Small streams of sweat rippled under her arms.
When she raised her head, she could read the title. The Complete Duden Dictionary and Thesaurus. Briefly, she turned to Rudy and mouthed the words, It’s a dictionary. He shrugged and held out his arms.
She worked methodically, sliding the window upward, wondering how all of this would look from inside the house. She envisioned the sight of her thieving hand reaching up, making the window rise until the book was felled. It seemed to surrender slowly, like a falling tree.
Got it.
There was barely a disturbance or sound.
The book simply tilted toward her and she took it with her free hand. She even closed the window, nice and smooth, then turned and walked back across the potholes of clouds.
“Nice,” Rudy said as he gave her the bike.
“Thank you.”
They rode toward the corner, where the day’s importance reached them. Liesel knew. It was that feeling again, of being watched. A voice pedaled inside her. Two laps.
Look at the window. Look at the window.
She was compelled.
Like an itch that demands a fingernail, she felt an intense desire to stop.
She placed her feet on the ground and turned to face the mayor’s house and the library window, and she saw. Certainly, she should have known this might happen, but she could not hide the shock that loitered inside when she witnessed the mayor’s wife, standing behind the glass. She was transparent, but she was there. Her fluffy hair was as it always was, and her wounded eyes and mouth and expression held themselves up, for viewing.
Very slowly, she lifted her hand to the book thief on the street. A motionless wave.
In her state of shock, Liesel said nothing, to Rudy or herself. She only steadied herself and raised her hand to acknowledge the mayor’s wife, in the window.
DUDEN DICTIONARY MEANING #2
Verzeihung—Forgiveness:
To stop feeling anger,
animosity, or resentment.
Related words: absolution,
acquittal, mercy.
On the way home, they stopped at the bridge and inspected the heavy black book. As Rudy flipped through the pages, he arrived at a letter. He picked it up and looked slowly toward the book thief. “It’s got your name on it.”
The river ran.
Liesel took hold of the paper.
THE LETTER
Dear Liesel,
I know you find me pathetic and loathsome (look that word up if you don’t know it), but I must tell you that I am not so stupid as to not see your footprints in the library. When I noticed the first book missing, I thought I had simply misplaced it, but then I saw the outlines of some feet on the floor in certain patches of the light.
It made me smile.
I was glad that you took what was rightfully yours. I then made the mistake of thinking that would be the end of it.
When you came back, I should have been angry, but I wasn’t. I could hear you the last time, but I decided to leave you alone. You only ever take one book, and it will take a thousand visits till all of them are gone. My only hope is that one day you will knock on the front door and enter the library in the more civilized manner.