# Read the first page of The Room on Rue Amelie by Kristin Harmel Read the opening of The Room on Rue Amelie by Kristin Harmel free, no signup. In occupied Paris, an American woman, a pilot, and a Jewish girl entwine. - Page: https://uncovered.ink/read/the-room-on-rue-amelie-kristin-harmel - Genre: Historical fiction - Year: 2018 - ISBN: 9781501171413 - Read it blind (cover and title hidden): https://uncovered.ink/?b=9781501171413&s=read-page - Buy: https://bookshop.org/a/125786/9781501171413 - Borrow: https://search.worldcat.org/search?q=9781501171413 ## The opening She sleeps beside me, her narrow chest rising and falling, and already I miss her. The sand in the hourglass is running out, flowing relentlessly toward the end. There's never enough time, not when a person has become a part of you. We were lucky to survive the war, my wife and I, and not a day passes that I don't think of those we lost. I know it's greedy to want just one more week, one more month, one more year with her when we were already given so much time. The last half century has been a gift we never expected, perhaps a gift we never deserved. Still, I can't let go. I can't imagine my world without her, for my life didn't really begin until the day we met. But I’m as powerless to protect her in this moment as I was all those years ago in Paris, though both then and now I tried to fool myself into believing I had some control. I rise quietly, careful not to disturb her. When she awakens, the pain will return, so while I yearn for her company, I’m grateful that for now, she’s at peace. I shuffle into the kitchen, boil water in our electric kettle, steep some Earl Grey tea, and make my way to the front porch. It’s March, so the air is crisp, as crisp as it gets here in Antelope Valley, some sixty miles north of Los Angeles. I stare into the misty morning, and my breath catches in my throat when I see it: the first bloom of the season. In the coming weeks, the fields will turn brilliant shades of yellow, orange, and red. My wife will almost certainly be gone by then, but at least she’ll have this, one last dawn to the poppy season. “Thank you,” I say, looking upward to where I imagine God must be. “Thank you for this.” I’ve been talking to God a lot lately, which is strange because during the war I might have argued that He didn’t exist. But in the years since, I’ve surprised myself by slowly wending my way back to faith. It began with our daughter, Nadia, for there’s no denying that she was a miracle. And when she had three healthy children of her own, I believed a little more. When our grandchildren gave us great-grandchildren, and my wife and I were still here, I had no choice but to acknowledge a higher power. Then again, perhaps I’d known on some level that He was there all along, because what other explanation could there have been for my wife and me finding each other in the midst of such chaos all those years ago? As I gaze out at the rolling fields, I can see our lives unfolding here, our daughter twirling in the sunlight, our grandchildren chasing each other through the blooms. I sip my tea and blink a few times to clear my vision. It’s embarrassing how emotional I’ve grown lately. Men aren’t supposed to cry, especially men of my generation. But when it comes to the love of my life, I’m powerless against the tide. I finish my tea and head back into the house to check on her. She should still be sleeping, but I find her in bed with her eyes open, her head tilted toward the door. She’s still beautiful, even in old age, even as she succumbs to the cancer we caught too late. “Good morning, my love,” she says. “Good morning, my darling girl.” I force a smile. “Have the poppies bloomed yet?” I nod, and her eyes fill with tears. I know they’re tears of happiness, and I share her joy. “Just one for now,” I reply. “But the others won’t be far behind.” “What color, my love? What color is the first one?” “Red. The first poppy of the season is red.” “Of course.” She lies back and smiles. “Of course it is.” ## Books with a similar feel - [All the Ways We Said Goodbye by Beatriz Williams](https://uncovered.ink/read/all-the-ways-we-said-goodbye-beatriz-williams.md) - [The Woman with the Blue Star by Pam Jenoff](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-woman-with-the-blue-star-pam-jenoff.md) - [The Stolen Queen by Fiona Davis](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-stolen-queen-fiona-davis.md) - [The Paris Library by Janet Skeslien Charles](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-paris-library-janet-skeslien-charles.md) - [The Paris Express by Emma Donoghue](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-paris-express-emma-donoghue.md) - [Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See](https://uncovered.ink/read/snow-flower-and-the-secret-fan-lisa-see.md) --- Source: Uncovered (https://uncovered.ink). A short sample shown for reading and discovery. Rights holders can request removal at https://uncovered.ink/takedown.