Saving Anna

by Sharon Struth

He drew in a deep breath of fresh air, suddenly hating the scent of the cigarette clinging to him. Ten years away from them. Since the accident, though, nothing mattered. He felt crappy, both inside and out.

  Ping! He glanced at his phone screen. Helga again.

  I suggested a therapist because I care about you. You’ve been through a lot.

  He sighed. Helga always had his back. What were sisters for? The love he had for her melted away his irritation and he replied.

  And I love you for caring so much. I will think about it. Gotta run.

  He got into the car, unrolled the window, and put on the radio. Tipping back his head, he closed his eyes and relaxed into the bucket seat.

  What would he say if he saw a psychologist? He yawned. Last night the pain in his leg woke him every half hour because he was trying to cut back on the stronger medicine. He yawned again. If only he could turn back the moment they got into Lily’s car, opened the sunroof, and drove while the warm sun beat on their skin. He yawned again. Details blurred as his body melted into the seat…the radio had been on at one point…music, a pop tune. Lily sang, her voice lifting with the high notes. He got lost in the melody, the smoothness of her pretty voice. He could almost remember…almost…almost…almost…

  BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

  His eyes flashed open. Heart pounding, skin damp with sweat, he shifted in the seat, trying to gather his bearings. The bass beat of a Bruno Mars song pounded from his car speakers—the noise that woke him and in the process stole a thunderous roar in his subconscious. Another dream. He reached for the details, but they scuttled away like crabs on a beach. An hour had passed since he’d closed his eyes. He sat upright, drank from his water bottle, and a few minutes later his body returned to normal.

  The door to the house Anna visited opened. She walked out with the woman and a little girl maybe four or five years old. The woman hugged Anna, who then squatted down and said something to the girl. She handed Anna a small bunch of flowers.

  They all walked to the gate. Through the open windows, he heard them shouting assurances that they’d see each other again before Anna left the country. One hour with these total strangers and they parted as if she were a long lost relative.

  Smiling, she approached the car then got inside. “That was a delightful visit.”

  “Gut.” The realization hit Josef he’d have to drive again. He took a deep breath, gradually exhaled. Steady boy. “What did you find?”

  “The woman who lives there, Erika, took me around the apartment building with her granddaughter.” She held up the flowers. “Sweet little girl. She picked me these from their back gardens. Anyway, on the second floor I met an older woman who lived on this street during the war, but her family came back and rebuilt afterward. She wanted to go see the flowers in the back of her property, so I offered to take her for a walk. Poor thing needs help. An aide only comes twice a week to check in on her.”

  Anna shook her head and frowned. “She reminded me of Isaak, before he got cancer. He’d get by, but sometimes still needed a hand…”

  Her voice was filled with genuine tenderness for people, some she knew well, others she barely knew. But she really did seem to like helping. True altruism. Though he sometimes helped his elderly neighbor, he mostly thought about his own problems.

  Anna personified goodness. All wrapped up in her petite frame, her perky nose, her whimsical waves. Toss on tights, wings, and a magic wand and she could be cast as a real-life fairy godmother, traveling the world and doing virtuous deeds for others. At least that’s how it seemed.

  He let the thought linger, its taste almost bitter. So what did that say about him?

  “…and she thinks she remembers Gunther’s family, although she was young at the time. But when I mentioned I’d be going to churches to search for baptismal records, she named two where she felt certain they may have gone. One of them even has a remembrance to people affiliated with their church who were victims of the Nazis.”

  His mind drifted. By anybody’s measure, Anna would be called selfless. Hadn’t she flown to another country to help her friend from New York? The other day, he’d witnessed her offer to walk Max’s dog because of his leg. And just now, she took an older woman she barely knew for a walk in the garden. But what about him? Would he have done all those things? Probably not. At least not in his current state of mind. Or had he always been a man who mostly thought about himself, missing important moments in life?

  She paused and searched his face. “What do you think?”

  He snapped back to the conversation. “So, you want to visit these two churches for baptism records?”

  “I do.” She glanced down at a piece of paper. “Here’s the first address.”

  He entered the information into the GPS and readied himself to get back on the road. This time when he eased his foot on the gas, some of the prior tenseness had gone. Nothing like the ease he had driving before the accident.

  Anna sat and stared out the window.

  He drove in the direction of the first church. The accident didn’t occupy his thoughts. Instead, he couldn’t shake the image of Anna as she hugged two strangers goodbye. Not a casual hug, but an eye-closing, I-really-mean-it hug. So warm, he’d felt the emotion from where he sat in the car.

  Had he ever embraced someone that way? Since he couldn’t remember, it must be a no.

  * * * *

  “And this is a halbtrocken Riesling? Half-dry, so I can taste sweetness?” Anna lifted the glass Florian had just lowered to the patio table, thankful for a drink as the time the divorce papers were to be served had passed thirty minutes ago without even a peep from Patrick.

  He nodded and launched into a brief lesson on sugar levels and the German wine industry while she sipped the cool, sweet vintage and it steadied her nerves.

  “Very nice,” she said, lowering the glass, glad to have Florian’s company for a few minutes to take her mind off her stress. “I’ll use this to toast my success today. I got a birthdate for the man I’m trying to find.”

  “Wunderbar! It is a good start. I will be back.” Florian headed off to wait on another group that entered the restaurant patio.

  She inhaled the early evening air. Six-thirty here meant the time was twelve-thirty in New York. A half hour past the scheduled time for delivery. Maybe she’d have some dinner soon, and a few glasses of wine. Try not to think about Patrick. Instead focus on the accomplishments of a successful day in her search for Gunther. Finding his birthdate at the second church she’d visited would help her internet search. With any luck, she’d find him quickly and still have time for seeing some sights before she returned home.

  With each tick of the clock, her imagination went wild with worry. Did the server have a problem, or had Patrick refused to sign? She picked up her phone, double-checked to make sure it was roaming…and it was. If anything went wrong and he didn’t take the papers, then what would she do?

  Come on. Think positive. He’d no doubt try to reach her at the house first, her cell phone second. If he called the house and got no answer, would he leave work immediately to find her?

  She turned back to the view, spotting a tourist boat while she swallowed a gulp of her wine. What she’d give to climb aboard the vessel, float to where the river ended in Switzerland, never have worry about Patrick finding her there.

  But, in theory, he’d never find her here, either.

  Not unless the lawyer told him where she’d gone, which he wouldn’t. She’d avoided using their personal credit cards or ATM. A debit card funded by Isaak’s estate paid for things while here.

  So the only real connection to Patrick she still had was her cell phone. Since she used it minimally, she hoped he couldn’t track down her location from the device. Even if he could, she hoped he’d never go through such an extreme measure to find her location. Until he got those papers and she could size up his reac
tion for real, everything was speculation.

  She pulled her laptop closer and typed in an ancestry site recommended by Ruth, entering Gunther’s full name and birthdate. After a half hour of searching, she’d written two pages of names. Once several were eliminated, she had a list of eleven worth meeting. As she scanned through them, she took minor differences into account and ordered them by strongest to weakest likelihood of being the man she wanted. The top four were in the towns of Marburg, Müden, Wörrstadt, and Gau-Bickelheim.

  A map of Germany showed the towns within an easy day’s ride, with the man in Marburg the most perfect match. Perhaps she’d suggest they start there. With any luck, she’d find him first try.

  Her phone rang. Patrick’s name flashed on the display. She froze, counting the rings until it went into voice mail, hoping he’d leave a message telling her all she needed to know—that he’d been served. The ring continued, practically screaming at her to answer. When it stopped, she still couldn’t move.

  She closed her eyes. Wimp. He couldn’t hurt her from the telephone.

  Ping.

  A message. She drew from the same inner strength that somehow made her file divorce papers, hit play, and lifted the phone to her ear. “Anna, how dare you do this to me! Call me. Now! I mean it. NOW!”

  Fury burned in his voice, terrifying as a lion’s roar. Her hands trembled as she deleted the message, but the phone rang again. Patrick’s name crossed the display. She hit a button to send it directly into voice mail and tossed the phone onto the table, trying to look calm despite the hysteria raging inside her head. Three more times he called. Each time she sat still as a pole, staring at the phone while her gut quivered.

  Finally, the calls stopped. She lifted her glass, slowly sipping the soothing drink, gathering up courage. After she downed the last drop, she lifted the phone, played the messages. “You’d better answer me, Anna. I don’t want to track you down, but I will. And then you’ll be sorry.”

  The rests were hang-ups. She nearly dropped the phone when a text message pinged.

  Damnit, Anna! ANSWER ME! If you don’t, I’m coming home!

  Her hand trembled, his tone conjuring up reminders of what he could do. A swift blow to the head, kick to the gut, or hard slap to her cheek. Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, she tried to comfort herself, as she’d done so many times before. Had she stayed in New York and served those papers, this was the rage she’d have been subjected to. She wanted to crawl inward, hide, bracing herself for his…

  “More wine, Anna?” Florian approached, watching her carefully through his thick black glasses. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” She forced out a smile. “Just got a strange message from home.”

  “Ah, I see.” His handlebar mustache dipped when he frowned. “Many of us from the house are going to a wine festival in Stadtpark later. You will join us? It should take your mind off your troubles.”

  Patrick would no doubt have gone home by then and be on a campaign to reach her again by phone. No sense in waiting around for those calls. Besides, how could she search for her old self if she wallowed in her fears? Sulking in her room would only mean Patrick still controlled her life. But going out and enjoying herself would be a way to feel in control of herself.

  Plus, it was nice of Florian to invite her. She was lucky Isaak sent her to these people. “I’d love to go.”

  “Fantastic! Come to the kitchen at eight. You can walk over with me and Karen.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  After Florian returned inside, she shut off the phone, turning off all Patrick’s anger. At least for now. The papers were served. She could rest knowing her journey to leave Patrick was well underway.

  Chapter 8

  “Were you scared, Uncle Josef?” Tobias, the youngest and most vocal of his nephews, stared at Josef and waited for an answer, wide-eyed like his brothers, Jan and Benedickt, who sat on the lawn next to Tobias.

  Josef shook his head. “Not a bit. Iceland has volcanic activity going on all the time. It was one reason I took a tour group there.”

  Benedickt puffed out his chest. “When I grow up, I want to give tours like you.”

  Josef rose from the ground and ruffled Benedickt’s hair, proud to see the excited gleam in his ten-year-old nephew’s eyes. His boyhood antics always gave Helga a reason to worry, and Josef had no doubt about Benedickt’s sincerity in pursuing an adventurous line of work.

  Helga plunked a dinner plate on the nearby patio table, making a little too much noise and casting Josef an annoyed glance. “Enough filling my sons’ heads with stories of dangerous places. They should be happy to find a nice office job, like their father. Boys, go to the kitchen and help Oma bring out the food.”

  On his way to the closet to retrieve some folding chairs, Josef bypassed his cane, and endured the dull pain in his leg with each step. Ignoring it made him feel normal again, even if just an illusion. While he opened a chair at the table, his sister arranged utensils around the plates.

  “You should use your cane,” she said as she placed the last fork down.

  “There are a lot of things I should do but choose not to. Like taking a daily multivitamin.” He tossed her a grin.

  “Ha-ha,” she said tonelessly, but then cracked a teeny smile. “I’m serious. If you don’t listen to the doctor, then how will you get better?”

  “I listen.” He placed another chair at the teak table.

  She snorted a sarcastic laugh. “Like the game of football you played with the boys before finally getting off your feet ten minutes ago.”

  “We were just batting the ball around. What kind of uncle would I be if I didn’t play a few rounds?”

  “You’re a great uncle, no matter what you do.” Helga gave his shoulder a squeeze as she walked past him. “You know, speaking of work—”

  “Who was speaking of work?”

  “My son was. Christian says there is a job at his company you might like.”

  Not this again. Josef was proud of his brother-in-law’s rise to CFO at the large office, but the place held little interest to Josef.

  He eased into one of the chairs, giving his leg some minor relief. “And what is this job your husband recommends?”

  “Right up your alley. Relocation advisor.”

  “Watching others move around the world while I sit at a desk job for a large pharmaceutical company?” Josef laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  The boys entered like a small stampede, each carrying a bowl. Josef’s mother brought up the rear. For the first time he saw she was only a head taller than Benedickt. The boys were growing up fast.

  Helga took a seat. “The firm most likely has more opportunity than working at Wanderlust Excursion’s home office.”

  “I’m not looking for any opportunity at Wanderlust’s office.” He shifted so Jan could put his dish on the table. “The job is temporary, until I can get back on the road.”

  “You should consider it, Josef.” His mother raised a brow. “Christian says his company is a nice place to work with good job security.”

  She looked quite serious with her cardigan buttoned to the top and simple cross necklace. Josef wondered how she’d ended up with his father, but maybe opposites did attract.

  “And they pay very well,” his mom added while passing the salad to him.

  “Money isn’t everything,” he mumbled.

  His sister and mother shared a glance he pretended not to notice. “Tobias, can you hand me the bread basket, bitte?”

  Bowls were passed, and plates were filled. While they ate, the boys argued over who amongst them was a better ball player. He didn’t know how his sister managed to keep three boys, aged six to ten, in line as much as she did.

  When the boys finished, they asked to be excused and scrambled from the table the split second their mother said yes.


  Josef watched them kicking a football around the yard, wishing his body didn’t hurt so he could jump in the middle and join them again.

  “Are you bringing a date to your brother’s wedding?” His mother’s voice was filled with innuendo, her ongoing quest to see him marry not a big secret. “It’s just around the corner, you know.”

  “I can’t think of anybody to ask at the moment.” Josef clapped as Jan outwitted his brothers and got custody of the ball. “Good job, Jan!”

  “What about Annette’s daughter, Louisa?”

  When Josef had been in high school, more than once his mother had hinted to Josef about her neighbor’s daughter. “She’s married, Mutti.”

  “Not any more. Last year, she divorced.”

  He hadn’t heard. Louisa always turned heads, at least when they were teenagers. But she’d never been his type. Even back in their school days, they mixed in different circles. She lacked an interest in the world and adventure.

  Yet as he enjoyed this evening on his sister’s homey patio, it struck him that maybe this lifestyle had some merit. Would a commitment to ground him at this stage in his life be so bad?

  Gabriel’s upcoming wedding needled Josef with reminders about getting older and having no commitment to a woman or children. A notion he’d never given much thought until the accident. Endless days lying in bed gave him plenty of time to mull over life, death, and everything in between. And his sister’s home in a family-friendly neighborhood always made him feel comfortable, even made him miss the lack of stability in his own life at times.

  Up until now, marriage had carried the appeal of being stuffed inside a box with only air holes to breathe. That damn car accident had forced him to face the frailty of life and highlighted his choice to run from one country to the next seeking escape. From what, though? His new steady diet of being around family made him admit he might be missing something.

  “In case you’re wondering, Louisa has moved back to her mother’s house,” his mother said, deftly keeping the conversation going. “So, she lives in town now.”