“Yona, are you all right? What is it?”
“I—I thought I heard something.” She shook her head and forced a laugh. “Perhaps I’ve been out in the cold too long.”
He smiled and stepped into the small clearing of fallen trees. He was still several meters away, illuminated by the faint light of the coming dawn. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’m sorry for the things I said. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Of course you didn’t, Zus. I know that.”
All around them, the stars twinkled and the snow continued to drift quietly down. For a second Yona felt as if they were suspended in a world that wasn’t theirs, like the tiny trees in the snow globe in the bedroom of the home Jüttner had commandeered.
“Zus—” she began.
He took another step closer, putting up a hand to stop her. His expression was tender, anguished. “Please. Yona, there’s something I need to say. I shouldn’t have—”
But his words were lost, for in the middle of his sentence, something crashed through the trees behind them, and they both whirled, alarmed, expecting to see a wild animal.
Instead, it was a man, crouched like a beast. His eyes were wild, his hair and beard bushy and unkempt. He was wearing a tattered wool coat with swastika-emblazoned epaulettes. “Hello, daughter,” he said, his voice a growl, and in a terrified flash, she recognized him behind the beard, the fury, and the anguish.
“Jüttner,” she murmured. And in the silence that followed, she could hear the cocking of his pistol, which was now aimed straight at Zus’s heart.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Yona could hear the sharp intake of Zus’s breath, could feel his shock and fear as he took a step closer to her, stopping abruptly when Jüttner waved his gun and growled in warning.
“So is this why you fled back to the forest? For this dirty Jew? I bet you didn’t tell him about me,” Jüttner said in German, jerking his head in Zus’s direction. Spittle flew from the corners of his dried, cracked lips. How long had he been wandering the woods? His cheeks had hollowed, and the coat hung from his frame like a garment from a hanger. “I bet you didn’t tell him that your father is a Nazi.”
Zus inched a bit closer to Yona as if he could protect her, but he was still several meters away. “Yona is nothing like you,” he said in careful German. Yona hadn’t even known he spoke the language.
Jüttner’s eyes darkened. “Her name is Inge,” he spat.
“What are you doing here, Papa?” Yona asked quickly, trying to keep her tone even. She used the term of endearment in hopes of relaxing him, and it seemed to work a little.
“I came for you, Inge.” His voice softened a bit, and some of the anger went out of his eyes. He lowered his gun, and she exhaled in relief. He was looking only at Yona, almost as if he had instantly forgotten that Zus was there. “You left because of the nuns, but that was not my fault. Surely you can see that. I was trying to save them for you.”
Her heart ached; she could still see Sister Maria Andrzeja lying dead on the altar, before God. “I left,” she said softly, “because I never belonged there with you. I could not stay.”
“You only believe that because of the woman who took you. She made you forget who you are, Inge. But you are my daughter. You belong to me.” His voice, a low whine, was rising again. “You humiliated me, Inge. What do you think it looked like to have my daughter run away so soon after she came back? They mocked me, Inge. I’ve been looking for you for months now. I’ve come to save you, to show everyone where you really belong. To bring you home.”
“But this is my home.”
Jüttner looked confused, as if it was not the answer he expected. His eyes flicked to Zus, back to Yona, and to Zus again. “And this Jew? He is forcing you to stay here, yes?” His gun went up again, pointed at Zus. Yona could feel her heart slamming against her rib cage.
“No.” She took a deep breath. She could pretend he meant nothing to her, and then her father might let him go. But what if he killed Zus anyhow? She couldn’t let his last memory be one of denial, erasure. And so she stood a little taller and looked right at Zus as she murmured, “His name is Zus. And I love him. I will never forgive you if you harm him.”
“But he’s a Jew!” The fury in Jüttner’s voice was gathering like the clouds before a terrible storm. “He has tricked you! That’s what the Jews do, Yona. He is only using you.”