Dot propped her head up on her hand, her hair tousled by the pillow. “What?”
“Aunt Lou told me. At the funeral.”
Dot’s gaze faltered at the mention of the funeral, but Dash pressed on, telling Dot how he had saved Mr. Olson, Mr. Martin’s brother, and Mr. Jeffreys. “He saved a lot of lives, but he never told us.”
Dot had gone very pale. “Mr. Jeffreys from the bakery? I had no idea.”
Dash nodded. “He didn’t want to talk about it, ever. The whole town knows, but they respected his wish to keep it quiet. Dad was a hero.” She copied Dot, lifting her head and meeting Dot’s eyes. “Are you a hero, Dot?”
Dot wiped away a tear. “No, Dash. I’m no hero. I just typed memos. I just did my job.”
Except there was something different in Dot’s expression now. Regret? What was it she wasn’t saying? Her sister took a deep breath then exhaled.
“Gus was a hero,” Dot said softly.
sixty-threeDOT— May 1945 —Camp X
Dot had feared Camp X would close after the war, but Hydra had proven itself to be the foremost communication tool in the world, and there was no reason to shut it down. So Dot stayed on after VE Day, at least temporarily, to continue exchanging messages with London, Washington, and Ottawa. She was glad of it. She couldn’t imagine how she could ever go back to a regular life after all this.
After her shift one Tuesday, she passed Frances’s desk and picked up her mail. She stood awhile, talking with her friend, then headed back to the dormitory and the quiet of her room. As she walked, she sifted through the mail, then she froze in place, seeing familiar, dreadful handwriting on one of the envelopes. With trembling hands, she tore it open and unfolded the letter. Reading the salutation, she fell to her knees in the spring grass, weeping.
Gus was alive.
She and everyone else had given up on him months ago. After what Dash had told them, they were convinced he had been killed that night in France. Her heart had shattered into a million pieces, though she tried not to let her suffering show. No one knew that the two of them hadbecome so much more than friends. No one could understand her loss. As a family, they grieved him and tried to move on, but Dot knew she never would.
This letter, this fragile piece of paper in her shaking hands, changed everything. In it, he told her that he and Gordon had been captured on the night Dash was saved. They had spent the last eleven months as POWs in Stalag VII-A in Germany. They were now on their way home.
Delirious with happiness, she rushed back to Gerald’s office to tell him.
“Wonderful news,” Gerald said, smiling wide as he took the letter from her. Gerald had softened over the past year, and while he was still her boss, he was more like a friend now.
“But why didn’t we know this?” she demanded. “Why were we, the best ruddy spy camp in the world, completely in the dark about Gus and Gordon?”
Gerald read the letter, his face falling. “Stalag VII-A,” he said slowly. “The commander of that camp is known to us, Dot. He was a submarine captain in the first war, and according to our notes, he did not stand with the Geneva Convention. That would explain why we did not receive notification that our men were being held there. From reports I’ve read, that was a rather brutal camp. They may be a little broken when they get back.” He held her gaze as he returned the letter to her. “Gus will need you, Dot.”
Dot was prepared. She could fix whatever needed fixing. She just needed him back.
When his train arrived in Toronto, Dot was waiting. Heart pounding, she peered between the throngs of people on the platform until she spotted him, scanning the crowd for her.
“Gus!” she cried, then she rushed forward, dodging other travelers. When he saw her, the happiness in his expression filled her with so much joy she could have flown to him. He was here. He was really here.
He dropped his duffel as she flung herself at him, and he held her like a drowning sailor would hold a life ring, and that was right, because shewould save him. He had suffered, but now he was home. All those years when he’d stood up for her, taken care of her, now it was her turn. All those years when he’d loved her, but she’d been oblivious, now he would see that her love for him was boundless.
His cheek pressed against hers, and he uttered a quiet sound of relief. It was a moment before their grips loosened, then she looked up and saw the tears in his eyes, just like hers. His fingers shook when they went to the sides of her face, and she thought she might die of happiness. Oh, she wanted to kiss him, to laugh out loud out of sheer pleasure, but he held her in place, the blue of his eyes achingly beautiful.
“Just let me look at you,” he whispered. “God, I have dreamed of you.”
That’s when she let herself see the pronounced bones of his face and feel the sharpness of his shoulders. He was so awfully thin. Even his soft blond hair, now grown well below his ears, looked thin. The blue of his eyes had paled, their glow washed away by his imprisonment. It was as if he had aged forty years.
Finally, he drew her in, and his kiss stole her breath. It felt urgent, as if it was now or never, as if he was afraid she was only in his dreams and might vanish into nothing.
She pulled back. “Gus,” she said softly. “It’s all right. You’re home, and I’m here with you. Everything is going to be better now.”
With Gerald’s help, Dot had paid in advance for a room at the Royal York Hotel. They could have gone straight home, she knew, but she’d thought he might need a little quiet first. When she told him that, he had seemed glad of it. She had no romantic plans for the hotel room, only knew she needed a safe, quiet place where they could be alone. Gus was back. She needed to hear his words, and they had to be spoken in a private place. The room was expensive, but it was practical, and with the hotel’s underground tunnel from Union Station, it was close.
He barely spoke as she hustled him from the station to the Royal York, so she made up for it in frantic babble, trying to hold his attention. When they reached the hotel, she was momentarily distracted by the opulence of the lobby and couldn’t stop staring as she went to thefront counter. She’d read up on the hotel, with its ten elevators, twelve-bed hospital, twelve-thousand-book library, and its very own concert hall, and she’d wondered fleetingly if she and Gus would get a chance to explore. But Gus barely seemed to register their surroundings. He didn’t say a word as they ascended to the eighth floor.
Inside the elegant room, he sat on the edge of the bed, but it was as if he didn’t know to lie down. She helped him onto his side then pulled a blanket over him. He promptly fell asleep.
