1939
The vicious hum of the airship's engines that Evie heard when they boarded were dimmed now by the surprisingly plush surroundings of the cabin itself. There were tables draped in lovely lace cloth, silverware, wine glasses; even shining silver candlesticks on every table. It was more akin to dining in a lavish restaurant than flying high over the distant farmlands of central Europe. She and Himura had made good time as they traveled to the airstrip; the roads were clear and they had discussed at length the most pressing situation at hand: would the threat on her life persist once they were clear of the Reich?
Himura had settled on the idea that the would-be-assassin was actually a member of the Alliance; it would be nearly impossible to reveal Evie's similar involvement to the fuehrer without risking the illumination of one's own affiliation. That was his only explanation. Surely if the offending party was an Axis affiliate, Evie's identity would have been revealed at the first threat. However, the file that Himura had studied the most was that of a die-hard Nazi Party member and high-ranking officer that he highly doubted would ever ally himself with anyone other than the staunchest of socialist reformers. He'd brought practically his entire filing-cabinet's contents with him, though, and as soon as they were safe on solid English ground, he'd cloister himself away and try to get to the bottom of it. He didn't harbor the hope that once he and Evie were free of the fuehrer's watchdogs the danger would subside. There had not been, as of yet, any physical attacks of course; but if Hitler himself knew where they were headed there was no reason to believe that the offending party would not know as well.
Sitting across the lush table from one another, they idly clasped hands in the center of it. For a while, they had settled into a comfortable silence; Evie was content to listen to the dull drone of the engines and Himura was mentally running through a checklist of places to hide Evie—at least until the babe was born. She broke the silence first.
"Darling, do you think we should leave directly from London? Go to Ireland or somewhere else, I mean?"
Himura studied her across the table, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "You actually read my mind, mein leibling. But it would be a shame to not visit your father while you were home. We can stay a few days. We left Berlin in quite a rush; we should have a good head-start on anyone that might be following us."
Evie nodded thoughtfully, but remained silent for the next few moments. Himura studied her carefully, as she obviously mulled over her next statement before uttering it aloud. "What's bothering you, Schätzchen?" he finally asked, gently brushing the pad of his thumb across her knuckles.
"Oh, it's nothing really. I'm just wondering if it would be wise to...enlighten my father on my current condition."
Himura smiled wanly to himself. He personally was very pleased about the prospect of being a father. He intended to marry Evie as soon as possible, of course, but he could see how the situation at hand may grate her nerves.
Her father was old-fashioned, worshiping in the Shinto shrine in her family's home. Shinto itself was an accepting religion; slightly disjointed and not really adhering to any particular set of rules. Generally speaking, he shouldn't be overwhelmingly upset about an out-of-wedlock pregnancy. Evie's mother, on the other hand, had been Catholic and Evie spent her early years being schooled by nuns at St. Mary's. Her mother had passed years ago, but she feared her father would disapprove because she'd dishonored her mother's memory.
"We can wait to tell him," Himura offered, linking his fingers with hers. He leaned over the table and tipped her chin up so he could meet her eyes. "And I think Ireland sounds wonderful."
A steward in immaculate white uniform passed their table and offered them champagne. Evie lifted her eyes to the man and politely declined. He was strikingly handsome, she thought, but there was something disturbingly lacking in his gray eyes. Himura tossed him a sidelong glance, but did not study the man's face. He saw long dark brown hair tied loosely back and the steward's uniform and passed the thought off as paranoid. For a fleeting moment, he feared the assassin had finally made his presence known. The steward nodded politely and made his way to the next table with his tray of champagne flutes.
It was nearing seven o'clock when their airship touched down in London. The flight had been uneventful; the monotony of it had actually worn on Evie's nerves. The subsequent drive to Camberwell had been just as quiet, but Himura had held her hand tightly, silently assuring her that everything would be all right.
They arrived at 38 Brook Drive and stepped out of their cab; Evie stared longingly at the familiar front door to the house she'd grown up in while Himura retrieved their scant luggage from the trunk of the car. She was desperately afraid to go knock on the door. She hadn't spoken to her father since she'd left for Berlin. He had been staunchly against her involvement with the Socialist party whether or not her intentions had been noble. She'd been fiercely independent since her mother's death and had not heeded his warnings. She was returning home though, wiser for her actions; the prodigal daughter. And with a man that she loved who shared the same convoluted roots as her own, no less. Surely that would make her father happy. She'd decided somewhere between the London Bridge and Brook Drive that she would not confess her pregnancy immediately. She briefly considered lying to her father and telling him that she and Himura were already married. Rather than heap lie upon misdirection, she'd told Himura he'd have to take the couch while they were at her father's home. He may have been somewhat liberal in his religious practices, but that didn't exempt them to romp around while they were in residence. Himura had agreed, of course.
Lifting her hand to knock, she cast one last longing gaze over her shoulder at her beautiful beau; his ridiculous red hair gleamed in the waning sunlight like hellfire. Giving her a reassuring nod, he lifted their bags and made his way to the front step. Evie grasped the brass knocker and took a deep breath, bringing it down once, twice on the base plate attached to the door.
She took a cautious step backward when she heard the shuffling on the other side; the scratch of a needle sliding painfully across the waxen ridges of a phonograph recording, the mumbled "who the hell could it be at this hour" in that ancient tongue of her childhood. The door creaked open a scant inch and an eye peered out at them.
For some reason, Himura had it in his mind that Evie's father would be a short man; thin stature, graying hair, rumpled for whatever reason. He was not expecting to have to look up at the man. He was not expecting that honey-colored eye to peer out at them as such. He certainly did not expect the door to widen and reveal coppery hair with no hint of gray topping his massive frame. And under no circumstances was he expecting the man to smile.
In his defense though, the smile on a man that huge tends to resemble a baring of teeth more than a smile. Himura dropped the baggage and automatically stuck his hand out as if offering a handshake was a tried and true way of not having your soon-to-be father-in-law gut your innards and hang you from the laundry line.
"Papa..." Evie started, then cleared her throat and started again in rusty-but-intelligible Japanese. "Otoo-san, tadaima."
The door opened wide and the giant ushered them inside, even stooping to help Himura with the luggage.
Evie spun around in a few circles trying to get out of their way, finally grabbing the banister of the staircase and hauling herself to a stop. "Shookai shimasu Eberhardt Himura," she started, but she was interrupted by the guffaw of laughter from her father.
"Darling, surely you're butchering it. I'll speak English if it will make you more comfortable."
"Oh, thank God," she sighed, lifting her eyes to his. "This is Himura. He's a...friend of mine from Berlin. We're on the same side," she finished in a rush when her father's eyes narrowed in warning.
Himura stood dumbfounded at her father's ability to switch from perfect Japanese to flawless English, complete with a London accent that rivaled Evie's own. Himura's Japanese was probably as bad as Evie's, but when she spoke it, she ladled in all the appropriate accents, even if she did butcher it. His thick German articulation clawed its way through every language he knew how to speak, and that was quite a few. He tried the hand-shake again. Finally the man took his offer.
"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Yukimura," Himura ground out, same as he was sure the bones in his hands were grinding in the giant's grip. He tried to tone down the German, really he did. At least he wasn't in uniform, he thought grimly. Probably would have been shot on the steps, then...
After the necessary pleasantries and hugs and introductions were made, Evie's father sent them off to wash while he made tea. Evie carefully ascended the stairs to her room, Himura bringing up the rear with her bag. She made quick work of sorting through her things, finding a brush and her toiletries to reapply her-as far as Himura was concerned-still perfect makeup.
"I'm headed back down while you get ready, liebling," he mumbled, gathering her in his arms and burying his face in her fragrant hair. She tilted her smiling eyes up to his and he planted a chaste kiss on her mouth before he departed her room.
He headed deftly down the old staircase, rounded the corner at the foyer and nearly ran headlong into the daunting form of Evie's father. Luckily he didn't make contact with the elaborate Japanese tea set the man was carrying. How did he go from being one of the most confident, decorated, feared men in the German Reich to being a complete klutz in the span of a few days, he wondered, apologizing to Mr. Yukimura and offering to help him set out the spread.
"Are you quite all right, son?" the older man asked, concern evident in his tone. He motioned Himura to have a seat on the Victorian settee in the parlor. Himura quickly obliged and clasped his hands listlessly in his lap.
"The truth is, Herr...sir...I'm deeply in love with your daughter. She is my life and I...well, I want to marry her."
"Is she aware of this?"
"Depending on what you say, she will be very soon."
The giant let out a great bellowing laugh. "You've taken care of her while she was in Berlin, yes? You've watched out for her interests, guarded her door against the foul Nazis? Dare I ask if you've guarded her door from yourself?"
"I will not lie to you, sir. I have guarded her closely, but not from myself."
Yukimura nodded thoughtfully and lifted the tiny tea pot in his massive hand. "I won't give you any ancient euphemisms, or spout any practical proverbs. If you love her, you have my blessing. I am not happy that you have both violated the marriage bed, but if you're settled on one-another, then so be it. Kami help you if her mother was still alive."
"I understand, sir. I ...I thank you sir!" Himura could not hide the smile that spread over his face when Evie finally descended the stairs.
