“Edmunton sent me to the corner shop for a supply run.”
“Oh, that’s right. I should have guessed why Liam would come around the switchboard closet. He must have come over when he couldn’t find you. I would have said something, but I thought you knew.”
“And did Liam say anything about coming here to the shelter tonight?”
“Funny enough, he did ask me about our post. He said something about wanting to be ‘a real Londoner’ and that’s why he was going to volunteer too.”
“What?” Kája whispered after hearing her own words repeated back and looked over as Liam began unpacking tools with the rest of the men.
Trixie waved her hand in the air. “I’ve long since stopped trying to figure that one out. In any case, he’s an extra pair of hands and that we sorely need if we’re going to get this place up to snuff for tonight.”
“Right,” Kája said, stealing one more glance over at the group of men, their hammers already flying. “Let’s get tea started.”
A knock on the train car door aroused Kája from her thoughts.
“May I come up?”
Liam stood at the steps to the first aid car, having hushed his voice to not wake the baby sleeping in her arms. She nodded and tilted her chin to the side to invite him in.
He looked around the car, seeming surprised to find a shelf above the seats lined with boxes of babies rather than supplies. There was a gurgle here and there but for the most part, the car was peaceful.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full in here.” He stepped up and walked in until he was by her side, looking down at the bundle she held in her arms.
“There are only four tonight,” she whispered, softly patting the back of the little boy she rocked back and forth. “I’ve been trying to get him down for the last hour. I think I may have finally done it.”
Liam cupped a hand to the back of the child’s head, softly patting. “Where’s his mother?”
“Asleep, poor thing.” She tilted her head toward the tracks. “She’s worked all day.”
“And haven’t you worked all day?”
He looked at her, eyes welcoming. Even after the weeks he’d been gone, it seemed as though nothing had changed. The explosion at Columbia Road had been horrible, indeed. But the one thing the memory had brought was the remembrance of his face when she had woken up in the hospital. He was a friend now, one whom she’d come to know and depend on.
The fact that he was standing here in the car spoke volumes.
“Yes,” she admitted, stretching her back ever so slightly. “But the woman has three other little ones to look after and I haven’t any. She needs a few hours of sleep at least, like the other mothers who have to leave at sunup and work all day. Besides, Trixie will spell me soon.”
He held out his arms. “Here, let me.”
“But he needs to be changed and—”
Liam took the child up in his arms and issued her a glance with mock rebuke.
“I may be a man, but I’m not completely helpless.” He nodded to the train car seats behind them. “Sit. That’s an order.”
Kája found that she hadn’t enough strength left to argue. She fell into the seat and leaned back, loving the feel of having her feet off the floor for the first time in hours.
She watched Liam as he diapered the baby and quite surprisingly, he looked like he knew what he was doing. He’d lain the child down on the seat opposite her and without instruction proceeded to change the baby in one minute flat, even remembering to powder the little bottom before he’d pinned him up.
Liam lifted the child in his arms and carried him over to her. The little boy snuggled into the crook of his neck, having dozed on through the entire changing. He sighed back into sleep as Liam settled in the seat beside her.
“I can take him.”
“No, no.” He shook his head. “I’ve got him fine. Rest your arm.”
She hadn’t even realized she was rubbing it. He must have seen.
Kája dropped her hand and rested it in her lap.
“I’m impressed. It seems as though you know your way around a nursery car. How did that come about?”
“Mum died when I was eight. I had three younger siblings—my two brothers and a baby sister. Dad had to work to keep us going, so you learn to diaper fast when you’re a young chap running a house for the first time.”
“I’m so sorry, Liam,” she offered, not sure what to say.
“It was a long time ago,” he whispered back.
He’d never seemed the type to complain. Kája knew he wouldn’t have said a word unless she’d asked. And now, after all the months she’d known him, it was the first time he’d ever told her anything about his own family. It made the remembrance of his father’s death that first day of the bombings all the heavier on her heart.
He’d lost both of his parents. She didn’t want to imagine what that felt like.
“Who would have thought we’d all be sleeping on train tracks or stopped escalators? Or spending our nights in a nursery car? We do what we have to do to survive, I suppose.”
Kája nodded. “How long will you be in London?”
He cleared his throat lightly. “Just for the week, I’m afraid.”
“And do you know where you’re going?”
Liam looked at her over the head of the sleeping little boy. His eyes connected with hers, blinking back. Offering the connection she’d so missed in the time he’d been away.
“Yes.”
His one-word answer triggered a sigh she couldn’t hold back.
“And you can’t tell me.”
Liam shook his head. “Not this time, no.”
“Not any time, you mean.”
“But I assure you that when I can say something, you’ll be the first to know.”
“Will I?”
Liam dropped a hand down from the child’s back and rested it palm up on the seat beside her, waiting. “I’ll be gone for a while this time. But I’ll write to you.”
She bit the edge of her bottom lip, holding back the emotion of seeing him only in letters written on a page. She nodded, then whispered, “And I’ll write back.”
“Whatever happens or wherever I’m sent, I’ll come back to you. I came here tonight to tell you that I want you in my life, Kája. I can’t hide it anymore,” he whispered, and paused with his eyes locked on hers. “What I mean is, I don’t want to hide it. I want to be who I am, and that is the man who cares for you.”
Kája thought about the bombing that first day and how he’d stayed by her side in the hospital. He’d not left her even when she was discharged. In fact, he’d been the one to drive her over and get her settled in at Trixie’s. And he was here now. He’d come home to London for a week and his first moments upon returning had brought him to her.
Kája slid her hand in his and laid her head against his shoulder.
“Then I’m glad you’re here now.”
They didn’t say much after that. He held the little boy as they sat in silence, listening to the sweet cadence of babies cooing in sleep around them and the far off echoing of the Germans’ bombs above ground. They’d hear a blast every now and then, to which Liam would squeeze her hand as the dust fell down like flour settling in the air.
Kája held on to the moment, no longer scared of the bombs. The only thought that held her captive now was wondering how long the moment would last.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cicadas burned the sounds of night into the background.
Sera awoke to their hum out the windows, forgetting for a moment where she was. It was normal to awaken because of the bustle in the Manhattan streets outside the apartment where she’d lived for the past several years. But waking up because of the gentle stillness of a summer night—it took more than a moment for her to get her bearings.
She slid her hand over the pillow beside her.
Cold.
Sera sat up straight. William was gone.
She swung her
legs over the side of the bed and let them dangle while she looked around their room. The drapes were pulled open so she had a wide view of the bay. It was lovely and dark, distant lights shining from the opposite shore. The moon was full and high in the sky, creating inky shadows in the corners of the large estate bedroom. To awaken and find herself alone caused anxious prickles to form on the back of Sera’s neck.
The clock on the nightstand didn’t help.
2:15 a.m.
She stood and reached for the cashmere wrap from a nearby occasional chair. She pulled it over her tank top, enveloping her shoulders with its warmth. The last thing she felt comfortable doing was wandering around the vast estate home in the middle of the night, but if her gut could be relied upon at all, she had a pretty good idea where she’d find her husband.
Ever so quietly, she opened the thick-paneled oak door and stepped into the hall. It, too, looked shrouded in an eerie light, as the moon reflected off the windows overlooking the back of the estate. She walked along, sensitive to every creak and groan of the hardwood floors, and trekked down the stairs until she came to the soft glow of light shining from behind the office door.
The door was cracked open. She peered in.
William sat at the desk.
His laptop was open upon it, its glow mixing with the tabletop lamp to illuminate the embattled features of his face. He didn’t look tired; she knew him well enough to know it was stress. He sat back in the chair, casual in a Red Sox tee and athletic shorts, save for the deep crease in his forehead, and stared ahead with the oddest look of resolve on his face. He seemed a million miles away.
She tapped on the door.
He looked up, and as if she were a dose of warm water, the ice cracked in his features and he smiled to greet her.
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve been tossing and turning for a while now.”
Sera padded across the rug and sat on the edge of the desk.
“I can’t sleep either.” He slid an arm around her waist.
“Then maybe we’re both awake because we need to talk about all this.”
“Talk about what?”
“About why you’re in this office every night instead of getting some much needed sleep.”
She looked at him, eyes wide open, wondering if it was the right time to tell him. He was going to be a father and even more so now than before, they had to find answers.
“Will—” She stopped short when he cut into her thoughts.
“It feels like a mistake.”
She paused, noting the poignancy in his eyes. “What feels like a mistake?”
“You going to London on your own.”
Sera shook her head. “I’m not. Penny is going with me. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“You know I can’t go with you. They won’t let me leave the country right now.”
“I know.”
“I’ve prayed about this, Sera. At length. In more words than I can say. I’ve poured my heart out to God, asking him to heal the past and free me from it. And I wish I could explain everything . . . to make you understand . . .”
She swallowed hard. “What do you need me to understand?”
Sera reached out and touched a cautious hand to his shoulder. His muscle tensed under her fingertips, but he didn’t answer her question. Instead, his eyes met hers in a debilitating plea.
“I’m asking you not to go. Please. Just leave it alone.”
“Will, I know your father left your family at a very vulnerable time. He broke your sister’s heart by not coming home for her wedding. And I’m not sure whether you would have even wanted him at ours,” Sera said, and slid her hand down the length of his arm until her hand held his. She leaned into his side. “But I hate to watch you go through this. And if there’s something I can do about it, I have to.”
Sera wasn’t an expert at being a wife, but the one thing she knew was they couldn’t make it through the legal battle ahead unless they were united. They had to be able to trust one another. To lean on each other through their pain and uncertainty—to lean on Christ together. But to watch William now, to see the pain creased in the harsh lines of his face, Sera knew he was holding back. Something was gnawing at him and whatever it was had a forceful hold.
“Sera,” he said on an exhale. “This is too much.”
She sat back from him.
Of course she had no intention of sounding meek. Nevertheless, her voice hitched when she replied, “It’s too much to talk to your wife?”
He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then help me understand what you did mean.”
“You don’t know my father, Sera. You don’t know our history. There’s pain left over from things that happened before you came into the picture. You’ll be ripping the bandage off this family’s mortal wound.”
“You mean the inheritance? The problems with your grandfather’s will.”
“That’s some of it, though not all.”
“What is it that this family refuses to tell me, Will? Forgive me, but I’m wrestling with feeling nobody really thinks I’m a Hanover. Not if you all walk on eggshells around me. Why is everyone keeping me in the dark?”
He shook his head. “They don’t know.”
“They don’t know what?” Sera stood. “Why your father left?”
“Sera, you can’t do this. There’s got to be a way to move forward without bringing my father into this. I’m determined to find it.”
“Then can you tell me what your father did to make you have such hatred for him? Because I can see it in your face. You don’t need to tell me any history because it’s right here. Whatever happened, it’s still holding you. And it’s not who you are.”
He paused, then in a gruff whisper, asked, “And what if I’m not the man you think I am?”
Sera’s heart began constricting in her chest. William, the man who had become closer to her than any person in her life. The dream of him threatened to drift away on words like that.
“Will, is there any reason I shouldn’t have complete trust in you?”
“No.” He shook his head almost immediately.
“Because if there’s something you need to tell me, whatever it is—I’ll listen.”
He shook his head, offering the same weak smile he’d given her for weeks.
“Then why—”
“I’m just wrestling with all this, love.”
Sera exhaled a soft breath, feeling that the moment had passed. Whatever he’d come close to opening had been locked up tight again.
He reached over and closed the laptop.
“It’s late.”
“Well then, how about breakfast?” She offered a smile, hoping he’d bite on the lightness of the idea. “It’s the middle of the night, we’re both awake, and I feel like cooking an omelet for my husband.”
William looked up at her.
She raised an eyebrow. “Well?”
“You’re beautiful.”
A laugh escaped her lips. “I am?” she asked, soft as air.
“Yes. And your faith in me,” he added, standing up before her. “I don’t deserve it.”
“If you’re trying to flatter me, husband,” she whispered, offering him a spontaneous smile that overpowered the pangs of worry pricking at her insides, “it’s working.”
“I know none of this is making things easy for you, but breakfast—something normal—sounds good right now. I’d give just about anything to see that smile more often these days.”
Sera could have kissed him in that second.
If you only knew . . .
William ran a hand along the side of her face, then buried it in the hair at the back of her neck. “I couldn’t do this without you. You know that, don’t you?”
“Then lucky you’re not without me.”
He sighed and pulled her close, then brushed his thumb over the skin beneath her eye.
“You look t
ired. I think you’ve been working too hard. Is all of this too much for you?”
Sera had been exhausted, that was true. And sick with nausea from morning to night. It took everything in her to hide it from him. But the circles that darkened the skin beneath her eyes didn’t lie. And despite how exhausted she felt, the last thing she wanted to do was compound his worries.
She’d tell him in good time. When he’d see a baby as a blessing and not another reason to doubt their future. For now, the caress of his loving words was enough.
“I’m fine.” She shook her head. When he looked like he didn’t believe her, she pecked a kiss to his lips and added, “Really.”
“And you fully intend on going to London no matter what I say, don’t you?”
She breathed out a sigh.
“I think the stakes are higher if I don’t go, Will. Someone has to get through to your father. I’m not afraid of putting myself in a place of discomfort if the result brings me back to you.”
“And you’re prepared for what this could do to everything we have.” His eyes searched her face.
Sera nodded, hoping to show him confidence.
“If Sophie could be brave with everything she went through, then so can I.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
June 24, 1942
The Daily Telegraph
Fleet Street, London
The tea cup Kája had been holding nearly took a tumble off the edge of the desk in her haste to set it down.
Beneath the block-print word CONFIDENTIAL stamped in a glaring red, the headline screamed, “Germans Murder 700,000 Jews in Poland.”
The sheet of paper had been buried in the stack of articles she’d been given to copy-edit before the paper hit the newsstands the following day, so the words before her were the last thing she’d expect. She moved her index finger along the bottom of each line, scanning the article.
Nazis murdering Jews.
Was this true? No. It couldn’t possibly be.
Trixie plopped down in the chair next to her desk.
A Sparrow in Terezin Page 14
