The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

I held Jamie and we cried and cried. His tears wet the front of my shirt and
my snot got into his hair. We cried like I’d never cried before.
It hurt so badly. The ache in my heart was worse than my foot had ever
been.
When we stopped crying I held him in my arms and rocked him back and
forth. At last he looked up at me, his lashes still fringed with tears. He said, “I
want to go home.”
“We are,” I promised him. “As soon as the sun’s up, we’re going.” I could
read street signs now. I could find my way. I didn’t have any money for a train
fare, but I was willing to bet there would be a WVS post somewhere. The
WVS women would help us out.
I got out the birth certificates and showed Jamie his. “You were born on
November 29, 1933,” I told him. “You are seven years old.” I showed him the
marriage certificate too. “Our father’s name was James, just like yours.” And
I took out the last piece of paper, a newspaper article. Accident at Royal
Albert Dock Kills Six. “He died when you were a tiny baby. When I was just
turned four.”
I put the marriage certificate and the newspaper clipping back in the drawer,
but stuffed the birth certificates into my jodhpur pocket, ready for the
morning.
Whoop-WHOOP. Whoop-WHOOP. Whoop-WHOOP.
The sound came from the open window. Louder and louder.
An air raid.
I didn’t know where the shelter was.
I didn’t have crutches. I hadn’t walked far on my bad foot for a long, long
time.
Jamie grabbed my hand in panic. The siren’s wail grew louder. “Come
on!” I said.
“Where?”
I pretended I knew. “Down the stairs!” People were hurrying out of the