“I’m sorry for its state,” he said as he spread his long fingers and let a scrap of paper fall into her waiting hand. “I kept it within my shoe for months.”
Elaine used two fingers to gently pry apart the paper and immediately recognized the handwriting as her own. She drew in a shaky inhale at the familiar words.
Dearest Joseph,
I’m sorry for everything I said. I love you always.
-Hélène
“He was with Joseph,” Etienne said.
Elaine’s throat went tight with emotion. “How?” she managed to croak.
“We were in Auschwitz together,” Saul replied. “The first week I arrived, I became very ill. I survived only because of your husband. He held me upright through the work, doing my share and his so I would not be shot. I do not even know where he found the strength. Perhaps in you.” He gestured to the paper. “He looked at that often, cupped in the cradle of his hand, protected in the heel of his shoe otherwise. One day, an officer caught him smuggling potato peels to give to a man in our row who could not raise himself from bed. I was with Joseph when the officer shot him. He was clutching your note when he died.” Saul’s voice caught and his eyes welled with tears. “I thought it only right to keep it for him, to return his most cherished possession to you.”
Elaine’s mouth stretched over her teeth as she tried to keep back her tears, to summon the words to thank the man for such a precious gift. All these months, she had tried to push this note from her mind, to not dwell on the fear that Joseph had died never knowing how truly sorry she was, how very much she did love him.
A sob choked from her. “I love him so much.”
Tears ran down Saul’s cheeks, and he opened his thin arms to her. “And he loved you.” The man whose body was little more than the bones framing his skin and who had endured cruelties beyond imagination, offered Elaine solace and comfort greater than any she had received in a long time. He had known Joseph in those final months, in the final seconds.
“Thank you,” she whispered with all the love in her heart. “Thank you for this gift.”
Saul smiled up at her through his own tears and gently patted her face.
But he was not the only one owed her gratitude. She reached for Etienne’s hand and squeezed it with all the appreciation welling within her. “You got the note to him.”
“I told you I would do all I could.”
Saul and Etienne were not the last of her guests that week. On a sunny Friday, after the bells tolled half past noon, a quiet rap sounded at the door. Elaine crossed the threshold to welcome another visitor in search of their loved one.
A pretty young woman stood on the other side, her dark hair pulled back into victory rolls to reveal intelligent, clear green eyes. “Are you Elaine Rousseau?” she asked with a dialect Elaine could not place.
“Bélanger,” Elaine answered. “But once known as Rousseau, yes. How may I help you?”
The woman reached into a small handbag hanging from her elbow, one far too small to hold the series of ration cards still needed for daily life. From it, she withdrew a black-and-white photo. “My name is Ava Harper, and I was the one who received your secret code in Combat to help bring Sarah and Noah Cohen to America.”
She handed the photo to Elaine, whose heart caught in her throat. Sarah stood in a yard before a modest-sized house with dark shutters against its pale exterior. At her side was a dark-haired man with broad shoulders and a euphoric grin. They both rested their hands on the shoulders of a little boy with long-lashed eyes Elaine knew to be hazel. His cheeks were plump with good health and his mouth was partially open, his hand pointing in the distance, as if he was excitedly chattering about something he saw. The way children ought to be.
Sarah and Noah had made it to America and reunited as a family. Elaine’s efforts had not been in vain. Her fight had not been in vain.