Hearts Divided (Cedar Cove #5.5)(25)
Ruth bent forward and kissed Helen’s cheek.
Charlotte Rhodes collected her knitting, saying she’d talk to Helen at the Senior Center on Monday, and left.
“Sit down, sit down,” Helen urged, motioning at the chair next to her. “Help yourself to iced tea if you’d like.” Strands of yarn were wrapped around both index fingers as she held the needles. One was red, the other white. “You can find a glass, can’t you?”
“Yes, of course, but I’m fine,” Ruth assured her, enjoying the sunshine and the sights and sounds of Cedar Cove. The earth in her grandmother’s garden smelled warm and clean—the way it only smelled in spring. Inhaling deeply, Ruth sat down, staring at the cove with its sparkling blue water.
“Where’s Paul?” her grandmother asked, as if noticing for the first time that he wasn’t with her.
Ruth’s serenity was instantly destroyed and she struggled to disguise her misery. “He went to the marines camp in California.”
“Oh.” Her grandmother seemed disappointed. “I imagine you miss him.”
Ruth decided to let the comment slide.
“I liked him a great deal,” her grandmother said, rubbing salt into Ruth’s already wounded heart. Helen’s focus was on her knitting, but when Ruth didn’t immediately respond, she looked up.
Ruth met her eyes and exhaled forcefully. “Would you mind if we didn’t discuss Paul?”
Her request was met with a puzzled glance. “Why?”
Ruth figured she might as well tell her. “We won’t be seeing each other again.”
“Really?” Her grandmother’s expression was downcast. “I thought highly of that young man. Any particular reason?”
“Actually,” Ruth muttered, “there are several. He’s in the military, which you already know.”
Her grandmother carefully set her knitting aside and reached for her glass of iced tea, giving Ruth her full attention. “You knew that when you first met, I believe.”
“Yes, I did, but I assumed that in time he’d be released from his commitment and return to civilian life. He told me that won’t be the case, that the military’s his career.” In for the long haul, as he’d put it. Granted, she’d known about his dedication to the marines from the beginning, but he’d known about her feelings, too. Did her preferences matter less than his?
“I see.” Her grandmother studied her.
Ruth wondered if she truly did. “What really upsets me is the heartless way he left. I told him I wasn’t sure I could live with the fact that he’d chosen the military.” The memory angered her, and she raised her voice. “Then Paul had the audacity to say that I wouldn’t be hearing from him again and he…he just walked away.” Ruth hadn’t planned to spill out the whole story minutes after she arrived, but she couldn’t hold it inside a second longer.
Her grandmother’s response shocked her into silence. Helen smiled.
“Forgive me,” her grandmother said gently, leaning forward to give Ruth’s hand a small squeeze. “Sam did something similar, you see.”
The irritation died instantly. “I wanted to ask you about my grandfather.”
A peaceful look came over Helen. “He was a wonderful man. And he saved me.”
“From the Germans, you mean?”
Helen shook her head. “Technically, it was General Patton and the Third Army who saved us. Patton knew what Buchenwald was. He knew that a three-hour wait meant twenty-thousand lives because the Germans had been given orders to kill all prisoners before surrendering. Against every rule of caution, Patton mounted an attack, cutting off the SS troops from the camp. Because of his decisive move, the Germans were forced to flee or surrender. By that time, the German soldiers knew they were defeated. They threw down their guns and surrendered. Sam was with Patton on the march, so, yes, he contributed to my rescue and that of countless others. But when I say your grandfather saved me, I mean he saved me from myself.”
“I want to hear about him, if you’re willing to tell me.” Ruth straightened, perching on the edge of her seat.
Her grandmother closed her eyes. “I cannot speak about the years in Buchenwald, not even to you.”
Ruth reached for Helen’s hand, stroking the soft skin over the gnarled and prominent knuckles. “That’s fine, Grandma.”
“I wanted to die, wished it with all my heart. Without Jean-Claude, it was harder to live than to die. Living was the cruelest form of punishment.” Tears pooled in her eyes and she blinked them away.
“When the Americans arrived,” Helen continued, “the gates were opened and we were free. It was a delicious feeling—freedom always is—but one never appreciates it until it’s taken away. The soldiers spoke English, and I went to them and explained that I was an American. I had no identification or anything to prove my claim, so I kept repeating the address where my parents lived in New York. I was desperate to get word to them that I was alive. They hadn’t heard from me in almost five years.
“One of the soldiers brought me to their headquarters. I was completely emaciated, and I’m sure the stench of me was enough to nauseate anyone standing within twenty feet. The young man then took me to his lieutenant, whose name was Sam Shelton. From that moment forward, Sam took care of me. He saw that I had food and water, clothes and access to showers and anything else I needed.”