As we approach, crewmen on the destroyer throw us a line and lower a rope ladder. I pass off Evelien to one of our group’s stronger fellows, just long enough for him to carry her up piggyback to the ship. From there, surrounded by armed sailors—because goodness knows who we might truly be—we’re all escorted belowdecks. In a wardroom, we’re given soft bread and real butter, and naturally a pot of warm English tea.

Hours later, we dock at Harwich harbor, where police guide us into an assembly hall. They separate us to compare our accounts for discrepancies through multiple rounds of interrogations. I’m prepared to fight to keep Evelien with me, but they permit it without a battle. When all our answers are deemed acceptable, we’re delivered to a canteen for dinner before our train ride bound for London.

A British sailor serving our table welcomes us as we settle in. I thank him, and he smiles at Evelien. “Well, aren’t you a darling? Would you fancy a biscuit after your meal, luv? I believe you Americans call it a ‘cookie.’ Or perhaps I could scrounge up a lolly.”

I’m about to explain that the girl speaks Dutch, preparing to translate for them both, yet Evelien beats me to a reply in her small voice, “Cookie, please.”

Perfect English.

I gawk at her.

“Cookie it is.” The sailor trots off toward the kitchen.

Of all the things Evelien learned from her mother, I might have guessed Thea’s native tongue would be among them. But I know so little about this girl. And what she needs. And what, with any amount of certainty, we’re to do next.

Chapter 81

Although back at the George in the safety of my room, I’m unable to release a full breath. I’m stuck between worlds, adrift. Rudderless.

I can’t help but think I was foolish to ever leave the States. Had I remained on tour, perhaps Arie and I would never again have crossed paths. I wouldn’t have known of the suspicions he’d raised, which led me to follow him across the sea. I wouldn’t have been there to wake beside his body, somehow robbed of even a murmured goodbye.

Of course, without me, Evelien too might have been lost forever. And knowing this is even more maddening, for it’s impossible to regret saving her young, defenseless life.

She rarely utters much. It’s among several ways we make quite the pair, as I’ve never felt less sociable. She asks for candlelight while we sleep, and I’ve assured her I prefer the same. We share my bed, naturally. This doesn’t prevent her nightmares, but at least when she cries out for her parents—as she does, at times, even during the day—I’m there to hold her and rock her until her tears run out.