Hearts Divided (Cedar Cove #5.5)(20)

“Speaking in another language added enough confusion that she had the opportunity to do what he asked,” Ruth speculated.

“Last time she told us about being driven by fear instead of courage,” Paul reminded her. “I’m sure she didn’t stop to think about what she was doing—she couldn’t. Nor could she refuse Jean-Claude.”

Ruth wanted to bury her face in her hands and weep.

“Jean-Claude thanked her,” Paul added.

“She would have refused.” Ruth could see it all in her mind, the argument between them.

“I’m convinced she did refuse at first. She loved Jean-Claude—he was her husband.”

Ruth couldn’t imagine a worse scenario.

Paul’s voice dropped slightly. “She said Jean-Claude had never begged for mercy, never pleaded for anything, but he told her he couldn’t bear any more pain. Above all, he couldn’t bear it if they killed her. He begged her to let him die.”

“He loved her that much,” Ruth said in a hushed whisper.

“And she loved him that much, enough to spare him any more torture, even at the risk of her own death.”

“They didn’t kill her, though,” Ruth said, stating the obvious. “Even though they must have figured out that she was responsible for his death?”

Paul’s eyes widened as if he couldn’t explain that any more than she could. “She didn’t say what happened next.”

Ruth stood, anxious now to see her grandmother before they left. “I’d better check on her.”

Ruth went to her grandmother’s room to find her resting fitfully. Helen’s eyes fluttered open when Ruth stepped quietly past the threshold.

“Have I shocked you?” Helen asked, holding out her hand to Ruth.

“No,” Ruth told her grandmother, who had to be the bravest woman she would ever know. She sat on the edge of the bed and whispered, “Thank you, Grandma—for everything you did. And for doing Paul and me the honor of sharing it with us.”

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 an entirely different aspect of the story.

“When it was learned that I was an American citizen, I was immediately questioned and given priority treatment to be sent home.”

“Two years,” Ruth said in a choked voice. “You were in a camp for two years?” Just when she was convinced there was nothing more to horrify her, Helen revealed something else.

“Buchenwald…I don’t want to talk about it any longer,” Helen muttered.

It was little 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 brow. “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 Ruth 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

Once again 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.