Saving Anna

by Sharon Struth

  How could she stay with a man who’d hit her, they would ask. Before her marriage, Anna would’ve wondered the same.

  As the train rumbled down the track, she reached up and grabbed the pole near her seat. There on her hand remained the wedding band she’d been set to leave behind, forgotten with the realtor’s interruption. Disappointment rattled her, but only for a second.

  This changed nothing. She’d remove the ring once she got to Germany, store it somewhere safe, and cash it in when she returned to help pay for the divorce attorney.

  A bad feeling settled over her. Could this be an omen the marriage wouldn’t end effortlessly?

  Patrick scared the hell out of her. But maybe, with her gone, he’d think about the way he mistreated her, get help for his problems, and understand the love between them had been beaten right out of her.

  What if he didn’t? Up until now, he’d resisted all help.

  Even if he didn’t get help, one thing was different now. She’d changed. She could admit she was a victim. Had filed for divorce. Even taken steps to leave him, starting with a month away to do a final deed for Isaak, the man to whom she owed this escape.

  She’d return to New York as the woman she once was; someone who could stand up to a bully like Patrick.

  Only she hadn’t stood up to him, and she wished she understood why.

  Chapter 2

  “And the reason for your visit?” The round-faced Frankfurt Airport customs agent glanced up from his purview of Anna’s passport.

  She smiled, but his expression remained starched-stiff as he waited. “Work.”

  A partially true statement. Her idea to turn Isaak’s request into several installments of her syndicated column had been a hit with her agent and several big city newspaper editors. Plus it justified taking the month off while they ran old columns. This story contained the kind of empathy typically found in her pieces. While her marriage deteriorated, work had served as pain medicine. Little doses of optimism in the face of her own suffering.

  The customs officer flipped through the passport once more, then pushed it toward her. “Welcome to Germany.”

  “Danke schön.”

  She slipped the passport into her backpack, grabbed the handle of her luggage, and followed signs written in English and German to the arrival area. As she rounded a corner, several businessmen rushed by. The gentle musky scent of Armani enveloped her senses. A chill swept along her spine and shocked her nape. Patrick’s scent. It clung to everything he wore. When they’d dated, a whiff made her warm with thoughts of his tender touch. Now the smell traveled to her brain like a chemosensory warning of danger. The scent even lingered in their bedroom. A constant reminder while he was at work that he’d soon return. She glanced back, relieved that she didn’t see him anywhere.

  She released a shaky sigh and continued out of the terminal. In the lineup of cars, vans, and buses at the curb, she searched for the white Mercedes she’d been told belonged to Isaak’s friend, who owned the guesthouse where she’d be staying.

  She didn’t see a car matching the description. At a bench near the pick-up zone, she sat and waited.

  Isaak may have never seen the inside of this airport, having left Frankfurt under such horrible circumstances. An ache for him squeezed her chest so tight she couldn’t breathe. The day they met she’d been on her patio, elbow-deep in dirt, potting fresh spring pansies, and he’d come up behind her. “Hello, young lady.” He had a thick German accent. “Do you know what kind of socks a gardener wears?”

  She’d glanced back over her shoulder to find an elderly man with a charming smile waiting for an answer. “Oh, everyone knows that one.” She’d stood and faced him. “Garden hose.”

  He’d laughed. “I’m Isaak. I live right next door.”

  They’d seen each other almost daily, the exception being the days Patrick didn’t go to work because he’d complain she wasn’t spending time with him.

  But she worked from home, by herself most of the day due to Patrick’s long hours. And Isaak was too old leave to his house easily. So they’d bonded on a common ground…loneliness.

  She had more than their friendship to thank him for. Because of Isaak, she could make her getaway today. He’d always have a special place in her heart. For being her friend. For sending her a lifeline, even after losing his battle with cancer. A lifeline he’d offered after he died, by way of a note from his lawyer.

  That was the day she’d learned Isaak knew the dirty secret in her marriage.

  All the hidden bruises and lies hadn’t fooled him. His note said he wanted her life to change. All he asked in return was for her to help him with one thing. The reason she’d come to Germany.

  She removed the envelope from her backpack, and took out the letter Isaak’s attorney had handed her moments after telling her she’d inherited $50,000.

  Private - To be opened only by Anna Kelly.

  The letter, written in Isaak’s scratchy script two days before he passed, caused her chest to swell with sadness at the subtle reminder of his life. She swallowed down her grief and read the note that had pushed her to proceed with the divorce.

  Dearest Anna,

  As I face my end, there is one thing in my life I regret not doing. To do it, though, would have meant a return to Germany, an emotionally difficult journey I could not face. Yet if not for one person’s actions, I might not have lived to a ripe old age. A neighbor witnessed the atrocities that hurt my family and made sure I remained safe. A self-sacrificing and heroic feat, one I should have acknowledged sooner. The man’s name is Gunther Hinzmann.

  Two months ago, I sent a letter to Gunther to express my gratitude for his help. I sent it to the only address I knew for him, on the street where we both once lived. But it came back this week, unopened, with a note saying he was not at that address.

  So to carry this out, I need assistance. I am hoping you will help me.

  You are no doubt wondering why I chose you. My dear, it is because I know the secret you keep from those who care about you…

  I have heard things when the windows are open or in the quiet of night. Oh, my poor Anna. It pains me to hear you mistreated by that man. You are far too sweet, kind, and forgiving. Something your rotten husband doesn’t deserve.

  I never spoke to you of his mistreatment because, like you, I understand how painful it is to discuss things that have beaten us down. My years in Nazi Germany scarred me forever.

  Yet there comes a time when we must share our pain. And now is my time.

  The things the Nazis did to my family, my people, happened over years. Through Nazi-sponsored legislation, they marginalized us. Our only family left Germany because of what was happening to Jews during those years. Not my father, though. He could be a stubborn man and refused to leave his home.

  They expelled Jews from professions and from commercial life, so my father could not even work to support us. It worsened every single day. And this was before the war started.

  It all changed one day. In nineteen thirty-eight, on an evening known as Kristallnacht (I am sure you have heard of this horrible evening), my life changed forever. Our house was broken into. The fiends saw my father had been violating the law by operating a small bookkeeping business from our home to make money. They called for his arrest. My mother tried to stop them and was beaten to death. In my father’s rage he fought back, tried to stop them, and they shot him. All while my brother and I hid, close enough to witness the horrors. On their way out, they set the house on fire. My brother and I narrowly escaped before it burned to the ground.

  Gunther came to our aid. He had seen what happened. We had nowhere to go. Rumor around the neighborhood was that the authorities were looking for my brother and me. Perhaps to send us off to one of the work camps we had been hearing stories about. Gunther took care of us, kept us in hiding for six months in Frankfurt. He helped s
ecure new papers that allowed us to reach a family he found in Belgium, who offered to hide us there until it was safe to return to Germany.

  My story goes on, when the Germans invaded Belgium. But now, I will focus on what Gunther did for us. Without him, my life might have turned out very different.

  So I’m asking for your help, Anna dear.

  I am hoping you will travel to Germany for me and locate Gunther Hinzmann. Deliver my letter to him. If Gunther has passed, then perhaps you can find his family and let them know about his heroism.

  In return, here is my gift to you…

  This trip gives you a chance to escape from your life here, at least for a short while. Maybe the time away will help you permanently find a way out of your situation, in a place where Patrick won’t find you.

  I beg of you, please save yourself before it’s too late.

  My friends in Mainz are nice people who will have a place for you to stay. My lawyer has been instructed to give you money for your travel. I have left with him a photo of me and Gunther along with his original address. Additionally, there is a lump sum inheritance given to you in my will. Use it to get a fresh start on your life when you return. Go someplace where you can leave the past behind.

  Doing this is a risk, but life has shown me that without risk, nothing can change.

  Thank you for all the joy you have given me.

  Isaak

  Without overthinking it, she’d told the lawyer yes. She would handle Isaak’s last request and use the time away to have the divorce papers served.

  The quest to find this man—or family of the man if he’d passed away—seemed overwhelming. But she could never turn her back on such heroism. This man deserved to receive thanks and be honored for what he did. Probably at great risk to himself or his family.

  She tucked away the letter and removed her phone, holding her breath as she hit the power button. The lawyer had warned her that if Patrick had any suspicions the divorce papers were on their way, he could refuse to accept the summons. Legally, the document required he fully accept and sign for it, so surprise was tantamount. If Patrick had reached out, she needed to reply within a reasonable time. Hopefully, he hadn’t tried mid-flight. Her pulse raced as she considered possible excuses.

  Sorry, I fell asleep.

  You called? I didn’t hear the phone ring.

  Would he buy those responses? Normally, she’d have replied to him immediately. It would be a challenge until the papers were served to do so because she planned to keep the phone off, so roaming charges didn’t mount and raise a red flag.

  When the phone connected, there were no messages. She exhaled a sigh. Between now and Monday, she’d be mindful to check, so he didn’t get suspicious about her silence. When the divorce papers were served, then he’d know the truth. Even though a part of her hated doing something so sly to a man she once loved, her lawyer recommended serving them in public, so he wouldn’t make a scene. He was probably right.

  “Miss? Are you Anna Kelly?”

  The German-accented voice startled her. She looked up from her phone. A slender man with thick, light gray hair starting far back on his forehead and falling in waves to his ears stared back. He wore a corduroy blazer and khakis, and a kind smile on his long face.

  A fresh start meant a return to her maiden name. “Yes. It’s actually Anna Abrams now.”

  His smile widened, making his chestnut eyes crinkle as he offered his hand. “Wunderbar! I’m Joachim Von Essen.” He motioned toward a white Mercedes with the words Villa Von Essen Gästehaus on the side door. “Shall we go? The staff is getting breakfast ready. Are you hungry?”

  She’d been so nervous on the flight, she’d barely eaten. Joachim’s friendly greeting and nice smile relaxed her for the first time in over twenty-four hours. “As a matter of fact, I am.”

  Anna followed behind him to the car, excited to be here and start her task.

  * * * *

  “This is a miserable existence, Claudia. You might as well lock me in a room and not feed me if you feel that way.” Josef Schmitt shot up from the chair and left his boss’s office.

  “Mein Gott,” she said loudly. “It isn’t my fault you cannot return to the field and work the adventure tours.”

  “I know it isn’t your fault.” He clenched the cane and stabbed it against the oak floor on his way to his desk, knowing full well he was behaving like an angry jerk. “It was the doctor’s orders.”

  And he was damn sick of doctors. He’d go nuts if she didn’t let him work with a tour soon.

  Just as he fell into his chair, Claudia came out of her office carrying her favorite mug with the words You Can Call Me Queen Bee displayed on the white ceramic.

  She reached him, her eyes meeting his and refusing to yield. “You know, you can be a real baby when things don’t go your way.”

  “Oh, really? I was thinking more like a jerk.” He rested the cane against his desk.

  She laughed, a soft belly laugh making all the anger inside him melt. “I would argue it’s a little of both.”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just frustrating.”

  She lifted his mug. “I know. I’ll get you a refill, but you must promise to stop being so difficult.”

  “I’ll try, but I never dreamed at forty-one I’d be stuck walking with a cane and pushing paper in an office.”

  Across the room, Klaus glanced up from his work and pushed his wire-framed glasses against his nose while passing a look of disdain at Josef. “And what is so wrong with office work? I love my accounting job.” He motioned to Adele, who worked intensely on their new website. “And Adele’s happy.”

  Adele possessed the focused concentration of a bloodhound on a scent. Her eyes never left the computer screen as she nodded.

  Josef offered his co-worker a smile. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing wrong with this type of work. It isn’t for me. That’s all.”

  Klaus’s face softened. “I know.” He returned to the scattered papers on his desk.

  Claudia stopped at the coffee pot and filled the two mugs, then plunked one down in front of him. “There are some benefits to your leg problem.”

  “Name one thing.”

  She leaned over and whispered, “You’ve got me waiting on you. I don’t bring coffee to any other employees.”

  He laughed. His childhood friend always knew how to soothe his moods. “And they say you have no compassion…”

  “Who says that?” Her rich blue eyes widened, and her brows lifted. As the owner of Wanderlust Excursions, with staff located all over the globe, she ruled with an iron fist. “You’d better tell them I do. After all, I have you here at the home office until you are back on your feet. Not sitting home watching Netflix.”

  “And I appreciate everything you have done, but this”—he waved a hand to the stack of papers he needed to address—“scheduling hotels and guides. I am glad to do it, but even a small assignment to get me out of the office some days would make me happy. Even with this cane, there must be a way I can get back out there again.”

  “There isn’t. And what I gave you is the work I need done.”

  “Fine, fine. I’ll do it, and I appreciate you finding me work. But in addition, maybe I can also create some new programs?” Three years ago, when Claudia put him in charge of creating their adventure division, he’d never been happier. “I saw yesterday the caves of Cinque Terre tour is doing so well that there are two guides doing them now, and both are booked solid. Plus, my Conquer Iceland tour is full for the whole season.”

  “And your bonus reflected my appreciation for all those things. But now—”

  “Plus, the Norway trip is six weeks away. I should be on site. I mean, you can’t just assign anyone to handle rappelling in the Valdall canyons, or zip-lining—”

  “Halt.” Claudia closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her
patrician nose, which was almost too large for her petite frame.

  Give him a line and he’d push it, but he also knew when to stop talking and listen.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she released her fingers and her gaze fell on him. “You haven’t recovered fully from the accident. For now, the doctor said you should restrict your activities. If I sent you out on one of the adventure tours in any capacity and you got hurt…” The office phone rang, and she paused. “My point is, this is my company and I will not risk further injury to your leg while on the job.” She lifted the phone on an empty desk next to Josef’s. “Hallo? Wanderlust Excursions.”

  While she turned her back to talk, Josef dug deep, trying to think of something he could do around here to make his days more palatable. She was right about his injury. It didn’t stop him from wanting things to return to normal.

  Claudia hung up and turned to watch him, lips pursed.

  “What?”

  “That was Regina Von Essen.”

  “How is she?”

  “She sounds busy.” Claudia stared at him, head tilted. “She needs…well, I’m not sure if… It seems they have a job opportunity. Joachim, of course, thought about you.”

  Claudia’s hesitation defied her usual directness. “And?”

  “I’m wondering if you are interested.”

  “Will this get me out of the office?”

  “Yes, but you should understand the full scope of the work.”

  “It has been just about six months since I got out of the hospital. I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “Someone needs a guide—”

  “Then I’m your man.” He slapped a palm on his desk. “With one of your drivers in the van, I can easily cover a full day of touring.”

  She frowned. “I’m not sure this will work. Maybe I’ll see if my friend up the river at Rüdesheimer Travel is interested.”