Page 92 of The Journal of a Thousand Years
He pushed his glasses up his nose. “It seems India has put a spell into it to announce her return, although they’re a day early. And why would they come here to the library and not return to their house?”
We both turned as footsteps approached.
We were wrong. The man standing between the black marble columns holding his hat against his chest wasn’t Gabe’s father, Lord Rycroft. I’d seen photographs of Matt, and he looked a lot like Gabe. This man was about Lord Rycroft’s age, with a little more weathering of his features. I’d seen photographs of him, too, but it took me a moment to realize that I’d seen those photographs here in this very library, and in the professor’s adjoining flat. Indeed, it was Professor Nash’s reaction that confirmed the man’s identity for me.
He fainted.
I managed to catch him and lower him to the floor. He regained consciousness as Oscar Barratt crouched beside him.
“You’re not usually this dramatic, Gavin.” Oscar grinned. It made his interesting face rather handsome. He opened his arms to receive a hug. “It’s good to see you.”
The professor sat up, blinked at his old friend, then did something I’d never seen him do before. He punched Oscar. It was only in the arm, and it seemed to hurt the professor’s hand more than Oscar, but it was still a surprising reaction from the gentle-natured librarian.
Oscar rubbed his arm. “I thought you’d be pleased to see me.” He sounded hurt. He turned a worried frown onto me. “Are you his assistant? Do you know what’s made him so aggressive? Is it the war?”
“I think it’s the fact that he thought you were dead.”
Oscar’s brows shot up. “Why would you think that?”
The professor drew his legs in and I thought he was going to stand, but he remained seated on the floor. Perhaps he didn’t trust his balance yet after receiving such a shock. I couldn’t fathom the emotions swirling within him. “You never wrote to me to tell me otherwise! I receivednoword foryears. Of course I thought you were dead! Why wouldn’t I?”
“I did write to you.” Oscar scoffed as if he suspected he was the victim of the professor’s joke.
But the professor wasn’t laughing. Indeed, he still looked furious.
“I wrote to you just after we parted ways, when war broke out,” Oscar said. “I told you where to write to me. You didn’t receive it?”
“No.”
“I suppose we can blame the abysmal north African mail service and the chaos of war for correspondence going missing.”
“Can we?” the professor growled.
Oscar twirled his hat in his hand. “I wondered why you never responded.”
“Your brother didn’t receive a letter either.”
Oscar scoffed. “You know Isaac and I don’t get along. I didn’t write to him.”
“And Huon? Why didn’t you write to your nephew? He looked up to you. He could have done with his favorite uncle’s guidance, by the way.”
Oscar winced. “That’s why I came home. One of the reasons. The other was to see you. I missed you.”
The professor’s lips pinched so tightly they turned white. I thought he was going to punch Oscar again, but Oscar knew him better than I did. He drew his friend into a hug and patted him firmly on the back.
I got up to leave them in peace. “I’ll make some coffee.”
Oscar broke free of the professor and put out a hand to me. “Strong coffee, if you have it, Miss…”
“Ashe. Sylvia Ashe.” I shook his hand and headed to the staircase to make the coffee in the professor’s flat.
“She’s pretty,” I heard Oscar say. “Huon would like her.”
The professor’s chuckle drifted up to me. “Gabe likes her more. Besides, Huon has his eye on someone else. You’ll like her.” A moment later, he said, “Is everything all right, Oscar? How is?—?”
“Fine,” Oscar said, a smile in his voice. “Everything is fine. I have a lot to tell you.”
Oscar Barratt’sreturn from the dead drew everyone to the library. Huon’s reaction was similar to the professor’s, but without the punch in the arm. He did scold his uncle, however,telling him that he should have written more than once, especially when he received no reply from either of them.
