Chapter 33 Ada
Ada
The late May sun warms Ada’s skin as she and Ingrid sit in chairs on the edge of the tennis court, far from the house, the
pool, the guesthouse, anyone who might interrupt them. The pleasant day is marred by the sharp ache in Ada’s chest and the
tears she brushes aside following the news Ingrid brought from Hattie.
Opa was murdered. Ada had left late that same year, after the order was enforced. He was already dead, and she had been unaware.
“Did Mother know?” Ingrid asks at last.
“Dietrich never spoke of his work. I can’t imagine he would have told her, or that she would have kept it from me.”
Ingrid’s dubious look indicates she does not necessarily agree. “Well, with this and your evidence, we have further proof
of his war crimes. Can I hand everything over to the FBI now?”
“The FBI probably gets thousands of complaints about war criminals. They won’t concern themselves with Dietrich until I make him a more prominent figure.
Wait until I’ve named him publicly—which Mrs. Musgrave refused to allow yet so she could get a third exclusive out of me.
Once I’ve done all I can to hold him accountable, I’ll let the authorities handle the rest and pray they do the right thing if they locate him. ”
Of course Ada could submit everything to those with the power to do something about it, but she must exercise her own power
first and garner attention so hopefully the FBI will prioritize the case. Then, no matter what comes of it, she can be at
peace knowing she did her best.
Ingrid is quiet, and Ada recognizes this look. Knows what Ingrid is about to say.
“Leidje, the more this develops, the more I don’t think he’s the one targeting you. I don’t mean to diminish your concerns,
but Mother is the logical conclusion. She found you, she was afraid you would use the evidence against her, she impersonated
Dietrich to scare you into getting rid of it, and when that didn’t work, she came forward to convince you herself.”
When Ada says nothing, Ingrid places a comforting hand over hers. Then she stands, picks up a tennis racket, drags a basket
of balls into the center of the court, and begins hitting them across the net while Ada watches.
Perhaps Ingrid is right; perhaps Mother makes more sense. Dietrich would be more likely to confront her right away, or perhaps
he’s not afraid of her evidence. Even if Ada submits it to the authorities, he could make a deal with the government, like
Ingrid said other escaped Nazis have done. But Ada trusts this feeling in her chest, and there is one way to test their differing
opinions.
“I’m going to give Mother the evidence.”
Ingrid stops with her racket in the air, and the ball she tossed drops uselessly to the ground. “Have you gone absolutely
mad? I won’t let you.”
“It’s not your choice.” Ada stands before Ingrid can continue naming the many reasons this is a terrible idea.
“You think the threats have been from Mother. I think they’re from Dietrich.
My next exclusive is publishing soon, so if I give Mother the evidence and don’t receive another threat, we’ll know it was her sending them.
If another message comes despite her having what she wants, we’ll know they’re from Dietrich. ”
Ingrid clenches her jaw, then she goes back to hitting tennis balls—for once, not arguing, yet the force behind each blow
makes her feelings clear enough.
“You have copies of everything, remember? Keep those and the information Hattie provided, and I’ll keep the negatives with
all the original photographs. We aren’t losing anything, just testing a theory.” Ada places a hand on the racket to interrupt
the next hit, so Ingrid finally stops, her chest rising from exertion or from whatever it is preventing her from meeting Ada’s
gaze. “Everything will be fine.”
“No, it won’t, because I don’t want to be right, and I don’t want you to be right either. One means our own mother is responsible.
The other means a murderer is hunting you.” Ingrid draws a sharp breath, her voice unsteady. “I know we need to find out the
truth, and we’ve been aware of both possibilities, but if something happens to you—”
Ada shakes her head, stopping her. No use in dwelling on such fears. There is little either one can do to prevent the risk,
so they might as well focus on what they can control.
With a small sigh, Ingrid begins to gather the scattered tennis balls and return them to the basket, so Ada assists. They
change the subject to lighter topics, then Ingrid picks up the final ball and offers Ada a tennis racket.
“May I beat you before I go?”
“You may lose to me before you go,” she counters, to which Ingrid flashes a competitive grin.
After two games—one win apiece—Ingrid departs for the Biltmore. Despite Ada’s efforts, she has not conceded to staying at
Gordon’s while Mother is here. Which does not stop Ada from trying to convince her.
Inside the house, vases filled with vibrant bouquets cover almost every table and surface, all sent in congratulations from various actors, friends, and members of her cast. Some beginning to wilt, others still flourishing.
The spray of tulips from Ingrid is her favorite, though.
A reminder of their home in Arnhem. Gently, Ada brushes a finger over the soft petals while the discovery of Opa’s fate crashes over her again.
More damage to her family. More crimes committed by Dietrich. More reasons to hold him accountable.
When the telephone rings, Ada pushes the thoughts aside and picks it up.
“Is Gordon in?” comes Beverly’s clipped voice. “I need him to send some information to my new agent.”
“He’s swimming—I’ll have him call you later, but it’s lovely to hear from you. Everyone missed you terribly on Friday night.”
Ada waits, though her friend says nothing. She clears her throat. “Fancy a lunch tomorrow?”
“I can’t. I’m tied up at the Biltmore.”
“What’s at the Biltmore? A party? A date?” Then the teasing edge leaves Ada’s voice. “You haven’t been caught up in those
hearings, have you? Aren’t they over?”
“There’s no need to be afraid of the hearings unless you have something to hide.” Her tone is unusually snide, even accusatory.
“I’d advise talking to the G-men before they talk to you.”
Without awaiting a reply, Beverly hangs up. Ada stares at the receiver. Were her statements not enough? Could there still
be doubts about her views? Maybe there are benefits to speaking to the G-men, as Beverly believes, even though she’s made
her position clear. Perhaps she should ask Ingrid. The protesters outside her premiere were a clear indication that the turmoil
over Communism is far from over.
She hurries to Gordon’s office to leave Beverly’s message.
His desk is tidy and organized, and she’s looking through a stack of papers, seeking a notepad, when a pink slip falls loose from the pile.
Ada picks it up to return it, then pauses when she notices the capital letters splayed across the top.
BY AUTHORITY OF THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES OF THE CONGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Her heart slams faster with every word as she reads on. A subpoena delivered this past Friday, the same day as her premiere,
summoning Gordon Sharpe before the House Un-American Activities Committee.
Tomorrow.
A hearing she knows nothing about involving the man insistent on keeping no secrets from her. After the hearings were supposed
to be over.
With Sowerby charging after her, eager to be included in the excitement, she hurries through the house. She will drag Gordon
from the pool if she must. Whatever it takes to get an explanation.
By the time she reaches the kitchen, he’s already stepping inside, rubbing a towel over his water-studded skin, then his eyes
fall to the pink document. A cross between guilt and disgust passes over his face, a look that makes Ada’s chest tighten even
more.
“You should have told me.” She holds it up, unable to keep her voice steady. “For God’s sake, Gordon, why didn’t you tell
me?”
“And ruin your premiere for both of us?”
“That was days ago. You’ve had plenty of opportunities to mention it.” When he reaches for the document, she holds it aside.
“How did you intend to have me find out, then? When the FBI bursts through the door to drag you off before Chairman Thomas?
And I thought you had reconsidered your views.”
“I’m still a card-carrying member, which I assume they finally found out. And it won’t come to the FBI or Chairman Thomas or any theatrics.” He places a hand on her shoulder in attempted consolation, though she steps back. “It’s not for you to worry about.”
“Of course it’s for me to worry about. You’re my agent. My friend.” Blinking hard, she pushes back tears. “Cancel everything
I have scheduled for tomorrow.”
“It’s a closed hearing, Ada. What are you going to do, sit outside the conference room when I could just as easily tell you
about it at home?” Gently, he takes her shoulders. “The best thing you can do for me is promote your film.”
She says nothing; then he takes the pink slip and disappears down the hall. She lost her father, and for a time, her sister
and her mother, and now her grandfather. Lost her own name and who she was to a life that forced her to seek a new one. She
will not lose him too.
The next morning, after an interview alongside Vince, Ada tells him of her planned errand at the Biltmore. Together, they
pull up to the hotel in the middle of Gordon’s scheduled hearing. Good—he’ll already be inside, so he won’t see Ada or attempt
to order her away.
Before exiting the car, Ada looks to Vince. “Are you certain you want to accompany me?”
A journalist could easily photograph them, write some article speculating about their reasons for being in the same building
as the hearings, so she will understand if Vince doesn’t want to be tasked with settling any potential rumors.
“My politics are clear, so if confusion arises, I’ll clarify if needed.
” He passes a hand across his jaw and looks to the hotel door, then to Ada.
“If something happens, I want to be there for you. I don’t know how the government is approaching these hearings, but I hope the purpose is to identify clear threats rather than acting without reason or making decisions based on speculation, because God knows where that might lead.
Maybe Gordon was summoned simply because he’s a Communist Party member, or maybe because of something you and I don’t know about. ”
Perhaps Gordon is someone living a lie, the same as Ada has been. Holding one belief while professing—or concealing—another.
Maybe Vince is right and there is something more to the reasons for this hearing.
Or maybe this has little to do with Gordon himself and more to do with someone else mentioning him. Naming names, as the exposé
she read last August stated. In Arnhem, a mere accusation was all it took to lead to arrest or worse. Ada lived through those
times. What if these times come to that, to neighbor turning against neighbor based on speculation and nothing else?
In response to her silence, Vince takes her hand. “My point is, it might be nothing, or a misunderstanding, but until Gordon
tells us more, we don’t know because we aren’t in that room. Be prepared for anything. That’s all I’m saying.”
Preparation has little to do with it. In Arnhem, every day she was prepared to be accused, betrayed, caught. Or she thought
she was, until it actually happened. Then she learned how nothing could have prepared her for what awaited, nor could anticipation
of every possibility have prepared her for what occurred in her own home. For living with a Nazi and witnessing her mother’s
support of the regime, fabricated or not.
No, preparation could not have helped her then, and it won’t now. She simply must face whatever is to come.
Inside, they find the hotel conference room where the hearing is taking place.
Once there, they only have a few minutes to wait before the conference room doors swing open.
Gordon emerges, looking not at all surprised to see them.
Still, the lines on his forehead soften despite the rebuke that follows.
“You weren’t supposed to come.”
“Don’t pretend you expected otherwise.” She threads her arm through his and kisses his cheek before dropping her voice. “All
right, then?”
“The gist of it? Yes, I’m a registered member of the Communist Party. No, I’m not a spy. Recently, I’ve come to reconsider
my political views. Thoughts and opinions change, and I’ve always been open to learning more and challenging my beliefs. Encouragement
from a trusted source doesn’t hurt either.” He smiles, prompting Ada’s in return, then lowers his voice. “No questions about
anything else.”
For Gordon’s sake, Ada offers him a relieved smile—and of course she’s relieved nothing worse happened, but she can’t shake
the feeling that relief might be premature. Matters can always escalate. Even Dietrich’s visits began with simple dinners.
She can only hope Vince and Ingrid are right, the hearings are being carried out properly, and her concerns are rooted only
in her own experiences under an oppressive regime. For now, Gordon is safe.
For now.