And at that instant, before the German soldiers raised their guns, before the order was given, Yona knew that everything in her life up to this moment had been designed to lead her here, to this place, where she might be the one person with the power to halt what was about to happen. She didn’t know why, but she knew what she had to do. As others crossed themselves and cowered, as the nuns raised their eyes to God, she took a deep breath, stood, and turned in the direction of the man who’d given her life. “Stop!” she cried in German. “Siegfried Jüttner! Please, stop this!”
At the superior officer’s name, the stout man on the steps turned, sneering at the crowd as he searched for the source of the voice. But Yona wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at her father, who had finally found her in the throng. He was staring at her, slack-jawed. “Stop this, please,” she said, and now, as he drew closer, she was speaking only to him. “You can do that, can’t you? Please. I am begging you to spare the lives of the nuns.”
“Inge?” When Jüttner spoke, even his voice was familiar to her, so familiar that it tugged at a corner of her heart she thought had been closed long ago. Without looking behind him, he gestured to the officer on the church steps, telling him with a single wave of his hand to pause. Yona had been right: he was the senior officer here. Shaking his head in disgusted disbelief, the officer on the steps signaled to the eight soldiers as Jüttner began to walk again toward Yona, who had to force herself to stand still, though it went against her every instinct. But if she ran, the nuns would die.
The silent crowd parted like the Red Sea as the tall Nazi officer moved through them, stopping just inches from Yona. The other officer, the one who’d seen her yesterday, was scrambling behind him. “You see? It’s just like I told you! Her eyes! Just like—”
“Enough.” The world around them fell silent as Jüttner stepped so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek. His uniform was creaseless, his gaze appraising and guarded. He stared directly into her eyes, as if trying to see into her soul, and then, without a word, he picked up her left wrist and gently turned it over. As he stared down at it, she watched him. The dark dove throbbed as he brushed it with his thumb, as if making certain it was real. Something changed in his eyes, a vanishing of doubt. When he looked up at her, his eyes were filled with tears. “Inge?” he whispered. “Is it really you?”
It had been her name once upon a time, before Jerusza crept from the shadows and spirited her away. Slowly, she nodded. “Papa,” she murmured, her first word so long ago, a word she hadn’t uttered in more than two decades. She struggled with how to think of this man before her; he was the father of her hazy memory, but now he was a stranger in a Nazi uniform, a stranger who had allowed the murder of a priest, who had been about to oversee the execution of eight innocent nuns.
“How are you here?” he asked, and when she looked back at the church steps, his eyes followed hers, to where the red-faced officer was staring at them with confused disgust, and to where Sister Maria Andrzeja was watching, her mouth agape. “You have been alive all these years?”
She took a deep breath. “I will tell you everything. But first you must stop this. Please. The nuns have done nothing. You’ve already made your point with the priest.”
He nodded slowly, as if in a daze, and turned to the officer standing inches behind him, who’d been watching their exchange with wide eyes. Jüttner murmured something, and though the man looked perplexed, he nodded and hurried up the church steps, where he repeated the command to the red-faced officer who’d been about to order the execution. The officer looked furious, but he nodded curtly and ordered the soldiers to stand down. Then he barked an order at one of them to lead the nuns into the church and to guard them until the situation was resolved.
Yona watched until Sister Maria Andrzeja vanished inside, shooting Yona one last look of confusion and terror. And then, as the officer on the steps disappeared inside the church, too, and the crowd continued to shrink away from her, she turned back to Jüttner. “Danke,” she said, thanking him in German.
“It is only temporary, until I understand what you are doing here.” He stared for a moment longer. “My daughter,” he murmured to himself. As he took her hand in his, his long fingers crushing hers as he began to lead her away, her stomach churned. The nuns had been granted a reprieve, but for how long? And what would be the price for their salvation? This time, when Jerusza’s words spoke to her on the wind, they were unmistakable. You fool. What have you done?