The sky darkened while they were lost in each other. Later, they lay together, the glow of the Christmas tree in the next room tumbling into the doorway. Being together again felt good, and reinforced all the feelings that surfaced while he wasn’t with her.
A little while later, he unpacked and they both put on comfortable clothes to stay in for the night.
As he entered the living room, Anna approached him, carrying two fluted glasses and placed them on a table next to a cream-colored, comfortable-looking sofa stationed near the fireplace. “Take a seat.”
She walked to the tree, squatted down, and picked up a gift that she set on her lap after getting seated.
The cat hopped on the couch and curled in Josef’s lap.
She laughed. “He likes you already.” She picked up the gift wrapped in shiny gold paper. “I was going to save this until Christmas morning, but I can’t wait.”
He handed over Socks and tore off the wrapping to find a box. Excitement twinkled in Anna’s eyes. He took off the lid and found three thin picture frames inside. He lifted the one on top.
Mounted against a beveled mat was a document on linen paper. Kindness Connects, by Anna Abrams. He glanced up. “Your column.”
“Yes. It’ll be published soon.”
The top corner showed a date. January 2. A week and a half from now. A closer look showed the content wasn’t the actual newsprint but a neatly typed version. His gaze dropped to the first line.
Over seventy years ago, a man saved my neighbor’s life. Little did I know that this single act would someday save my life too…
Her journey. He looked up to her glistening eyes and she smiled. He took her hand and continued to read.
The column told about her reasons for going to Germany, both her personal reason and what she hoped to accomplish for Isaak. And she wrote about meeting Josef. Her first impression of him made him laugh. No, he hadn’t put his best foot forward. But in her words, she began to see how Josef was suffering, too.
She wrote about the towns they’d visited, the disappointment of not finding Gunther right away, but how her trusted guide took those moments to show her the beauty of Germany in places like Marburg and Burg Eltz. All steps that she recognized as part of the bigger picture of her journey. Perhaps even a necessary part as she got close to a stranger…him.
Words grabbed his heart as she wrote about every bittersweet moment with Gunther, followed by a stop at the Holocaust Memorial in Wiesbaden. A moment she described as drawing her heart to the man who brought her there.
Josef has become part of my chain of hope.
His eyes watered and looked up, met her glistening gaze. “Oh, Anna. I am so touched. I cannot think of a better gift.”
“There are two more columns in there.”
He picked up the next frame. A second article in the series, scheduled for a week later, highlighted their trip to Belgium to meet the family who housed Isaak for close to two years. The third article talked about her personal journey. Her marital problems, and how she’d been abused but remained silent. She even divulged how she planned to work on a book about the plight of abused women and the importance of never feeling it was too late to change your life.
He lowered the frame, reached out and stroked her cheek. “My God, Anna. The columns are perfect. I’m so proud of you. And honored to have been part of your journey.”
She smiled. “Your opinion means everything. There’s one more column for me to write tied into this trip, but I’m not ready. It’s the story of my ancestors, mainly about leaving behind their faith. I believe it’s a story people should hear, to make them think about what prejudice can force some people to give up.”
He reached for her hand as a tear slid down her cheek. “Isaak gave me two gifts. He helped me escape a horrible marriage. But this journey also made me take an interest in my family’s past. I hope what I wrote reflects those sentiments.”
He laid the box on the table and took her hands. “Every single word was perfectly said. I—I just do not know what to say. This is a gift I will treasure.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips to hers. “You have filled my heart, dear Anna.”
She smiled. “As you do mine.”
He stood. “Stay right there. Now I will get one of my gifts to you.”
* * * *
Josef disappeared into the bedroom. Anna grabbed a tissue from a box on the end table and dabbed at her wet eyes. Writing those columns had drained her emotionally, but the time to reflect gave her enormous perspective on everything gained during those four weeks away.
He returned to his seat, holding an envelope. “I have been thinking about you, too. About your ancestry research. Many people out there seek the same, especially from this country.”
“Well, we are a nation of immigrants.”
He nodded. “So with a little help, I have uncovered some information on your relatives.”
“You did? Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“Because I wanted to surprise you.”
“And that little help… Any chance that’s how the Facebook friendship you have with my dad evolved?”
He laughed. “Let’s say this helped it along. Seems we both watch soccer, too.”
Her heart warmed knowing these two special people in her life had connected.
“Your father supplied me with the information you and your uncle found. I searched on my side of the ocean by making some trips to record offices in Poland.”
He removed a sheet of paper from the envelope. “So far, I have located some of your great-great-grandmother’s family who remained in Łódź, Poland. Here is an extended family tree. Your dad sent me what your uncle put together.”
She searched the boxes of the expanded tree, with branches and names showing people in both Germany and Poland. Several boxes of family in both countries showed they’d died between 1938 and 1945.
She looked up at Josef, a pain in her heart as she quietly asked, “These relatives who died during the war and pre-war years, was it because they were Jewish?”
“Yes. It appears so. I tracked down where they died, made copies of the records. Many were at the camps. I am sorry.” His mouth turned down. “As I say this, I can see this is not such a happy gift.”
“No, no! This is exactly what I needed to know. Even if it’s sad.”
The pained expression on his face brightened. “But there are these people who survived. And look.” His finger moved across several boxes. “There is family there today.”
She studied each name, saying them aloud, taking a minute to make connections for layers of aunts and uncles, second and third cousins. Almost more than she could grasp at this moment. Many were taken too early. At least some had survived.
She lowered the paper. “Josef. This is a wonderful gift.
“There is more.” He removed a long letter-sized envelope. “Here.”
She opened the unsealed flap and pulled out a folded paper. Lufthansa Airlines? Her gaze flowed down the document. A flight to Warsaw, Poland in early April. She skimmed back up. Passenger name: Anna Abrams. “You got me a ticket to go to Poland?”
He nodded. “I plan to meet you there. I will drive. A few weeks ago I made some contact with your family and they would like to meet you. Many live near Warsaw. I thought we could go to Łódź, too. It is not far from Warsaw.”
She read it again, as the impact slowly sank in. Josef had handed her a ticket to her family’s past.
She put the ticket aside and hugged Josef, tears flowing for what was both lost and found. When she finally had a handle on her emotions, she looked up to him. “I’m stunned. This is the best gift in the world.”
“If you can take a little extra time off, or somehow work while we travel, I am hoping we can drive together back to Germany. Maybe by then we will have uncovered more about your family in
Hannover, Germany. Then your return flight is out of Frankfurt. My family would like to see you again, too.”
“I would love to. And this won’t interfere with your work?”
“That is my other news. Claudia got very excited to learn about my research for you. She thinks I might be just the person to set up a new division at the tour company. Family Ancestry Tours. You are our test case, to see the work involved. If this works smoothly, we will think about how to market this. In fact, I will be back to the States this summer. Did you know the world’s largest genealogical library is in Salt Lake City, Utah?”
“No. I didn’t.”
“I have spoken to genealogists there and plan to come back for two months to learn from them.”
“And that means you’ll be over here again.”
“Yes. And the flight from Washington to Utah is short.” His lids hooded and voice softened. “We won’t have to cross an ocean to see each other.”
Anna let it all sink in. “We’ll have three weeks here. My trip to Poland and Germany. And then having you a short flight away for the summer. It’s all too good to be true.”
“Well, it is very real. Now tell me what we will do here in Washington. I cannot wait to see more.”
While they sipped the champagne, she talked about all the things she wanted to show him. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the tickets he’d given her, and about meeting the family overseas.
“You know, if my great-grandfather’s parents came with to the US with their real name, I’d have spent my life as Anna Abraham. I’d probably have gone to Hebrew school and attended a synagogue and wouldn’t even be celebrating Christmas. And I would’ve probably been able to have deep talks with Isaak about faith, because he was a very faithful man.”
Josef reached for her hand, squeezed. “I never met Isaak, but I do know that he’d be very proud of you right now.”
Josef always knew the right thing to say. Somehow she knew that their relationship and possible future together would have some big hurdles to jump. But it would be okay, because Josef always seemed to meet her halfway.
SHARE THE MOON
Sometimes trust is the toughest lesson to learn.
Sophie Shaw is days away from signing a contract that will fulfill her dream of owning a vineyard. For her, it’s a chance to restart her life and put past tragedies to rest. But Duncan Jamieson’s counter offer blows hers out to sea.
Duncan still finds Sophie as appealing as he had during boyhood vacations to the lake. Older and wiser now, he has his own reasons for wanting the land. His offer, however, hinges on a zoning change approval.
Bribery rumors threaten the deal and make Sophie wary of Duncan, yet she cannot deny his appeal. When her journalistic research uncovers a Jamieson family secret, trust becomes the hardest lesson for them both.
A Lyrical e-book available now.
Learn more about Sharon at www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/31604
Chapter 1
New Moon: When the moon, positioned between the earth and sun,
nearly disappears, leaving only darkness.
November
The sabotaged kayaks beckoned. Sophie Shaw trod a thin layer of ice pellets on the lawn as she headed to the lake’s edge, where eight boats waited to be returned to the storage rack. The fickle New England weather had offered sleet-dropping clouds an hour earlier. Now, a wink from the sun reflected against Blue Moon Lake.
She dragged the first boat up a small incline, annoyed some bored teenagers had considered destruction of property entertainment. Growing up she and her friends had respected the local businesses.
A UPS truck screeched to a stop in front of a row of shops on Main Street. The driver hopped out and ran into Annabelle’s Antiques with a box tucked under his arm. Sophie glanced both ways along the road for signs of Matt, whose new driver’s license and clunker car played to every mother’s fears. Fifteen minutes earlier, she’d texted him for help with the boat mess. He’d replied “k.”
Sophie’s flats glided along the slick lawn. She gripped the cord of a bright orange sea kayak and, using two hands, struggled backward up the slope. Her foot skidded. The heel of her shoe wobbled for security but instead, her toes lifted off the ground and flashed toward the clear sky. The burning skid of the cord ripped across her palms just as her other foot lifted and launched her airborne. Thud!
Air whooshed from her lungs. Pain coursed through her shoulder blades, neck, and spine. The ground’s chilly dampness seeped into her cotton khaki pants, raising goose bumps on her skin. Seconds passed without breath before she managed to swallow a gulp.
Lying flat on her back, she stared at the cornflower blue sky and spotted a chalky slice of the moon. The night Henry died, a similar crescent had hung from the heavens, barely visible nestled among the glittering stars. She prepared for the scrape that threatened to tear the gouge of her scarred heart. Seven years. Seven painful years. She closed her eyes and after a few seconds, the weight of sadness lifted off her chest.
Tears gathered along her lower lashes. She pushed a strand of unruly long hair from her face. Footsteps crunched on the ice pellets and headed her way.
“Matthew Shaw…” Fury pooled in her jaw as she resisted the urge to yell at her son. “You’d better have a good excuse for taking so long.”
A man with cinnamon hair, short on the sides with gentle waves on top, knelt at her side. She studied the strong outline of his cheeks and the slight bump on the bridge of his angular nose that gave him a rugged touch, but he wasn’t familiar.
“Are you okay?” He searched her face.
The stranger hovered above. Tall treetops, clinging to the last of their earth-toned foliage, served as a backdrop to her view. A vertical crease separated his sandy brows. She couldn’t pry herself from his vivid blue eyes, in part stunned from the fall, but also by her first responder.
For several long seconds she stared, and then mumbled, “I think so. Just a little shocked.”
A whiff of his musk cologne revived her with the subtle charm of a southern preacher casting his congregation under his spell.
He frowned. “Does it hurt to move anything?”
“Sometimes it did before I fell.”
The stranger’s face softened and his lips curved upward. “A sense of humor, huh? That’s a good sign.”
“I suppose.” His deep voice relaxed her like a cup of chamomile tea, the balanced and certain tone of his words easing her wounded spirit. Maybe this guy was a sign her rotten luck might change. “So, where’s your white horse?”
“In the stable. Today I came in the white Camry.” He motioned with a wave of his hand to a corner of the parking lot.
She pushed up on her elbow to look and a sharp pain jabbed her neck. “Ow!”
“Careful.” His smile disappeared. “I was on my way over to help when you fell. You hit pretty hard.”
The heat of embarrassment skittered up her cheeks. Not only had he witnessed her spastic aerobics, but she never played the distressed-damsel-on-the-dirty-ground card. A woman proficient at fly-fishing, who learned how to drive in a pickup truck and who, in her job as a journalist, had uncovered a corrupt politician, should be up and running by now.
“Go slow.” His request suggested doling out orders came easy. “May I help?”
She nodded. He slipped a gentle hand into hers. The chill coating her skin melted against his warm touch. His well-groomed nails and thick fingers suggested he didn’t work outdoors, rather the clean hands of a man who spent his days in an office. No wedding band either. He helped her sit and studied her as if a question perched on the edge of his thoughts.
“Can I call someone?” He blinked. “Your husband?”
“Oh, I’m not married.” She caught the slight twitch of his mouth. “My son’s supposed to be on his way to restack the boats.”
Since her divorce from Mike, she’d concluded the available men in Northbridge were as predictable as the assortment at the dollar rental video store, filled with decade-old hits she’d seen so many times they held little interest. This man was a refreshing change.
“Ready to try to stand?” He took her by the elbow and she nodded.
Once on her feet, their hands remained together.
He glanced at them and let his drop. “You’ll probably think this is crazy but—”
“Sophie?” The owner of Griswold’s Café stood across the street and wiped his hands on a stained white apron. He’d placed the call to her father to alert them about the vandalism at Dad’s boat shed. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She waved. “Thanks.”
She returned to the newcomer’s gaze, as blue as the deep Caribbean Sea and as shiny as a starburst.
He raised his dirt-stained hands. “You might want to check yours.”
Sure enough, her palms carried the same smudges from the impact of her fall. “Hold on. I have something to clean us off.”
She trotted to her car, hoping the backside of her blazer covered any mess on the back of her pants.
After finding a package of wipes in the center console, she cleaned herself spotless and peeked in the rearview mirror. Her dark chocolate curls scattered with the freewill of a reckless perm. She neatened them with her fingertips then grabbed her cell and tried to call Matt but landed in his voice mail. The second she hung up, the phone rang. Bernadette’s name showed on the display.
“Hey.”
“Is your speech ready for tonight? You’re our star speaker.”
Bernadette always latched onto a crusade. The first was in third grade, a petition over the slaughter of baby seals for their skins. For tonight’s public hearing, Bernadette had promised everyone the fight of her life. Her special interest group’s concern about the large-scale development on Blue Moon Lake proposed by Resort Group International was a sore topic for many local residents, especially Sophie.
“Better find a new star speaker. There’s a change of plans.” Sophie readied herself for a negative reaction. “I’m covering the story for the paper now.”
Saving Anna Page 25