The Paris Library(89)

Paul contemplated the library book in his hands. Should he shield Odile, or confide in her? Should he do his duty and arrest Professor Cohen, or should he leave this apartment and never return?





CHAPTER 36

Odile




SINCE WORD HAD come, Maman hadn’t let me go anywhere. For ten days, she trailed me throughout the apartment. I yearned for Rémy and for the solitude to mourn him, yet Maman stood watch. On the divan, I opened The Silence of the Sea, 843, and held it up like a shield. I just needed a moment of quiet, or better yet, to throw myself back into work. The Library needed me, and I was stuck at home.

“That book better not upset you,” Maman said.

I put it down. “I missed Boris’s first day back. I’m sure he isn’t up to working.”

“Neither are you! We’ve had a terrible shock.”

The sole visitor Maman allowed was Eugénie. I watched them, both in black, as they coddled the carrots growing in the window boxes.

“Another day or two,” Maman said.

“They’ll be bigger then,” Eugénie agreed.

Onto the bathroom, where they prepared the laundry. The charwoman had fled Paris, and no one blamed her. But that did leave the wash. Maman and Eugénie donned old petticoats to do the dirty work. They poured boiling-hot water over the linens in the tub. Scrub, rinse, wring. The effort brought a sheen of satisfaction to their faces. The work gave Maman something to do, something better than crying.

I tried to help, but Eugénie brushed me aside.

“It’ll ruin your hands. You’ll have your whole life to do such tasks.”

They wrung, I felt useless.

“This war,” Maman said.

“This war,” Eugénie agreed.

This war had made strange bedfellows.

“Let me.” I wrestled with a wet towel, barely wringing any water out of it.

“She never would have made it on the farm,” Eugénie giggled.

“My daughter’s a city girl,” Maman said proudly. “More brains than brawn. When I was her age, I could snap a chicken’s neck without thinking about it.”

Just when I thought I’d go mad, missing Paul, missing the Library, Bitsi thrust open the front door and pushed past Maman. Like us, she wore mourning. “We need you.” She poked my chest in rebuke, as if she thought staying home had been my idea. “The Countess is frail. Boris shouldn’t be out of bed. We’ve all suffered.”

Eugénie’s gaze flitted toward Maman. “Odile needs her rest.”

“So do I,” Bitsi said. “So do you.”

“I need Odile here.” Maman trembled. “If anything happened to her…”

I embraced her, suddenly understanding why I’d been kept home.



* * *




LEANING AGAINST THE weathered doorjamb, I observed Boris, busy at the circulation desk. He was gaunt in his suit. Silver now threaded the hair at his temples. If it hadn’t been for the Countess and Dr. Fuchs… When he saw me, he rose slowly, unsteady on his feet. Worried about his injuries, I kissed his cheeks gingerly; he crushed me in his emaciated arms.

Soaking in the earthy smell of his Gitanes, I said, “Anna will kill you when she finds out you’ve been smoking.”

“I still have one good lung,” he protested.

I laughed. Not ready to stop touching him, I brushed a piece of fluff from his tie.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” he said.

“I know. Me too.”

Soon we were surrounded. The Countess, Mr. Pryce-Jones, Monsieur de Nerciat, and Madame Simon expressed their condolences. So young. So sad. A pity. This war… Just when I thought I would start to cry, Mr. Pryce-Jones said, “We’ve missed our favorite referee.”

I smiled.

“Fighting’s no fun without you,” M. de Nerciat added.

The tone was light, but the concern in their eyes told a story of its own.

I felt lucky to have such friends, to be back where I belonged. On my way to the reference room, I breathed in my favorite scent in the world—books, books, books.

Margaret stepped from the stacks, as hesitant now as she’d been on her first day. I cringed when I remembered that she’d wanted to introduce me to her Leutnant.

“I heard about Rémy,” she said.

At the sound of his name, said so rarely now, I teared up.

“About before,” she continued. “It was asking too much. I see that now.”

“I’m sure Felix is lovely, and my family appreciated the food he got for…” I didn’t want to say my brother’s name in the same sentence as her lover’s.

“I’ve prayed so hard for you and your family. I’m sorry I didn’t go to see you at home—I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.”

The war had stolen so much. Now I had to decide if I would allow it to claim our friendship. “It would have been a waste of time,” I said. “Maman didn’t allow anyone in.”

“Not even Paul?”

“Not even Bitsi.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said she was strict.”

“I’m sure there’s a lot of work.” I gestured to the files on my desk. “Would you like to help me field questions?”