Epilogue The Library
As the gala came to a close and patrons poured out my doors, I heaved a sigh of relief.
Finally, Meg and I were alone. We had to laugh.
Once again—even after she’d retired from volunteering—she stayed to tidy up and was the last to leave.
It didn’t matter that she wore a ball gown.
Here she was, a bouquet in one hand, a Hefty bag in the other, stuffing the trash into the bin on the darkened street.
She nearly ran into a petite woman perched on a red suitcase.
Her hennaed bob closed around her eyes like curtains.
She looked familiar to me. I hadn’t seen her in five decades, so it took a moment to place her.
You can’t blame me. Each year, thousands of people meander through my stacks.
Still, Odile had been one of my favorites.
Stunned at seeing her, Meg dropped her bouquet. The women gawked at each other, perhaps drinking in the changes, perhaps pondering what to say.
Meg spoke first. “How I’ve waited for this moment.”
Odile rose. “I’m sorry. For everything.”
“I never should have told you to go.”
“I don’t blame you.” Odile held out her hand. “After what I did…”
Meg stared at it. “You shouldn’t have left me.”
“I didn’t know how else to prove I was sorry.”
“Like this.” Meg embraced her.
Odile ran her fingers over Meg’s snowy crew cut. “It never grew back?”
“I prefer it short. After the Liberation, I rid myself of unnecessary things—long hair, syllables in my name, a philandering husband, concerns about what others thought of me.”
With a little push to open my door, I beckoned them inside.
“It feels as if I’ve come home,” Odile said as she touched the rickety coatrack, the American and French flags fluttering together, the dewy palmetto leaves, before Meg led her to the director’s office.
They were soon standing before the safe, where Meg pulled out the manuscript.
“I kept Professor Cohen’s novel for you. ”
“I always wondered what became of it.” Odile’s voice was filled with awe.
“We can start reading tonight.”
“Just one chapter…” they said together.
“After hours in the Afterlife, like we used to,” Odile said.
“I created something for you.” Meg opened the jewelry box.
Odile’s eyes brimmed with tears as she admired the brooches. “Lily and I read about your artwork in the Herald. Such talent.”
Meg pinned Jane Eyre on Odile’s lapel.
Odile stood straighter. “Better than receiving the Legion of Honor medal.”
“High praise indeed!” Meg said with a laugh.
In the decades since I was founded, it’s been a privilege to be a part of so many lives, so many decisions, so many hopes, so many stories.
People have made me what I am: a shelter, a haven, a hideout, a cure for loneliness.
There’s much I’d like to tell you. Sometimes you do the right thing for the wrong reason.
Sometimes minutes pass slower than years.
Sometimes tears say more than words. Even the strongest people stumble before finding their footing. But hold on, friend. Hold on.