inside. “Thank you, Lord. Thank you for showing me the good.”
In Leah’s lap, Helen sucked on her fist.
Leah kissed her tiny nose, then prayed for comfort and strength for everyone in the church. How many of them had husbands or brothers or sons or fathers fighting today? Even those who didn’t have a loved one overseas needed comfort. All those servicemen were America’s boys.
Across the aisle, a woman in her sixties stared at Leah.
Oh dear. She didn’t know the rituals of this church, and she’d probably violated some protocol. Leah gave the lady a little smile and nod, and she stood to leave. She had time to visit another orphanage or two before lunchtime.
In the foyer, dim light from the overcast day filtered through the windows of the door.
“Excuse me?”
Leah turned.
The lady who had been watching her raised a nervous smile. “Please pardon me for staring. You must think me terribly rude. I—well, you remind me so much of a dear friend. I—oh my.” She pulled a handkerchief from the breast pocket of her beige suit.
“That’s all right, ma’am.”
The woman dabbed at her eyes, and her smile flickered. “Please pardon me. You do remind me of her. Something about you. Why, even the way you were praying and the way you walk and the way you’re holding your baby. Except the last time I saw my friend, she was holding two babies. Oh dear. Look at me. I promise, I don’t usually act this way.”
Two babies . . . ? Leah could barely breathe. “Your friend—she’s gone?”
“I’m afraid so. A long time ago.” She drew in a deep breath and gave her head a little shake. “Well, thank you. I’ve missed her, and it was—it was nice to remember her.”
Leah moistened her drying lips. “When did she die? In the ’20s—1929?”
The woman blinked large brown eyes. “Why, yes. I believe that was the year.”
“What was her name?” Leah stepped closer. “Your friend? What was her name?”
“Althea. Althea Karahalios.”
All the air rushed from Leah’s chest. “Karahalios. Ka-wa-los.”
“Are you—are you all right, ma’am?”
Leah laughed, high and staccato. “Karahalios. Althea Karahalios. She had children, you said. Tell me. Did she have three girls? Please tell me.”
The woman’s wide mouth drifted open. “Are you . . . ?”
“My name is Thalia. Did she have a daughter named Thalia?”
The woman clamped her handkerchief over her mouth, and tears shimmered in her eyes. “Little Thalia. Oh my. Look at you. All grown up with a baby of your own.”
A manic, joyful laugh burst out. “You knew me? You knew my mother? My sisters?”
“Why, yes.” She stretched out tentative, shaky fingers.
Leah grabbed her hand. “Tell me. Tell me everything you can.”
“Oh my. Oh my. I can’t believe this.” Her hand trembled in Leah’s. “Your parents—they came from Greece not long before you were born. Yes, Althea was expecting. Your father—Georgios was on faculty with my husband at the University of Chicago. Georgi was an expert in Greek poetry.”
Laughter tumbled out, idyllic and epic and sacred. “Of course. Of course he was. And my sisters? My sisters? Do you know what became of them?”
Her face crumpled. “We never heard what became of you girls. Your parents had no family in America, so you were taken to an orphanage. Everyone at the church wanted to help, but times were hard. By the time a family offered to take you in, you’d all been adopted.”
Leah nodded, over and over. “They were adopted. Good. Adopted.”
“You weren’t together? Oh dear. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m going to find them. Today. Today I’ll find them.” Leah shifted Helen on her shoulder, opened her bag, and pulled out one of the slips of paper she’d written out for the orphanages. “This is my information, where I’m staying in Chicago this week, my home address. Please, if you think of anything that might help me. Oh! Your name?”
That wide mouth turned up in a smile. “I’m Irena Demetrios.”
“Mrs. Demetrios. Thank you. You’re an answer to almost fifteen years of prayer.” Leah clutched Mrs. Demetrios’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to her wet cheek, shocked at her own impulsivity.
“Such a pleasure to see you again, Thalia.”
Leah raced out the door. “Thalia Karahalios, daughter of Georgios and Althea.”
For the first time in fifteen years, she knew who she was.
38
POINTE DU HOC, NORMANDY
Clay made a chopping motion to signal his squad forward.
He and Gene threw themselves against the wall of the crater and fired a few rounds, while Holman, Brady, and Lyons ran to the next crater. Then they laid