“Theo?” Mr. Warwick said. “That’s what Teddy called himself at first. Mr. and Mrs. Randolph thought the child would fare better with an English name.”
A sob hopped into Aleida’s mouth, and she covered it.
Hugh pressed his hand firmly over Aleida’s arm. “How did the Randolphs find Theo?”
“Oh my.” Mrs. Warwick set her fingers to her lips. “Such a sad story. They were in the Hague when the Nazis came. Mr. Randolph is in the Foreign Service. When they were fleeing, a man asked them to take his little boy. He said the child was sick, the mother was dead, and he didn’t have a car.”
Sick? Dead? Aleida’s fingers dug into her cheeks.
Mr. Warwick’s high forehead wrinkled. “Mrs. Randolph said the oddest thing—the child’s father didn’t want their name or address, as if he never intended to find them in London. And Teddy—he was perfectly healthy.”
Aleida’s hand flew from her mouth to Hugh’s hand and clutched it hard. “That was Sebastiaan.” He’d lied about her, about himself, and about Theo. “Theo’s hand.” Her voice choked off.
“Tell us precisely what his hand looks like,” Hugh said.
Mr. Warwick made a fist. “Like this, but with tiny bumps where the fingers and thumb should be.”
Aleida nodded over and over, joy bubbling away fear and anger and worry. “It’s Theo.”
“Where is he now?” Hugh said. “Do you have their address?”
Mrs. Warwick darted from her seat to a writing desk. “Mr. Randolph rented a home in the country for his wife and the boy. I don’t know where, but I do have their London address.”
“If you would, please.” Hugh gave Aleida’s arm a squeeze. “Theo is her son.”
“Your son?” Mrs. Warwick whipped her gaze back to Aleida. “But the man said Teddy’s mother was dead.”
Hugh sniffed. “As you’ve already surmised, the child’s father was a liar of the worst sort.”
“Theo.” His name poured out of Aleida’s mouth. “My Theo. My Theo.”
Hugh grinned. “That address, if you would, please.”
“Yes, yes.” Mrs. Warwick hurried back and handed Aleida a piece of stationery. “You’ve been searching...”
“Since May.” Hugh took the paper and picked up the list of evacuees Aleida had dropped.
Aleida let out a laughing, sobbing sound.
Mrs. Warwick twisted her hands together. “You should know the Randolphs are the best sort of people. They love Teddy—Theo as their own. They’ve cared for him well.”
“Thank you.” A wet trickle raced down her left cheek. “I—I found him.”
“Yes, you found him. You found him.” Hugh helped her to standing. “Let’s go back to the house, fetch our luggage, and visit Mr. Randolph in London.”
Aleida’s feet moved as if floating. “Theo. Today. I can see him today.”
“Probably tomorrow. He’s in the country.” Hugh led her outside and down the steps. “See how well they’ve cared for him? They sound like lovely people.”
They did, and Aleida sob-laughed. “I found him.”
“You did.” Grinning, Hugh pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed her cheeks. “It seems a shame to wipe away tears of joy, but people will think I made you cry.”
Never, and she laughed and laughed. The dear, darling man.
“That is the most beautiful sound. Your laughter.” His smile encompassed his whole face.
He was almost as happy as she, and she loved him for it.
