“She’s freezing,” Susan said. She blew warm air over her feathers. After a few minutes of warming her, she noticed that Duchess had fallen asleep. Rather than disturb her rest by unstrapping the canister from her leg, she carefully removed the message and returned the cap. Gently, she placed Duchess on Bertie’s lap.

“It’s too much for her,” Susan said.

Bertie rubbed a finger over Duchess’s back.

Susan stared at her exhausted pigeon and frail grandfather. Determined to mend them back to health, she’d begin by grounding Duchess for at least several days before allowing her to fly again. As for Bertie, she’d continue with his sulfa pills and vapor treatments until his infected lungs were clear.

She squeezed the rolled piece of paper. More than ever, she needed Ollie. She longed for his words, which would give her hope that everything would be all right. As she unfolded the note, a strange penmanship shocked her. Quickly, she retrieved the codebook and began to decipher the message.

“No!” Susan shouted.

“What’s wrong?” Bertie coughed.

Susan shook her head and continued decoding. She struggled to concentrate as she translated the message.

“It can’t be . . .” She labored to breathe. Her legs swayed.

Bertie slipped on his glasses.

Susan handed him the paper, then picked up Duchess and pressed the pigeon to her chest. As Bertie read the message, she prayed that her brain, shaken like a snow globe by the shock waves of exploding bombs, was not interpreting the words correctly. But she knew what she had read. And what it meant. There was no denying that whatever had happened in France had had tragic consequences.

No! Not Ollie! Dread gathered into a lump in the back of her throat, producing the urge to vomit. A cold sweat formed on her neck. He’s alive, she struggled to convince herself. He’ll make it home. But the revelation on that piece of paper was clear. Her hope of him returning to her was lost. Ollie was gone. A spasm of loneliness twisted her heart. Her mind and body gutted, she began to weep.

Bertie lowered the message and removed his glasses. He extended his arms.

Susan released Duchess and buried her head in Bertie’s chest.

“We must have faith that he’s all right,” he said.

Duchess waddled in a circle on the floor.

Susan felt Bertie’s chest heave as he struggled to contain a cough. “What are we to do?”

“First, we relay the message to the RAF.”

She sat up and wiped her eyes. “Then what?”

“We wait.”

“We must do something.”

“At this point, we only know that our Oliver from Maine is missing.”

Hearing the word missing caused Susan to lower her head into her hands.

Duchess perked her head. She waddled across the floor and poked Susan’s ankle with her beak.