Joseph may not have wanted her to engage in such dangerous work, but she knew her husband: he would have been proud.
Ava
Ava could recall perfectly the day she’d taken the picture. It had been a fine April afternoon with a gentle breeze stirring the fresh shoots of grass in the verdant yard. Sarah’s neighbor had recently acquired a new puppy, a puff of white with an overeager pink tongue, and Noah could not stifle his adoration long enough to sit still for the photograph.
Whatever Sarah’s fears might have been about losing Lewis’s love, they were entirely unfounded. Never had Ava seen a man look at a woman with such tenderness as Lewis did with Sarah.
It was Sarah’s fondness for Elaine that sent Ava to Lyon before she went on to England. To meet the woman who had risked her life creating publications to squelch the dissemination of the Nazis’ spurious claims, to meet the woman who had brought the Cohens into Ava’s life and helped them to freedom.
Her search for Elaine in Lyon had taken several days of going to various locations and seeking out every name Sarah had provided her with. Time was running out and Ava’s flight would be soon departing, but she was grateful for her success in finally locating the woman who had done so much for others.
Elaine looked up from the photograph with tears in her dark eyes. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, her wrists slender where they thrust out from the red sweater she wore. “Are they happy?”
Ava couldn’t stop her own smile. “Very much so. And they all survived the war because of you.”
“Not me.” Elaine shook her head, setting her thick blond hair swishing over her shoulders. “I merely put out the message.”
“Yes, but it was so cleverly hidden,” Ava said. “I recognized it immediately because your usual work in Combat was so immaculate, but no one else would realize that if they were not familiar with the newspaper.”
“We always were so proud of how perfect the final product was.” Elaine gave a sad smile. “I am grateful you decoded my message, that you were able to help them.” A flash of pain touched her eyes. “There were so many who could not be saved.”
Ava felt the weight of those emotions in her very soul and nodded in understanding. “I was in Lisbon, but I saw the refugees come through, I heard their stories. Even in a place of safety, some were still lost.” The force of her grief for Otto resonated through her. It always would.
“I heard of the attack on you and your coworkers.” Ava had been shocked to learn about the attack on the warehouse in a letter from James. “I am so sorry for your loss.”
Elaine lifted her chin at a slightly cocky angle, as if confidence could cast aside grief. “It was a dangerous role. We knew the risks.”
Ava caught sight of a large machine in the corner of the room. “Is that your press?”
“Oui.” Elaine looked at it over her shoulder. “Would you like to see it?”
“I would.” Ava stepped closer to examine the different levers and plates and rollers. The scent of metal and grease blended with a powdery aroma of ink hanging in the air. While she could piece out what some items were, the rest was a fascinating enigma.
The written word held such importance to her through the years. Books had been solace in a world turned upside down, a connection to characters when she was utterly alone, knowledge when she needed answers and so, so much more. In the war, they had given her insight, understanding, and appreciation. And even through letters and journals, words granted immortality for those whose stories she had been honored to capture.
“It’s beautiful,” Ava whispered.
Elaine considered her. “Do you think so?”
“Absolutely,” Ava replied without hesitation. “Without machines such as this, we would never have books.” She let her fingers gently brush the lever, cool against her touch. “Words have such incredible power.”