Elisa settled unbelieving eyes on him. “I have no identification papers. If we are stopped, Adin and I will be arrested and killed.”
“We won't be discovered.”
“I hope you are right. I hope this is not a foolish American dream.” A cold wind blew through the vacant windows. She tucked the blanket more tightly around Adin. “And what is it your son is doing now?”
“I wish I knew,” Adam said sadly. He was quiet, then said, “He's probably having breakfast.” His voice faltered. He missed his family.
“And what is it that he does with his days?”
Adam had nearly forgotten Elisa was there. He focused on her and tried to think. “He loves to fish. The salmon run is over, but he'll still try for one. He and his uncle, Brian, will go. First he has chores though. We have a farm, and there's always a lot to be done.” He smiled softly. “I wonder if they've had the fair yet. He loves the fair.”
Adam picked up a stick and poked at the embers in the fire. “This time of year farmers show off their produce and livestock. We grow cabbages this big.” To demonstrate the size, he held his hands out as if he were holding a basketball.
“Really? That is very large.”
“They get big from the long hours of sunlight.” Adam's mind wandered to Laurel. She probably had all the canning done for the winter, and the carrots, onions, and potatoes would be stored in the root cellar. Hopefully the smokehouse was also well stocked, with plenty of fish, canned salmon, and game.
She thinks I'm dead. An ache settled in the center of him. Father, let her know I'm alive and that I'm coming home.
“You seem far away, Monsieur,” Elisa said.
The tenderness in Elisa's voice unsettled Adam. He needed tenderness. “I was thinking of home and how things would be there now.”
“Tell me about it.”
Adam closed his eyes and imagined it, then stared at the fire. “It's beautiful. The leaves on the trees have turned gold and red. The air is crisp and cool, and in the mornings ice is on puddles and frost covers the fields. The first snows are already in the mountains. Everyone's getting ready for winter.”
“Ah, so you have a lot of snow in winter?”
“Yes. Everything turns white.”
“But of course. We get snow here also. It is beautiful.”
Lightning lit the sky and Elisa startled. Thunder followed. She gazed at the heavens. “When I was a child, storms frightened me.” She hugged her knees. “It is still so. I am afraid. Only now I think it is the Germans who frighten me.”
“What will you do after the war?” Adam asked, hoping to distract her.
“I do not know.” Elisa rested her chin on her knees. “My family is gone, my friends...gone.” She studied Adin. “We will begin again—in a new place.” She settled dark eyes on Adam. “Is there a place in America for people like us?”
“America always has room for quality people. Maybe I can help. I'll talk to immigration after we're rescued.”
“Is America as grand as everyone says?”
“It's grand, all right. But not perfect. There are good people and bad people, but we're free to live our lives as we want. A person can go as far as his or her dreams will take them. You can too. All it takes is desire and hard work.” He nodded at Adin. “He will have every opportunity.”
“We are Jewish. Are Jews welcome in America?”
Adam had heard stories of people who hated Jews. He chose his words carefully. “There is a place for you and Adin. That doesn't mean it will be easy. Some people dislike certain groups of people, but mostly Americans' arms are open to immigrants.”
“I think I will go there.” Sadness touched her. “It will not be the same as now. I will not have you.” She rested a hand on Adam's arm.
The contact felt like a jolt of electricity. Adam looked at her hand. It was small, with slender fingers and broken nails. He wanted to cover it with his own.
“Your wife is very lucky.”
Adam was silent. All of a sudden he didn't know what he felt, except that he cared deeply for this French woman.
“I think I love you,” Elisa said softly. “I know it is wrong, but I cannot help how I feel. You are a...good man.” She smiled. Leaning close, she brushed his hair off his forehead and caressed his cheek. “I am thankful we met.”
Adam searched her eyes. Lovely and deep brown, they reminded him of the dark chocolates that came in fancy boxes. His feelings for Elisa were powerful. Was it possible that he loved her? Cupping her face in his hand, he leaned toward her and kissed her. It was not a kiss of passion but of tenderness and admiration. Of course, I feel respect and fondness for her, he told himself, trying to justify his behavior.
“You are the bravest woman I've ever known,” he whispered. “I will never forget you.”
Elisa covered his hand with hers. Tears escaped the corners of her eyes, running in narrow paths down her cheeks. “And I will love you forever.”
That night they slept cradled together with Adin beside them. Adam knew it was improper. He had a wife and son waiting for him, but somehow sleeping separately in this hostile world seemed wrong. They were together in a battle to survive. In this, they were one.
Laurel would understand, Adam tried to tell himself, but he knew the hurt he would see in her eyes if she knew his feelings. He didn't love Laurel any less, and all he'd shared with Elisa was one kiss. But Adam understood that he was betraying his wife, and yet, he longed to pull Elisa closer. What if this moment was all the lifetime he had left?
Chapter 15
LUKE PUSHED AGAINST THE WRENCH AND LEANED INTO IT. THE BOLT WOULDN'T budge. Sweat trickled into his eyes, and he wiped away the stinging dampness. A cool breeze would feel good, he thought. Eyeing the stubborn bolt, he hooked the wrench in tightly, gripped the bar again, and pushed. All of a sudden it broke free, and his knuckles ground into the hinge of the steel door. He cursed and pressed the injured hand between his knees. His fingers throbbed. He straightened and shook off the pain, then examined the scuffed knuckles. The skin was peeled back, and blood oozed. With another shake of the hand, he glared at the unyielding door. Now what?
A shipmate stepped through the hatch. He looked at Luke and smirked. “Having a good day, huh?”
“Yeah. Great.” Luke grabbed a rag from his back pocket and wrapped it around his damaged hand, which still pulsated with pain. “I need some air,” he said to the empty corridor.
He stored his tools and headed for the fantail, several levels up. By the time he climbed the last stairway, his sweat-soaked shirt clung to him. “It's hotter than blazes,” he complained.
