an irritated look, and it occurred to her that he, unlike Brother Marcus, seemed to have no problem seeing her half-undressed. In fact, her near nakedness seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever.
“Turns out we’re in India illegally because we don’t have visas, a fact that should have prevented us from buying airline tickets in the first place.”
“No one asked us for them yesterday.”
“Probably because we deplaned with the flight crew, and the customs agent missed us. Brother Marcus alerted me to the matter last night when we were discussing train tickets. I meant to tell you, but the little performance you and Lieutenant Younan put on at the door distracted me.”
She ignored his dig, a glimmer of hope lifting her spirits. “You mean if the police catch us without the right paperwork, they might send us back to China? I have to say, I wouldn’t mind such an outcome.”
“Genie, be reasonable. Suppose we’re returned to Kunming, what then? Do you think your father will welcome you back with open arms? The country is in imminent danger of being overrun by the Japanese. Or did you forget there is a war going on?”
“How could I forget?” she snapped back even as her chest constricted sharply with the reminder. Indeed, she would count herself lucky if she could forget, even for a blessed second, that grave danger stalked not only her father and Zhenzhu and her village, but also the two CNAC pilots she had met yesterday who were likely already on their way back to Lashio. And Ted was probably on his way to Cairo to pick up another warplane.
“Well, you managed to forget your responsibility for Mrs. Schmidt,” Nathan said as he headed for the door. “Hurry and get dressed. I’ll be waiting in the lobby.”
Silent recriminations filled the room as the door banged shut behind him. She glanced dejectedly at the dented pillow beside her. How had she missed the widow leaving? Granted, Genie had been exhausted from the long day of travel, but she wasn’t usually a heavy sleeper.
Guilt and self-blame swamped her. To keep from being pulled under, she focused on an image of the widow safely returned, whole and hearty. Holding on to that fragile thread of hope, she got out of bed and quickly dressed. As she coiled her long braid on the back of her head, she expanded her prayers to include the safety of every person she knew. Then, mouth full of hairpins, she silently added another prayer, while pinning her hair into place, that she would see them all again. A final prayer that such a gift would be granted sooner rather than later was added as she checked her appearance in the mirror. Satisfied that Nathan could find nothing to object to, and with her Holy Trinity of concerns addressed, she took a deep steadying breath and left the room.
The early-morning humidity already had her perspiring by the time she reached the lobby. Nathan stood near the front desk. The lobby wasn’t nearly as crowded as it had been the night before; still, almost every chair was taken, some by sleeping soldiers, their legs stretched out, their uniforms rumpled as if they’d been there all night. Guilt nicked her.
Yes, she was a woman, and it would have been unseemly for her to sleep in the lobby. And yes, Lavinia had been in a vulnerable state, so it made sense that Ted had wanted them to have his room. Yet these men sleeping out here, these men who were risking their lives to push back the demon called war that threatened them all, surely they were more deserving of a soft bed than she was.
“Good, you’re here.” Nathan gave her outfit an approving glance before setting off for the front doors.
That he didn’t even bother to see if she followed him sparked a slow burn of resentment. An instant comparison to Ted’s courteous behavior the night before was no less damning. Thank goodness Nathan had decided he no longer wanted to marry her.
Dazzling sunlight blinded her the second she stepped outside. The acrid stench of garbage, exhaust, and unwashed bodies stung her nose, and she fought the urge to hold her breath. While the chaos and smell of the city had been present the night before, that seemed a pale shadow compared to what assaulted her now.
Nathan took her elbow and pulled her, still half-blind, onto the sidewalk. She s
truggled to keep her feet as he guided her through the throng of humanity. No longer separated from the populace by the windows of a taxi, she was struck by the diversity. Here were native men in their loose-fitting white garments; there, thin dark-eyed women were draped in long jewel-like sashes. Western-garbed businessmen—British and Indian—hurried to their appointments. And seemingly everywhere were military personnel in their various uniforms and caps.
What she didn’t see was anyone who might be Lavinia. The few Caucasian women who were out and about wore knee-length dresses or skirts, with small hats perched on their heads and purses that matched their short-heeled shoes. It astonished her that Nathan and Marcus weren’t more concerned over the frail girl’s disappearance. To be out here alone, with no passport and no visa to save her from prison, was a terrifying prospect. If Li Ming had been the one to go missing, Genie would have been scouring the crowded sidewalks, searching everywhere, frantic with worry.
“How far to the consulate?” she asked, an idea taking form. She practically had to shout the question to be heard over the growl of grinding truck gears as they slowed to avoid both animals and people spilling off the curbs.
“The man at the desk said it was about a mile.” Nathan wiped the perspiration from his face with a handkerchief.
“Shouldn’t we report Lavinia’s disappearance to them? She’s an American citizen, after all. At least I think Brother Marcus said they were both from the States.”
He pulled her to a stop to let a streetcar pass. She gazed at the humming cable overhead and was thrown back in time. For a moment, memories of what felt like an impossibly long-ago childhood in Peking drove thoughts of visas and missing widows from her head. Then the train disappeared down the block, and her worries returned with a vengeance.
“Sister Lavinia’s disappearance is none of our business,” Nathan said as he took her by the elbow and guided her forward. “Should Brother Marcus feel the need to file a report, he knows where to go. He was with me when I asked directions.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from arguing, knowing it would be pointless. With growing anxiety she searched both sides of the street for a glimpse of a slight woman in a long skirt. It was harder than she would have guessed. Everything about Calcutta seemed to have been designed to overwhelm the senses. Beggars with open sores sat along the walls, while well-dressed businessmen hurried blindly by. Modern trucks and cars fought for space on the streets, zooming around horse-drawn carts and rickshaws. Dogs fought in the gutters for garbage, often with bone-thin children in rags. Above them, the skyline was a jarring mix of Greek and Roman temple facades and fanciful, multi-tiered buildings with open balconies plastered with colorful advertisements. The lettering was all swirls and curlicues, the meanings rendered slightly ominous by her inability to decipher them.
Oh, Lavinia, where are you? Did the widow feel as lost and disoriented by all the chaos as Genie did?
“You would think Calcutta would be more civilized after two hundred years of British influence,” Nathan said as he steered her past a native wearing nothing but a loincloth and white paint. The man smiled at her, exposing toothless gums.
“Maybe it doesn’t wish to be civilized.” She eyed a policeman nonchalantly diverting traffic around a large cow lying in the middle of the street.
“Let’s hope the rest of India isn’t as bad.” Nathan tightened his grip on her elbow in preparation to cross the street. They dashed between cars, earning several honks and shouted curses, and then up the steps of an unpretentious-looking building. The only thing that suggested this might be their destination was the Stars and Stripes flying out front.
Inside, the air was relatively cooler, a fact for which she was exceedingly grateful as perspiration snaked between her breasts. A single electric fan in the corner of the uncarpeted, sparsely furnished reception area labored to create a breeze. Plucking her damp blouse off her skin, she drifted over to a large bulletin board covered with official-looking notices.
At first glance, they seemed innocuous enough, typed simply on official letterhead. It wasn’t until she read them that a curious light-headedness stole over her. There, between the notices of immigration requirements and ways to stay safe, was the US declaration of war on Japan dated December 8, 1941, and a second declaration, this time against Germany and Italy, dated December 11. Her sense of unreality deepened as she read the words, “To bring the conflict to a successful termination, all the resources of the country are hereby pledged.”
All the resources. She knew from the war in China that meant not just money or equipment or raw materials, but also the people, men in particular. Young men like the ones she’d met in Kunming. Like Ted. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe.
Nathan rang a bell for service, and Genie turned just as a clerk appeared from the back. Perhaps not surprisingly, the fellow was in shirt sleeves, his coat lost to the heat and humidity, and his dark tie was loosened slightly. Friendly blue eyes peered at them from behind wire-rimmed glasses, his thinning brown hair slicked back off his forehead.
“Well, hello. Americans looking to leave the country and in need of assistance?”
“How did you know?” Genie asked in surprise, and then her pulse leaped. “Did someone come in earlier with the same problem? A young woman, perhaps?”
“Eugenia, please.” Nathan shot her a quelling look before turning to the clerk. “You’re correct on both accounts. Any chance you can help us?”
The clerk gave Genie an odd look as he bent to open one of the file drawers. “You’re the first people to come in today, but inquiries have been steady. Almost everyone is in a hurry to leave the country after the new travel advisory.”
“I heard there’s a US troop ship headed to New York later this week,” Nathan said. “One that is taking civilians aboard.”
Genie tried not to stare at him. This was all news to her.
“Ah. I’m afraid that sold out within weeks of being announced.” The clerk pulled out a small stack of papers. “But I do have brochures for several ships headed to Great Britain in the next couple of months.”
Nathan shook his head. “I’m afraid I told Miss Baker’s father I would return her to her family in the US, so Britain is not an option. Is there any way to see if a ticket becomes available, perhaps due to illness or changed circumstances?”
“You could take your chances and show up on the day of departure. But all your documents would have to be in order.”
“Which brings me to our second problem: Miss Baker here is in dire need of a passport and any necessary visas to make her stay here in India legal.”
As Nathan explained the situation, the clerk stopped smiling. Several times he interrupted to have Genie verify the information. Then he told them to wait and disappeared into the back offices. Fifteen long minutes ticked by, during which she was sure the Indian police were going to burst through the door any second and cart her away.
Then the clerk reappeared. He led them down a narrow hallway lined with file cabinets and then showed them into an office. An older man in his midforties stood as they entered. Silver streaked his temples, and his face was deeply lined by the sun and responsibility.
Two electric fans buzzed softly as they cooled the room, a clear sign of rank.
“Welcome. I’m Robert Buell, US Consul for Calcutta.” Mr. Buell gave them a brief smile and gestured toward two leather-upholstered chairs across the desk from him. His manner, while gracious, also held an edge of impatience, as if his mind were on something else. “How can I help you?”
While Nathan explained their situation for a second time, Genie eyed the large framed maps of India and the world hanging between the windows. Like her father, she adored maps. China was easy to pick out. Less easy was her province. She squinted, trying to read the tiny print on the world map, curious whether the country next to Burma said “Siam” or “Thailand.” Did Sister Lavinia really believe she could travel across two countries on her own?
“Are you and Miss Baker planning to get married before leaving the country?” the consul asked. Genie’s attention immediately recentered on the men’s conversation.
“Oh, we’re not engaged,” Nathan answered smoothly as the consul made some notes on a piece of paper in front of him. “Merely traveling together.”
She blinked. Was Nathan aware of how scandalous his response made their relationship sound?
The consul’s eyebrows rose slightly as he glanced up at her. “Miss Baker?”
“Mr. Sterling is escorting me—at my father’s request—to my aunt’s house in California,” she clarified, and then asked, in case she’d missed it, “Is it true there’s a ship leaving for New York soon?”
“There is.” The consul sat back and considered her for a moment. “And as you can imagine, with the Japanese approaching, every available berth sold out in a matter of weeks. However—and I’m not sure I should even mention it—I was talking to an American businessman earlier this week who wasn’t going to be able to use his ticket. And to be clear, he only had the one.”
“Which means one of us would have to stay behind, assuming the gentleman hasn’t already given it away.” She glanced uncertainly at Nathan, the prospect of perhaps having a chance to return home to China skittering along her nerves.
“One is not a problem,” Nathan said without hesitation. He held up a finger to shush her. “Miss Baker will take it, assuming it’s still available. Meanwhile, what about our travel papers?”
“Since the gentleman was counting on me to resell it, the ticket is available. I’ll have my assistant handle the transaction. The travel visas you can probably get today, depending on the workload of our British counterparts. Issuing a new passport, of course, takes more time.” Mr. Buell paused and drummed his fingers on his desk as he considered. “However, under the circumstances, and with no name changes, it might be possible to procure before the ship sails. Though everything is taking longer with the war.”
Nathan nodded. “Understood.”
The consul’s gaze fell on her again, and she fought the urge to squirm.
A Girl Divided Page 15