Helen smiled and touched her cheek. “You’ve been crying.”
Taking her grandmother’s hand between her own, she kissed the old woman’s knuckles. A lump filled her throat and she couldn’t find the words to express her love.
“When did you meet Grandpa?” she finally asked.
Helen smiled again and her eyes drifted shut. “Two years later. He was one of the American soldiers who came with Patton’s army to free us from the concentration camp.”
This was a completely different aspect of the story.
“When it was learned that I was an American citizen, I was immediately questioned and when my citizenship was verified, I was put on a ship and sent home.”
“Two years,” Ruth said in a choked voice. “You were in a camp for two years?” Just when she thought there was nothing more to horrify her, Helen revealed something else.
“Buchenwald.... I don’t want to talk about it,” Helen muttered.
No wonder her grandmother had never spoken of those years. The memories were far worse than the worst Ruth had been able to imagine.
Her grandmother brushed the hair from Ruth’s forehead. “I want you to know I like your young man.”
“He reminded you of Jean-Claude, didn’t he?”
Her smile was weak, which told Ruth how drained this afternoon’s conversation had left Helen. “Not at first, but then he smiled and I saw Jean-Claude in Paul’s eyes.” She swallowed a couple of times and added, “I wanted to die after Jean-Claude did. I would’ve done anything if only the Germans had put me out of my living hell. They knew that and decided it was better to let me live and remember, each and every day, that I’d killed my own husband.” A tear slid down her face. “I can’t speak of it anymore.”
Ruth understood. “I’ll leave you to rest. Try to sleep.”
Her grandmother’s answering sigh told Ruth how badly she needed that just then.
“Come back and see me soon,” she called as Ruth stood.
“I will, I promise.” She bent down to kiss the soft cheek.
Paul was waiting for her in the living room, flipping through the Cedar Cove Chronicle, but he got up when she returned. “Is she all right?”
Ruth shrugged. “She’s tired.” Her eyes were watering again, despite her best efforts not to cry. She couldn’t stop thinking about the pain her grandmother had endured and kept hidden all these years.
Paul held open his arms and she walked into his embrace as naturally as she slipped on a favorite coat. Once there, she began to cry—harsh, broken sobs she thought would never end.
Eight
AS BEFORE, Ruth and Paul spoke little on the ferry ride back to Seattle.
Ruth’s entire perspective on her grandmother had changed. Until now, she’d always viewed the petite, gentle woman as...well, her grandmother. All of a sudden Ruth was forced to realize that Helen had been young once, and deeply involved in events that had changed or destroyed many lives. She’d been an ordinary young woman from a fairly privileged background. She’d been a student, fallen in love, enjoyed a carefree existence. Then this ordinary young woman had been caught up in extraordinary circumstances—and risen to their demands.
Ruth was curious about the connection between her grandmother’s life during the war and her life afterward. Clearly the link was her grandfather, whom she’d never had a chance to know.
Paul stood with Ruth at the railing as the ferry glided through the relatively smooth waters of Puget Sound. The rain had stopped, and although the sky remained cloudy and gray, the air was fresh with only the slightest hint of brine.
“Every story I hear leaves me amazed that this incredible woman is my grandmother,” Ruth said fervently, grateful that Paul was beside her.
“I know. I’m overwhelmed, and I just met her.”
They exchanged tentative smiles, and then they both sighed—in appreciation, Ruth thought, of everything Helen Shelton had been and done.
“I wish I’d known my grandfather,” she said. “He seems to have been the one who gave my grandmother a reason to live. He loved her and she loved him.” Ruth knew that from every word her grandmother and her dad had said about Sam Shelton.
“How old were you when he died?” Paul asked.
“Two or so.” She turned so she could look directly at Paul. “When I saw my grandmother in her bedroom, she said he was with a group of soldiers who freed the prisoners in the concentration camp.”
“She was in a concentration camp?”
Ruth nodded. “She was there at least a couple of years.”
Paul frowned, obviously upset.
“I can’t bear to think what her life was like in one of those obscene places,” Ruth said.
“It would’ve been grim. You’re right—they were obscene. Places of death.”
Ruth didn’t welcome the reminder. “I’m so glad you’ve been with me on these visits,” she told him. Paul’s presence helped her assimilate the details her grandmother had shared. He’d given her a feeling of comfort and companionship as they’d listened to these painful wartime experiences. Ruth believed there was something about Paul that had led Helen to divulge her secrets.
After the ferry docked, they walked along the Seattle waterfront, where they ate clam chowder, followed by fish-and-chips, for dinner. Their mood was somber, and yet, strangely, Ruth felt a sense of peace.
The next day, after her classes, she hurried back to her rental house and ran into Lynn. As much as possible, Ruth had avoided her roommate. Her relationship with Lynn had been awkward ever since the argument over Clay. Lynn’s lie, which she’d told in an effort to keep Ruth from meeting Paul, hadn’t helped.
Lynn was coming out just as Ruth leaped up the porch steps. Her roommate hesitated.
Ruth did, too. She’d never said anything to Lynn about her intentional mix-up that first night she was meeting Paul. Her classes would be over in June, and she was more than ready to move out.
“Hi,” Lynn offered uncertainly.
Ruth’s pace slowed as she waited, half expecting Lynn
