PART 6 – “THE FINAL VICTORY OF A MAN WHO DIED BELIEVING HE HAD FAILED — AND THE LETTER HE DIDN’T HAVE TIME TO READ”

The envelope was white.

In the top corner was an official seal.

Paul laid it down in front of me.

— Before you open it, you should know something.

I looked at him.

— What?

— Gerard believed that he had not done enough for your father.

— But he spent his whole life trying to honor him.

— I know.

Paul lowered his gaze.

— But sometimes, when a man survives and his friend does not, reason is not enough to absolve him of guilt.

I opened the envelope.

Inside was an official letter.

I read slowly.

The service confirmed that it had received additional information regarding Henri Petit’s act.

The testimonies of Gérard Lambert and Paul Delacroix had been recorded.

And the file had been referred for further historical and administrative examination.

I stopped.

— So… it’s not over yet?

Paul shook his head.

— No. But for the first time, our testimony didn’t stay in a drawer.

I looked at the paper again.

It wasn’t yet the vindication I was hoping for.

But it was something real.

A first step.

And Gerard had died knowing that the case had finally been opened.

— Did he know that this answer came? I asked.

Paul nodded.

— He kept her by his bed.

My eyes filled with tears.

— Then why didn’t he tell me?

— Because he wanted to explain it all to you. Himself.

I bowed my head.

I thought about all the times I had sat across from him.

All the times I had asked:

“Do you want anything else, Mr. Lambert?”

And he replied:

“No, Josian. I’m happy if you just sit with me for a while.”

Now I understood how many things he wanted to say.

And how difficult it was for him to find the words.

Nathan approached quietly.

It held three coffees.

He placed them on the table.

— It’s from the store, he said.

I looked at him.

— Nathan…

— No. Today he is from the store.

Then he added:

— And I want to apologize to you for what I said yesterday.

His voice was low.

— I didn’t know what this table meant.

Paul looked at him.

— We don’t need to know a person’s entire story to treat them with respect.

Nathan lowered his eyes.

— You are right.

At that moment, Theo entered the cafe.

As soon as he saw Paul, he stopped.

— Mr. Delacroix?

The old man stood up with difficulty.

— Theo.

They hugged.

And I understood that Gérard, even after his death, had managed to bring together people who had spent decades apart.

Theo sat next to me.

— I have news, he said.

My heart skipped a beat.

— What news?

— I contacted the relevant department. They confirmed to me that the file is still being examined.

— And?

— They asked us to also submit the original documents we found.

He took out a notebook.

— There is also a possibility that a local memorial service will be organized, regardless of the final administrative decision.

I felt a warmth spread inside me.

— For my father?

— For him. And for all those who didn’t return.

Paul smiled.

— That’s what Gerard would have wanted.

But, a little later, when Theo opened his bag, his face became serious.

— There’s something else I found in Grandpa’s things.

He took out a small notebook.

Its cover was dark blue.

On the first page there was a date:

November 11, nine years ago.

Theo opened it.

— My grandfather took notes after every visit to the cafe.

Look at me.

— And in the first year he wrote something about you.

— What?

Theo read:

“I met her today.”

Henri’s daughter.

I didn’t tell her who I was.

He offered me two coffees.

And when he saw the second cup untouched, he didn’t ask any questions.

She has the same kindness as her father.

“Maybe one day I’ll find the courage to tell her the truth.”

My tears flowed uncontrollably.

Theo turned to the last page.

There was an entry there from a few days before Gerard’s death.

“I’m not so afraid of death anymore.”

I’m just afraid that Josian might think her father has been forgotten.

Theo, if I can’t go this year, you go.

Put on your uniform.

Sit at table four.

And tell her that the second coffee was never really alone.”

Theo stopped.

His voice broke.

Then he turned the page.

— There is one last note.

I looked at him.

— Read it.

The young man took a deep breath.

“If Josiane will forgive me, there is one last thing I want to give her. I have left it where Henri told me he would like to take her one day.”

I looked at Theo.

— Where?

The young man smiled excitedly.

— At sea.

CONTINUED IN PART 7…