The Librarian Spy(100)
Ava looked at the thread on her chair once more and pulled at it with the pinch of her forefinger and thumb. She didn’t want to know if Lukas—Dieter or whoever—was dead or not. Only that he could no longer interfere with Sarah and Noah and their journey to America.
“There’s another reason I’m telling you.” James sat forward. “Ava, I care for—”
“Don’t.” The word erupted from her mouth before she could stop it, but she was glad for her quick response. She didn’t want his platitudes.
“It’s why I fought to rescue Sarah and Noah,” James said. “My boss insisted if it was to be done, I had to go myself since the plans for today were already in motion. Ava, I did that for you.”
She forced herself to look at him. “You did that for you—to alleviate your own guilt by giving me something I wanted in return for your deceptive betrayal.”
He returned her stare and a muscle worked in his jaw. “That is only partially true.”
“It’s enough.” The energy drained from her, sapped from the ache threatening to consume her. She didn’t want to have this conversation, be subjected to his explanations anymore. Too much had already been said. “Please leave.”
He hesitated. “Ava...”
She shook her head. Finally, he rose and slowly walked away from her. He paused before turning down the narrow hall leading to her front door. “Your brother will be fine, Ava,” he said gently. “From everything you’ve told me about him, I have a strong idea of the type of soldier he is. And that man always comes home. He’ll be safe.”
Ava lowered her head into her hands, refusing to let her tears fall.
James’s footsteps echoed down the hall and the door clicked closed behind him.
Silence bathed her, but it did not bring the relief she sought. There was an emptiness left in James’s wake, raw and cavernous.
In the end, he had soothed the very concerns she sought him out for. He knew her so very, very well and apparently, she did not know him at all.
However, now was not the time for tears or embracing her hurt. Not when Sarah and Noah still needed new tickets to New York. The American Export Lines office would be swarming with refugees desperate to flee Lisbon on the off chance the Allies botched the attack and the war swung back into Nazi favor.
For Ava’s part, she could not even allow herself to consider the battle in Normandy failing, not when she knew what that would mean for Daniel. And despite James’s comforting words, she could not clear her heart of worry until she knew with certainty that her brother was safe.
God help them all through the hell of this war.
TWENTY-SIX
Elaine
“You are very lucky, mademoiselle.” The doctor lifted his heavy brows, indicating the seriousness of Elaine’s situation. He gestured to his open book where a black-and-white sketch revealed the innards of the human torso and tapped the point of his pen against the liver, leaving a small dot of black ink.
“This is where you were struck,” he went on. “Thankfully, too low to do any real damage. The bullet missed your heart and lungs, barely skimming over your liver before going straight through. Truly a miracle.”
Elaine stared at the drawing, numb.
The doctor’s eyes were soft brown and kind. “You are very lucky,” he said again.
It might have been funny if the laugh did not stick in her throat with a barely suppressed sob.
Yes, how lucky she was to be spared an immediate death so she could be slowly dismembered by the Gestapo, not only in body but also in soul, her secrets peeled away.
Already they had visited her in the last week, refusing to allow her to speak to a doctor again until she gave the names and addresses of Resistance members. She said nothing as she attempted to will her bandaged injuries into mortal wounds. The nurses had not tolerated such tactics and badgered the Milice until finally the doctor was allowed to come to her bedside, to explain her injuries.
“The other bullets struck you in the calf and at the hip, just missing your bone.” He shrugged with a smile. “Lucky, non?”
She swallowed the invective rising in her throat. It burned on its path down, like sour bile. Her focus shifted to the ache of her wounds, testing her weakness against its pain, weighing it to see how much more she might be able to withstand at the hand of her enemy.
Days before the warehouse was attacked, a woman arrested by the Gestapo had thrown herself from the top floor of the building they took her to for interrogation. She knew she would not be able to handle their torture without giving up her comrades, and so she bravely chose death.
Elaine’s gaze wandered to the window where a cheerful rose garden mocked her. She had been allowed out the previous day for fresh air and sunshine. The first floor.
How lucky, came the bitter thought.
“There is more,” the doctor continued.
Mutely, she turned to face him as he pulled a large brown bundle of cloth from his leather bag and set it on her bed. She frowned and looked up to him once more.
“You have friends who would see you recuperate in a more ideal location.” He set his age-spotted hand over the cloth. “I admit, I am a foolish old man.” He shrugged his thin shoulders again, his eyes twinkling. “I sometimes forget to lock the door. That is how it is when one gets old.”