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.”