‘It is.’
‘I only meant... that it is very special. That it is to be treasured. That I understood how much it should be cared for.’
‘I know what you meant, Sam.’
He folded it and held it out to her, but she did not take it. ‘Otto was a skilled artist. He captured your beauty in a way a photograph cannot.’ Sam’s breath caught in his throat and he allowed his hand to fall to his side. ‘Elsa... did you accompany Otto to the station once?’
‘Yes. When he went to war. Why do you ask?’
‘The woman I saw when I was on the cattle wagon and being taken to Poland was with a soldier.’
Elsa’s brow pinched in concern.
‘The soldier she was with on the platform took out a piece of paper and began to draw. The woman... I think it was you. Even then, despite my situation, you stirred an attraction in me.’
She lowered her gaze to the paper in his hand. It was already worn from its own journey, but she still did not reach for it.
‘I didn’t know. I didn’t realize,’ she whispered.
‘I know. I wonder if we were always destined to meet.’ He looked at the picture in his hand. ‘Your brother’s ability to draw was the thread that connected that moment all those years ago. Here, take it,’ he urged. A slight smile curved his lips. ‘I don’t need a memento of you.’
‘But I’d like you to have one.’
‘You do?’
‘I want it to remain a thread. From me to you. But you must promise to return it to me after the war has ended.’
It was an understandable request for such a big sacrifice, but they both knew it meant far more than that. He lifted his gaze to hers, the drawing between them still waiting to be claimed. She held her breath as she watched black pools grow in his eyes, their infinity and depth reminding her of the blackest night sky.
‘Will you promise to find me when the war is over, Sam?’ she asked.
His arm relaxed, taking the drawing closer to him.
‘Promise me, Sam.’
His gaze softened. ‘I promise to find you, Elsa. After the war is over, as God is my witness, we will meet again.’
Something shifted inside her that she could not quite name. Hope perhaps? Happiness? She smiled as she searched the drawers for a pencil and scribbled her aunt’s address on the back of the drawing. ‘Now when we part, a little of me will go with you,’ she said as he slipped the picture inside his clothing. ‘Now you will not be able to forget me so easily.’
‘I don’t think there is a risk of forgetting you at all.’ He began to busy himself clearing the table.
‘Sam . . .’
He dropped the saucepan next to the sink. ‘Yes?’ he asked, seemingly distracted by his task.
‘Will our lives ever be normal again?’
‘Peace will come. It has to.’ He examined the contents of the pan. ‘I’ll make some eggs for Klara.’
‘I told you, she’s already eaten.’
‘Then I will make some more for us.’
‘I don’t want any.’
‘Well, I do.’
She watched him break two eggs, their whites dripping messily as he cracked their shells. ‘Do you think we will survive this?’
