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Then the selections begin.

Those deemed too sick or too injured simply disappear without explanation or goodbye. One morning a woman is in her bunk, the next she is gone.

Many of the young, healthier women are taken away, to work elsewhere, they are told. Jeanette, sharp-minded even here, is one of them.

On the morning, they come for her, Andrée holds both her hands.

“Remember what we both know: what can be done when even one person refuses to look away.”

“I’ll remember,” Jeanette says. “And you remember to survive. That’s all. Just survive.”

Then she is gone. And Andrée is alone again.

With disease overrunning the camp, the women triage themselves, separating the clearly infectious from those so far unafflicted. They organize their own small systems of survival. They share food when food is given. They hold the sick when no one else will. And they hang on by their fingernails into whatever shred of dignity they have left, refusing to let go.

Andrée learns the rhythms of Ravensbrück. She learns which sounds to fear, which guards to avoid, the women she can trust. She is thin, thinner even than she was at Fresnes, but she is standing.

“Are you coming, Grand-Mère? Please come,” Josie pleads.

Tina can’t help but smile at the joy and excitement radiating from Josie, dressed in her best dress, dancing around the room as though her feet can’t quite keep still.

“You must go, Josie. You need to witness this day. It’s our liberation! I’m told General de Gaulle will be there; you might see him.”

“But I want you with me.”

“I’m not feeling up to crowds today. You go and come back and tell me everything. I’ll want to see it all through your eyes.”

Josie stills for a moment. “I wish Tata Andrée and Grand-Père were here with us. They should be here. This is what they fought for.”

“I know.” Tina’s voice is soft. “I’m sure Grand-Père is looking down at us, watching every moment.”

“And Tata Andrée . . . ?”

“Wherever she is, we must hope she knows what today is. And that she’ll be back with us very soon. Now run along. You don’t want to miss a thing.”

Josie wraps her arms around Tina’s neck, kisses her on both cheeks.

“I get to see this day because you and Grand-Père and Tata Andrée gave me a home and made me part of your family. I don’t know how to repay you. Maman would want me to do something.”

Tina cups Josie’s face in her hands. “I cannot express in words my love for you. Now go. Don’t miss a thing. I want to hear every detail when you come home.”

The streets of Paris are rivers of people.

Josie is swept up almost from the moment she steps outside. Strangers embrace each other, weeping and laughing at the same time. Women kiss soldiers, Free French soldiers, Allied soldiers, soldiers of every uniform and every nation. Children sit on their father’s shoulders, waving flags. Old men who have lived through one German invasion and then another stand on the pavements with tears streaming down their faces.

Paris is free. After four years, two months, and eleven days, Paris is free.

Josie makes her way toward the Champs-Élysées, carried forward by the great tide of humanity. The avenue is lined ten, fifteen, twenty people deep. She wriggles and apologizes and squeezes her way toward the front, small enough still to slide through the gaps that adults cannot manage.

An American soldier sees her. He is young, freckled, barely older than she is, wearing a uniform far too large for his slim frame.

“Hey, kid!” He grins and holds something out to her. “Here, this is for you.”

A chocolate bar! Wrapped in American paper. Josie stares at it. When did she last have chocolate? Before the war, certainly. Before everything. She can barely remember the taste.

She takes it. Holds it to her nose. The smell alone makes her mouth flood with saliva. She’s about to tear the wrapper . . .

And then she thinks of Tina, alone at home. Still grieving, and not yet strong enough to face the crowds. Tina who lost Louis. Tina who doesn’t know where Andrée is. Tina who, for all her grief, smiled when Josie left and told her to miss nothing.