The Librarian Spy(104)
Plato said courage was knowing what not to fear. In looking back on her time in Lisbon, Ava realized now that wisdom was also knowing what to fear. In the face of what so many others had endured, flying was such a pale, petty thing.
The morning of her flight came upon her quickly. She was ready with her small apartment neatly packed into two suitcases and the copy of Little Women carefully tucked among her folded dresses.
She pushed out the door of her building and nearly ran headlong into a man. With a gasp she drew herself upright, having come face-to-face with James for the first time since his confession.
“Ava.” His blue-green eyes locked on hers, and her heart squeezed with more feeling than she wished.
His lean frame had filled out in the months since they’d seen one another. Beneath a gray fedora, his hair was freshly trimmed, and his skin glowed with good health. He put his hand out to stop her from leaving. “Please let me speak.”
Once before she’d told him to go away and had spent the time since regretting the decision. She would not make the same mistake again.
“Have you been waiting out here for me?” she asked in surprise.
He gave a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t miss a final opportunity to talk.”
No matter had fully she thought she quashed all sense of hope, it now flared to life, foolish and eager, revived by his mere presence. For all she knew, he was there to apologize one last time.
She tensed, bracing herself for what he intended to say.
“I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket, the contents of which gave a slight rattle.
She held out her hand and was surprised to find a set of aged, yellowing dice fall into her palm, their dyed black grooves chipped in several places. They were still warm from the heat of his body.
“For luck,” he said. “My father was a fighter pilot in the Great War and gave them to me to keep me safe. I know you’re flying out today and I thought...”
“You thought it would give me confidence on the plane,” she said with a smile at the generosity of his gift.
He nodded.
“I’m not as afraid of flying as I once was.” She extended her hand to give the dice back.
“All the same, I’d like to know you’re safe.” He did not reach for the dice. He wasn’t even looking at her hand, but at her, studying her face as if he expected to never see her again. “The thing of it is, Ava, I care greatly for you. I cared for you before, but in the absence of your company, I cannot seem to put you from my thoughts. And I do not even begrudge the space you occupy in my mind. Rather, I find it comforting in a familiar, pleasant manner. I...” He exhaled a laugh. “I’m making a bloody fool of myself.”
All the willpower in the world would not quell the heat blossoming in Ava’s chest. “I thought you were doing very well.”
He gave a lopsided grin and put his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be returning to London soon, with a proper address. Perhaps we might write, or even see one another. Alfie said the London Museum has heaps of material in French and German to sift through. Journals and letters, like the ones you were collecting. Maybe someday you might come for a week or so. Or I might—”
Ava stepped toward him, cupped his face in her hands, and kissed him. His lips were warm, his chin smooth against hers. He drew his arms around her, holding her to him as his pleasant, clean soap scent enveloped her.
A car pulled up alongside them and they drew apart abruptly, each with a shared, private grin. Ava touched her mouth where her lips still tingled from the brush of his.
Her ride to the airport was ready to whisk her away. The driver busied himself in the car a moment, clearly giving them time.
“I’d love to write to you,” she said.
James withdrew a scrap of paper with an address in London printed on it in familiar messy, bold letters, then remained with her in the short time it took for her driver to fetch her things. When she rode away, James gave her one last lopsided smile that sealed itself in her mind and left not a modicum of space to even worry about the plane ride.
Life in DC was not the welcome embrace she had assumed it would be. After the easy, languid existence in Lisbon, the American capital seemed to sweep by too quickly and left Ava feeling as though she were standing still amid a torrent of activity.
Her position at the Rare Book Room had been filled, of course. Such an important job could not remain open for long. Instead, she was placed among the polyglots who categorized the countless boxes of microfilm sent by herself and the other members of the IDC. It was quite often she came across a box labeled carefully in her own looping writing and even the jagged script of Mike’s quick hand.
The ration was still in place in America and took some adjusting to, especially as she’d grown to taking her coffee sweet. More than anything, though, was the great wanderlust that had been awoken in her and now would not be quieted, leaving her humming with restless energy. This was further fueled by the letters from James as he returned to London and shared pieces of his life with her.
It was through their correspondence that she learned he had spoken the truth of himself when he was with her, that his stories and his family were not simply fictional details of a spy on the job. His brother had also thankfully survived the war and they celebrated with grateful, joyous letters to one another that both their siblings had emerged from such dangers unscathed.