The night before, Aleida had hunkered in the Anderson shelter, sobbing, as bombs pounded the earth and pounded conviction into her soul.
Now as she emerged into the hazy sunshine of early evening, her steps felt strangely light. She should be trudging, wailing, beating her breast, but peace permeated her being.
Her breath calmed as she made her way up the street, and when she reached the house, she paused and stroked Oli’s trunk—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven—and she stopped.
She didn’t have to force herself to stop. Her decision made, she had no more compulsion to count.
Without veil, without scarf, wearing the same midnight-blue hat and coat she’d worn on her previous visit, she rang the bell of the Randolph home.
The housekeeper answered the door.
“Good evening,” Aleida said. “Is Mr. Randolph home? Might I speak with him?”
“Yes, ma’am,” the housekeeper said. “Come on through.”
“No, thank you. Please have him meet me at the door.”
The housekeeper gave her a look of utter astonishment. It simply wasn’t done. But Aleida didn’t move and kept smiling.
“Very well, ma’am.” The housekeeper disappeared inside.
In a few minutes, Julian Randolph came to the door in a dark gray suit.
“Good evening, Mr. Randolph. I’m Aleida Martens, Theo’s mother.”
His face went hard. “I warned you—”
“No fear.” Aleida raised a soft smile. “I didn’t come to plead my case. On the contrary, I’ve come to tell you I’m giving up my son.”
Confusion dampened the anger in his blue eyes. “Pardon?”
“I confess that since we met in January, I’ve continued searching for him. I hoped that if I found him and he recognized me, I might convince you I really am his mother.”
Mr. Randolph clenched the doorknob. “Do I need to ring the police?”
“No, sir. I will no longer search. I give you my word. The past few days, I realized I was no longer searching for his sake, but for mine alone.”
His jaw worked back and forth, as if he were formulating words, deciding whether to turn to his telephone.
Aleida drew a long breath. “When my husband ripped my son from my arms and thrust him into your car, he did so withno regard for Theo. He cared nothing about him. But the Lord did. The Lord loves Theo far more than I do or you do or your wife does—far more than all of us ever could.”
A smile arose from that paradoxical place of peace. “For almost a year, I’ve fretted over Theo. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he even alive? But God knew. The Lord put Theo inyourhands. He provided for my little boy through you, and I will always be grateful for how you’ve cared for him. I know you’ll love him and provide for him and raise him well. Most importantly, I know the Lord will always hold Theo in his hands. That knowledge has given me the peace—and the conviction—to let him go.”
Mr. Randolph’s eyes softened, but his mouth remained stern. “Mrs. Martens, I—”
“I will not bother you again. I refuse to rip my son out of the arms of people who love him, people he loves. I will not rip him from the only family he now knows or force him to go with a woman he surely can’t remember. You have my blessing.”
Dozens of emotions raced across Mr. Randolph’s face.
Aleida hugged the familiar stuffed elephant. “This is Theo’s best friend. His name is Oli, short forolifant, the Dutch word forelephant. Theo loves him dearly. He used to hold him like this...”
She pressed Oli’s soft form to her right cheek, wrapped his trunk under her chin and pressed the tip to her left cheek. Her eyes slipped shut, and she breathed deeply, inhaling the slightest remaining scent of her son.
Her throat thickened, but she refused to sully the moment with tears. She opened her eyes, gave her head a little shake, and held out the elephant.
Mr. Randolph only stared at Oli.
“Please,” Aleida said. “Oli doesn’t belong to me. He belongs to Theo—to Teddy. To Teddy Randolph. Teddy should have him.”
