The Room on Rue Amélie(36)
“You haven’t told me your name.”
“It’s Ruby.”
“Ruby,” he repeated, and there was something about the way her name sounded in his mouth that made her heart race. “Thank you, Ruby. Thank you for helping me.”
“You’re welcome, Thomas,” she replied after a moment, but he was already asleep, his chest rising and falling with each shallow, shuddering breath.
THOMAS FLINCHED BUT DIDN’T AWAKEN as Ruby cleaned out his wound. And over the next two days, she tended to him as best she could, feeding him broth and then stale bread when he was able to keep food down. She wished she had more to share, but what she did give him seemed to help, and by the third night, his forehead was no longer burning, and some color had returned to his cheeks.
“I’m feeling much better,” he told her as she brought him a small dinner of bread and weak coffee. “I should probably get out of your bed now. I’m embarrassed that I took it for so long.”
“Don’t be silly. You’ve been sick. I’m just glad you’re on the mend.”
“Surely my being here is putting you in danger.”
Ruby avoided meeting his gaze. “You just focus on getting your strength back.”
“You’re an angel, you know that?” he said as she handed him a small glass of water. He drank it down gratefully. “An absolute angel, Ruby.”
She could feel herself blushing. “You remembered my name. I thought you might not; you were delirious when you got here.”
His eyelids were already growing heavy. “I can’t imagine forgetting a single thing about you.”
He drifted back to sleep before she could muster a response. And finally, for the first time in days, Ruby was sure that he would live, so she allowed herself to lie down on the floor beside the bed and close her eyes, just for a moment.
When she awoke, the first rays of dawn were streaming through the window, which meant she’d been asleep all night. She gasped and sat up, only to realize that the pilot was lying on his side, gazing down at her. “You’re awake,” he said. “I hope it’s not out of line for me to say that you’re beautiful when you sleep.”
She hid an embarrassed smile. “I’m very sorry. I didn’t mean to nod off.”
“And I didn’t mean to take over your life like this. I’m mortified that I let you sleep on the floor. I’m terribly sorry.”
“You weren’t in any condition to argue.” She stood and put a hand on his forehead. It was cool, the fever entirely gone. She breathed a sigh of relief. “I think you’ve turned a corner, Thomas.”
“You saved my life.”
“Oh, you would have been fine with or without me.”
He chuckled. He had a nice laugh, warm and strong. “Don’t for a minute believe I’m going to indulge your modesty. You’re a regular Florence Nightingale.”
She could feel her cheeks burning again, and she quickly changed the subject. “You said when you arrived that your friend had been here?”
“Yes, miss. Harry Cormack. He described your building exactly. But I was expecting to find your husband when I got here, not you.” He hesitated. “May I ask a personal question? Your husband . . . He’s not here anymore, is he?”
“What makes you say that?” She hadn’t told him that Marcel was dead, because she figured that it would be better if a strange man staying in her apartment had the idea that her husband could come home at any moment. But aside from his sheer size, there was nothing threatening about Thomas at all. He seemed kind and gentle, and his question appeared to come from a place of concern.
“I don’t see anything that looks like it belongs to him in your room. Am I wrong?”
“No.” Maybe she should have felt like he’d invaded her privacy, but he’d merely been observant. “He died a few months ago.”
“I’m terribly sorry. You must miss him.”
“Things between us weren’t very good at the end.” She couldn’t believe she’d just admitted that; she couldn’t explain why she’d said it. “But yes. His death was very sad. I missed him more than I expected at first.”
“And now you’re alone,” he said softly, his eyes on hers.
“Well, yes.” She felt suddenly flustered. “But I’m perfectly all right. Now let’s get you changed into some clean clothes.”
AFTER THOMAS HAD FALLEN BACK asleep, this time on the sofa, Ruby left a note saying she was going out. It didn’t feel wise to leave him alone in the apartment, but she was confident he was smart enough to hide or to climb out through the terrace if someone appeared at her door while she wasn’t there.
She walked quickly to the bakery on the rue de la Comète, the one Aubert had mentioned, keeping her head down the whole way. She was certain he would chide her for sheltering a pilot in an apartment the Nazis were already aware of, but she knew she’d made the right choice. If she had tried to move Thomas, he surely would have died. That his fever had broken and he was on the mend was nothing short of a miracle. Now, she needed another one.
As she waited in the queue at the bakery, she found herself thinking more than she should have been about the pilot. Not about her mission to save him—for that was to be expected—but about the way his presence filled her apartment. The way it had made her heartbeat quicken when she came into her room and saw him asleep in her bed. It was silly, of course, surely an indication that she’d been lonelier than she realized. But the truth was, it was something more than that, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.