The Librarian Spy(52)
“I’m content living with Manon, but I think her apartment would offer more of a home than other options,” Elaine said at last.
“You’ll need to ask Manon if she is willing to take the risk first.” Marcel pulled a rag from the pocket of his coat and wiped off a fresh streak of oil from his hands. “We can provide the necessary papers and ration cards, but you said she has a son...?”
He looked at her pointedly as he asked the question and the realization dawned. Noah would, of course, be circumcised, which couldn’t be hidden with false documents.
“As a father of a boy, I can tell you they aren’t quiet either.” An affectionate smile touched his mouth, the way it always did when he spoke of his family.
Imagining Noah with his pensive, mute stare being rambunctious didn’t seem possible. But then, he had been tired the night before. Perhaps after some rest, he would be terrorizing the world with shouts and jumps as any other child forcefully restrained indoors.
“I’ll speak to Manon and see if I can gather more supplies while I’m out.” Elaine smoothed the wrinkles from her clothes, collected her handbag complete with her broad wallet of black market ration cards in her name, and hooked the shopping basket handle at her elbow. Sarah and Noah had consumed the last of the bread, and there were no other provisions. Doubtless, they would wake hungry for something in their bellies.
As she waited four hours in the queue at the grocer in the hopes of finding a tin of peas or even a little milk, apprehension at her decision twisted in her chest. She could accept the risk of helping Sarah and Noah herself, but was it fair to put Manon in danger?
THIRTEEN
Ava
Children rolled hoops outside the large white building, their laughter filling the refreshing October air. Ava smiled to herself at their unfettered joy as she approached the dining hall where the JDC distributed food for the refugees.
She had seen too many small, solemn faces emerging from the boats and trains depositing countless numbers in Lisbon. Inside, their parents leaned against the wall, their backs touching the long blue stripe that broke up the white paint to give the starkness a more welcome appearance. They were not at ease as their children were, their faces tense and anxious as they whispered to one another their fears to keep the little ones from overhearing.
A little girl waved to Ava, a picture book in her hand and a grin lighting up her entire face. The book was one of many Ava had purchased with her own money, and it filled her with a contented warmth to see it so loved.
Ethan strolled toward her, wearing a casual button-down shirt rolled up to his forearms. “Miss Harper. Thank you so much for coming.”
“Ava, please,” she said, having made a similar request when she met him the week before. “It’s my pleasure.”
“I know you want to meet the man who can find the clandestine press papers, but I still appreciate your generosity assisting me in distributing food. We never seem to have enough hands.” He gave her a tired smile, and she couldn’t help but wonder at how many hours he worked per day.
“I’m glad to be an extra set of hands and plan to come more often now that I have your permission,” Ava said earnestly. And truly there was no other way she’d rather spend a day off from the office.
“My permission?” He chuckled. “More like my desperate plea.” Waving for her to follow, he led her into a room supported by columns at its center, the wall bearing the same long blue stripe as the building’s entry. Two rows of tables ran parallel to one another, each place set with a white plate, a spoon ceremoniously resting above it, and a blue-rimmed white mug. The yeasty scent of bread lingered beneath the savory aroma of a grill and roasting meat.
“I’ll introduce you to Otto once everyone has eaten, if that’s all right,” Ethan said.
“Of course.” Ava set to work, doling out bifanas, a simple sandwich consisting of bread and meat. Though the popular spiced pork was replaced with beef instead.
Many did not appear mired in poverty, but she had been in Lisbon long enough by now to know that did not mean they had money. Gemstones and jewelry were overly prevalent and sold so often, their weight scarcely fetched enough coin to feed a family for a few days, let alone a week.
She’d also learned many refugees would rather forego a meal than miss an afternoon at a café, where they could reunite with their countrymen and forget, for one brief moment, their circumstsances. It was a marvel what community could do in such times of strife, when all else felt lost.
Organizations like the JDC fostered that community and brought brightness back to the children’s faces.
Four hours scrambled by in a rush of refilling food, clearing plates, carrying items for people when their hands were full, and finding vacated seats for fresh arrivals. This was accompanied by the cacophony of countless voices engaged in various conversations amid the backdrop of clinking dishes and flatware.
In the end, there was still food remaining with not one person left hungry. Once the remnants were secured for the meal later that night and the dishes had been removed from the long tables, Ethan led Ava outside to where a group of men lingered beneath a cloud of smoke. As she neared, an older man with silver hair withdrew a pipe from his mouth and nodded.
“This is Otto,” Ethan said. “He often meets with newly arrived refugees and has been able to obtain several newspapers for you, specifically from France. I believe he has something else as well.” He cast a questionable look to the older man.