Chapter Twenty-Eight

"new evils require new remedies … new sanctions to defend and vindicate the eternal principles of right and wrong'." ― Ann Tusa, The Nuremberg Trial

Heinkel was so lost in thought that she (almost) didn't mind the flight back to London. After she and Ana had spent the afternoon catching up, she departed for Hellsing Manor. While Heinkel would have liked to stay longer, people were depending on her to deliver the documents; she couldn't just abandon them (even if they were Protestants). Besides, she'd promised to visit Ana and the children again soon—a promise Heinkel intended to keep.

Although it had been strange discussing her work with a noncombatant, it was also oddly soothing. For while sharing information with an outsider went against all Heinkel's training (not to mention her better judgement), it was a relief to talk with someone who had no stake in the matter. And so they sat at the kitchen table, drinking cup after cup of tea as Heinkel did her best to atone for years' worth of silence in the space of a few hours.

After providing a thorough description of both Alice and Jasper—and extracting a promise from Ana to avoid them at all costs—Heinkel painted the picture of her life after the orphanage with a broad brush: omitting as many unpleasant details as possible. Still, it was impossible to leave them all out; when she recounted her role in the Blitz, Ana squeezed her hand, eyes mirroring the pain she felt (though Heinkel had done her best to hide it).

"It takes great courage to resist such evil. I'm proud of you, Liebchen."

For the first time, the sight of her smile made Heinkel's stomach clench—for even the older woman's kindness couldn't erase the memory of her failure. There was nothing courageous about her actions; she had only been a soldier obeying orders—and even then, she'd been unable to prevent the Nazis from murdering her friends, desecrating the city, profaning God's holy name.

She took a gulp of tea, the burn in her throat serving as a welcome distraction. "Anyone would have done the same."

Ana's smile was tinged with melancholy. "You say that, but most people choose to run and hide rather than risk their lives. The instinct to survive is human nature itself. I learned that all too well during the war."

What had Ana suffered, to make her look so sad? Heinkel was ashamed to admit that she knew almost nothing about her foster mother's past; all she could recall was that the older woman had been born in Berlin some time before the second world war. While Heinkel had never taken much interest in this information before, things were different now that she was battling the Nazis. For some reason, she couldn't help thinking of Captain Hans. What was his life like before he met the Major? Had he been one of Hitler's disciples, or simply one of many forced to fight for him?

She felt a surge of irritation at the thought. That man is nothing more than a monster; the why and how don't matter.

"What was Germany like before the war?" Heinkel asked—partly to distract herself from thoughts of the Captain, and partly because she wanted to know more about the place monsters had flourished.

Why had so many people sanctioned or simply ignored Hitler's atrocities—and how could anyone adhere to his twisted philosophy so many years later? (She wasn't asking in order to gain insight into the Captain's mindset. It was simply idle curiosity—nothing more.)

Ana was silent for a long time, but Heinkel was content to wait. The orphanage was quiet now—the younger children were napping, while the older ones helped Luisa in the garden (a postage stamp-sized plot fenced off in the backyard). Still dressed in the clothes she'd borrowed from Ana, with her feet bare and a steaming cup of tea in her hands, Heinkel felt strangely peaceful. She'd forgotten silence could be soothing.

Finally, Ana spoke, gaze distant as she beheld images of the past. "When I was born, people still believed in Hitler—they thought he'd make Germany strong and prosperous, the way it used to be. What they couldn't see was that we were already strong—the country had suffered from the Treaty of Versailles and the Depression, but people hadn't abandoned hope; they were rebuilding little by little. Hitler seduced them with promises of power and glory—and in the end, they lost everything they'd gained."

She sighed. "My father didn't trust the Nazis, but he was a loyal citizen who hesitated to criticize the government. When he finally did speak up, it was too late." A shadow passed over her face: causing her normally soft features to harden.

"What happened to him?" Heinkel couldn't remember her own parents, but it wasn't difficult to imagine how devastated she'd be if something happened to Ana.

Padding into the kitchen, Klaus announced his arrival with a loud meow; Ana lifted him into her lap, a smile hovering on her lips before her expression became solemn once more.

"As punishment for his insubordination, our father was immediately deployed to the Western Front; six months later, we received news of his death. Mother followed several months later. My brother did his best to take their place, but he was still young himself. He had no idea what he was doing." She chuckled at the memory.

Seeing the sparkle in Ana's eye as she spoke of her brother, Heinkel couldn't help wondering what it was like to have a sibling. Would she have felt less alone with a brother or sister by her side? "Where is he now?"

"Not long after Mother's death, Hans went out to gather firewood and never returned. I searched for days but couldn't find him. For years I clung to the hope that my brother had survived the war, but eventually I accepted that Hans died that day."

"Are you sure he didn't just abandon you?"

Heinkel had no desire to tarnish Ana's memory of her brother, but it wasn't hard to imagine him becoming overwhelmed by the unexpected responsibility of raising a child. Maybe he'd left his sister behind to ensure his own survival.

If the insinuation angered her, Ana didn't show it. "Hans promised that we would always be together; and all these years later, I still believe him."

"I'm sorry."

Only now did Heinkel realize how weak she'd been, wallowing in grief over the loss of her comrades; Ana had remained steadfast after suffering far more. She thought of Anderson's favorite bible verse: Do not be fainthearted or afraid; do not panic or be terrified…For the Lord your God is the one who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies to give you victory.

"Don't be. My family may be dead, but they are far from gone. If God wills it, we will be reunited in heaven." Though the older woman's gaze was tinged with sadness, her smile was genuine.