Free Chasing Sylvia Beach by Cynthia Morris Page A

brown eyes glistening with tears.
    “What’s your name?” Lily smiled to encourage her.
    “Emilie,” she replied, sniffling.
    “Listen to me, Emilie. My name is Lily and I promise you one thing. I’ll help you find your mommy right now. Please stop crying.” When the girl’s sobs abated, Lily pressed for more information. “Which direction did you come from?”
    Emilie pointed to the end of the street. “That way!”
    Lily held out her hand toward the girl. “Let’s go find your maman!”
    The girl sniffed, wiped her face with her forearm, and took Lily’s hand, pressing it hard. Lily had no idea how to go about finding the girl’s mother, but she had made a promise, and she would keep it.
    Lily tried to get Emilie to retrace her steps. They came to the stop where the child had gotten off the bus. They waited for a bit, Lily prompting the girl to look around to see if she recognized her mother among the passersby. But Emilie did not recognize anyone and grew more upset from trying. Finally Lily decided to retrace the bus route, stop by stop. She optimistically felt sure that they were bound to come upon the girl’s mother. Holding Emilie’s tiny, damp hand, they walked a long time. After nearly an hour, still nothing and the child was growing tired. At a pedestrian crossing, waiting to cross, Emilie began to complain.
    “I’m hungry!”
    Lily looked at her, frowning. It was almost noon. She became aware of her own hunger pains.
    “I know, but we’ll find your mom soon.”
    She couldn’t say anything more, afraid that any more promises would risk not coming true. They continued across the road. But Lily was worried. She would like to be able to buy something for the girl to eat. But she had no money. What could she do? It crushed her that Emilie viewed her as her savior, as exhausted, hungry, and as lost as she herself had been just the day before. She had to do something, but she didn’t know what, so she kept walking, now nearly pulling Emilie behind her.
    Around them, people went along their way, heading home to eat lunch in comfort. Several times, they passed open windows, the smell of a simmering meal wafting out. The feeling of hunger tortured her, and she thought she heard Emilie’s stomach growl in between sniffles. Lily stopped on a small street empty of people. She squatted down and spoke to the girl.
    “Listen, Emilie, you stay here and wait for me a few minutes.” She gently guided the girl to an unoccupied stoop. “I’ll be right back, but don’t move. Understood?” The girl nodded, tucking her skirt under her and crouching on the stoop.
    Lily rose and glanced around. She spied a housewife’s straw basket, overturned and drying on the stoop in an alley. No one was around. It was noon, the only noise the sound of cutlery engaged in the noon meal, accompanied by a song warbling from a window. A mangy brown cat crossed the street, jumped to a windowsill, and disappeared in the opening. Lily acted quickly, grabbing the basket. She paused to wave at Emilie to reassure her. Then she slipped into the adjacent street, stopping in front of a small grocery store. Through the window, she saw it was empty except for a small woman who guarded the cash register. Lily entered, the basket swinging on her arm. A bell jingling above the door announced her entrance. The woman turned, greeting Lily with a short “Bonjour.”
    “Bonjour,” echoed Lily.
    In the tiny shop, shelves of canned food, meticulously stored by category, towered toward the ceiling. Several bags of grain lined one wall, and fruit and vegetables were heaped in crates near the cash register. The woman watched Lily peruse the wares. Lily approached a crate of shiny red apples. She smiled at the shopkeeper, pretending to search for something. She pointed randomly to an object on the top shelf. In her best French accent, she asked to see it.
    “The potato masher?” asked the shopkeeper.
    “Oui,” Lily said.
    “Wait, I’ll get the