I stare down at it through tears.
“You and Sophie saved my life,” Ari says matter-of-factly.
I hear Julien’s intake of breath and know what it means. He has questions now.
“Ari is my best friend’s son,” I say. “When Rachel was deported to Auschwitz, I hid him in our home, even though a Nazi billeted with us. It was quite … frightening.”
“Your mother is being modest,” Ari says. “She rescued nineteen Jewish children during the war.”
I see the incredulity in my son’s eyes and it makes me smile. Our children see us so imperfectly.
“I’m a Rossignol,” I say quietly. “A Nightingale in my own way.”
“A survivor,” Ari adds.
“Did Dad know?” Julien asks.
“Your father…” I pause, draw in a breath. Your father. And there it is, the secret that made me bury it all.
I have spent a lifetime running from it, trying to forget, but now I see what a waste all that was.
Antoine was Julien’s father in every way that mattered. It is not biology that determines fatherhood. It is love.
I touch his cheek and gaze up at him. “You brought me back to life, Julien. When I held you, after all that ugliness, I could breathe again. I could love your father again.”
I never realized that truth before. Julien brought me back. His birth was a miracle in the midst of despair. He made me and Antoine and Sophie a family again. I named him after the father I learned to love too late, after he was gone. Sophie became the big sister she always wanted to be.
I will tell my son my life story at last. There will be pain in remembering, but there will be joy, too.
“You’ll tell me everything?”
“Almost everything,” I say with a smile. “A Frenchwoman must have her secrets.” And I will … I’ll keep one secret.
I smile at them, my two boys who should have broken me, but somehow saved me, each in his own way. Because of them, I know now what matters, and it is not what I have lost. It is my memories. Wounds heal. Love lasts.
We remain.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
This book was a labor of love, and like a woman in labor, I often felt overwhelmed and desperate in that please-help-me-this-can’t-be-what-I-signed-up-for-give-me-drugs kind of way. Yet, miraculously, it all came together in the end.
It literally takes a village of dedicated, tireless, type A–personality people to make a single book live up to its potential and find an audience. In the twenty plus years of my career, my work has been championed by some truly incredible individuals. I would like to take a paragraph or two—at long last and much overdue—to acknowledge a few who made a real difference. Susan Peterson Kennedy, Leona Nevler, Linda Grey, Elisa Wares, Rob Cohen, Chip Gibson, Andrew Martin, Jane Berkey, Meg Ruley, Gina Centrello, Linda Marrow, and Kim Hovey. Thanks to all of you for believing in me before I believed in myself. A special shout-out to Ann Patty, who changed the course of my career and helped me find my voice.
To the folks at St. Martin’s and Macmillan. Your support and enthusiasm has had a profound impact on my career and my writing. Thanks to Sally Richardson for your tireless enthusiasm and your enduring friendship. To Jennifer Enderlin, my amazing editor, thank you for pushing me and demanding the very best from me. You rock. Thanks also to Alison Lazarus, Anne Marie Tallberg, Lisa Senz, Dori Weintraub, John Murphy, Tracey Guest, Martin Quinn, Jeff Capshew, Lisa Tomasello, Elizabeth Catalano, Kathryn Parise, Susan Joseph, Astra Berzinskas, and the always fabulous, absolutely gifted Michael Storrings.
People often say that writing is a lonely profession, and it’s true, but it can also be a brilliant party filled with interesting, amazing guests who speak in a shorthand that only a few understand. I have a few very special people who prop me up when I need it, aren’t afraid to pour tequila when it’s warranted, and help me celebrate the smallest victory. Thanks first and foremost to my longtime agent, Andrea Cirillo. Honestly, I couldn’t have done it without you—and more important, I wouldn’t have wanted to. To Megan Chance, my first and last reader, the red pen of doom, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I wouldn’t be here at all without our partnership. To Jill Marie Landis, you taught me an invaluable writing lesson this year, and it made The Nightingale what it is.
I would also like to thank fellow author Tatiana de Rosnay, whose generosity was an unexpected gift in the writing of this novel. She took time out of her busy schedule to help me make The Nightingale as accurate as possible. I am forever and profoundly grateful. Of course, any and all mistakes (and creative licenses) are my responsibility alone.
Thanks also to Dr. Miriam Klein Kassenoff, Director, Holocaust Studies Summer Institute/School of Education, University of Miami Coral Gables. Your help was invaluable.
Last, but certainly not least, to my family: Benjamin, Tucker, Kaylee, Sara, Laurence, Debbie, Kent, Julie, Mackenzie, Laura, Lucas, Logan, Frank, Toni, Jacqui, Dana, Doug, Katie, and Leslie. Storytellers, all. I love you guys.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
KRISTIN HANNAH is a New York Times bestselling author of twenty-two novels. A former lawyer turned writer, she is the mother of one son and lives with her husband in the Pacific Northwest and Hawaii. Visit her at www.kristinhannah.com or on Facebook.