Susan took a deep breath and exhaled. “I wish I’d asked you sooner about your family.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I was inconsiderate.” She moved a box of canisters. “You must miss them.”

“Very much.”

“What were they like?”

“My parents were farmers, but if you had asked my father, he would have said he was a pilot who grew potatoes to pay the bills.”

“He sounds like a man who loved to fly,” Susan said.

“Taught me to fly a plane before I could drive a car.”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“My mother would have agreed with you.”

Susan smiled. “A sensible woman.”

“Mother should have been a teacher. She was incredibly smart and had a knack for making the complicated seem simple. But without a formal education, she settled for volunteering her spare time at the library, teaching adults to read.” Ollie scuffed the earth beneath the heel of his boot. “And like my father, she was proud of her British roots.”

“I would have liked to have met them,” Susan said.

“They would have liked you.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Because I’m British?”

“No.” He hesitated. “Because you’re . . . Susan.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Ollie ran his hand over an empty cubby. “I was fortunate. They sacrificed a lot to give me a better life, saving every spare dime to send me to college.”

“You went to college?”

He shook his head. “I came to join the fight.”

Susan looked to the ground. “And you ended up on a pigeon farm because of me.”

“I’m here because I punched a military officer.” He inched closer. “And if I had it to do over again, I wouldn’t change a thing.” Affection swelled within him. You’re sweet, caring, and beautiful. I’m lucky to be here with you.

She looked up at him and swallowed. “We . . . should probably finish.”

Susan and Ollie loaded the remaining pigeons with the precision of an automobile assembly line. Susan plucked pigeons from their nests, whispered something into their ears, and handed them to Ollie to attach canisters and place them into cages. The stacks of cages grew. The cubbies turned bare.

As Ollie placed the last bird into its cage, Duchess fluttered into the loft and waddled over a shelf. Susan reached for the pigeon, but instead, picked up a small booklet buried under a layer of dust. She blew away soot. “I wondered what had happened to this. Haven’t seen this since I was a child.”

Ollie stacked the last cage and joined her. “What is it?”

“My father’s codebook.”

Duchess stepped along the shelf, her toenails scratching wood.

Susan thumbed through the pages. “I initially found it by rummaging through a box of my parents’ keepsakes, hoping to find photos.” She handed the book to Ollie.