Saving Anna

by Sharon Struth

  He had become more than a mere driver. He was a party invested in the outcome.

  So this all meant one thing: if tomorrow they did not find Gunther, he would do whatever he could to help her find the man. Beyond the responsibilities handed to him by Claudia. Beyond the scope of his job.

  Josef picked up the ibuprofen and went to the sink. As he filled a glass with water and popped the medication, he looked forward to the prospect of getting up in the morning for a change.

  * * * *

  Anna quivered. Her knees. Her belly. Even her lips. “Pl-pl-please. Stop.”

  Pain scorched every inch of her skin as strong hands lifted her and slammed her into the refrigerator door.

  Numbing pain. In her shoulder. Her neck. Her hip.

  Her shaking knees couldn’t hold her as she slid to the floor, her body still trembling as she landed. Not from the cool tiles, but from the dark figure looming over her…

  Anna’s eyes flashed open. Her body trembled and her heart pumped as if she’d run a race. She patted the mattress and found the duvet near her knees and pulled it to her chin. Shivering, she settled beneath the covers.

  Morning light streamed through the French door’s opaque curtains. She took a deep breath, wishing away remnants of the horrible nightmare. A rerun of an actual event about two months into their marriage. Patrick hadn’t wanted her to fly back to Washington for a friend’s wedding, but she’d desperately wanted to go and pressed him. That night had taught her one thing about her new life: her wants or needs no longer mattered.

  How had she drifted off to sleep more content than she’d been in a long time after a wonderful evening, only to wake to the terror of such abuse? Patrick had pounded his sickness deep inside her soul, the way a chef tenderizes meat, breaking down the toughness. It might take more than leaving their marriage and a month away to forget his torture.

  But didn’t the awful memories always stay? Didn’t the demands of others always supersede her desires? Hadn’t she spent her first twenty years trying to please her parents? Dad’s job as a social worker would lead to discussions around the dinner table about how lucky they were compared to most people. And then they’d taken in the fifteen-year-old foster boy with a troubled background. A boy who’d cornered Anna, put his hands around her throat…

  She closed her eyes but could still hear the response of her parents.

  Let’s not report this, Anna. They’ll send him to a juvenile home. He’s a victim of circumstance.

  After that, Anna made sure she was never alone with him.

  But the message her parents had sent was loud and clear. If someone less fortunate is hurting, your needs are secondary.

  Only recently had she started to see how, from Patrick’s very first strike, her reaction to his violence had been rooted in the same logic. After an “incident”—what she called them in her mind—she’d remind herself of the mistreatment he’d endured growing up. Horrible beatings, followed by mental abuse that made her shudder the first time he’d discussed his father’s irrational outbursts. All starting when his mother left both man and boy, never to return.

  In their early months of marriage, she vowed she’d never leave Patrick the way his mother had done. Her parents had loved her, never raised a hand. But she had been mistreated, in an unsuspecting way. Her parents’ message of altruism and forgiveness went a step too far. They loved her, of that she had no doubt. Still, it didn’t erase years of a subtle form of neglect where others outside of the family often came first.

  A voice carried in the quiet morning air outside the open French door. “Don’t be late, my love.”

  She smiled. Florian. Karen must be leaving for work. Those two lovebirds didn’t quit. Anna adored their overt displays of affection, reminding her love wasn’t an illusion. It could be real.

  In fact, here, she was surrounded by love, of all types.

  A fresh, intense love between Florian and Karen.

  The compatible, caring love she’d see between Regina and Joachim. Businesslike, but once in a while she’d catch an occasional peck on the cheek or a touch that spoke to their many years together.

  And Ruth and Otto, who disagreed on many matters but were never hurtful or personal.

  In every case, each couple showed respect for the person they loved.

  Yesterday, while she and Josef had walked to the Gutenberg Museum, he’d offered an apology for all the times he hadn’t been himself lately. A genuine apology. Not the pitiful, desperate kind Patrick always offered. Though she’d told him it hadn’t been necessary, she appreciated he made the overture. But it reminded her of the respect she saw in the relationships around her.

  Later, they’d had dinner. Maybe it was the candlelight, or the one-too-many glasses of crisp wine washing down their delicious meal. Or it could’ve been the way his eyes sparkled as he’d shared his tales of travel, giving her a glimpse into how much he loved seeing the world, not just the risk-taking adventures. But sitting close to him, with their knees touching beneath the table for two, rekindled feelings she’d lost from Patrick’s abuse. A desire to be with a man again. Whenever he’d ask her questions, Josef would stare deeply into her eyes while listening. Every so often, his gaze would shift, drop to her lips, and linger a little too long. Each time, unexpected heat rushed through her.

  Those hours spent with him made her happy. Fear-free. Craving intimacy. The way she wanted to feel all the time.

  She arched her back, stretched her arms above her head, and tossed off the covers. On her way to the bathroom, she paused at the mirror over the dresser. Her eyes were sleepy and her hair a tangled mess. Still, she liked what she saw. A woman more at peace with herself, at least compared to the woman she’d left behind in Brooklyn.

  What had Josef seen last night? A desperate woman escaping her problems or a woman who wanted to enjoy life again?

  She turned sideways. The tank top she slept in exposed the remains of a bruise she wished would clear faster. She ran a hand lightly over the curve of her shoulder. No pain anymore. Just the shadow of the pain she’d endured that night. Soon it would vanish like the others. But she’d never forget how it felt. Never. Ever.

  She turned and faced herself head on. With her hand, she traced the curve of her waist, pressed it flat against her abdomen, smoothed it to her breast. Slowly. Tenderly. The way she deserved to be touched by a man.

  A man like Josef.

  The thought seemed to come out of nowhere, but she couldn’t deny it had been building. A little here. A little there. A lot more last evening.

  He had problems and even shared some of them yesterday. Unlike Patrick, he didn’t take them out on others. Just the opposite, in fact. Josef held them tightly, as if a strong wind might blow them away and leave him exposed. Be it from pride or privacy, she couldn’t tell.

  She entered bathroom and turned on the shower. Once inside, Anna tilted back her head and let the steamy water wake her, clearing the way for an excited buzz to ripple beneath her skin as she thought about today’s trip to Müden. Another day with Josef. Time would only tell if last night’s magic remained. But even if it didn’t, she liked feeling this good.

  Chapter 15

  Anna’s pulse raced while Josef spoke to the man at the door in their native tongue, his words fast and consonants strong. Their fourth try. Would he be the one?

  She strained her ear, only catching an occasional word like Frankfurt or America, and focused on every smile, nod, and hand gesture for clues as to what they were saying. She didn’t even know if his name was Gunther or a relative of the man she’d located in her search.

  Maybe it was wishful thinking, but she saw a clear resemblance in this man’s eyes to the photograph Isaak left her. This man stood with the door halfway open, blocking half his body on the side where the real Gunther had lost an arm. So she couldn’t tell from that clue if this was him, or
not.

  She gave up on guessing what they discussed and admired the property. The address in Müden, on the outskirts of the small town, was set on a hillside. From the porch of the two-story house, the lawn peppered with several well-cared-for gardens, she enjoyed a view of the Moselle River and the sharp-peaked roofs of houses made with inlaid wood.

  “Anna?”

  She turned to Josef and he motioned her forward. “This is Siegfried, Gunther’s brother.”

  The old man made eye contact and nodded.

  She smiled. “Hello.”

  Before Josef could tell her more, Siegfried resumed speaking in German, his eyes getting a glassy sheen as he spoke. Josef listened with a frown and softened his tone when he replied.

  He turned to her. “His brother has passed away.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said to Siegfried, and Josef translated.

  Her research had been wrong. The records indicated this Gunther was alive, but she’d just learned a lesson in the accuracy of the databases she’d been using.

  Siegfried’s sadness made her feel horrible for coming here and reminding him of his brother, but she had to ask him one more thing. With a glance to Josef, she said, “Could his brother have been the man who helped Isaak?”

  She handed the photo to Siegfried, who listened to Josef’s question before scanning the image.

  “Nein.” He shook his head, then rambled again in German.

  No. When she’d set out, a part of her believed this search might be a challenge. Yet she’d hoped in a world of computerized databases and the internet, she’d find her man quickly. But she wasn’t a private detective, or someone who understood the nuances of searching through mounds of historical data.

  Josef listened to Siegfried’s lengthy response. At times the older man’s eyes welled with tears. This subject evoked so much emotion in those who’d suffered through the regime’s terror. Anna felt horrible about bringing the topic to his day.

  Josef finally turned her way. “The photograph isn’t his brother. They did live in Frankfurt and knew many Jews, in both their neighborhood and local businesses. But Siegfried said none of them were able to help any of their friends who were in danger. He also wants you to know he admires the man who saved Isaak’s life. He only wishes he could have done more in those days. The threats to anybody who worked against the Nazis were very real, making helping others a hard choice.”

  She glanced to the man, who watched her with a deep frown. She extended a hand. “Danke schön.”

  “Bitte.” He stepped from the door, took her hands in both of his and gave a little squeeze that shot straight to her heart.

  Anna stepped off the porch and waited on the walkway while Josef talked a minute more. She tried not to let her disappointment eat away at her. What if the data she used continued to be faulty?

  He joined Anna and they walked toward the car. “You okay?” Josef asked quietly.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” She gave him a fast smile before looking away and getting lost again in her dismay. Maybe this was an insurmountable task. Or maybe Isaak would’ve been better off picking anybody but her to do this job.

  “Josef, halte durch.”

  Josef stopped and pivoted to the house, where Siegfried still stood at the door. “Ja?”

  Anna waited while the older man said one last thing, then he waved goodbye and returned inside.

  “Siegfried says he just remembered another Hinzmann family in Frankfurt who moved to either Wetzlar or Wiesbaden before the war ended. He cannot recall which.”

  “I vaguely recall eliminating choices from both of those towns in my research. When we get back, I’ll double-check the records to see why.”

  “Good idea. Your records might even have another address for us to check.” He pointed his cane into the distance, toward the town they’d driven through to get here. “But how about later? This is a pretty area to have lunch.”

  “Sure.”

  “Don’t sound so unhappy.” He smiled. “See? One door closed, another opened. Isn’t that the expression?”

  She chuckled. When had Josef become the most optimistic person in the room? She was glad to have him at her side. “Yup, it’s something like that. I’ll work on my attitude.”

  * * * *

  Anna took the last bite of her sandwich. At first, lunch had distracted her from her worries about finding Gunther. As she considered how many men with that name showed up in her first search, though, a negative diatribe rambled in her subconscious. There was always a chance none of the men who had matching names were the Gunther she wanted. The hope she’d mustered up when they’d taken a table at the quaint café’s outdoor patio withered like a short-lived bloom.

  She’d been a fool to think she could find Gunther. If the month passed with no success, what would she do?

  She glanced over to Josef. He’d finished his lunch a few minutes ago and stared in the direction of the river. She tried to change the subject weighing her down. “You’re a world traveler. Is your country’s bread good or all in my imagination?”

  “Germans make delicious breads. Possibly the best. And so are our desserts.”

  She grinned. “Yeah, my waistline is well aware.”

  He laughed and stretched out his long legs. “Your waistline looks fine to me.” The sun passed over the tree they sat beneath. He tilted his head toward the rays, shut his eyes, and lowered his sunglasses.

  It didn’t take long for the midday heat to make her sweat. Another day of unseasonably warm September weather, according to Josef. She used care pulling both arms from her lightweight sweater and drew the top edges against her collarbone, but left the buttons undone to stay cooler. A quick adjustment of the sleeve near her shoulder ensured her bruise remained covered.

  “Are you awake?” she asked quietly.

  Josef turned his head her way. “I am.”

  She motioned to a brick farm building, now turned gift shop and winery, not far from where they sat. “Do you mind if I make a quick stop in there when we’re through?”

  “Not at all. There is a medieval castle close by we could visit, too. Burg Eltz. It would be a shame to waste this beautiful afternoon.”

  She wanted to get back and do more research, possibly refuel the faith she was starting to lose in her ability to finish this for Isaak. Even take the time to jot down some notes to use in her column. Somehow today’s setback seemed worth thinking about, because her column should reflect the challenges of her task.

  But an afternoon seeing the sights wouldn’t kill her and might even be good for her soul. She hadn’t had a relaxing vacation since her honeymoon. “Sure. I guess we could.”

  “We do not have to. What is the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing, huh?” He lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and looked her in the eye. “You were too quiet at lunch.”

  “I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice.” As he grinned and shook his head, she confessed. “Since we learned today’s stop wasn’t a success, I’ve been wondering if Isaak picked the wrong person to find Gunther.”

  “He did not. You are the right one.” He flipped back on his glasses and returned to his sun worship. “Look how far you have come. What you are doing is a difficult task. Besides, I will help you research more when we get back to Mainz. Two heads are always better than one.” His lips curved into a smile and he looked her way. “Even one as smart as yours.”

  She smiled. Up until now, she’d believed Josef was simply doing a job for his employer. Knowing he cared enough to want to help her and have this search be a success made her feel happy and less alone in this pursuit. “Thank you. I would like that.”

  He nodded. “Besides, I think we are getting closer to finding Isaak’s friend. A gut call, but I think I am right.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

&
nbsp; They sat in companionable silence while she marveled in the faith he had in her, used it to dig deep and get her motivation back.

  The waitress appeared and said something to Josef.

  “Zwei Pflaumenkuchen, bitte.” He sat straighter in his chair and turned to Anna while flipping up his sunglasses. “I ordered you a piece of plumcake. Do you want coffee?” She nodded and he added, “Zwei Kaffees auch.”

  Just as the waitress left, a bee flew in front of Anna’s face, startling her. She swatted with both hands. Her sweater slipped, but the persistent bee buzzed near her face. She kept at it until the bee finally flew off. She reached down to her waist, grabbed the sweater, and yanked it over the bruise. As she did, she jerked her head up to look at Josef.

  He stared at her shoulder. His gaze slowly drifted to her face.

  “Damn bees.” Buttoning the top button so the sweater stayed in place, she hoped her scorched cheeks didn’t betray her shame.

  Pity filled his face as he stared into her eyes, leaving a sting sharper than a bee’s.

  “Anna,” he said quietly. “What really happened?”

  Lie. Come on. You’ve done this before. Only for some reason, this time, the excuses she’d tossed like pennies in a fountain wouldn’t pass her lips.

  She turned her cheek, afraid to look at him. Afraid she’d see judgment. The way people judged a woman who didn’t instantly leave a man who hit her.

  Josef moved his chair closer and spoke in a soft voice. “Anna, did your husband do that to you?”

  The walls closed in on her. Her chest tightened and belly trembled.

  Josef caringly took her hand. Compassion radiated in his eyes, making her want to trust him.

  “Y-yes. He did.” She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. “He—he’s done worse.”

  Joseph’s jaw knotted and anger flashed in his eyes.