Page 79 of The Secret Librarian
She shrugged and swallowed away her emotion. ‘I don’t have anywhere else to go. France is my home, but I can’t exactly go storming back to Paris, and ...’ She blew out a long, shaky breath. ‘I have a bookshop to run. That’s as far into the future as I can see right now.’ She also had Jewish families who still needed her help until their passage to America was secured.
‘I could always talk to my superiors and see if we have a role for you, if there’s something you can do for the Allied cause,’ James said. ‘I’d personally vouch for you, of course.’
Camille rose and went to the office door, staring out at the shop that had been her life for so long now, looking at all the books before turning back to James. ‘How about we agree to stay in touch, and if you need me, if you need any information at all, you know where to find me. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to help the Allies win this war.’
James rose then and picked up the file, slipping it back inside his bag.
‘I guess this is goodbye then,’ he said.
‘I guess it is,’ Camille replied. ‘Goodbye, James.’
He gave her a long, steady look, and she almost wondered if he was going to embrace her, but then he nodded and walked back through her store, before unlocking the door and disappearing out on to the street.
She followed slowly behind, reaching up to turn the little red sign around to ‘Open’ and watching until she couldn’t see him any longer. It was then that she saw a little stack of mail outside,to the side of the door. Camille bent to pick it up. The mail must have come while she had the door locked, and she rifled absently through the letters to see what was there. But it was the last one, postmarked New York, that made her gasp.
Camille ran out on to the street, calling for James, searching frantically for him, but he’d already gone. She tore the envelope open, though was careful to preserve the sender’s address, and walked slowly back to her shop, reading as she went. Her heart was in her throat from the second she read Avery’s words.
Dear Camille,
To say that I miss you would be an understatement. From the day I left Lisbon, I’ve missed everything about my time there, but mostly, and with all my heart, I’ve missed you. I keep wondering what you’re doing and how you feel, and all I can think is that I should never have left you in Portugal. I know it’s not my decision to make, but if you’re feeling lost or you’re missing me the same way that I’m missing you, please find a way to come here. You’d love New York!
Life here seems so quiet to the life I lived in Lisbon. I’m back working at the library, which is fine, but it’s certainly not Portugal, that’s for sure. I find myself stacking shelves and walking along the aisles, wishing I could have been posted overseas for longer and imagining what it would be like to travel again once the war is over. But sometimes I can’t stop thinking about what happened that night, the violence of it all, about how close you were to dying. Those are the times I wish you were closer so we could talk.
I’m thankful that Michael, the man I was once engaged to, has already married, because otherwise I’m certain my parents would be trying to push us back together. But I came back to America a different woman, and I think even they can sense that. I found that I couldn’t live at home with them on my return, so I’ve found a lovely apartment to rent, with big sash windows and light-filled rooms, but it’s too big for me to rent alone and I can’t imagine living with anyone other than you.
Anyway, please know that I think of you often. I wanted to write you first, but as soon as I finish this I’m going to write to James. I only hope that he’s still there to receive it, because if I’m honest, I miss him almost as much as I miss you, and I have no idea how I will ever see him again.
With all my love,
Avery.
By the time she finished the letter, Camille had reached her shop, and she immediately knew what she had to do. She checked there were no customers inside, since she’d left the door unlocked when she’d rushed out, turned the sign to ‘Closed’, locked the door and hurried back out on to the street, starting to run. She went as fast as she could, down one street and then another, until she finally reached the square and saw the hotel ahead of her. She slowed, trying to catch her breath and pushing her damp hair from her face, dashing up the steps and past the doorman, who thankfully didn’t ask any questions.
She went to the front desk. ‘I’m looking for a James Anderson,’ she said, trying not to pant.
‘He’s a guest here?’ the man asked.
‘Yes. I believe he’s checking out today, but I need to—’
‘Unfortunately, Mr Anderson has already gone.’
Her heart sunk. ‘You’re certain?’
The man nodded and looked as if he’d rather she left him alone.
‘Would you be able to check whether any mail arrived for him just now? There was a letter he was expecting, and I believe it might have only just been delivered.’
He gave her a long, uncertain look, before turning around and speaking to someone, who indicated a small stack of mail.
‘Please look,’ she pleaded. ‘It’s of the utmost importance that I know if he received it or not.’
The man held up a letter, and she could see from the beautiful writing on the back that it was from Avery. James had left without reading it, without even knowing that she’d written to him.
‘Do you have a forwarding address for him? Did he leave any information at all behind?’
Camille would have asked for the letter herself, but she knew there was no chance of private correspondence being given to her, no matter how nicely she asked.
‘Unfortunately no, there is no forwarding address for Mr Anderson.’
