Nightfall Over Shanghai (11 page)

I don't think I've ever seen a surgeon smile through an entire surgery,” Franz remarked.

“How can you tell behind my mask?” Sunny chuckled.

“Your eyes, my darling, they're beaming.”

Sunny tied another loop of catgut across the abdominal wound. Otto Berg had been so stoic about his ruptured appendix that his wife brought him to the hospital only after she had caught him surreptitiously vomiting in the alley. Sunny had already closed the incision effectively, but she had been taught that, when it came to surgical closure, redundancy was always safer, so she added one more stitch for good measure. Only once she had tied it off did she address her husband's observation. “There are few things more gratifying than a straightforward appendectomy, especially when performing it before my old teacher.” She laughed. “You don't enjoy operating with your student anymore, Dr. Adler?”

“Very much so, but you're hardly my student. You are my colleague.”

“When it comes to surgery, Herr Doktor, I will always be your student.”

Franz nodded to the bucket that held the patient's excised
appendix, which resembled the blackened tip of a burned breakfast sausage. “In this case, the pupil might have exceeded her master. I think you could have removed Herr Berg's appendix in your sleep.”

“You can stop with the flattery, Dr. Adler,” Sunny said. “After all, I am a married woman.”

Berta, who sat at the head of the bed performing the duties of anesthetist, sighed. “You two,” she said with an amused shake of her head.

Sunny looked over at her husband. “Besides, I have every reason to smile. The hospital is operating again. We have anesthetic, at least for the time being. Donald will be discharged today. My husband is home. And best of all, our family—our
growing
family—is healthy and intact.”

“A true blessing,
kayn ayn horeh
,” Berta said, uttering the Yiddish expression that Esther also favoured, which Sunny understood to be the equivalent of
Don't jinx it.
“Although, as I heard it, it was a very close brush yesterday,” Berta added.

Franz cleared his throat. “Well, yes, but Mr. Ghoya has allowed me to come home.”

Berta shook her head. “No, not that awful man. I was speaking of—”

“That's all in the past, Frau Abeldt.” Franz cut Berta off with a withering glance. “None of this is appropriate discussion for the operating theatre.”

Sunny turned suspiciously to the head nurse, a squint replacing her smile. “What happened yesterday, Berta?”

Berta glanced over at Franz, her eyes fearful and confused. “I … I merely meant that it seems as though Dr. Adler returned just yesterday.”

Sunny dropped the needle driver onto the surgical tray. She looked from Franz to Berta and back. “What is it? What really went on yesterday?”

Franz held her gaze for a moment and then, defeated, exhaled. “Not here, Sunny.” He motioned to the patient, who had begun to stir on the table. “Berta, would you mind bandaging the wound if Sunny and I were to step out?”

“Of course, Dr. Adler.” Her voice sounded still flustered. “I will take care of it. Go ahead, please.”

Sunny followed Franz into the hallway, where they both paused to drop their gowns and masks into the laundry hamper before continuing on to the staff room. Franz closed the door behind them, isolating them in the cramped, stale-smelling room. “Yesterday, on Chusan Road, I was accosted by von Puttkamer and a few of his cronies.”

Sunny clutched the back of a chair. “What do you mean ‘accosted'?”

“They showed up out of the blue. Von Puttkamer said he needed to speak to me urgently.” He went on to describe the standoff with the Nazis.

As shocked as Sunny felt, she also suspected that Franz was downplaying the details for her benefit. “So were it not for that Japanese soldier, you would already be dead by now?”

“Darling, that is perhaps a bit dramatic.”

“What else do you think they had in mind for you?” she snapped. “Schnapps and schnitzel?”

“I still have the photographs from their attempted attack on the synagogue and the hospital. Von Puttkamer knows that if he were ever to try—”

She cut him off with a firm shake of her head. “You …” The
words lodged in her throat. When she spoke again, her voice was hoarse and wounded. “You and Hannah weren't even planning to tell me about this?”

“I was, yes, eventually.” Franz reached out to touch her shoulder, but she leaned back and shook off the contact. “With Hannah's birthday dinner, and the Zunders coming, I thought it best not to upset you right now.”

“Oh, Franz, can you not see? It's so much more upsetting that you thought it was best to hide this from me.”

His expression remained resolute. “What good could have come of telling you, Sunny? To make you worry over something else you have no control over?”

“It's about trust, Franz. We promised to share everything, good or bad. I learned that lesson last year with the Underground. I thought …”

He stared at her helplessly, and then his expression turned apologetic. “I should have told you.” He reached for her hand. “I'm sorry, darling.”

Sunny pulled away from his touch. “What about the next time?”

“If von Puttkamer comes back?”

“
When
he comes back.”

Franz nodded. “As you can tell from Berta's loose lips, the rumours have already spread through the ghetto. This morning, a group of youths from the synagogue followed me to work. My own bodyguards, apparently.”

She shook her head. “A gaggle of unarmed boys won't be able to protect you from them.”

“I'll be more careful,” he muttered.

“How, Franz? By hiding inside all day long, like Simon has to?”

“That might be a little extreme. We will think of something. Until then, I'll keep the boys from the synagogue close.”

There was a knock at the door. Sunny opened it to find Father Diego standing beside Lieutenant Lewis, dressed again as Brother Dominic, except this time he wore the hood of his brown habit down. Although he looked slightly more robust than he had on the day of his arrival, his complexion was still wan, despite his enthusiastic grin. “I am checking out today, Sunny,” he said in his flat Midwestern accent. “I wanted to stop by to thank you again. For saving my life and all.”

“I only removed fragments of shrapnel,” Sunny said. “Anyone with a scalpel and forceps could have done the same for you.”

“Well, I for one echo the sentiment of my young Franciscan friend.” Diego turned to Franz. “Your wife's humility is absolutely impenetrable. Does she ever take credit for anything?”

Franz shot her a cautious but tender glance. “Precious little, Father.”

Ignoring the other two, Sunny summoned a smile for the lieutenant. “How do you feel on your feet, Donald?”

“Kind of like I just pulled my plane out of a barrel roll and a pitchback.” The young pilot laughed self-consciously. “I can't really complain, though. A lot of the guys back in the squadron would kill to be in my shoes. After all, I'm on my way to live at a cathouse.”

Diego cast Lewis a look that was more amused affection than disapproval. “You will not be living there, Donald. Only a temporary stopover.”

“How much longer before you'll get Donald out of Shanghai, Father?” Sunny asked.

“Days. A week or two at the most.”

Lewis grinned again. “I'm sure I can hold out there a week or
two. As long as my wife doesn't find out. I think she'd almost prefer it if I were put in a Jap POW camp. Rosemary's got a real jealous streak.”

“No doubt Rosemary would prefer most to have you home, and we will get you there,” Father Diego promised.

“For as long as you stay in Shanghai, I can look after your wounds and dressings,” Sunny said.

Lewis grimaced. “You're going to come to visit me at a brothel?”

Sunny laughed softly. “I know the Comfort Home well. My best friend works there.”

The incredulity on the lieutenant's face intensified. “Your best friend is a …?”

Sunny didn't flinch. “She is one of the most amazing people you will ever meet.”

Diego grinned. “One does meet the most extraordinary people only in the most extraordinary of places.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Sunny said, then turned back to the pilot. “But Jia-Li has been through so much of late. She is not herself these days.”

“What happened to her?” Lewis asked.

“That is a very long story,” Sunny said as she turned for the door. “And it's time for us to leave.”

“
Us?
” Franz folded his arms across his chest. “Sunny, you're not planning to go with them?”

“I have to speak to Jia-Li and Chih-Nii.”

“But, darling, what if …”

“The lieutenant and I are discovered en route,” Diego finished Franz's sentence.

“You're not coming with us. No way, no how.” Lewis shook his head adamantly. “It's a terrible idea, Sunny. I would never fly wing to wing on a midday sortie into enemy territory.”

***

In the end, they reached a compromise: Sunny rode in a separate rickshaw from Hongkew to Frenchtown. Lewis and Diego were already waiting in the Comfort Home's sumptuous sitting room. Chih-Nii stepped through the doorway in a shimmering black cheongsam with a pink fringe. Sunny couldn't help but be reminded of the dancing hippopotami in the Disney movie
Fantasia
, which she had seen only weeks before the attack on Pearl Harbor had cut Shanghai off from its supply of Hollywood films. But the expression on Chih-Nii's rouged face looked anything but amused. “You are certainly not the first two clergymen to darken the Comfort Home's doors,” the madam announced. “I hope you are not both planning to stay.”

Diego raised his hands. “I would be honoured to remain here, madam. To teach and to learn. But alas, my commitments elsewhere are manifold.”

“I am not exactly sure what you could teach us, Father,” Chih-Nii grunted.

“To welcome God into your heart, I would hope.”

“I am not convinced God could afford my prices.” Chih-Nii smiled thinly. “But I have little doubt there is much you could learn here.” She turned to Sunny. “Ah, there's my exotic buttercup. The one who delivers me no end of complications. Why, Soon Yi, if I didn't love you so …”

“Our friend won't be staying long,” Sunny said sheepishly, aware of the magnitude of the favour she was asking.

Chih-Nii interlocked her fingers. “A week or two at the most is what I have been promised.”

“If that.” The priest stepped forward. “I am Father Diego. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Chih-Nii ignored his outstretched hand. Unperturbed, Diego indicated the lieutenant. “Allow me to introduce Brother Dominic.”

Lewis bowed his head. “I am most grateful for your hospitality, ma'am.”

Chih-Nii sized the lieutenant up with a calculating eye and then snorted. “My own brother would look more convincing as a man of the cloth. And he's addicted to the pipe.”

Just then, Jia-Li coasted into the room, a cigarette holder dangling from her lips. “Ah, newcomers,” she said in English. “Tell me, are you clients or fugitives—or perhaps both?”

“Careful,” Chih-Nii snapped in Mandarin.

“I always am, Mama,” Jia-Li replied airily as she drifted over to greet Sunny with a hug that left the scent of jasmine and tobacco in its wake. “Sister, I've missed you.”

“Me too,
băo bèi.
”

“Is it true? Franz is home with you?” Jia-Li giggled. “That ridiculous little tyrant really did release him? Even without sampling our special soup?”

“It's all true.” Sunny was bursting to tell her best friend of Franz's run-in with the Nazis and how he had tried to hide it from her, but she realized now wasn't the time. “Jia-Li, this is Don—Brother Dominic.”

Jia-Li floated over to Lewis and wrapped him in a quick hug. He winced in pain but then smiled shyly, appearing as rattled as most men were when first encountering Jia-Li. “Ah, our American pilot. A true war hero,” she gushed in English as she released him. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Shut your mouth,” Chih-Nii snarled in Mandarin. “Ears are everywhere. Are you trying to get us killed?”

“Never, Mama.” Jia-Li reached out to stroke the madam's face.

Chih-Nii batted her hand away. “Take them downstairs,” she ordered.

“It would be my great honour.” Jia-Li bowed theatrically and turned to lead them out of the room.

Sunny was about to follow Diego and Lewis out when Chih-Nii grabbed her by the elbow. “A quick word, little one?”

After the others had disappeared down the hallway, Chih-Nii interlocked her fingers and rested her arms across her protruding belly. “I am deeply concerned.”

“The priest swears it will only be a matter of days—”

“That is an entirely separate concern.” Chih-Nii cut her off with a terse wave. “I am speaking now of our mutual friend.”

“You don't think Jia-Li is on the pipe again, do you?” Sunny asked. Despite Jia-Li's erratic behaviour, her pupils hadn't appeared constricted.

“Perhaps yes, perhaps no.” Chih-Nii's shrug was difficult to read. “What I do know is that she is becoming reckless. Dangerously so.”

“Like the way she was talking about the Brother's true identity?”

“In English too!” Chih-Nii shook her head, disgusted. “That is merely the tip of the iceberg.”

“What else?”

“There was an incident.”

The hairs on Sunny's neck bristled. “What sort of incident, Mama?”

Chih-Nii considered the question for a moment, then her lips twisted into a placating smile. “Ah, but that's all in the past now. Suffice it to say, I am no longer convinced we can trust our golden orchid or her judgment.”