Saving Anna

by Sharon Struth

  Keeping her phone shut off didn’t stop her from worrying about his anger. It merely avoided the inevitable.

  Josef’s questions at lunch about her marriage had come out of nowhere. So did her response. She felt a connection to him, though. They both stood in plain sight to the world, concealing their woes with self-made barriers. An occasional lowering of the gate let others in, but only at their discretion. He’d shared about his cane, his father’s death and dangerous job. At times with angst on his handsome face. A man with a history and limp, who definitely had a story to tell. So she’d given him a partial truth about the wedding ring and pending divorce. Talking about her physical abuses, though, would be a step too far.

  The phone’s weight drew attention back to her hand. A simple push of a button and she’d know if Patrick had cooled down or continued raging, but either answer might allow her to sleep. The neon glow of the screen cast an eerie light on her mission, but she ignored the ominous warning, went into settings, and flipped roam to the on position. Soon, her phone bleeped with notifications. Phone calls. Messages. Texts.

  Anna held her breath and closed her eyes, the drumbeat of her heart pounding in her ears blending with the pings. When they stopped, she opened her eyes. There were several more missed calls from the day the papers were served, while she’d been at the wine festival. There was also one made an hour ago from her sister.

  Before calling Jenna back, she read Patrick’s text messages.

  How dare you leave me!

  You’ll be sorry!

  I swear, if I get my hands on you, you’ll regret it. Answer me, Anna!

  I’m sorry.

  I’m sorry.

  I’m sorry.

  Forgive me, Anna. PLEASE

  I promise to get help. I love you.

  She could practically hear the pleading tone in his voice, see the tears in his eyes, just like every single time he’d spoken those words to her in the past. If she were there, after promising to get help, he’d tenderly take her hand in his and squeeze it as one would a fresh egg, as if his strength were sapped. Pathetic. The madman who’d possessed his body vanished as quickly as he’d arrived.

  But even his messages left her mentally battered and his words of love hurt.

  Bzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.

  The cell phone vibrated in her hand. Jenna’s name flashed on the display.

  Now what? A pit formed inside Anna’s gut as she hit the answer button. “Hi, Jenna.”

  “Thank God you answered. I’ve tried a few times but didn’t want to leave a message.”

  “I saw. Was just about to call you. I turned roaming off because I didn’t want to hear from Patrick. He left a tirade on my phone.”

  “I imagine he did. He’s very upset. We were just sitting down for dinner an hour ago and he showed up at my door.”

  A mix of dread and disbelief walloped Anna. “Oh, God. What’d he say?”

  “He was in rare form, at least compared to the man I’ve seen in the past. At first, he acted polite. I asked him to come in. But when I denied knowing where you were, his politeness disappeared. He started screaming. Chuck left the kitchen table and came to the foyer. He forced Patrick back outside, talked to him a while. Seemed to calm him down, and then he took him to a nearby hotel for the night. He didn’t trust Patrick staying in our house.”

  Chuck. A great husband. Genuine, good-hearted, and the type of guy to hand you the shirt off his back. “I’m so sorry, Jenna. Please tell Chuck I’m sorry, too. Patrick is out of his mind! I pictured him smashing pictures around our house, or maybe burning my clothes. Never did I dream he’d go to Texas.”

  “Yeah, imagine my shock when I opened the door. He’d called the house twice before this. Of course I told him I didn’t know where you were.”

  “Besides outraged, how’d he seem?”

  “Tired, but I couldn’t garner any sympathy for him. My God, Anna, what’s wrong with him? This isn’t the man who came to family functions or walked down the aisle with you. But it did remind me of how strange I thought he was acting at Christmas.”

  “Well, getting him there was a struggle.” He’d agreed to the holiday visit on a good day back in early November. As the trip had neared, he’d complained they wouldn’t be alone for Christmas and twice threatened to cancel the tickets. Anna stayed quiet, always on her best behavior so he had no reason to make her miss the family holiday. But as the day to leave neared, he’d been tense and his anger easily provoked.

  “I noticed Patrick was constantly at your side,” said Jenna. “Had an arm around you or held your hand. Almost…” Jenna sighed. “Possessive.”

  “I know. A week before our Christmas visit, we went to his Christmas party. He started an argument the second we got in the car to go home, insisting one of the waiters was flirting with me. When we got home, he punched me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me.”

  Her belly shook, as if it happened days ago, not months. The pain. His anger. The terror as she lay on the bed gasping for air, anticipating another strike. What a fool she’d been for not fighting back. For not admitting this was a problem sooner. For not leaving him then.

  She took a steadying breath. “I’ll bet he didn’t want me to be alone with any of you during the holiday visit. Afraid I’d tell you.”

  “Oh, sis.” Jenna’s voice cracked. “I wish you’d told me what he was doing sooner.”

  She swallowed down the hard lump in her throat. “I don’t know why I stood for his mistreatment for so long. I just kept hoping he’d change. God, Jenna. Is something wrong with me?”

  “No. You’re a victim, Anna.”

  A tear ran down her cheek. A victim. The word carried a pitiful ring.

  “Listen, after you called me from the airport, I talked to a counselor at a battered woman’s shelter.”

  Tears flowed, blurring her vision. She sniffled them back enough to quietly ask, “It’s a call I probably should’ve made. What’d the counselor say?”

  “That it isn’t uncommon for abusers to turn on charm to lure you to them, then show their true colors once married or in a committed relationship. Every case is different. The abuse may start gradually or happen right away. And these men, they’re always sorry afterward. Very sorry. Life returns to normal, and they act perfect. Until the next offense.”

  Anna stood and took a tissue from a box on the desk and wiped her nose. “You just described his pattern. How could I have been so blind?”

  “Love is why,” she said, her tone tender, filled with empathy. “He tells you he loves you, right?”

  “Yes. Very much so.” Her chest ached. His many messages of love came in abundance, feeling more like burdens as time passed. For if she’d left him, he would be hurt, and she couldn’t hurt someone who loved her so much, trusted her… “I’m a fool.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Anna. You’re on your way out of this mess.”

  “Yes. But I ran off so I didn’t have to face him. Now he’s bothering my family.” She needed to fix this before he showed up at her parents’ house. “Maybe I should leave Germany.”

  “No! You should stay put. Something tells me the farther away you are right now, the better.” A ping sounded in the background, then Jenna said, “Chuck sent a text. He’s checked Patrick in at the airport Ramada Inn.”

  “Tell him he’s the best brother-in-law in the world.”

  “Will do, honey,” she said softly. “Hey, nobody knows where you are except me, right?”

  “Just my neighbor’s attorney, but I can’t imagine he’d tell anyone.”

  “Why? Does he know about Patrick’s problems?”

  “No. Isaak’s note to me was private, and Patrick wouldn’t think to ask the lawyer. He has no idea Isaak left me money or even asked me to find this man for him. Plus, the inheritance will go into a new account I opened in my na
me only.”

  “What about the money for this trip?”

  “The expenses for Germany are being paid through Isaak’s estate by his lawyer.”

  Her sister stayed silent for a long moment.

  “What’s wrong?” Jenna tended to overthink everything, although it wasn’t a bad thing right now.

  “Did anybody see you leaving with your luggage?”

  “No. Not a soul. Really, I think you’re being paranoid.”

  Her sister sighed. “You’re probably right.”

  “I’m more worried he’ll fly out to Washington to see Mom and Dad.”

  “Chuck encouraged him to return to New York.”

  But the idea hung in the air, an anvil that might drop any second.

  “It’s late here. Guess I should try to get some sleep. I love you, Jenna. Thanks for being there for me.”

  “Love you, too.”

  They hung up. For a long minute she sat on the bed, debating if she should call her parents. She’d have to confess everything. And while she hoped they’d support her, the young teenage girl inside her had never let go of their lack of support when they brought a stranger into their home. A foster boy who’d brought his troubles with him that he passed on to Anna. And her parents had expected her to be understanding.

  Resentment rose inside her, brewing for decades. She didn’t want them to question her judgment. Suggest she work harder at giving Patrick support or a second chance. She’d given him more chances than she could count. So for now, she’d wait. Until she felt strong enough to fight back if they didn’t trust her judgment.

  She shut off the phone’s roaming and returned it to the nightstand.

  But her mind raced with a new problem. Patrick wasn’t acting as she’d hoped, by seeing the reason in her decision to end their marriage. Instead, his anger appeared to be escalating, not calming down.

  Chapter 13

  “Josef?” The young redheaded nurse stood at the door holding a folder against her chest.

  He rose from the chair, steadying himself with his cane. As he neared, she smiled sweetly. Before the crash, he’d have flirted with such a pretty woman. But in his condition, he figured she smiled out of pity.

  “Sorry we’re running so late,” she said. “Dr. Weber had an emergency early in the day.”

  The hour delay had him one step from breathing fire, but he stuffed it deep down and nodded. “Not a problem.” He hurried past her, despite the constant pulse in his leg from overdoing it this week. Between the sightseeing in Marburg, and a full day yesterday going to Wörrstadt, and Gau-Bickelheim to meet two more men, he’d pushed his leg’s endurance. At the time, he hadn’t minded. Now he paid the price.

  She guided him to the office where he waited another twenty-five minutes, becoming increasingly furious as the clock ticked. His blood roiled beneath his skin with each passing second while the pain in his leg increased incrementally.

  At long last, the doctor entered the examining room, appearing relaxed and happy since he hadn’t spent half his morning waiting for someone. “Hello there, Josef. How have you been?”

  “I’d be better if I could say goodbye to this cane once and for all.”

  Dr. Weber nodded as he bent his balding head to read Josef’s chart. He grunted and glanced up. “So, you’re not feeling any better?”

  “Nein. Though I walked too much yesterday.”

  “Do the medications help at all?”

  “Sometimes.”

  The doctor frowned. “Femoral shaft fractures like yours usually heal in four to six months. You are on the tail end. I had hoped by having you use the cane we would see some relief of your discomfort and faster healing.”

  The doctor performed an examination, moving Josef’s leg in different directions, which only added to the dull ache he’d had upon entering. While the doctor re-examined an X-ray taken after the surgery, Josef tipped back his head, closed his eyes, and bit back his discomfort.

  Dr. Weber placed a hand on Josef’s shoulder. “I am going to recommend two things. There is a colleague of mine in Frankfurt I want you to see. I will send over your X-rays to her office to see if I have missed something about your physical condition.” He walked to the window and looked out for a second, then turned around. “How are you otherwise, Josef?”

  “You mean work? Because I hate working in the office.”

  “I know. You told me last time. No, I don’t mean work. I meant personally. Accidents of the kind you went through can do more than physical damage.”

  Josef stiffened. “What are you trying to say?”

  His voice softened. “A life was lost. Survivors often go through a variety of emotions. How are you handling things emotionally?”

  “Just fine.”

  The doctor’s expression didn’t change. “Is there anybody at home you can talk to about what happened the day of the crash? Sometimes getting out the details can help.”

  “What details?” His voice rose and the dam of his restraint broke through. “I don’t remember anything. NOTHING!” He clenched his fists and sucked in a breath, but his voice trembled as he continued. “I can’t remember a damn thing. Possible driver’s error, the accident report said. How can I not blame myself for that poor woman losing her life?”

  The doctor frowned. “Yes. I am sure it is hard. And an understandable reaction.” He turned to the counter, scribbled on a pad, and came over to Josef holding out a piece of paper. “This is another colleague of mine. I think you should go see him, too.”

  Josef read the note. Henrik Gottlieb, Psychologist. Josef cringed. Helga would be thrilled.

  “It is not uncommon for physical pain to come from a deeper, more emotional place. You are carrying a large burden right now. My suggestion, deal with the emotional stress and you may find your physical healing is faster.”

  “You must be kidding—”

  “Josef.” The doctor frowned. “We will still look at the physical, too. The front desk can get phone numbers for both doctors. From my experience, the procedure done by the doctor in France should have made the injury less painful by now. To ignore any possible solution wouldn’t be right, now would it?”

  Josef shook his head, thanked the doctor, and left with the two referrals. At the front desk, he got the phone numbers. Half his day, wasted and in pain. He just wanted to be alone. Take his pain medication and go back to bed.

  He limped to the tram stop, mulling over Dr. Weber’s comments. Talking might help. When he’d confided things to Claudia and his sister, some of the pressure inside his head lifted. But talking to a psychologist? A stranger. It didn’t feel right.

  He dialed his brother’s number. “Gabriel, it’s me. I need some advice and you’re just the man to give it to me. Want to meet up for lunch?”

  They discussed a time and place. Josef shoved his phone into his back pocket, feeling a little better. His little brother always had a sensible outlook on things and could surely help Josef gain some perspective on what the doctor had said.

  Within twenty minutes, he arrived back at his apartment. As he tossed off his jacket, he removed his cell phone from the pocket. He remembered turning down the phone volume while at the doctor’s office. He pressed the button to turn it back up. That’s when he spotted a message. From Anna.

  Anna. He’d forgotten all about their appointment to meet today. He glanced at the time. Two hours ago. He pushed play.

  “Josef. It’s Anna. Um, well, we were supposed to meet today. Over an hour ago. I hope everything is okay. Guess we can reschedule.”

  Verdammt! He’d been so caught up, he forgot. He quickly dialed her number and it rang until finally going into a voice mail. He left a message and explained about the appointment, but he felt terrible. Lately, he’d been enjoying the time they’d been together and had even looked forward to today’s trip.

&n
bsp; He tried a second time, got the message again, and hung up. Maybe she wasn’t near her phone. He dialed the main guesthouse number. Joachim checked her room and the grounds but couldn’t find her.

  Now he had another thing to feel crappy about. Well, he’d surely talk his brother’s ear off today.

  * * * *

  “I never think of curry as a spice in German food.” Anna speared another piece of pork sausage lathered in a curry-spiced tomato sauce, this chef’s version of the dish better than the one she’d eaten at the wine festival.

  Otto helped himself to more. “They say a woman named Herta Heuwer, who owned a food kiosk in West Berlin, created this back in ’49. She supposedly acquired some English curry powder from soldiers stationed in the British sector of the occupied city.”

  “I had heard it was Hamburg.” Ruth had on her sunglasses and had her head turned in the direction of the crowds in the square. “And not in ’49, but in ’47.”

  Anna braced herself for a healthy discussion by these two great academic minds about the food, but instead Otto laughed. “You might be right, my dear,” he conceded as he popped in another bite.

  Thank God she’d bumped into Ruth and Otto. After she’d been unable to reach Josef, they’d invited her to lunch. She worried about him. Up until now he’d been mostly punctual, but a message she received while on the tram ride into this part of town had said his appointment ran late. She’d buried her disappointment and hoped he was okay.

  Ruth and Otto had suggested this café in Kirschgarten Square in the old city of Mainz. The lunch crowd bustled along the cobblestone pavement surrounded by half-timbered houses and the warm midday sun warmed the cooler morning air.

  While they ate, Ruth and Otto shared places she should see in Mainz, like its stunning cathedral, and a museum dedicated to hometown boy Gutenberg, inventor of the printing press back in the 1400s. She considered herself lucky to land in such a pretty town with such interesting history.