The Room on Rue Amélie(72)

He nodded and listened carefully as she explained the route she had in mind. It would take an extra thirty minutes, which would expose him for longer, but she couldn’t simply march him through a neighborhood swarming with Germans.

“Once we get there, you must stay in our courtyard until nightfall. I can’t bring you inside in broad daylight, just in case we’re followed. I can’t put Charlotte in danger.”

“Your neighbor? The one whose mother I helped?”

“Yes. She lives with me now.”

He looked grim. “Her parents are gone?”

“Deported more than a year ago. We’ve had no word.”

“Ruby, I’m so sorry.”

“I am too.” She reached for his hand, lingering longer than she should have. What if she was just a woman standing on the beautiful streets of Paris with a man she loved? It was a wonderful fantasy, but it could never be true, not as long as the war raged around them. She let go. “We must go now before someone sees us.”

She was acutely aware of Thomas several paces behind her as she headed west along the rue de Grenelle. She wound her way southeast down smaller side streets until they’d cleared the Champ-de-Mars and the école Militaire, two places that were often bustling with Nazis. Then she turned right and right again as she wove back toward the river. She looked back a few times and was relieved to see Thomas hugging the shadows, his head down. A few people stopped and stared, but they passed very few German soldiers, and the ones they did see were too preoccupied with their own conversations to give them a second glance.

When they finally turned onto the rue de Lasteyrie, Ruby nodded toward the entrance to the courtyard and let herself into the building through the front door. She watched from her window as Thomas sat down in the shade, his back against the building. He was here; he was really here. Now there was nothing to do but wait.



CHARLOTTE HAD LEFT A NOTE saying that she’d be spending a few hours with Lucien that afternoon, so Ruby was alone in the apartment. As she waited for night to fall, she felt like a giddy schoolgirl, changing into a cotton dress she hadn’t worn in more than a year and rummaging through a small box of odds and ends until she found a stubby red lipstick that she’d put away after Marcel had died.

Daylight had vanished by five-thirty, and there was a soft knock at the door. Ruby opened it to find Thomas standing there, his cheeks pink from the evening chill. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and then his arms were around her, and his mouth was on hers. Ruby pulled him into the apartment and fumbled with the lock, and then she found herself pressed against the door, her whole body on fire.

“I’ve missed you, Ruby,” he murmured, drawing back to gaze into her eyes.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“I thought of you every time I flew over France.”

“But why? I’m just a woman who helped you long ago. Aren’t I?”

He kissed her again. “You’re the person I think of each time I take off. You’re my good luck charm. I’ve spent the last two years not knowing if you were dead or alive. Standing here in front of you now feels like a miracle.”

“I think of you all the time too, Thomas.” She wanted to lead him to her bedroom, to feel his body against hers the way she’d hardly dared imagine, but Charlotte would be home soon. Besides, Thomas had been walking for days and was covered in grime; surely he’d want to feel like himself again. “Why don’t you freshen up? I’ve drawn you a bath and laid out a fresh set of clothes for you.”

“Your husband’s?”

“No, I don’t have any of his things anymore. I keep spare clothes on hand now in case pilots are sent my way.”

His smile faltered, and he took a small step back. “So there have been others you’ve helped? Others like me?”

“Thomas,” she said softly, holding his gaze, “there is no one like you.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO


November 1943

While Thomas bathed, Ruby paced the apartment. She couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of his body, the way his mouth had lingered on hers.

When he emerged thirty minutes later, freshly shaven and dressed in gray slacks and a white shirt, he looked like a different person. His dark hair was still damp and curled at the ends, framing his chiseled face perfectly.

“You’re staring,” he said softly, smiling at her.

She looked away, embarrassed. “I was just thinking that it must feel nice to be clean after your long journey.”

“Oh, is that all you were thinking?” His tone was light, teasing.

“I might also have been thinking that you are even more handsome than I remember.”

His smile widened. “So you have been thinking of me.”

“All the time.” She took a deep breath. “We had a pilot here in January who said he knew you. Jon Payne. He was captured in Urrugne soon after.”

“I heard about Urrugne. Poor Payne. He was here?”

“I—I couldn’t believe how relieved I felt when he told me you were still alive, Thomas. I had no way of knowing, although I had the strangest feeling that I would have sensed it if you were gone.”

He took a few steps closer to her until they were standing just inches apart. He grazed her cheek with his thumb, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real. “And you’ve continued to work on the escape line, Ruby?”