Chapter Text
Chapter 1
It was two years since the war officially ended and a year since Emma returned to America. Returning to the good ol’ US of A, she moved to the quaint town on Nantucket. After spending years helping Jews and others deemed ‘unfit’ by the Nazis escape to England or America, she came home to find the house she had grown up in gone, sold off to the highest bidder, who tore it down and replaced it with some gaudy, extravagant mansion. She had traveled throughout the Northeast before settling in Nantucket. She bought a small house with a beautiful view of the ocean, where she would walk to daily. Though she wasn’t much a swimmer, Emma loved the feel of the cool ocean water against her skin. Her neighbors were also lovely. They were mostly older, though she didn’t mind. People her age could only talk about the war, what they were doing, how they helped the war effort, and how grateful they were to the Basterds and the German who killed Hitler and his highest ranking officers, bringing a swift end to a bloody war. The women her age would talk about how they spent months in factories, toiling away, so The Boys (as every woman her age seemed to affectionately call soldiers) could have planes and guns to fight with. When they would ask Emma about what she did, she often made up a lie, not wanting to divulge too much information about her time in Germany and France, as it was a secret mission that wasn’t exactly sanctioned by the US government. She made up some story about being in England, helping soldiers in hospitals there. It always seemed to satisfy the other women, most of whom didn’t want to know the goriness they thought she would’ve witnessed working so close to the front lines. The older people living in her neighborhood had a tendency to talk about the ‘good ol days’, when they were children, before either of the world wars, or tried to se Emma up with their son or grandson. She’d politely laugh it off and make an excuse. She could never be honest about what she was doing during the war and she could never be with someone she couldn’t be with someone she couldn’t be honest with. Emma was very content staying single. She could go for her walks and do as she pleased.
On her walk home that sunny, summer afternoon, she smiled and nodded at her neighbors, who often greeted her on her walks. The Nicholsons, an elderly couple who lived in the same house for nearly twenty years, were chatting politely with a man that Emma had not seen in the area before, though she had a feeling she recognized him. Perhaps he was one of the Jews she helped escape the Nazis? Mrs. Nicholson noticed Emma staring and waved her over, “Emma! Come meet our new neighbor! He just moved into the empty house on the corner! This is Hans.” The man, who was talking to Mr. Nicholson at the moment, turned and gave her a dashing smile. Emma tried her best to keep the smile on her face as her stomach dropped. “Hans, this is Emma Penkov.” Her palms started to sweat and her heart raced, remembering the time she was caught by the SS on the border of France and Germany. It was him. It was the Jew Hunter.
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Penkov,” Landa, The Jew Hunter, extended his hand.
Discreetly wiping her hand, Emma extended hers, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.” He brought her hand to his lips as he stared intensely into her eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried her best to not show her nervousness. The slight smirk on his face as he rose let her know that she failed.
“It must be such a delight to know someone closer to your age now, Emma!” Mrs. Nicholson enthusiastically stated.
“Yes,” she sweetly smiled. “As much as would love to stay and meet Mr. Landa, my grandmother was expecting a call from me about fifteen minutes ago. Since she lives in Vienna, I wouldn’t like to keep her waiting. If you’ll excuse me.” She gave Mrs. Nicholson a brief hug, nodded her head to Mrs. Nicholson and the Jew Hunter, and left. As she made her way down the sidewalk, she heard heavy footsteps coming up behind her. She didn’t pause or look behind her, for she knew it was Landa.
“Guten Tag, Fraulein Penkov. Or should I say, Fraulein Swartz,” Landa gloated when he was mere feet behind her. Sarah paused momentarily in her stride, giving him time to catch up.
Her voice was steady and sure. “Guten Tag, Jew Hunter,” she replied with a slight turn of the head and a glance out of the corner of her eye. “I’m surprised that you aren’t being hanged somewhere for crimes against humanity.”
“Oh,” Landa chuckled as he matched her stride. “Your government would not do that to me. I am a war hero!”
She glanced at the scar on his forehead; his bangs covered it up most of it, but she knew the shape from the rumors when she was in France. “I didn’t know war heroes were branded with the Nazi swastika on their foreheads.” His eyes flashed and she knew she hit a nerve. Quickening her pace, she walked down the path to her house. She glanced over her shoulder as she entered her house and saw him standing where she left him, glaring.
The next couple of weeks were uneventful; Emma continued her daily walks down to the ocean, reminiscing and letting her mind wander. She soon discovered that Landa moved into the house across the street from her, though that did not discourage her from her normal activities. She tended to her garden, visited with her neighbors, and helped plan the big Fourth of July celebrations. She caught Landa watching her at least once a week, but she always ignored him. Mrs. Nicholson, on the other hand, could not get enough of telling Emma ALL about the so-called ‘war hero’.
One day, Mrs. Nicholson was feeling particularly chatty as Emma helped her unload her groceries, “Did you know that he worked with the Basterds to bring down the Nazi regime?”
“Yes, Mrs. Nicholson,” Emma sweetly answered, taking two of the grocery bags in her arms.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Mrs. Nicholson teased. “That you are getting annoyed by my talk of him.”
“Oh no!” Emma replied. “I’m not annoyed what-so-ever.”
Mrs. Nicholson looked at her with a twinkle in her eye, “If you say so. He is certainly handsome, even with that beard, and quite charming.”
For a Nazi, Emma thought, adjusting the bags in her arms.
“Speaking of,” Mrs. Nicholson waved to someone behind Emma.
“Guten Tag, Mrs. Nicholson!” Landa cheerfully greeted. The two embraced and exchanged kisses on the cheek. “Hello Colonel! It’s nice to see you! You know Emma, of course.”
“Hello, Emma. What a pleasure to see you again!” Landa smiled. Mrs. Nicholson turned to unlock her door, giving her a wink as she walked past.
“Hello Colonel,” Emma replied, shifting the bags in her arms.
Landa stepped forwards, arms extended, “Please, allow me to take those bags from you; they look rather heavy.”
“It’s alright Colonel,” she glared, “I’m more than capable of taking a few grocery bags into the house.”
“I insist,” he said, tapping her nose with this index finger. He smiled; she glared.
“You do that again, and I’ll bite your finger off,” she growled.
He hooked his finger under her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Fraulein Schwartz, I doubt you would do such a thing, for it would force me to retaliate,” His voice was a low grumble from deep in his chest. Though his eyes conveyed the threat, his smile never wavered. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, Emma not wanting to break eye contact first. Behind them, Mrs. Nicholson cleared her throat, raising an eyebrow at them. Landa took the grocery bags, smiling broadly at Mrs. Nicholson as he passed. Emma followed at a distance.
“What was that all about?” Mrs. Nicholson queried with a twinkle in her eye.
Emma politely smiled and shook her head, “It was nothing, Mrs. Nicholson.”
“Well,” Mrs. Nicholson gave her a knowing smile. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say there was some sexual tension between the two of you.”
Emma stammered out a response, blushing madly. “T-there is nothing between us nor was there ever.”
Mrs. Nicholson raised her eyebrows, “I don’t believe I mentioned anything about your past, Emma.” Before Emma could come up with a response, Mrs. Nicholson walked inside. Emma sighed and followed her, wondering how long she would have to put up with the Jew Hunter.