Wherever I go you are there, wherever I stand.

Only You, but You, always You, ever You.

You are here, You were here.

You are, You were, You will be.

In heaven, You. On earth, You.

Above, You. Below, You.

Wherever I turn,

Wherever I reach out—You!

In the dark with Danny in my arms, I sang—I, too, even though I hadn’t sung those songs since I was practically a baby.”

The memory was too much for Relkin. When he said the word baby, his voice cracked. Hawkins and Rachel didn’t know what to say and Relkin stood up. His face was bright red and there were tears in his eyes.

“Excuse me,” he said and he left them alone.

They were quiet after that. They heard water running in the kitchen, a cabinet door slammed, and Relkin came back into the living room and sat down. His brandy glass was full again and he took up the story as if nothing had happened.

“After that night the Krauts left boxes of food at the door for us and sometimes Danny and me got to open the cans. There was even canned meat. The first smell of it made the back of my mouth ache because by then it had been years since I’d had meat. We had as much to eat as the guards. More. The Germans in Berlin were starving while Jews in Belzec ate canned sausage.” Relkin rubbed his hands together and smiled.

“Were you the only ones who got food?” Rachel asked.

Relkin nodded. “They were killing the rest of us as fast as they could by then,” he said.

“Did you want to save the others? To include them somehow?” Rachel asked.

He looked at her and said, “You mean feed them and grow thin myself . . . fight for them, die for them?” He smiled. “It never occurred to me. It did to Levy, though, toward the end when they were killing all the time, and Levy didn’t sleep. He walked the barracks, and the path by the pines. The needles were covered with that ash and they turned dark and lusterless until it rained. Then for an hour or so they’d be green again and the sky would be clear.