Saving Anna

by Sharon Struth

  Anna had already returned to the table where they’d been sitting. He approached, dismissing the ache with each step and vowing to sound optimistic about this assignment.

  “Have you visited Germany before?” He sat at the table, across from her.

  She looked up, hesitation in her eyes. “No. First time. The Rhine is pretty.”

  “You should take a boat ride upriver to see the castles.”

  “Joachim mentioned them.” She smiled, loosening the tension of her expression. “He said there are quite a few to see.”

  “He is correct.” As he rested his cane on the chair next to him, she glanced at it. The heat of embarrassment ripped through him. The damn cane always made him feel “less than,” worse when he was in the presence of a pretty woman.

  He folded his hands, trying to get some control over the discomfort shooting to his knee. Once it started hurting, the pain spread fast and furious until he took his meds. “I am told you need a driver and translator. May I ask where you think we will be going?”

  “Like I said before, the man I need to find lived in Frankfurt in the late 1930s but has since moved. Maybe Frankfurt has some resources that track where people move. I guess I can try to find out.”

  “Did you know the city was bombarded very badly during the war? The home he was in was most likely bombed.”

  “I didn’t know. I guess that could complicate things.” She ran a bright red fingernail along the edge of the envelope lying in front of her. “Your Borneo trip sounded very interesting. It must be a change doing more local work.”

  He shrugged. “I am only helping in the home office for a while.” His neck warmed. The latest saga of his life was far too humiliating to discuss with a stranger.

  “You speak very good English.”

  “My mother is German, but my father’s from England. We learned both languages growing up.” He motioned to the envelope, eager to get home, take his pain pill, and put a cold pack on the increasing burn in his thigh. “What did you bring to show me?”

  She pulled out a photograph, and he noticed a silver wedding band on her left hand. In Germany, married couples wore them on their right, but someone on a tour once told him it was different in America. So she traveled without her husband?

  “His name is Gunther Hinzmann. Finding him is a favor for a friend. If I learn Gunther has passed away, I hope to find any of his living family.” She placed the picture in front of him and pointed to a man in the black-and-white photograph. “This is him. I noticed he’s wearing a uniform. Do you think he was a Nazi soldier?”

  The heat of his injury escalated, as if someone stuck a hot metal rod in his thigh. He bit back the urge to complain as he studied the picture. “Even if he were a soldier, the German armed services were known as Wehrmacht. The Nazis were a political party, though the SS and Gestapo were policing forces of Hitler’s. In America you wouldn’t call soldiers by their political affiliation, right?”

  “No, we wouldn’t.” Her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t know.”

  “Yes. Of course you would not know.”

  She blinked at him, turned back to the photo. Had he said something wrong? A sharp zip ran along his thigh, leaving dull pain in its wake.

  “I would not expect you to understand this country’s politics. Many outside of our country do not realize this, but not all Germans became Nazi party members.”

  “So they didn’t make people join?”

  “They tried. One day, my Onkel Fritz got a visit from a party leader asking him to join. The story goes, my onkel yelled at the representative, said he would never join them, and proceeded to boot the man in the ass as he tossed him out the door.” Josef chuckled at thoughts of his strong-headed uncle, but his laughter faded as he remembered the outcome. “Later that night, he got a call from the town magistrate saying he had been ordered to issue arrest warrants for Fritz. The magistrate suggested if he had a passport, he should get out of the country. Sadly, he spent the next three years living in exile in Austria, with some family there.”

  “For not becoming a member of a political party?”

  “Yes, partially. I suppose booting the guy in the ass while he said no had more to do with it.”

  Her brows furrowed and she frowned, her expression filled with anguish. “What an awful time.”

  “Ja. A complicated time.” Her empathy reminded him she wasn’t the enemy. He was his own enemy. “Anyway, the man here is not in a soldier’s uniform, though I am surprised. Most men his age would have been serving.” He studied the photo carefully for a moment. Both the man and the teenage boy at his side had the same expressions on many photographs of the time. No smiles. Dark, dull eyes. As if the pain of what had been going on in their country had stolen their spirits.

  With a more detailed look, he understood why the young man remained free of service in the German army. “Ah, I see why he did not serve. Look.”

  Anna leaned over the table. Josef pointed to the narrow space between the two people, who stood close. “This man, Gunther. His shirt arm is folded up to his elbow but partially hidden from view. He appears to be missing an arm. That may have prevented him from entering military service. This uniform could mean he was drafted into State Labor Service, or another state-run agency. Who is the teenage boy with him?”

  “My neighbor, the one who asked me to find Gunther.”

  “I see.” He considered asking more, but did he really want to know? He had enough of his own issues to deal with. Like this ache, pulsing like hot lava down his leg. Worsening with each tick of the clock.

  He peeked at his watch. An hour past the time he needed his pain pills. No wonder he hurt. “And where was this picture taken?”

  “In Frankfurt.”

  He glanced at her, finding her staring at him with discomfort in those innocent eyes. The ache in his leg swelled further, raging like an angry lion and fully waking his near-constant irritability. What he needed was to get out of here. Go home and ice the injury.

  “Isaak is trying to find him now because—”

  “And you said you have searched the internet?”

  Her lips clamped shut at his interruption, and she paused a moment before continuing. “Yes. I don’t know much about the German records, though, and had sort of hoped—”

  “Well, I will drive you wherever you want to go and translate, as my firm promised.” The throbbing invaded his knee, spread to his lower leg. Time to leave. He pulled out a business card and slapped it on the table. Next stop, home. “Call me here when you have a plan.”

  She dropped her gaze to his card. Steadily, she raised her chin until meeting him square in the eye. “Did I do something to offend you? You cut me off rather suddenly. If you’re not interested in this job, please say so now and I’ll find someone else.”

  He swore her hands trembled and her breath sounded clipped. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared back with a blank expression, but her frozen-as-ice posture screamed of her displeasure. Yet she showed determination. The kind of determination Josef respected, and it made him rethink their conversation, including his possible terseness that occasionally slipped out because of his pain. His sister had pointed it out just the other day.

  He’d offended a client. But mostly, he’d offended this woman, who shook as she confronted him. “Anna,” he said, nicely as he could. “Please accept my apology.”

  He searched her eyes, looking for signs of forgiveness, but she said nothing. Only watched him with the gaze of a high-stakes poker player, hiding her hand, and leaving him uneasy enough to consider the way he behaved around her more seriously. “What had you wanted to tell me before I so rudely interrupted?”

  She pursed her lips and stared at him for several long seconds. “My friend who sent me here passed away recently. Isaak had been searching for Gunther to say thank you himself, but ran out of time before he c
ould find him. As a last request left with his lawyer, he asked me to bring Gunther or his family the message.”

  “I see.” Contempt over his miserable behavior grew. He owed her more than an apology. In spite of the shooting sting from his hip to his toes, he struggled to soften his voice. “My leg hurts and makes me not act like myself at times.”

  “Oh. I see. Well, thank you for telling me.” The muscles of her face relaxed as she started to thaw. “We could try again tomorrow, when I’m not so jet-lagged from traveling and, hopefully, your leg won’t hurt. With any luck, I’ll have a plan in place by then. Or at least a first step.”

  He nodded, strangely relieved. As he took his cane from the chair and stood, he said, “How about we meet at 9:30?”

  “Perfect.” She gave a pencil-thin smile that quickly vanished.

  He walked away, trying his hardest not to limp, but knowing he did.

  Just as he reached the door, she said, “Josef?”

  He turned, raised a brow.

  “I’m here for a month. If any day we plan isn’t good for you to work with me, don’t hesitate to say. We have plenty of time to find this man.”

  A beam of sunlight from the window made her dark hair shimmer, making the resemblance to Lily even more pronounced. Quick flashes bombarded his brain. Lily’s smile. Her laughter. Her tender kisses as they drove on that fateful last ride. All making every nerve ending in his body hurt even more.

  “Josef?”

  He blinked, and Lily’s image vanished, but Anna watched him, her brows furrowed.

  “I will. Thank you.” He pivoted and headed for the exit as fast as his leg would allow.

  * * * *

  “May I join you?”

  Anna looked up from her menu, happy to find Ruth standing by her table. The guesthouse restaurant was open to the public for dinner and strangers sat at the small tables. Though alone at home much of the time, being in a foreign country by herself made her long for the comfort of the familiar. Ruth’s smiling face set her at ease. “Please do. Where’s Otto?”

  “His book group meets the second Sunday of the month.” Ruth sat across from Anna at the table for two near the patio window. “I have papers to grade tonight, but everyone needs a dinner break.” She motioned to the menu in Anna’s hands. “All Florian’s dishes are good, but I recommend the Rouladen.”

  Anna had been eyeing the dish, consisting of bacon, onions, mustard, and pickles wrapped in thinly sliced beef. “I’ll give it a try.”

  Ruth studied her menu. “Otto said Josef met with you this afternoon?”

  “Yes. I guess we needed to meet, but it may have been premature.” A little charge ran through her limbs. She’d stood up to him and received an apology. He’d seemed surprised and shown genuine remorse. But her actions proved to her that she had to assert herself when necessary. “I haven’t done much research so didn’t have a place for us to start. Honestly, I’m not sure how to go about locating this man.”

  Ruth closed the menu. “After we eat, show me what you have. Maybe I can help.”

  “I would really appreciate that. Are you and Otto from this area?”

  “We lived across the river in Wiesbaden until ten years ago, when we retired. Once we sold our house, we purchased a small house in Munich, close to our daughter.” She laughed. “That got boring real fast, even with our writing and two grandchildren. An opportunity to teach part-time at the university came up for Otto, only for the fall semester. We found the Von Essens’, tried it out. It is much better than a hotel, ja?”

  “Oh yes. It’s very homey.”

  “Soon the university asked me to do two classes, on the same schedule as Otto. Every year, right before Christmas, we return to Munich. The change of routine is good for us.”

  A cute blond waitress, with straight bangs and a petite frame, came to the table, took their orders, and left.

  “Lovely girl. Florian used to date her.” Ruth shook her head. “He is like no other German man I have ever met when it comes to the opposite sex.”

  “How so?”

  “Well.” She frowned, accentuating the age lines around her mouth. “German men do not flirt like an Italian, or romance like a Frenchman. Their romance is subtle. For us women, getting to know them is a gradual process. They are a bit like peeling an onion, exposing themselves one layer at a time.” She crinkled her nose and laughed. “Maybe that is a bad simile. Onions can make you cry. Then again, so can men. But our Florian, he is a romantic soul who shares his adoration for the women he dates with the joy of a puppy.”

  Patrick certainly had layers. Complicated ones. And once stripped away, they led to his damaged, rotting core. Anna gave Ruth a perfunctory smile. “I think your onion simile is perfect.”

  “Are American men easy to get to know?” Ruth asked.

  On Anna’s second date with Patrick, he’d pried open the book of his life, talking about his abusive childhood. Her heart had gone out to him. Now she could see it had been manipulation.

  “It depends. I’ve dated both kinds of men, but in general American men take a little time to get to know, too.”

  The waitress dropped off a breadbasket and Ruth reached for a piece. “Sensible, I think. Some say love conquers all.” She arranged her napkin on her lap. “I can tell you it does not always.”

  “Otto seems to be a romantic.”

  Ruth snorted. “In his old age he has become very gallant. At least when he is not arguing with me.” A soft smile crossed her lips. “Though he did make me fall for him against all odds.” Her eyes drifted to Anna’s hand. “What about your husband? Is he a romantic?”

  Anna’s tongue tied into a knot, and her cheeks burned as she glanced down at the ring. She’d meant to remove it. While here, she wanted just to be Anna Abrams. Not a woman who’d left her abusive spouse. Not a woman handcuffed by the shame of staying with her abuser. “Uh, sometimes.”

  Ruth nodded. Anna hoped her discomfort wasn’t as obvious as it felt. “And he could not join you on this trip?”

  “No.” She shrugged while fumbling for words. “Sometimes we all need a break.”

  Ruth watched her for a second, then focused on her bread, slowly spreading the butter. She lowered her knife and bread onto the small plate to her side. “You know, I was married to another man before I met Otto. A whole three years, four months, and six days. I was too young and foolish to leave the marriage sooner, but I finally did.”

  “I can’t imagine you having trouble leaving. You seem so confident.”

  She offered a thin-lipped smile, her eyes squinting with bitterness. “I’ve always had spunk, perhaps too much confidence for my own good.” She chuckled. “And Karl knew that when he married me, but for some reason after we married, he wanted to control me.”

  Anna understood control. Patrick had dominated the mood in their household, leaving her in a constant state of insecurity. Was Ruth’s experience the same? “What do you mean? That is, if you don’t mind talking about it?”

  “My dear, it was so long ago, I am happy to discuss. Our problems were small things at first. They barely seemed consequential, but in hindsight were meant to show he had power over me. How I dressed or decorated the house. Maybe the place was not cleaned to his high standards.” She snorted a sarcastic laugh. “God, he could be so arrogant. At first, it seemed picky. Yet it did something to me. I started feeling guilty if he wasn’t happy. I’ll never forget the day he called me stupid because I made a mistake on a bank deposit. I said nothing about the way he spoke to me in order to keep the peace. But it was shortly after that he raised a hand. I don’t even remember why, but I told him I’d leave him if he dared to follow through.” Ruth’s mouth bowed and anger burned in her eyes. “About six months later, I found out he was cheating on me.” She shook her head and her jaw tightened. “That is when I left the bastard.”

  Anna�
�s cheeks blasted hot. She dropped her gaze to the white linen, lifted her glass of water with a shaky hand, and took a sip.

  As Anna lowered the glass, Ruth’s hand slipped over hers. The light wrinkle of her pale skin and age spots seemed frail on the surface, but her confidence and courage transcended the decades. “Marriage can be very difficult.”

  “Yes.” Anna’s story played on her lips. The details that sent her running to a lawyer, fleeing New York. Embarrassment kept her from sharing with those close to her. Their opinions mattered. But maybe talking to a stranger would be easier. A stranger who’d shared her own story and understood how it felt to have a man mistreat you.

  “You do not have to talk about the details,” Ruth said quietly. “Are you thinking of leaving him?”

  “The divorce papers will be served to him tomorrow.” Unexpected relief flooded her tense muscles and loosened her lips. “My lawyer suggested I avoid being around when he receives them…considering some of the things he did to me in the past.” Her cheeks stung with humiliation thinking about her next words, but if she made this confession, maybe she’d begin to feel strong like Ruth. “He mistreated me. Then my neighbor died, and I got his request to come here to help him. So the time seemed right for me to leave. But I wish I’d done so sooner. To have been brave like you.”

  “My dear, it took me time. Besides, you did leave him, Anna. You are brave.”

  “I worry it was a little cowardly to run, not face him.”

  “Nonsense. In Germany we say Aller Anfang ist schwer. It means every beginning is hard. Besides, some women don’t go as far as you did.” She motioned to Anna’s hand. “And the ring, you still wear it because…?”

  “Only because I forgot to leave it behind with my note. Then, I’d planned to take it off when I got here, but got busy.”

  Anna stared at the ring. A symbol of love she no longer felt and a bond that no longer existed. Talking to Ruth opened a door and skimmed off a layer of the humiliation she carried for staying with Patrick for so long.

  She lifted her gaze to Ruth. “Since we are talking about it, now might be a good time to put this where it belongs.” She worked the ring until it came off her finger. “There.” Anna reached for her purse beneath the table and plunked the ring inside the wallet pocket. While only symbolic, removing the band put her back in control of her life. “It’s off.”