Page 22 of The Lies We Leave Behind

22

I didn’t head straight home after my meeting with Lee. Instead, I rode my bike to William’s and my tree, smiling at an ewe and her lamb sleeping nearby, and calling softly to them as I sat in the grass, resting my back against the trunk.

With a sigh, I pulled the letter and box from my handbag, setting both on my lap and running my hand over the lid before lifting it and taking in what lay inside.

Nestled between sheets of delicate tissue paper was a large sum of money, in both francs and reichsmarks, and the documents I’d need to return to my home country. Another new name, Lena Klein, a forged signature I’d need to practice to perfect, and a recent picture of me, stamped with what were most likely stolen but official stamps and another forged signature or two.

Blowing a breath out, I put the lid back and picked up the envelope.

The first page was filled with Aunt Vic’s humor. An anecdote about Uncle Frank, a story from the corner grocer, something silly she saw in the newspaper. The second and third pages were a plea, as well as information.

I understand why you want to go. For her. To save her like we were unable to do eight years ago. But it wasn’t your fault. It was no one’s fault, my dear girl. It is war. And there are hard truths to be told in war. Such as, the sister you seek may not be the same sister you knew. We don’t know what she has seen, nor what she has been told. Perhaps what didn’t work on you did on her. It is something worth considering, because what you are thinking is not only dangerous, but mad. And yet.

I know you carry in you a deep-seated and justified anger for the treatment you and she were subjected to. I know there are things you wish to say. I bear the same need, and have for even longer than you. But I also know of the guilt you’ve carried for years. A guilt that needn’t exist. You had no choice in the matter, my love. No choice. No means. It was not your fault, it was your uncle’s and my failure. And for that, I will never forgive myself.

Should you choose to go, I cannot stop you. And so I will do what I can to help keep you, my most precious treasure, as safe as I can.

As you’ve always closely followed the news of the war, I’m sure you’re aware of a great many things. But per our sources, here’s what you should know in case you don’t already. Hamburg is not the same city you once knew. Not just because of the Nazi forces keeping guard over it, but because of Operation Gomorrah, an air strike by the Allies that left the city in ruins. We now know that your parents’ home is still standing and your mother returned there before the strike with her loyal servant, Paulina.

We do not know where Catrin currently resides. After she was reported dead, we think she was hidden away under a different name with a family who has since moved. She does not seem to be living with them, and we are uncertain if she has contact with them. The name we discovered she’d been using while in their care has led to dead ends, making us think they, or she...or even your mother, changed it again at some point.

It is through our diminished network that she has been spotted making visits to your parents’ home. They are positive it’s her, despite the fact she wears a wig and doesn’t stay long. When they asked around, they learned she visits every couple of months. Our people have not tried to follow her when she leaves your mother’s house, as she is not their mission.

Kate, I do not know what you will encounter. Please, take to heart, she could be just as dangerous as your parents were. Keep your guard up.

Now, getting into the country could prove tricky, and that’s why we’ve asked Lee to assist. He knows a great many people and has the resources to keep you safe and get you where you are going. Trust him. If he says something, it is to be believed. If he asks you to do something, do it. No questions asked.

I turned to the last page.

I can’t send this letter without imploring you. The thought of you there, in that country being run by a lunatic, is the worst thing I can imagine. I am terrified and want to plead with you. But should you decide to go, know that we love you beyond all else, and will keep you in our thoughts every day and every night, and pray for your safe return to us.

I read the rest through eyes blurred with tears, sniffling quietly as I pulled my knees up and rested my chin on them while staring out at the valley below, tracing the distant hills with my eyes. So many hours I’d sat here with William, dreaming of our future in Seattle.

“Or maybe somewhere else?” he’d asked once. “Is there anywhere you’ve always dreamed of living?”

An image of blue-green waters and sunny seaside homes had flashed in my mind.

“The South of France,” I’d said, and his eyes had widened, a curious grin on his handsome face.

“I’ve never been,” he’d said. “But I think I’d quite like it. With you.”

I’d told him the things I loved about the area, and he spoke in a terrible French accent that made us both laugh, staring into one another’s eyes until I was breathless, my heart pounding in my chest as he pulled me to him.

I wondered what he would think of the decision I was making now. If he’d try to stop me. Or if he would understand why I had to go. She was my sister. I had to save her. There was no other choice. She was alive and I had to get her out of there.

Except, William didn’t know my real story. I had told him the lies so many others had been told. The lie that kept me safe. The lie that caused me incredible amounts of guilt, because I’d gotten out.

“Tell me about your family,” he’d asked the first morning we found this tree. “You didn’t say much back at the hospital. Just that your sister passed away.”

I’d told him my parents died when I was younger and I had lived with my aunt and uncle in Manhattan until being sent overseas the year before. I’d glossed over the details, turning the conversation back to him and the exploits he and his younger brother had engaged in as kids, which he’d enjoyed telling me about at length as we laughed quietly.

But on this day, his attention was entirely on me and he wasn’t easily dissuaded from getting information, my tactics of changing the subject not working quite as well.

“There’s not much to tell,” I’d said.

“Tell me how your parents died,” he’d said quietly. Carefully.

I’d hesitated, staring out at the valley spread below us as I’d contemplated being honest. But in this time and place, there was danger in coming from where I did, born to the kind of people I had been born to. People whose circles had been the upper echelons of German society. People who had hosted the enemy himself in their home. I could be mistaken for something I wasn’t. Even by the one I loved. And so.

“They died in a car accident,” I’d said. “I was sixteen at the time.”

“That must’ve been so hard.”

I nodded, unable to meet his eyes for fear he’d see the lies within mine.

“Thankfully, I was already staying with my aunt and uncle at the time. They had a room for me for whenever I visited. They didn’t hesitate to take me in permanently.”

It was only then that I met his eyes, the lie now told. Mostly. What came after me moving in with my aunt and uncle was all truth.

He’d smiled sadly, squeezing my hand and, probably assuming it was hard for me to talk about, let it go, moving on to other happier subjects like me and him and our future together.

I twisted the ring around my finger now and stared at the pretty, modest stone, twinkling in the daylight.

“Please forgive me,” I whispered.

I tucked the box and my aunt’s letter back in my bag and then stood, stretching my back and breathing in the warm, late summer air. I wondered, once I’d left, if I’d ever come back here. Or if I’d go straight to the States and never return to this place. Maybe I’d meet William there. Maybe we’d make plans to meet somewhere else.

I looked toward the base as an airplane flew in. For as long as I could remember, this had been my purpose. To help. To try and alleviate the guilt I felt for my country’s failings. I trained for it. I was proud of the lives I’d saved, the hands I’d held, and the teams I’d been part of. I hoped this wasn’t the end, just a pause in my service to the country I’d adopted. And I hoped my country, its men, and my chosen sisters would understand one day when I finally stopped telling the lies and told my whole truth.

A soft breeze ruffled the leaves of the tree and I rested my hand against its beautiful old trunk, smiling as I thought of William, what a romantic he was, and our time here.

“We’ll be back,” I whispered, and then slipped through the stone wall and rode my bike home.

Hazel sat staring up at me from her bed, a blue scarf holding her dark hair back, brow furrowed, lips parted silently as if waiting for her brain to absorb what I’d just told her and deliver a response.

“But...” she said, her frown deepening. “For how long? Are you coming back?”

I’d told her what I’d told Marlene, the head nurse, only moments before. There’d been a death in the family and I had to go home. It wasn’t a complete lie. My father had died. They didn’t need to know who or that he’d passed a year ago.

“I’m planning on it,” I said. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be gone, but hopefully I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll throw a fit if you’re not!” she said. “Will you leave your things here then?”

I looked around. I hadn’t thought about that. But since I was planning on returning eventually...

“If that’s okay with you?” I said. “I can box them up so they’re out of your way though.”

Or in case I didn’t come back and they replaced me. But I didn’t say that.

I didn’t leave for a week, which left me plenty of time to work, pack, determine what I should box up and store beneath my cot for my return, shop for clothing I’d need, and write letters, both to Aunt Vic, and to William.

I’d told Lee of my decision the day after I’d made it, hurrying into town after my shift to leave a message with the front desk of his hotel. A response was waiting for me at home when I returned the following evening, tired and sad after learning I’d missed William by an hour the day before, him turning up after I’d already left.

“He was here?” I’d asked the young doctor who’d told me.

“He was,” he said, a sympathetic smile on his face. “He left a letter for you. It’s at the front desk.”

“Was he okay then?” I asked. “He wasn’t here because he was injured, was he?”

“Nah. He flew in with a plane full of injured and took a dozen or so recovered soldiers back with him. Was hoping to catch you, that’s all.”

I sighed. We had hoped our paths would cross often, especially as the Allies pushed their way through France, taking back what Germany had taken previously. But though my stops moved along with the border the soldiers created, we’d yet to see one another since he’d left.

I’d run to grab the letter he’d left, then hurried back to check my new crop of patients and help get them loaded for England.

My letter to Aunt Vic was full of gratefulness for her help, and apologies for not heeding her pleas and warnings.

“It’s something I feel I must do,” I wrote.

I have to at least try. I know you understand. I promise not to be stupid. To not take more chances than I already am. And to do everything in my power to stay safe and alive. But should the worst happen...please know how grateful I am to you both. For your sacrifices, your bravery, and your unconditional love.

My letter to William was harder and I propped the photo of us beside me as I wrote.

“My Love,” I wrote, and then sat for a long while staring at the blank page.

Rather than try and go into too much detail, I brushed past the details of who had died and why I was going home. I didn’t explain the home I was referring to was not where he thought it was. I didn’t give a definitive date of return, just that I would. And I promised I would write as often as I could, leaving him my address in New York, knowing that if it were possible, my aunt would find a way to get any letters he wrote to me. And as for my letters to him, I’d been told the postal system in Germany was a mess, if it existed at all, so I would just pray that they’d get to him eventually.

I hated that we’d be cut off from one another. But the pull of my past...and the little sister I’d left behind, were too strong. I had to go, but I would return as soon as I could. To him, and to the life we’d promised one another.

Making light of the trip I was about to embark on, so it would seem less than what it was, I turned my letter to other subjects, reminding him of silly moments we’d had together, hours spent in bed beneath the covers, sitting across from one another in our favorite pub, our knees scraping beneath the table, and how very much I loved him.

I will return to England, and to you, as soon as I can. I cannot wait to start the rest of our lives together.

I love you, William.

Forevermore.

Kate