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“You don’t believe they’re alive, do you?”

The question catches Tina off guard. “I . . . I want to believe.”

“But you don’t.”

“I don’t know, Josie. I honestly don’t know. It’s been so long. And with Louis . . . I just . . . I can’t let myself hope too much. It hurts too much when⁠—”

“When what? When Tata Andrée doesn’t come home? You’ve already decided she’s not coming back, haven’t you?”

“No. No, I haven’t decided anything. I’m just trying to be realistic. To prepare myself for⁠—”

“For her being dead? That’s what you’re preparing for? Well, I’m not. I’m preparing for her to come home. Because she will. I know she will. And so will Maman and Léon.”

Josie storms out of the room. Tina sits alone with the radio still broadcasting liberation news. Prisoners are being freed from the camps, but there are so many dead. And yet, some have survived.

Could Andrée be one of them? Ruth and Léon? Is it possible?

Tina doesn’t know. Doesn’t let herself know. Because if her hopes are shattered again, she’ll break completely.

Maurice finds Tina crying in the hallway that afternoon. He doesn’t say anything. Just sits beside her on the stairs and waits.

“I’ve already lost Louis,” she says finally. “I can’t lose Andrée too. But I think . . . I think I’ve already lost her. I think she’s been gone too long to have survived, and I just haven’t admitted it to myself.”

“The war is ending, Tina. The camps are being liberated. If she’s alive, she’ll come home. And if she’s not . . . well. At least you’ll know. At least the not knowing will end.”

“I don’t know which is worse. Not knowing or knowing she’s gone.”

“Not knowing,” Maurice says firmly. “Not knowing is always worse. Whatever the truth is, it will be better than this limbo.”

Tina nods. He’s right. She knows he’s right. But that doesn’t make the waiting easier.

“And of course Josie is hoping and praying Ruth and Léon will come home. But I think we know differently. Don’t we?”

“I think so, but we mustn’t take her hope away.”

The sound of artillery grows closer every day. The guards are openly panicking now. They argue and fight among themselves and some have deserted. Just left in the night. The remaining guards don’t know whether to run or stay.

The women stop working and no one berates them. The guards have more important things to worry about than timber production.

Andrée lies in the barracks, unable to move. Her feet are beyond pain now. Beyond sensation. Just dead weight at the end of her legs. Claire and the other women take turns bringing her water, sharing what little food there is. Andrée is not alone in her pain. Many are unable to walk, reduced like her to lying on the wooden slats of their bunks, which they share with two others, starving and in desperate need of medical care.

“The Russians are coming,” Claire whispers. “Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the next day. You just must hold on a little longer.”

“I don’t think I can.”

“You must. You’ve come this far. Don’t give up now.”

“I’m so tired, Claire. So tired.”

“I know. But you’re alive. That’s what matters. You’re still alive.”

Andrée closes her eyes. Tries to believe her. Tries to hold on.

Hitler is dead. The news came yesterday. The war must be nearly over now.

Josie can barely contain her excitement. “It’s happening, Grand-Mère. The war is ending. Any day now, Tata Andrée, Maman, and Léon will come home. I know it. I know they will.”

Tina tries to smile. Tries to match Josie’s anticipation. But all she can think is: If Andrée were coming home, wouldn’t she be here already? Wouldn’t we have heard something by now?