“I don’t think it will be possible,Grand-maman. It will be his last night before he has to report to his military training. I think he’ll want to spend the evening alone with his father.”
“Nonetheless, you will need to find a way to get them both here.” She took a deep breath, and the sound alarmed me. Her breathing sounded raspy, her chest as hollow as a drum.
“Have you seen your doctor about that cough?” I asked, changing the subject. “I’m concerned.” In front of her was a plate of poached chicken and julienned vegetables that Giselle had prepared. Since we sat down, Marthe had hardly taken a forkful.
“Don’t avoid what I just asked of you, Solange.” A cough escaped her. She quickly tried to muffle it with her hand, but it intensified. Her face became a painful shade of red.
“Let me get you some water.” I reached over for the pitcher and refilled her glass.
She shook her head. “All I want is for you to find a way to get them here for dinner tomorrow night. You must, Solange. I insist.”
***
I had no idea how I would manage to get both the Armels to come, but the next morning I put on a dress the color of marigolds andtied my hair back with a white satin ribbon I had found in Giselle’s clipping basket.
Only a few days before when I walked into their shop, there were still a few volumes on the bookshelves. Now, every shelf was empty.
The bell on the door that announced my arrival left a chill in the air. Without anything to sell, the store seemed like an empty tomb.
“Alex?” My voice sounded nervous. The door had been open. I knew someone had to be in the store.
“Alex?” I repeated.
I waited for several seconds, although it felt like several minutes.
Suddenly I heard a rustle. It was Monsieur Armel.
“Solange.” He said my name softly. “You’re a sight for weary eyes.”
I stepped closer. He looked so tired. His pale eyes were dim and watery. His hair was out of place. Fatigue and sadness had aged him in a matter of days.
“You must be looking for Alex... not me.” He forced himself to smile.
“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Monsieur Armel.”
He reached for my hand and pressed it between his two cupped palms. I was used to the sensation of Alex’s skin against mine: warm and soft. The cool papery sensation of Monsieur Armel’s saddened me, while Alex’s touch had always made me feel alive.
“He will be back shortly. He needed to do an errand for me.” He let go of my hand and motioned for me to sit down.
***
In the same chairs where I had discovered the story of my grandfather and his rare books, I now sat with Monsieur Armel, with hardly a word between us. The glimmer in his eyes that had once ignited when he saw my rare Haggadah was now replaced with a sense of defeat.
If my heart was heavy because of Alex’s imminent departure, his father’s heart was drowning.
“I am sorry,” he apologized, lifting his chin. “I don’t even have tea to offer you. Everything is already packed. Today is the last day left on our lease here.”
“It’s quite all right,” I said, forcing a smile. “I already had some this morning.”
He nodded and I noticed he was wringing his hands.
“So many of us are losing our sons just before Passover. The irony has not been lost on any of us.”
“I am so sorry...” It was hard to find any other words.
“The Jewish Telegraphic Agency reported this week that over sixty thousand Jewish boys are in the French legion. And now the army is taking boys like my son.”
He took a deep breath and raised his head in my direction.
