“Only if they find out.”
I frowned in disbelief. “You’d keep that to yourself?”
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation.
“But why?”
He held my face in his hands and looked at me with laughter in his eyes. “Take a guess.”
I should have smiled through my tears—because I was quite sure he was trying to tell me that he was in love with me—but I could feel no joy. All I felt was shame and sorrow. If he thought he was in love with me, he was mad.
“How can you care about me at all, when I just told you that I’d been lying to everyone I love for the past four years?”
“Because you’re not lying to me now. I believe everything you just told me. April.”
April. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be addressed by my real name. Something relaxed inside of me.
“How did you know?” I asked. “Even before I told you . . . how did you figure it out?”
“The other night, when you woke me up and asked me to make sure that it was on record that you lied to Ludwig in the interrogation—you said you were desperate, that you would have said anything to save yourself. But when they burned your flesh with a hot poker, you didn’t talk. So, I had a hard time believing that you were willing to say anything. I knew you wanted to say it.”
As I turned Jack’s hand over in mine and ran my fingertips across his open palm, I marveled at the fact that he saw through all my masks to the real me. Just me, as a separate individual. Not Vivian.
“All this makes me realize why I needed to leave Grantchester Hall and come here, how I was able to leave my son, even though it was dangerous. I thought it was because I wanted to fight for England and somehow turn Ludwig over to our side so that Edward could know his father . . . but I think what I really needed to do was find out who I was in my own right. Vivian couldn’t have done what I did. She would never have gotten on the plane with a parachute on her back. I don’t know if she could have survived the interrogation.” My eyes lifted. “We were twins, but we weren’t the same. She used to call me fearless, but also reckless, and she hated that about me sometimes. It drove her mad.”
Jack smiled with compassion.
“But we loved each other more than anything,” I added. “And now I think what I need to do is let her go and stop being an ‘us.’ I need to be me. Just me.” I began to feel tired, more exhausted than I could possibly fathom.
Jack stood up and turned the key in the lamp. “We should get some rest.”
Darkness enveloped the cabin while cold, damp drafts whistled through cracks in the walls. He slid onto the bed beside me, and I snuggled close.
“I can’t believe I just told you all that,” I whispered. “I never thought I’d ever tell anyone.”
I always believed, in the end, that I would be with Ludwig, and we would disappear somehow. That my secrets would never be revealed to anyone but him. But I didn’t want to disappear—at least not with Ludwig. I wanted to win this war and live in a free world.
“I’m glad you told me,” Jack said. “And everything’s going to be fine now. I promise.”
There were no more doubts in my mind that night. I believed him, and I slept soundly.
“Jack, wake up,” I whispered, shaking him hard.
He sat up, instantly wide awake. The morning sun was beaming in through the window, and the rain had stopped sometime during the night. There was not a single breath of wind through the eaves, but twigs were snapping outside the cabin. There were footsteps on the forest floor.
Jack raised his finger to his lips. “Shh.” He left the bed and moved quickly and lightly to the window.
“Do you see anything?” I whispered.
“No.”
There were footsteps out front. It was more than one person. Three or four by the sound of it.
My stomach exploded with dread. If it was a German patrol, I wasn’t sure I could survive it. I was certain they would shoot me on the spot.
Jack listened carefully at the door. He held up a hand to tell me not to move or utter a single word.
Footsteps landed on the front porch. My heart pounded thunderously.
Someone knocked. “Lieutenant Cooper? Are you in there?”
It was an American accent. Jack’s gaze shot to mine.
“Yes! I’m Lieutenant Cooper.” He yanked the door open.
A squad of four American servicemen stood on our front porch. I exhaled sharply with relief.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Jack said.
They all saluted him.
“It’s good to see you, Lieutenant. We’ve been searching for you in these woods for almost two days. I’m Sergeant Morris.”
Jack invited him inside.
“Did you see Deidre?” I asked, sliding off the bed. “Is she all right?”
“Yes, ma’am. I believe they’ve sent her back to England already.”
“And she made it? Across the Channel?”
“I don’t see why she wouldn’t have.” He paused and regarded the two of us questioningly. “You probably haven’t heard. The Germans surrendered in Paris three days ago. France is liberated. They’re moving out.”
I covered my mouth with a hand. “Oh my goodness. That’s wonderful.”
“Well done,” Jack said, shaking the man’s hand.
“Same to you,” he replied. Then he turned his attention to me. “I understand you’re injured, ma’am?”
“Yes. I may have a collapsed lung, but it seems to have improved. I think it’s healing on its own.”
“Best to let our medic take a look.” He turned and waved to one of the men outside. “Corporal Akerman, come in here, please.”
Akerman entered with a medical bag and asked me to sit down at the table for a full examination.
“We’ll radio for an ambulance to come and collect you,” Sergeant Morris said as he glanced around the cabin. “Looks like you two made out all right. You were lucky you found this place. The weather was pretty bad last night.”
Jack turned to me. “Yes, we were lucky.”
I kept my eyes trained on his while the medic listened to my chest with a stethoscope and examined the laceration on my shoulder.
“You did a pretty good job with the stitches,” the medic said. “It’s looking okay.”
I was barely aware of what he was saying. All I saw was Jack, standing in the clear morning light that filtered into the cabin through the dusty window. How handsome he looked with his hair ruffled from sleep, his eyes smiling down at me.
A profound feeling of intimacy coursed through me—a deep awareness of a bond that now existed between us, because he knew the real me. Hope erupted inside me, with the end of the war just over the horizon, and Jack’s friendship. I understood, with elation, that everything good and bad in my life had brought me to this moment.
It was a new beginning, and I was certain that Vivian would have wanted me to embrace it. And so . . . I would do exactly that. I would keep my promise to her. Her dying wish. I would live a good life, and I would be happy.
PART FOUR:
GILLIAN
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
2011
I sat forward on the sofa and gazed at my grandmother with awe and reverence. “I can’t believe you never told us any of that,” I said—not in an accusatory tone or with disappointment. I felt only sympathy, respect, and wonder.
She shrugged a shoulder, and when she spoke, her voice sounded small and shaky. “I put it behind me a long time ago.”
There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, but she’d been talking about the past all day long, dredging up old memories and reliving fears and horrors. She looked completely worn out.
“That scar on your shoulder . . . ,” my father said. “I always thought you got it from falling out of a tree. That’s what you told me when I was a kid.”
“I was good at making up stories and sticking to them.”
“But Grampa Jack always kn
ew the truth,” I said.
“Yes, he knew everything about me. He was the only one.”
“But why, Gram? Why did you feel you couldn’t tell us? You say you were ready to be the real you, to stop being an ‘us,’ but you kept your sister’s name all these years, and you continued with the charade. We were your family. Did you think someone would turn you over to the British authorities? Those days were long gone, and even if they weren’t, we would have done everything to protect you.”
“I told you before, I just wanted to forget. To move on with my life. And we didn’t know what would happen if I revealed who I really was. I might have gotten into trouble, so we just left it. But at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter that I kept Vivian’s name. I knew who I was on the inside, and so did Jack. And so did you, Edward, because in my heart, where it counts, I let my sister go.”
Yet, there was a lingering sorrow in her eyes, which struck me hard. But I didn’t want to make her feel like this was another ruthless interrogation, so I asked no more questions.
The house was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. We sat in silence, allowing Gram some time to recover from the experience of revisiting the past.
At last, she turned to us. “Jack proposed to me the following spring, after V-E Day. By then, Theodore’s brother, Henry, had come home to Grantchester Hall, and Clara had given birth to a son. George and Catherine still loved me, of course, but they had a true legitimate heir, so I felt less guilty about leaving them when they had Henry back. And Henry was changed. His ship had been bombed, and he nearly died. They had to rescue him from the sea. It taught him something, I think, and he settled down, became a good father. Clara was still a spoiled brat, but she gave Henry four children, and they all turned out all right, as far as I know. The eldest son is the earl now.”
“You didn’t keep in touch with any of them?”
“Not after George and Catherine passed away. They died not long after the war. I kept in touch with Deidre for a little while, but gradually, we stopped writing to each other. I’ve always regretted that, over the years.”
“What happened to George and Catherine?” I asked.
“George died from a heart attack in ’47,” she said, “and Catherine died a year later from some sort of infection.”
“That’s very sad.”
“Yes, it was, but at least they got to meet Jack, and they liked him. They were happy for me when I decided to marry him. They were sad to see me go, of course, but they supported it.”
Gram seemed lost in thought for a moment, staring off into space—into the past, no doubt.
“I’m very tired,” she said. “I’d like to go to bed now.”
Dad rose to his feet, helped her out of her chair, and escorted her upstairs. A short while later, he and I met in the kitchen.
“So, there it is,” I said, flicking the switch on the kettle to boil water for a pot of herbal tea. “The whole story.”
“Except that we don’t know what happened to Ludwig,” he said.
“No, you’re right. Gram didn’t say, and I’m curious. You must be as well.”
Dad sat down at the table. “I just asked her about him. She said she never knew what became of him, nor did she want to know.”
The kettle boiled, and I poured steaming water into the teapot. “Do you really believe that?”
“I suspect my mother knows her own mind by now. She seemed adamant about that.”
“Maybe. But don’t you want to know? He was your father.”
“Yes. Of course I want to know.”
“What if he’s still alive?”
Dad cupped his hands together. “It’s not likely. He’d have to be in his nineties.”
“Still, he could be. Gram’s still with us.” I waited for the tea to steep, then I poured two cups and carried them to the table, where I sat down across from Dad. “Last night, you didn’t want me to google him, but how do you feel about that now? I could do some research, because I’d like to know. For myself. We’re descended from him, after all.”
He nodded wearily.
“We don’t have to tell Gram if she doesn’t want to know anything,” I added. “We can look into it ourselves and keep quiet about it. Play it by ear.”
“That sounds good. Do you want to start now?”
I stood up again. “Absolutely. I’ll get my laptop.”
We settled ourselves comfortably in the den, where I typed Ludwig Albrecht, Nazi officer, World War II, but nothing helpful came up. I tried all sorts of other word combinations, but still, nothing.
Next, I looked up the Nuremberg trials to see if my biological grandfather had been a part of them, but he wasn’t.
“It almost seems like he never existed,” I said to Dad, “but that can’t be the case, because we have pictures of him.”
Dad seemed both surprised and disappointed. “I thought everything was available on the internet.”
“Apparently not. But we’ll keep looking. I’ll do some deeper research, and this week, I’ll call some people or organizations who might know how to help us. Don’t give up, Dad. We’re only just getting started.”
“You’re a trooper,” he said. “I’m glad you came home, Gillian.”
“Me too.”
We shared an affectionate smile that made me realize just how far we had come in a few short days. For the first time in years, we were on the same side, opening up to each other, and it felt as it once did, before Mom died, when the world was a happier place.
The following morning, Dad and I went out to get some groceries. On the way home in the car, as we drove through a heavy downpour beneath low-hanging clouds, I turned to him.
“I didn’t pack much in my suitcase. I was in such a hurry to get out of the apartment I just grabbed a bunch of stuff without thinking, so I should probably go back to New York.”
The windshield wipers whipped back and forth at high speed, and Dad glanced at me with concern. “For how long?”
“Don’t worry. I won’t stay. I just want to grab a few things and come straight back. I’d like to do it tomorrow morning, after Malcolm’s gone to work, so I won’t have to talk to him. Once that’s out of the way, I can think about doing some more investigating about Ludwig.”
Dad glanced at me again. “I’ve noticed you’re still wearing the ring.”
The thought of it made me shiver with annoyance at myself, because I had woken up that morning feeling completely enamored with it, which only added to my confusion. I was angry with Malcolm for what he had done, but all my bravado from the other night was beginning to fade, because I wanted a lifelong romance for myself, like Gram had had. I couldn’t get her story out of my head—especially the part about Grampa Jack and how they’d fallen in love amid turbulent circumstances but moved past them and spent the rest of their lives together, as happy as any married couple could be.
We all make mistakes, right? And Malcolm had driven hours to see me and express his regret.
Suddenly, I found myself wanting to consider the possibility that he might be worthy of a second chance. He’d admitted that he might have been going through a small midlife crisis. Surely, that kind of self-awareness was worth something?
On top of all that, I wasn’t sure I was ready to give up the dream of marriage to a man I loved. And I couldn’t ignore the fact that I was thirty-five years old. It wasn’t as if I had all the time in the world to meet someone new if I walked away from Malcolm. I wanted children and a family.
“I haven’t decided anything yet,” I said to Dad. “Right now, I just want to get my stuff.”
It would take some time to figure things out.
“Do you want to borrow the car?” he asked.
“Would you mind?”
“Of course not. Do what you need to do, Gillian. And don’t worry. Everything will become clear. It always does.”
“Let’s hope so.”
It wasn’t easy to walk into the building that had
been my home for the past two years and pretend that I knew exactly what I was doing. The whole way there, I’d gripped the steering wheel and told myself I was a strong and independent woman who wouldn’t put up with any man’s infidelity, and that was that.
But it wasn’t the truth. I was on the fence, because with Malcolm, I’d thought I’d found the man of my dreams. He was handsome, intelligent, charming, and rich, but now I was wondering if it was a dream built of marble floors and crystal chandeliers and uniformed drivers who took me anywhere I wanted to go. But how much of it was real? The man I loved and trusted had betrayed that trust, which suddenly made the rest of our life together seem artificial and tawdry.
As I slipped my key into the lock in the penthouse door and entered the opulence that gleamed in the early-morning sun, I breathed in the familiar scent of the place and was hit by an unexpected wave of rapture.
It smelled like him, and I fell straight back into the pleasurable sensations of our life together. All I could do was stand there with my eyes closed, inhaling deeply and wanting to hold on to the feeling, which was completely intoxicating.
Eventually, I opened my eyes and looked around at the shiny white quartz countertops in the kitchen, the crystal stemware on display in the mahogany hutch, and the spacious living room with white upholstered furniture and vases full of fresh flowers. All of it opened onto a wide balcony overlooking Central Park, where I’d spent many romantic evenings sipping expensive cognac with Malcolm after a glamorous night out.
I opened the door to the balcony and stepped outside to hear the distant roar of the city below. Taking a moment to reflect upon everything, I knew in my heart that all the razzle-dazzle was meaningless, especially after listening to my grandmother talk about the war—about the rationing, and the bombings, and the sacrifices she and so many others had made. The only thing that really mattered was the people she loved.
A sparrow fluttered down from the rooftop and landed on the white stone balustrade not far from where I stood. Watching the bird’s tiny feet as she hopped along the rail, I knew I still loved Malcolm. I couldn’t just let go of those feelings overnight. I thought of his smile and his sexy laugh and the way he made me feel when he touched me. I was angry with him—yes—but I wanted, more than anything, to return to the bliss of our relationship. I didn’t want to lose what we’d had.
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