Chapter Eight: Bonds
"Looks like someone has a history project," said Juliana, checking out the books that Thomas had set on the desk.
"Yeah. We're studying the end of World War II. It's crazy though. Germany started the war, and they did so many horrible things. But since the Soviets control half of Berlin, we hardly hear anything about them."
She stalled with her pen over the book log. Berlin was still occupied? She'd read about the end of the war, and the German capital being split by the allies, but the Americans had pulled out in 1955. She had assumed the Russians hadn't stayed much longer. Her research hadn't taken her that far since she'd been so consumed with understanding the Nazi political system and its weaknesses, of which social cannibalism seemed to be the most prominent. Reflecting back on her time here, she realized she'd only seen a few broadcasts about West Berlin.
"Yes, it's…interesting," she finally said, finishing the log and handing the book back to Thomas, along with the library slip.
He pulled his backpack from his shoulder, unzipping it so he could place the books inside.
"So," he said conversationally. "You and my dad, huh?"
It seemed Thomas was keen to keep throwing curveballs at her that afternoon. She paused, glanced back up at him.
"Umm…Did he say something to you?"
Thomas grinned. "He doesn't have to. Three Saturdays in a row, he was up early because he wanted to start 'walking for some exercise.' He might have mentioned you were joining him. Plus, he's been noticeably more cheerful."
Juliana lightly chewed the inside of her cheek in contemplation. Since she and John were still feeling out their new relationship, they'd agreed to keep it to themselves for now. After what happened on Christmas, they should have anticipated that Thomas and the girls would be more observant than they gave them credit for.
"Well, it's, umm…still new. We're still figuring it out ourselves and didn't know what to say. You're not…upset with us, are you?"
He shook his head. "Nah, I get it. I'm glad. I want my dad to be happy again. And…we really like having you around."
"I like having you all around, too," she said, returning his smile.
Thomas slung his bag back over his shoulder. "I won't say anything to Amy or Jennifer."
"I appreciate it."
"No problem. See you for Aikido tomorrow!" he called as he headed out the door.
Juliana sat back in her chair and heaved a sigh. A niggle of guilt gnawed at her. She wished she could keep her relationship with John between the two of them. She already didn't know what she would do or how John would handle it when she had to go back to her own timeline. The thought of hurting Thomas and the girls bothered her greatly.
A blanket of snow covered the ground as John and Juliana walked their usual path around the park a few days later. At times, they talked, and at others, they were content to quietly observe the natural world around them. Her thoughts distracted her from the bite of the wind against her nose and cheeks, and John's gloved hand around hers provided a simple comfort.
"Has Thomas said anything to you about us?" she asked after a while.
John glanced down at her. "No. I haven't told them."
"Mm." She nodded, watching the path in front of them. "He was asking questions the other day when he came into the library."
"Oh… So they know?"
"Thomas does." She smiled back at him. "Apparently you're too cheerful."
He blinked in surprise. "Oh!" He chuckled. "Is…is that good or bad?"
"He likes to see you happy. He said he wouldn't tell the girls. Maybe you should talk to them."
He ran a hand over his head. "I know I should. I don't know what to say. Neither one of us has…plans. We're just taking it day by day. To plan it…well, it doesn't feel right. I don't know about you, but I'm enjoying just…living in the moment."
"I agree. Things are what they are for now. I don't even know what my own future looks like. Making a plan doesn't seem possible, and at least for me, it would cheapen what we have—how special it is."
They walked several paces, both of them retreating into their own thoughts.
"You've given me hope, Juliana. Hope that my family and I can…return to something normal again. We're so much closer to that than we were before you came along, and my heart feels…full. I want to reach for that—for the puzzle to be whole again. But you know, I'm…I'm not ready to let go of Helen… Twenty years of marriage, I… I can't just replace her."
His words were deep and heavy, and she could hear the strain in his voice as he spoke of his late wife. She squeezed his hand in empathy and solidarity. However, she admitted to herself a sense of relief, that at least at this point, John was not ready to commit to something long-term. For his sake, she hoped she could leave before he changed his mind.
"No one should ever replace her. She was your wife, and a mother to your children. If someone stepped in to fill that role, that's all it would be: filling a role. They could never take her place in your lives or in your hearts."
"It's a difficult concept to fathom. To make room in your heart for more than one love without feeling like you're diminishing the importance of one or the other. She was my soulmate. I don't think I could share the same kind of love with someone else."
"No love is created equal, but I believe they're all equally unique."
"Hm. You bring a lot of perspective to my life," he said thoughtfully. "I find I thrive on it. Perhaps that's why I found you."
She gave a quiet laugh. "Even though you don't know a damn thing about me."
"I figure you tell me all I need to know."
Except that she knew she would have to leave. That guilt returned despite their agreement on living only in the present.
"I did tell you that I don't know how much I'll be able to give. How much…time, or quality, or…any of it. I can't picture it, can't define it. But no matter what happens, I don't want you or the kids to think I never cared."
She stopped, turning to him, and he followed suit. "John, whatever happens, please promise me that you won't let Thomas and the girls forget how much I love them."
He seemed to brush it off, chuckled. "You make it sound like you're going somewhere."
"Just…please, promise me. Please? You won't let them forget?"
He gave a light frown. "Yes, of course. I promise."
"Good. So…day by day?"
"Hour by hour, and minute by minute." He pressed a kiss to her forehead before placing an arm round her shoulders as they walked on.
x-X-x
At half-past nine, Juliana had been headed to bed when the phone rang. Crossing the living room, she picked up the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Juliana. I'm sorry it's late. I hope I didn't disturb you."
She could hear the tension in his gravelly voice. "No. What's wrong?"
"Uh, nothing. I…I told them this evening."
Leaning against the shelf beneath the window, she nodded. "How did they take it?"
"They were more than ok with it, as I knew they would be. I, umm… I did let them know that…we weren't making any plans. I think they understand, but…I can't say for certain."
She could tell the conversation had left him shaken—felt the weight of words she hadn't been privy to hanging eerily in the silence. She could only imagine what the kids had thought, what had been said, the tears that had likely accompanied talk of their mother.
"I, uh…wouldn't tell you this if I knew for sure nothing would be said. I tried my best to…well, to stop them from jumping to conclusions, or expecting things that…that might not happen. But, umm…the girls, mostly Amy, thought that… Well, they miss their mother and…hoped that someday you might be able to…fill that role."
Her stomach churned with the guilt of disappointing them, now and in the future. "I see."
"I encouraged them to…continue viewing you more as an older sister, since that was the conversation at Christmas."
"Thank you… How are you doing, John?"
"I'm fine," he said, too quick in his reassurance. The silence ticked by. "It was…hard. As I knew it would be."
"Is there anything I can do?"
"No, no, I…I'm just going to get some sleep."
She ached to be there, to hold him and lie with him, but she knew even her presence wouldn't be helpful to him at the moment. It might've even made it worse.
"Okay. Goodnight, John."
"Goodnight."
She shouldn't be glad that this was difficult for him, and she wasn't. However, it did help to alleviate some of her own nerves. She could have fought against her feelings for John, but like everything else, Juliana remained sure that they hadn't occurred by chance. Even so, she hated knowing his heart still broke with grief over the loss of Helen.
Lying in bed, she wondered at the fragility of the Reichsmarschall's heart. He hadn't visibly reacted to her dig about Thomas. But then again, she supposed he couldn't. Nazism cannibalized itself after all. Then there was Helen. Juliana had heard rumors that the Smith matriarch had run off to the Neutral Zone. At the time, she hasn't paid much attention. What did she care if the Smith family fell apart? They deserved it.
Beneath the veneer of confidence his power afforded him, how much pain did the Reichsmarschall hide that he'd be punished for if he dared to show it?
x-X-x
"Daddy, are we going to go home soon?" said Amy, her lips turned down in a pout as she sat close to him on the sofa. Helen and Jennifer sat across the room. Only the youngest of the group appeared not to sense the chilly atmosphere.
"Oh, I don't know, honey. I hope so."
"Why can't we go home now?" she whined.
"Well, Daddy's been busy doing important work for the Fuhrer. It's probably a lot more fun out here."
"No it's not… I don't like it."
A conversation that never seemed to end. He'd pushed and pushed for Helen to stop her stubbornness and return to New York. Each time he pled his case, she only dug in her heels further. He glanced over to his wife in mute appeal for assistance only to be met with a steely expression from behind her sewing needles. If looks could kill…
He turned his eyes back to Amy.
"I know," he said, stroking her hair and rubbing her tiny cheek in reassurance. "Things will be back to normal soon. You'll see."
"You've been saying that forever!"
"Are they teaching you everything you need to know in school?" he asked Jennifer, ignoring the hard stare Helen continued to level at him.
"Yeah, I guess."
"I doubt they're teaching you everything, but it'll have to do."
"It's fine, Dad."
She was turning into her mother. Ordinarily, it wouldn't have been a bad thing, but considering Helen might as well have been marching them all straight to the guillotine, he'd been growing increasingly frustrated with the pair of them.
If Helen thought Amy's total devotion to the Reich didn't sicken John too, she was horribly mistaken. He hated having to perpetuate the Nazi propaganda the state continued to force-feed them, but what choice did he have?
He clapped his hands together, looking around at each of them. "Would…anyone like to play a game?"
"Yes!" shouted Amy.
He focused on Jennifer, but she remained seated, her expression flat and distant. Her arms lay limply in her lap, but she now pulled them in, wrapping them around herself.
"No thanks," she murmured.
Again, he looked to Helen for support. Her eyes were cold and sharp like daggers. She might as well have told Jennifer to denounce him entirely. He didn't know whether to be relieved or annoyed when Susan announced less than an hour later that supper was ready.
Jennifer sat stiffly when he gave her a hug at bedtime and kissed the top of her head.
"I love you."
"You, too."
Closing the bedroom door behind him, he stood in the hallway momentarily before heading back into the sitting room. Helen waited, arms crossed.
"You've seen them. You can go home now."
He nodded his head from side-to-side, glancing around. "Oh. Well, I didn't realize that was your decision to make."
"The girls are in bed, and you're not staying the night. I have nothing to say to you, so you can go on, and keep working on that important business for the Fuhrer. We both know how impatient he can be."
He scrubbed his hand over the lower half of his face. "Do you want to turn them against me? Is that really what you want?"
"I don't have to. You're doing a good job of it all on your own. Jennifer is smart enough to see through all those lies. Amy will get there."
He threw his arms out, actually stunned. "I don't understand. Have I not done everything I can to keep our family together? And you want to tear it apart, just like that?"
"Oh no, John. You're not going to make me out to be the bad guy. You've chosen your side. Heidrich Himmler is clearly far more important than we are."
"I cannot believe what I'm hearing."
"Actions speak louder than words. You could change those actions—at any time. But you won't."
He folded his hands in front of his face. Never one to raise his voice, especially at Helen and the children, he said quietly, "I really thought…that you knew me better than that."
"You know, I thought so, too. But after over twenty years of marriage—" she gave a humorless laugh. "—I realize…I don't know you at all."
He grasped for words, for anything he could say or do.
"Alright. Alright, fine. I'll go." He turned to grab his coat off the back of the sofa, pulled it on. "It was…good to see you and the girls anyway."
She didn't move. Only stood there, arms crossed. He met her eyes pointedly.
"I love you, Helen."
Her silence felt like bullet to his chest.
He turned to make his way through the house, thanking Hank and Susan again for their hospitality.
"Always a pleasure, John," said Susan, and he wished she would stop lying straight to his face. Hank only nodded before John walked out the door.
He ignored the salutes of his men as he boarded the jet. Slumping into one of the seats, he closed his eyes, stuffing down the hurt, the anger, the desperation. He wanted to get off this goddamn farm, but he loathed to return to New York where he had to keep pushing on, keep pretending to be a good little Nazi to spare his family a death sentence.
He couldn't see a way out. Didn't Helen understand that he was trapped? That the only way to keep their daughters alive was for him to play his part flawlessly in the Reich? He fucking hated it, but wasn't it his responsibility—their responsibility to make sacrifices for their children?
The farmhouse growing smaller and smaller out the window served as an apt metaphor for the diminishing hope he had of regaining some semblance of normalcy. Helen wouldn't come back, and Jennifer was close to disowning him—though hell if she would tell him why. She didn't seem to think he needed an explanation. Only Amy still acted like she loved him. He likely had her age and naivete to thank for that, but how long would her unconditional love last?
x-X-x
A few weeks later, John returned to Lackawanna to check on the progress of the portal project. Mengele had gathered more information on the volunteers for the program, and John had handed him the reins on the project, giving him the authority to send whomever he thought capable to the other world to begin gathering data from other nations there. Additionally, they still had Abendsen working to analyze the films, identifying the other worlds.
The first team had also returned to give their reports. John met with Agent Campbell separately.
"How was your trip?"
"Very productive, Sir."
"Good. I trust you have some information for me."
"Yes, Sir. I was able to locate your family quickly enough," he said, handing John a file. "In a small town outside of Washington D.C. called Bailey's Crossroads, Virginia."
"That's a…strange name," said John, flipping the file open to examine it. "You said it's a small town?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Doesn't sound like me."
"Your son is alive in that world, Sir," said Agent Campbell as John found the pictures of Thomas. "He shows no symptoms… He seems…normal, Sir. He plays sports. He's popular, good in school."
If he were a man given to tears, John would have choked on the tightness in his throat upon seeing the brand-new images of his son's beautiful smiling face. They weren't a part of any Nazi propaganda, they were just pictures of his boy, his Thomas, just as happy and gentle as he had ever been.
He swallowed.
"And my daughters?"
"Alive and well. They also do not show any signs of disease."
Knowing that all three of his children were happy and healthy ignited the first spark of real joy he'd felt in months. A photo of the alternate version of himself with his girls pulled him back into a state of melancholy. He pushed it aside.
"So, what do I do in this…alternate world? Am I a military man?"
"Well, actually, Sir, you…were a businessman."
"Businessman. What kind of business?"
"Insurance, Sir."
"An executive?"
"…You were in sales."
"In D.C.?"
"All around. You…" Agent Campbell seemed to struggle with the words. "You-you traveled, Reichsmarschall."
"A traveling salesman."
"Yes, Sir."
He chuckled. "Ok. The road not taken leads to…traveling salesman." He glanced back at Agent Campbell. "I noticed you used past tense. Am I…no longer…a traveling salesman?"
"Umm… No, Sir. You…you now work at a…local hardware store…after the death of your wife."
Any trace of amusement left John's face. He stared at the agent. "What?"
"Your wife is…deceased."
He glanced around, processing the information. "Surely you're mistaken."
"I'm…afraid not, Sir. She…apparently died a few years ago. You took a job locally to…be home for the kids."
The knowledge shook him. He'd lost Helen in the other world, too? Could it be just a coincidence?
"How… What…happened to her?"
"I'm not sure, Sir. No one seems to mention it." Campbell looked distinctly more uncomfortable than he had when sharing the information about John's alternate occupations. "But you seem to be…moving on. Starting a…new relationship."
John's brows lifted nearly to his hairline.
"Oh?"
Imagining himself with anyone other than Helen seemed more foreign than the idea of a portal to another dimension. Though he supposed the idea didn't entirely lack merit, considering recent events…
"And, uh… Who have I taken an interest in, then?" he asked, finding himself almost entirely disinterested in the revelation as he flipped through more photos. Surely some nobody.
"Someone named…Juliana Crain," said Agent Campbell as John reached a photo of himself and an unmistakably familiar young woman walking hand-in-hand.
He froze in his disbelief, the evidence dropping like a heavy stone into his stomach. No. No—impossible.
"This…this is a joke…right?"
"No, Sir. I…I took the pictures myself."
John looked back and forth between Agent Campbell and the file in his hands. He lifted the photo, revealing the next; a snapshot of him kissing the young woman on the forehead.
A range of emotions cycled through him rapidly, on repeat; denial, disgust, anger, confusion. For several moments, he couldn't look away from the photos, couldn't land on one thought, one feeling, one interpretation.
Finally, the anger seemed to win out, at least for the moment.
"Of course that's where she went. At least now I know."
"You…know her, Reichsmarschall?"
"Yes, Agent Campbell," he said on a sharp exhale, closing the file. "Unfortunately I do."
"Do you want me to…intervene, Sir?"
He chewed on the question, then answered, "No. No, I would like you to return and…keep an eye on the situation. Report your findings directly to me. This matter is to stay between us, do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
"I will be returning to New York with no plans to come back to Lackawanna for a little while. You will report to me there."
"Sir. Heil Himmler!"
"Heil Himmler…"
John left the facility, waving off anyone who attempted to engage him in conversation or questioning. He could deal with it all later. For now, he needed to be alone to think, to plan, to seethe.
He paced the car like a caged animal as the high-speed train took him back to the city. He hadn't gotten the nerve to reopen that file. The images were burned into his memory, and he thought he'd never be able to remove them.
What game was she playing? Had she intended to land in that world? Had she actively sought him out? Had she aimed to seduce him? If she had, what could she possibly hope to accomplish with such a perverse and ludicrous goal?
She was sick. She had to be.
He supposed he could have been looking at another version of her, one that had never met him outside of that alternate world. His instincts told him otherwise. He'd shot her. The blood on the wall had been proof, but she'd vanished. He'd hoped he'd killed her—had worried he hadn't. It couldn't be a coincidence that she'd come up in the photographs.
She knew about the portal. Was it possible she knew he'd be watching? Did she plan to taunt him from the other side, knowing he wouldn't be able to follow her there to put an end to her himself?
That meddling little wench. He should have ordered her death. He wanted to order Agent Campbell to put a bullet in her head. But she was smart, manipulative—a schemer. He had to figure out what she was up to. She hadn't struck John as being a coward. He remained certain she would return, but he wanted to know when, and with what plans or information.
What did it matter? He could render it all irrelevant with a single directive. All he had to do was say the word, and his agent would make sure Juliana Crain never set foot in this world ever again.
A sick curiosity stopped him from doing so. Though the whole thing disgusted him, he wanted to watch it play out.
Was it really a game? He wondered as he sat in his home office, studying the photographs. There were more he hadn't seen—hadn't wanted to see while at Lackawanna. Pictures of himself and Juliana and his kids.
He studied her face in each photograph, but no matter how hard he searched, he could find no trace of false pretenses. She appeared genuinely invested in him and the children. He latched on to one image in particular; a smiling Juliana holding a grinning Amy tightly in her arms. John stood beside them with Thomas and Jennifer. They were happy, all of them.
His mouth turned down, letting out a defeated sigh when a wave of sadness washed over him, leaving him feeling empty. It overshadowed the brief flicker of warmth and joy he felt at seeing his family together and smiling for the first time since Thomas's death.
His fists clenched in envy. The twist in his gut told him that he had no hope of reuniting his family in this timeline. And yet, in the other world, Juliana had managed to do just that.
And he hated her for it. He hated her, but he found himself grateful that she'd found a way to bring his children real happiness. Even the Reichsmarschall hadn't been able to manage that.