The Librarian Spy(56)

The room fell silent.

“She’s got you there, Simsie.” Mike’s voice broke the spell, and Mr. Sims swiveled his glare on the younger man.

“Don’t call me Simsie,” he barked. “Or you’ll be back on US soil before you can attempt an apology.” With that, he stormed from the room.

Peggy mouthed, I’m sorry.

But Ava shook her head. This was an argument that needed to happen, one she had to win. Going forward, she would do everything possible to acquire more letters like this one, so the world would know exactly what the Jews of Europe were up against.



FOURTEEN


Elaine


Elaine found Manon sitting on the cushioned seat at the piano, her slender fingers resting on the keys without playing. As if the instrument no longer gave off music. Or perhaps it was the woman who’d lost the melody.

“Manon?” Elaine stepped lightly into the room to avoid startling her.

Manon removed her hands from the piano. “I did not expect you for some time.”

“I need to speak with you.”

Manon turned on the bench to face Elaine. Her dark eyes seemed larger than usual, her cheeks hollow beneath her sharp cheekbones. There was always a fragility about the woman, but suddenly she appeared immensely delicate, susceptible to being swept away by the slightest whisper of wind.

Perhaps the conversation should not be had after all.

“What is it?” Manon asked.

Elaine’s tongue went still with indecision.

“Do you need my help?” Manon indicated she should take a seat on the plush blue velvet settee. “Whatever it is that is on your mind that you are struggling to say, I want to know what it is.” Despite her wan appearance, her voice was strong.

Elaine obediently settled on the sofa without leaning back, and the words dislodged from the stubborn place in her chest. “I’ve met a mother and son who are without a home at present. Yours would be more suited for them than other safe houses.” Elaine gave a regretful smile. “I know that means I will give up my place here with you, but I think it better for them.”

“You may stay as well,” Manon offered. “The couch—”

“I couldn’t add to your risk or theirs.”

Manon gave a small, thoughtful smile. “It is considerate of you to put them first. They can come, of course.”

“They are Jewish,” Elaine said. “The boy...”

Manon nodded. “I understand.”

“It will place you in more danger than previous guests.”

Manon exhaled a bitter laugh. “Danger.”

Her reaction took Elaine aback somewhat. “The child might be loud...”

The brief mirth slipped from Manon’s face as she turned to the piano, studying the display of photographs. “It will be good to have a child here again.”

The statement was made more to herself than to Elaine. Still looking at the pictures, Manon continued in a thin voice. “Did you know I had a son?”

Had.

Elaine couldn’t help but glance up at the portraits where a black-and-white Manon leaned her head toward the dark-haired man, and another where a baby gazed out with large eyes and a dimpled smile. War was unkind to all, but mostly to the vulnerable.

“Is that him?” Elaine asked, breaking the weight of silence that settled between them. “Your son.”

Manon lifted a small palm-sized frame from the piano. “Yes.” With slow and gentle care, she ran a finger down the image. “My husband was killed at Dunkirk shortly after I discovered I was with child.”

Part of Elaine felt she was not worthy of this story, and yet another part of her wondered if the telling might be something of a balm to Manon’s soul.

“When Claude was born, I devoted myself to him,” Manon continued. “He was the only piece I had left of the man I loved so dearly.” She went quiet for a while, but Elaine did not press her, content to let the conversation fade away if that was Manon’s wish.

Manon sighed, as though it hurt to breathe, a discomfort with which Elaine had become personally acquainted.

“One day I was baking and needed a small pat of butter,” Manon eventually said. “A friend in the next building and I often shared our limited goods. Claude was sleeping, so peaceful and precious that I did not want to rouse him for such a short trip. After all, I only planned to be gone for a few minutes at most. I left him.”

The frame shook in her hand before she gingerly settled it in her lap. “When I went to see Georgette, she wasn’t there, but the Germans were. Apparently, she was with the Resistance and had been caught. I was arrested as an accomplice.”

Elaine held her breath, not wanting to learn the rest of the story, but unable to tell the other woman to stop.

“They refused to accept my innocence, no matter how I beseeched them.” Manon’s tone went flat, the way one did when they separated from all emotion. For survival. And it was no wonder when she continued. “Rather than helping me, they slapped the cell bars with their truncheons and ordered me to be silent. When they finally released me, my arms and hands were bloodied and bruised from beating on the doors of my prison. My voice was gone from crying to be heard. My shirt...” Her words caught. “My shirt was stiff with the wasted milk my body produced for my sweet son.” She cradled the picture of Claude’s happy visage. “They kept me for nine days.”