In the field outside the ghetto, Evelyn stared down at Charlie’s innocent, brave face and forced a smile. “Charlie,” she said, “I think this is it, my love.”
“Mutti, I’m glad I didn’t go on that train. Then you would have died alone,” Charlie said with the pure love of a child, one who accepted death as easily as he had accepted the unexpected retrieval from the train. “I’m glad we prayed, even if today they will kill us for it. At least God knows we didn’t forget him.”
“I love you, Charlie,” Evelyn said. “You are the pride of Germany.”
The police officers raised their guns.
“Look at me, Charlie,” his mother said. “I want you to see my smile.”
Charlie looked up at her smiling face and said, “I love you!”
“I love you more,” his mother said. “Hold tightly to my hand.”
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