Twenty-One

Ava

Ava teetered by her apartment door, wriggling one foot into a pair of low-heeled black patent leather pumps while clipping her faux pearl earrings into place. Her smart yellow purse swung from her elbow with Daniel's latest letter buried within.

Such a thing was far too important to leave in her apartment, especially now that she was certain someone had been entering from time to time in her absence.

The very thought of an intruder stalking through her home, rifling through her things, touching her books, left a prickling sensation crawling over her skin. She hated being in the small space that once felt private and now carried a violated, exposed feeling she could not shake.

It started not long after James left with small shifts in the apartment that were easy to dismiss as her own forgetfulness. First was the copy of Little Women, resting on her bed when she returned home rather than her nightstand. She picked it up with confusion, certain she hadn't even opened it that day.

The next time, it was a chair not pushed against the table, the one to the far corner that she never sat in.

After that, she carefully set a cup and saucer by the edge of the kitchen table, precarious enough to fall and smash to pieces with the slightest brush. She returned home that day to find the dainty dishes placed at the middle of her table. Not only was the location incorrect, one set was missing from what was once a four-piece place setting in the cupboard.

Her home was being searched.

From that day on, she didn't keep anything of import there.

She glanced at her watch, noting it was twenty minutes to nine. That exact time always made her recall Miss Havisham's stopped clocks in Great Expectations, but she shoved the thought aside. She didn't have a second to spare for that now when she needed to meet Alfie and get to the train station before nine.

Pausing only to secure the door behind her, especially the recently installed bolt lock, she rushed from the building to find Alfie waiting on her, his reserved, affable smile in place.

"I'm sorry I'm running late." She walked as quickly as she dared in the heels. The soles were slippery as always over the stonework, and the heels still managed to catch between the limestone and basalt mosaics on the walkway.

"He'll understand if you're running behind," Alfie said as he joined her.

"It isn't James I'm worried about," Ava replied. "It's the mother and her child. I want to be there to welcome them when they arrive."

Four months had passed since Ava first saw the code in Combat. Which was never repeated once James informed her that England agreed to help bring them to Lisbon.

James had been gone for two of those, the reason unknown to Ava until she'd received notice from Alfie that James would be arriving at the train station at nine in the morning with two people she was eager to meet.

She didn't have to think hard to know exactly what he meant.

They crossed Rossio Square and headed toward the high horseshoe-shaped entrances of the train station. Crowds of people always thronged around the ornate white building with the statue of Sebastian, the lost king of Portugal, at its entrance.

Some were well-dressed volunteers and employees of refugee assistance charities, their faces weary as they clutched signs with various names scrawled upon them. Most were refugees, freshly arrived, their eyes wide with their first glimpse of Lisbon, their arms laden with sacks of belongings, battered suitcases, and children. Languages from all over Europe rose from the crowd, blending French, German, Czech, Hungarian, Polish, and many more into the cacophonous hum.

Ava and Alfie made their way through the crowd, salmon nudging upstream until finally they entered the internal archways to the spread of chipped-white limestone laid out before the arriving trains. In the crush of passengers disembarking, Ava caught sight of James, his jaw uncharacteristically shadowed with the beginning of a beard, his body braced to shield a woman who cradled a dark-haired boy to her chest from the jostling crowd.

Ava's breath hitched at the enormity of the moment. For months, she had anticipated their arrival, paying for the apartment to be kept empty for them, preparing the paperwork as much as possible that she'd need to facilitate their visas. They were faceless and nameless to her, but that did not stop the palpable pang in her chest for these people she'd come to care so deeply for.

Now she would finally meet them.

James looked toward Ava and he gave her a tired, lopsided smile that made her heart give a strange little skip. Shifting his attention back to the mother and child, he shepherded them closer. He appeared to be limping slightly as he did so. Ava craned her neck to see through the crowd. He strode forward, his footing solid, but then on his next step, yes—a limp.

He was injured. But how? When? What had happened on their journey?

As the three neared, they bore an untold story in the muddy stains discoloring their coats and clinging to their worn shoes, their faces road-weary. They had only one small suitcase between them. Ava's gaze was drawn back to James, alarmed at the amount of weight loss evident in his gaunt cheeks and slender neck since she'd last seen him.

Alfie and James shook hands in a gentlemanly greeting.

"Ava Harper?" The woman drew her attention, large hazel eyes brimming suddenly with tears. Her son burrowed deep into his mother's coat like a frightened little mouse.

Ava's throat was too tight to do anything more than nod.

"The American librarian," the woman said in French. "You are the one who helped bring us here?"

"Oui."Ava swallowed. "I saw the message in Combat. I've been preparing for your arrival, to help..."

Tears streamed down the woman's face. "Thank you. For everything you've done. Thank you for seeing Elaine's message and to you, James, for taking us on this journey to safety."

Ava's eyes prickled with emotion, and she nodded as she attempted to wrest control of herself once more.

"Ava," James said. "This is Sarah and Noah Cohen."

"It is so wonderful to finally meet you," Ava choked out. "I'm grateful you've arrived safely."

Someone swept by Ava, their shoulder striking against her hard enough to make her stumble. Alfie reached to steady her, but James was there first, his solid hand on her shoulder as he threw a glare at the person who accidentally knocked into her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his brow creased with concern.

"Are you?"

He gave an easy chuckle. "Of course."

"You're limping."

He grinned. "I have it on good authority that a chap with a limp is rather dashing."

Ava rolled her eyes at him, the way Peggy always did, but there was no real annoyance behind the action. "Come, let's get some food in all of you."

Together they walked from the train station out into the March sunshine.

Sarah stopped abruptly, her eyes widening at the city around her, taking everything in from the expanse of clear blue sky overhead to the reflection of sunlight on the limestone and the heavy flow of cars roaring by. A little girl strolled by with her mother, a large pastry in her hand. Noah had lifted his head and mutely followed their departure, gaze fixed on the confection.

Two German men nearby began speaking, their voices loud. Sarah hugged Noah tightly to her as her body went stiff.

"No one will hurt you here," Ava reassured her. "Portugal is neutral. The Germans have no power."

It was mostly true. While the Portuguese people were absent prejudice and gave freely, sharing their possessions and food with the refugees, there were always those whose loyalty could be bought.

Fortunately, the Allies had supporters in their corner too.

"Rossio Square is right around the corner," Ava said gently. "I've secured an apartment for you both there. You'll be close to restaurants, grocery stores, whatever you need."

"We don't have ration cards," Sarah whispered, her eyes fixed on everything around them, her body taut.

"There is no ration here." Ava set a hand on the woman's shoulder and gently led her forward. "I purchased some groceries for you, but nothing has been prepared to eat. If you like, we can order a meal here."

They turned the corner to reveal Rossio Square with its waving white and black stonework and towering statue, where café patrons pressed beyond the awnings into the luxurious spring sunshine. Empty cups sat before them, cigarettes were pinched between fingers, and meals lay on plates in various states of consumption.

"There is fish, meat, something called alheira, which is pork-free sausage stuffed with poultry and potatoes and breadcrumbs." Ava looked to Sarah, who watched the world around her as if she were fearful it would disappear the moment she allowed herself to believe it was real.

"Do you have a preference?" Ava asked.

Noah looked about with bright, eager eyes. "Frites," he piped up.

Sarah gave a distracted nod as she anxiously scanned her surroundings. "I... I would like a cup of coffee. Real coffee." Her worried gaze found Ava's. "If it is truly safe."

Doubtless this was the first time she had been out of hiding in years. Ava tried to put herself in the other woman's position, to imagine the vulnerability of being in the open after having spent so long remaining sequestered, away from prying eyes and well-trained ears.

"It is," Ava answered earnestly.

Sarah's shoulders only slightly relaxed.

"Nicolas has an excellent array of anything you could ever want," James offered and led the way to the popular café with his gallant limp.

He and Alfie secured a square table for the five of them. It was crowded, but no one complained. A waiter came out for their orders. When it was Sarah's turn, she simply stared at the list of food.

"If you like fish, it is very good here," Ava suggested.

Sarah lifted her stunned gaze and nodded.

Noah didn't have any hesitation with what he wanted, he kicked his legs against the chair, his pants slightly too short. "Frites, s'il vous pla?t."

Ava made a note to find some well-fitting clothes for him.

His eyes, hazel and long lashed like his mother's, lit with delight.

Ava glanced at James discreetly, studying him in the sunlight for any bruises or cuts. There were none. Only several days' growth of a dark beard and that limp whose origin story she had yet to hear. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what had happened, what had held them up for over a month. But the tight, weary expression on James's and Sarah's faces had Ava holding back.

Whatever it was could be discussed later when she and James had a chance to speak privately.

The waiter came out with cups of bica and a bowl of sugar. Sarah stared at the glistening white grains as if they were made of gold. James spilled sugar into his coffee, and she followed his lead, adding only a fraction of his heaping spoonful. After a slow, careful stir, she brought the cup to her lips, breathed in the strong coffee in a long, slow inhale, then took a sip.

Her eyes closed in pleasure, and she held the coffee in her mouth for a second before finally swallowing. When she opened her eyes once more, they were clouded with tears.

Never in all of Ava's life had she enjoyed anything as much as Sarah had in savoring that cup of coffee.

Sarah caught Ava watching and color flushed in her cheeks. "Forgive me," Sarah said. "It has been years since I have had real coffee."

Ava shook her head, embarrassed to have interrupted the other woman's simple pleasure. "Please don't apologize. I want you to enjoy everything."

The waiter came then, the length of his arms stacked with plates full of food. Within the span of a minute, the bounty covered the small square table and filled the air with the scents of roasted meat, yeasty, fresh baked bread, salty fries and the rich, briny smokiness of grilled sardines.

Sarah gazed over it all, then lowered her head, covered her eyes with her hands and silently wept.

It was too much for her, Ava realized belatedly, kicking herself. She had meant to bring them as a kindness, but she had overwhelmed Sarah. Being outside where Sarah felt most vulnerable, the amount of food, access to anything they could want to eat. It was a blessing and a curse this first day in a foreign country after whatever harrowing journey they had endured.

Beneath the table, Ava reached for Sarah's hand and gently held it, offering a quiet but supportive show of understanding and patience.

Sarah gave her a grateful smile and, within a moment, wiped her eyes and enjoyed her first solid meal in Lisbon, and likely in years.

After they finished their food, Alfie took James back to the British Embassy. It had been all Ava could do to keep from staring at James as he was led away. When she did finally look up, she found him watching her with a longing that made something in her chest squeeze.

Ava brought Sarah and Noah to the apartment she'd secured for them, one also installed with a heavy bolt like she now had in her home.

"It has only one bedroom with a large bed, but it's big enough for the two of you," Ava said as she showed them around. "I bought what groceries I thought you might need."

Sarah stood in the center of the home, as if she was frightened to touch any of it, and held Noah. Her gaze settled on something in the neatly arranged groceries on the counter.

"Is that soap?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Yes," Ava replied.

When the other woman continued to stare at it, Ava regarded the small box. "Is it the wrong type? I can get—"

"No." Sarah sniffed. "It's perfect. Whatever it is, it's perfect. Thank you."

"Down, Maman." Noah wriggled in her grasp, but she kept him locked in her arms.

Ava nodded. "It is safe here, Sarah."

Slowly and silently, Sarah set him down. He tore off like a toy whose spring had been wound up and released. Sarah stepped toward him.

"It's fine, really," Ava offered by way of reassurance and held a small bin toward Noah that she'd filled with toys and French children's books. "There is nothing he can hurt himself on here. I made sure it would be safe for a child."

Sarah nodded, more to herself than to Ava before looking up. "Thank you," she said quietly. "For everything."

Ava smiled and fought the welling of emotion once again. "I'm happy to have been able to help. I'll leave you to get settled, but will be by to check on you later, if that is all right."

Once they had all they needed, Ava returned to her own rented home. The bolt was firmly in place upon her arrival, the small traps she'd laid about the apartment undisturbed. There was the paper near the sink that could easily tumble to the ground, one side marked with an imperceptible dot. The bedspread was pulled so crisply, it would reveal the slightest crinkle of an imprint. Then there was the strand of Ava's hair settled delicately over her books, so fine it would easily be overlooked by anyone but her.

All was as it should be.

It was in that moment when she allowed herself to relax in the comfort of knowing her space had remained her own, that she saw her apartment with fresh eyes, the way Sarah had seen her own temporary home.

Ava had never gone without, even with the ration in America. She had always had the luxury of seeing her home as one of freedom to come and go as she pleased rather than having it be the only location where she was safe, one she could not leave. Never had she minded how heavy her tread was over the smooth flooring, or how loud a cough or sneeze might be.

Getting Sarah and Noah to Lisbon had not been easy. The difficulty of their trek had been written all over James's face. But now that they were here, now that she had witnessed with her own eyes the level of their awe at such basic things no human should have to endure life without, she was grateful beyond measure for their safety.

The next morning, it was not Alfie who waited by the door to her building, but James. Exactly as she'd hoped.

His fresh suit hung slightly loose on him, and he had a glossy black cane at his side.

She beamed at him, not even caring that he was aware of exactly how pleased she was to see him. Though she'd never admit it to him, she'd gone to great lengths selecting her attire that morning in anticipation. The Kelly green shirtdress highlighted her eyes, especially when paired with the black cardigan, belt, and leather shoes.

"If I'd known you'd look at me like that, I'd have come back even earlier." His jaw was smoothly shaved, revealing his prominent chin that had once been unappealing for a reason she couldn't recall.

The length of his hair was still longer than usual, his dark fedora pulled low in a bid to make his shaggy locks less apparent. He was a man of confidence, and the slight show of self-consciousness played an endearing chord in Ava's chest.

"If you could have come back a month earlier, you shouldn't have dallied." She readjusted the messenger bag slung over her shoulder.

"If only it could have been so easy." There was something behind his eyes, a glint of pain.

"What happened?" Ava asked.

"Will you take a walk with me?"

"Do you even need to ask?"

He tilted his head in acknowledgment that was somewhere between cocky and shy. As they strolled together, he leaned slightly on his cane, leading her down Rua Agusta where the shops were busiest and the arch spanned over one end in a gateway that opened to the sparkling river beyond.

"I admit it," she said in a conciliatory tone. "The cane does make you look quite distinguished."

"I won't say I told you so." He looked away with exaggerated innocence.

"Will you recover soon though?" she asked, her worry pressing through her teasing words.

"In time." He tilted his head. "I hope."

They passed the awnings of several cafés, stretching toward the street center where tables and chairs were already set over the sprawling stone mosaics in preparation for the crowds that would soon descend. The sweet aroma of freshly baked pastries hung in the air.

"Will you tell me what happened to your leg?" She asked hesitantly, aware that she was crossing a line of trust. Not between their friendship, but between the alliance of their country. Whatever happened was for British intelligence to know, not for her to probe about.

"I was shot." He glanced about. "In Toulouse. We were sneaking about in the dark, our sights set on scaling the Pyrenees Mountains when a Nazi officer saw us and fired. Lucky for us he was a terrible shot." He gave a dry laugh, the way people did when telling a story that had lost its humor. "One bullet ricocheted off a building and caught me in the calf."

"At least it was only your calf," Ava exclaimed.

"Yes and no," James hedged. "An injured leg prior to climbing the Pyrenees might have meant my death. Thankfully the bullet passed through a rather small area, and I was able to clean and bind the wound."

Ava had always loved Rua Agusta with the quaint shops selling teas and coffees as well as pastries and colorfully painted plates and kitchenware. But now, she found it impossible to glance toward the artful displays, her focus instead intent on James. "You should not have endured such a climb. You could have been killed."

"If I had not, they would have been." The earnestness in his face struck Ava.

"You lost so much weight," Ava said, unable to suppress her concern.

"There is little food to be had in France," he replied. "What meager supplies we had, I wanted to ensure Sarah and Noah could keep up their strength. They truly did so well and were so determined and brave." He paused a moment. "It is always interesting to return to Lisbon, to witness the abundance of food and clothing. Even the lights." His lips lifted in a smile. "London is always dark these days to prevent bombings. It's almost blinding at night here by comparison."

"I want to know everything." She folded her arms over her chest as they walked into the shade of a building, the wind pushing at her clothes and hair as they strode toward the water. "Why did they send you?"

"Not all favors are given for free."

Ava considered him. She would never have been allowed to take on so dangerous a task. But then, she was a woman, often underestimated in a field dominated by men. If she had been a man, would that still happen? Would accompanying Sarah and Noah have even been an option?

"It was not supposed to take as long as it did." James led her under the massive arch, built where the old royal palace formerly resided, to commemorate the reconstruction of Lisbon after that fateful earthquake.

Questions of James's involvement were swept away immediately by more important details. "What happened to delay you?" she asked.

The square was large and open, overlooking the Tagus River. What few people did linger nearby were well out of earshot. James glanced about still before continuing. "The Nazi aggression in France has grown. Despite what the Germans say in the newspapers, they see the defeat coming. Apparently, the loss of Corsica sent a shock wave through France, encouraging the Resistance in their efforts and leaving the Germans redoubling their determination to hold on to their occupation."

His eyes searched the horizon, over the choppy surface of the water before them. "They have been hunting the Resistance down without mercy, especially the Maquis who were our main contacts. There were several times we had to find our own way after bands of Maquis were eliminated. We shielded Noah from as much as we could. I believe he's young enough to recover, but I couldn't always protect Sarah from the things she saw..."

"James." Ava put her hand to his shoulder. "I'm so sorry."

He turned his haunted stare toward her. "I would do it again to ensure their safety. If left there, they would surely have been found out and sent to one of those camps."

Ava wanted to pull him toward her and hug away his hurt, but there was a part of her afraid that if she did, she would never be able to let him go.

James sighed and walked closer to the water. Foamy, white-tipped waves lapped at a set of stone stairs that descended into the tidal depths where two columns rose from the river, a place where royals once docked to visit the palace.

"The papers we'd arranged for did not come through," James continued. "We believe the men supposed to deliver them were captured, which meant they might potentially talk under torture. The lack of papers and possibility of our plans being leaked forced us to change our path, which took us over the snow-covered mountains where France and Spain meet. It took many days with little food and low temperatures. But we are here."

There was more to the story, an odyssey beneath the simple gloss, one rife with tragedy that left sadness in his sparkling gaze. Someday she might hear additional details, but for now, the solemnity of his demeanor quieted her need for information. He had succeeded in bringing Sarah and Noah to Lisbon and had himself returned safely.

"Sarah is trying to get to her husband in America," James said. "He left before Paris fell, and they received only one letter from him with the address where he is staying. They have not been able to send him a letter since."

Ava opened her mouth to offer to post one for them when James withdrew an envelope, his lips quirking up in that familiar grin. "I presumed you would offer." He handed her the envelope, an address in New Jersey written across it.

"I'll ensure this gets to him," Ava promised. "And I'll have them in America with him in no time."

While she knew she could fulfill her vow to mail the letter, the latter part of her promise would be far trickier. But after everything Sarah and Noah had suffered through, she refused to let them down.