“You stay close,” she cautioned as she set him down by her side. “And do not make any trouble.”
Ava understood her concern. Clerks could deny passage for any reason, whether legitimate or personal. All applicants were at their mercy. A wandering child could spell disaster for Sarah and Noah, even with Ava there to help.
When the next reception area was vacated, Ava approached the desk where a woman with wiry gray hair stared tiredly at her. Damp perspiration rings darkened the armpits of her red shirt.
“I’d like two tickets to New York, departing within the next week to ensure their visas don’t expire.” Ava laid out the visas for the woman to inspect.
“You’ll need to fill out the application.” The woman shoved two forms toward Ava, who had learned to develop an unnatural patience with such things in the last few months. One would never suspect paper was on ration with how many applications, affidavits, and forms one was required to submit.
Were the process for herself, Ava suspected her tolerance would be short-lived. However, in light of what Sarah and Noah had gone through, a cramped hand was scarcely nothing of note by which to complain.
As she carefully filled out the details, she glanced about, half expecting Lukas to show once more.
Sarah remained still as a soldier beside her with Noah’s back obediently locked against his mother’s leg. The little toy boat was held aloft in his hand, rolling through an invisible sea, his lips pursed as he mimicked the splash of waves in a barely audible whisper.
The clerk accepted the form and skimmed over Ava’s careful print. The woman’s mouth thinned. Seconds ticked by, scraping over Ava’s nerves.
The clerk slid her gaze to Sarah with little Noah standing at her side, still holding his toy ship. He paused in waving it through the air and smiled at her in the sweet, pure way only a child can.
She huffed out a sigh. “I have exactly two spots available for this Wednesday on the USS Siboney.”
That was in two days.
“We’ll take them,” Ava said, placing the money on the counter.
Minutes later, they left the travel office, precious tickets in place of the money secured in a pocket in Sarah’s purse. After a celebratory treat of ice cream at one of the cafés near their apartment, Ava walked them to their door.
“Will you come up?” Sarah asked as she often did when they enjoyed lunch together.
“I’d love to.” Ava followed her up a flight of stairs to the apartment that had become as familiar to Ava as her own.
“Let me settle this little one down for his nap,” Sarah said. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“But I’m not tired,” Noah whined even as he rubbed an eye with a tight fist.
Though Ava had never been around children, Noah’s habits were frequent enough that it was easy to discern what he needed despite his protests. Two months had been enough to know that Noah did indeed require a nap, or his sunny disposition would sour with shrieks of displeasure.
“No need to rush on my account.” Ava waved Sarah off and went to the kitchen to prepare a cup of coffee for each of them.
Sarah emerged several minutes later with a smile still touching her lips. “He was asleep before I could even sing ‘Fais Dodo.’”
Ava, who was aware just how much he loved the go-to-sleep song, chuckled and poured fresh coffee into two cups. In the time Sarah had gotten to know Ava, she had shared what Paris was like during the Nazi occupation. There had been days so cold that one would wake to frost on their blankets and food was so scarce that signs were posted to remind people not to eat rats. Then there were the times of hiding in crawl spaces meant for storage, not humans, and the joint-locking stillness required to remain unheard during the day. Not to mention the agony of keeping a small child quiet…