Reyna Feldman, a twenty year old Jewish girl from the tiniest of villages in France, is on the run. Captured by German soldiers while trying to escape over the border, she's taken to an internment camp in Freiburg, Germany, where she meets SS Philli...
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As previously promised, here's another chapter for you guys!! I'm so excited to see where the next few chapters take us... Let me know what you think! :)
Reyna's eyes scanned over the last page of Emma, the latest Jane Austen recommendation Phillip had given her. Closing the book, she looked across the room to the desk where Phillip sat. He'd been pouring over paperwork and reports the entire evening in preparation for the trip he would be making to Munich the following day.
She'd had an uneasy feeling since he'd told her the week prior. The last time he'd left the camp, Lieutenant Muller had ... She shook the thought away. Rising from her usual seat at the fireplace, she approached the bookshelves at the opposite side of the room.
He'd seemed apprehensive to tell her, careful to reassure her that she'd be safe while he was away. Mrs. Aberman would be staying behind, he'd told her, and an officer would be posted outside the house to ensure no breaking and entering occurred. It had done little to ease the dread that had gripped her chest. That same dread had been tying knots inside her stomach ever since, tightening them the closer they got to the day of his departure.
Slipping Emma back on the shelf, she scanned the books before her, trying to distract herself. Between these books, and the ones in his study, she'd never be able to read them all. There were so many, most of which she'd never even heard of.
Tracing a finger along the spines, she walked the length of the shelf, reading each title as she went. She stopped when one caught her eye. It was a plain looking book, different from the other colorful bindings whose titles were scrolled in gold filigree. This one was brown, its title spelled out in a simple, black font.
Pulling it from the shelf, she read the cover. The Works and Letters of John Keats. She didn't know who that was, or who his letters had been intended for, but something made her open the book anyway. Flipping to the first page she read the words scrolled across the top.
'Postmark: Newport, July 3, 1819'
'Shanklin, Isle of Wight, Thursday'
She read on.
'I am glad I had not an opportunity of sending off a letter which I wrote for you on Tuesday night—'twas too much like one out of Rousseau's Heloise. I am more reasonable this morning. The morning is the only proper time for me to write to a beautiful girl whom I love so much: for at night, when the lonely day has closed, and the lonely, silent, unmusical chamber is waiting to receive me as into a sepulcher, then believe me my passion gets entirely the sway, then I would not have you see those rhapsodies which I once thought it impossible I should ever give way to.'
She blushed at the words. This was a love letter. To who, she didn't know. But whoever she was, this John Keats loved her very much. Turning the page, she continued to read.
'The letter, you must write immediately. Make it rich as a draught of poppies to intoxicate me—write the softest words and kiss them that I may at least touch my lips where yours have been. For myself I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form: I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair. I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days—three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.'
"What are you reading?" Phillip's voice called a few feet behind her. She jumped, closing the book with a start. "I didn't mean to startle you," He said, a bemused look on his face. She turned around to face him, tucking the book down by her side, out of view. She didn't know why, but it felt as though she'd been reading something she shouldn't've been. Like she'd intruded on something private. Closing the gap between them, he reached around her, gently pulling the book from her grasp.
"Ah, John Keats," Phillip smiled as he read the cover.
"Who did he write those letters to?" She asked before she could stop herself. "They're so..."
"Intimate?" He finished. Her blush deepened, and she looked away. "Her name was Fanny Brawne," He answered.
"Where they married?" She asked, drawing her eyes back up to his. He shook his head.
"Keats died of Tuberculosis three years into their engagement."
"That's awful," She frowned. "It sounds like he loved her very much."
"And she loved him," Phillip smiled, holding the book out for her to take. She accepted it, turning the weathered cover over in her hands. "You should read it," He nodded towards the book. "The letters were published posthumously after his death, but he's known for his poetry."
She nodded, walking in step beside him, back to her seat.
"I've been wanting to talk to you about something," He said, sitting down in the chair beside her's instead of retreating back to his desk.
"Okay," She nodded.
"I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to Munich?" He said. Silence hung in the air as she tried to wrap her head around what he'd just asked her.
"Is that - is that allowed?" She asked, her brow furrowed.
"Luca accompanies me on these kinds of trips all the time," He replied simply. That was true. Luca had been with him on his last trip, and he would be going this time too.
"Luca is your errand boy ... what purpose would I be serving?" Would the other men there think she was his toy? Some little play thing he'd picked up in the camp?
"Who I choose to bring with me on business and why is no one's concern but my own," He shrugged. "And if I were you, I wouldn't refer to Luca as my errand boy to his face," He added with a smirk. She cracked a smile at that. "I know you've felt uneasy this last week," He began, his tone more serious now. "I don't want you to feel that way."
"I'll be safe here," She said, trying to reassure herself, as much as him.
"I know you will be," He pressed on. "But I want you to feel safe." He gazed into her eyes, searching them for her answer.
"If you're sure it's okay for me to come," She finally said after a long pause. He looked relieved, as if the prospect of leaving her behind had left him just as unsettled. She returned the smile that had began to form on his lips, with one of her own.
"We leave after breakfast."
——————————————— Honestly I'm obsessed with these two! <3 Hope y'all are enjoying the story as much as I've been enjoying writing it! Drop a like, or a comment to let me know your thoughts!
