Above the contented sounds of Helen’s swallowing rose the radio’s static, and Leah’s heart shifted. She didn’t mean to forget about Clay—only to keep busy. “Any news from France?”

“Only that it’s going well. It’s too early for details.” Worry creased Mama’s forehead.

Leah cradled her tiny child. Her love for Helen was far bigger than her heart, and she knew she’d never stop loving her or worrying about her. What must it be like for Mama Paxton, knowing all three sons were in mortal danger?

How long would they have to wait? The radio wouldn’t deliver news on the Paxton boys. If Clay had survived, his letter to Leah wouldn’t arrive for weeks. If he hadn’t, the telegram could arrive in days.

She shuddered and pulled her baby closer.

After Helen finished, Leah burped her, changed her diaper, and laid her down for a nap, right on schedule.

Out in the kitchen, Mama grinned and pointed to the telephone on the wall. “Ready?”

“Yes.” She memorized the phone number and dialed, her finger and heart trembling.

Mama pulled a chair over, and Leah sat down.

One ring. Two rings. Three. Leah bit her lip. What if they weren’t home?

“Good day. Scholz residence.”

“Hello.” Leah’s voice tumbled out. “I’m Leah—Mrs. Clay Paxton. Are you Mrs. Hobart Scholz?”

“Yes . . .” Expectation warmed the woman’s voice.

Leah’s shoulders relaxed. “Do you have daughters named Callie and Polly?”

“Yes. Are you one of their friends?” She sounded so sweet and friendly.

“I’m quite fond of them.” Leah ran her damp hand along her skirt and glanced to Mama Paxton for courage. “Although I haven’t seen them for almost fifteen years. I’m their sister.”

“Their . . . sister? They don’t have a sister.” Mrs. Scholz’s voice sharpened.

Leah worked her finger into the coil of the phone cord. “My maiden name is Thalia Karahalios.”

A gasp on the other end. “I’ve never—I’ve never heard that name.”

“My parents were Georgios and Althea Karahalios. They were killed in 1929. I was four, and Callie and Polly were eight months old. But I remember them well.”

“That isn’t—that isn’t possible.” Her voice shook and lowered. “They never mentioned another—another child.”

“At the orphanage?” Sadness seeped into Leah’s chest. How could they not have mentioned her to her sisters’ adoptive parents? “Another family adopted me first. I didn’t want to leave my sisters, but I didn’t have a choice. I’ve been looking for them ever since. Would it be possible for me to come over and see them?”

“Oh! Heavens, no.” Mrs. Scholz’s voice quivered. “Absolutely not. They—they don’t know they’re adopted.” She whispered the last word.

“Why—why not? Shouldn’t they know?”