The Roses Underneath (3 page)

“Frau Klein.”

Anna sat down and snatched the first form from the stack. She hadn’t realized that the room was full and everyone was back at work.

Frau Obersdorfer approached her table. “Eyes on the keys, please,” she said. “Little children should be in school so their mothers can work,” she said.

The shadows were long in the courtyard when Anna re-emerged from the building to find Amalia sitting in her spot, looking at a picture book.

“What have you got there, Maus?” she said as she wrapped her arms around her daughter, thankful they had made it through the day.

“Captain Cooper gave this book to me. Look, isn’t it so beautiful?” She sat up and grinned. “It’s called
The Snow Queen
.”

“Captain Cooper? He gave you a gift? Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. I can’t understand what he says. I tried to tell him I can’t read yet, and then he wanted to read it to me but it’s in German, so he couldn’t read it either. We just looked at the pictures.” She giggled and ran her hands over the book’s cover, its beige linen stained and worn.

Anna wondered where the book had come from. She picked up Lulu and tried to think of the last time Amalia had received a present. Christmas? Memories floated in her head—dates and occasions, seasons and celebrations. She could never seem to put them where they belonged anymore. When they drove away from their sunny little house they left behind everything that rooted them to their place. Of course, these were just things, Anna told herself, and not even valuable things at that. But things gave people a sense of being, of existing in the world. Maybe if the truck had made it all the way to their planned destination in Landstuhl, where Thomas’s cousins had a farm, Thomas would have found them by now. Instead they had slept on the street in the Wiesbaden town center, lost and starving. The
Amis
tried to move her and Amalia to a displaced persons camp, but Anna begged the MPs to help her find Madeleine’s house, on the Adolfsallee. When she finally saw it, the flood of memories of her mother’s best friend, her beloved Auntie Madeleine, nearly cut her legs out from under her. Almost unrecognizable with age and frailty, Madeleine had taken them into her bombed-out apartment without a moment of hesitation. Now all Anna had were the clothes on her back and a key to Madeleine’s home. And this job. Their new life had begun.

“Mama. Let’s go.” Amalia was on her feet, hopping up and down clutching the book to her chest with both arms wrapped tightly around it. She looked happy and was excited to get home. “Madeleine will be so happy,” she said. “Can we read it tonight after dinner?”

There was the dinner problem again. Anna took her daughter by the hand and they waited for the MP to wave them across the street. They walked up the hill of the Rheinstrasse and turned toward the old town with its narrow streets and dark corners. Clumps of people huddled, making exchanges and haggling over unseen goods. The black markets kept getting bigger. She considered seeing what was available, but didn’t like to take Amalia with her on those shopping trips.
No place for a kid,
she told herself, repeating the American’s words.

They walked on into the narrow passages with their empty shops and decapitated buildings. Twenty minutes later they were standing in a long line at the bakery. A line meant there was bread to be had inside. Anna craned her neck over the heads in front of her to see how much, if any, was left. Maybe they were in luck. The line lurched forward and women emerged from the small shop, each with one loaf of bread that Anna could smell as they passed. She was so hungry she felt like a hollow tree trunk, ready to fall face-first onto the street. She fingered the sleeve of the faded red dress that hung on her diminishing frame and could not believe there had ever been a day when she refused food in fear of losing her figure.

At the front of the line, she handed her ration card to a stern-looking woman with ruddy cheeks and a strong body odor. “Good evening, Frau Klein,” she said with an exaggerated smile that appeared on her face as if from nowhere.

“Good evening,” Anna returned the affectation.

The woman examined Anna’s card with squinting eyes as if she was deciding the authenticity of a painting. She looked up. “You have your daughter with you.
Hallo,
Amalia.” The woman winked. Amalia took a step closer to her mother and buried her face in Anna’s skirt. Anna placed a protective hand on the child’s head.

“Frau Wolf is doing well?” asked the woman.

Anna averted her eyes from the woman’s stare. “Frau Wolf has been admitted to the hospital.”

“Yes I know. She’s been so ill. I do hope it’s not the slow fever. Dear God in Heaven, after everything that’s happened, that would be just too much.”

Anna rubbed her hand against the fabric of her dress, as if to wipe off the invisible bacteria. “I am sure it will be all right.” She was not about to reveal anything more, in case Madeleine really did have typhoid. She pushed the thought out of her mind. “Thank you for your concern, Frau. . .”

“Hermann,” she said. “We are neighbors. I live downstairs at number 45, don’t you remember? We met when you and your daughter arrived.” Her eyes scanned Anna from top to bottom, landing on the hand bearing her wedding band before returning to her eyes. “You are working with the Americans now? With the artists or whatever they are?”

“They are not artists. They call themselves the Monuments Men,” Anna said, feeling all ears in the shop on their conversation. “They are doing something with all the stolen art.” She shrugged. “I am just a typist.”

Amalia peeked out from behind her mother’s skirt. “They gave me a book!” she said. “The American gave it to me.”

“Oh did he? How nice of him.” A sneer twitched on Frau Hermann’s face, but she caught it, winking at Amalia instead. “Your Papa will be so happy, won’t he?”

“My Papa’s not here. We left him behind,” Amalia mumbled.

“Yes, I know,” said Frau Herman, not taking her eyes off Anna, who returned the stare. An audible sigh came from the woman next in line. Frau Hermann completed the transaction deliberatively, tearing off the last ration stamp from Anna’s card and handing her the loaf of bread. “Well, that’s all your stamps until Saturday,” she remarked. “Please give Frau Wolf my best. Perhaps I’ll stop for a visit soon. It is so kind of her to take you in.” Another curl of the lip.

“Oh, yes, lovely,” said Anna, thinking the exact opposite as she took the bread and herded Amalia out the door. “Thank you, Frau Hermann,” she sang over her shoulder.

Outside on the street she stopped to put the bread into her bag. “Well, wasn’t that nice?” she chirped, feeling stupid.

“That woman is horrible,” Amalia said. “I don’t like her. Do you like her?”

Anna sighed. “No Maus, not really.” She began walking and Amalia ran alongside and slipped her hand into hers. Anna gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“How did she know my name?” Amalia’s eyes were focused on the pavement.

“Who doesn’t know the great Amalia Aloyisia Klein? I am sure word has spread far and wide about the bravery and beauty of Amalia the Magnificent.” Anna laughed.

Amalia stopped and let go of Anna’s hand. She clutched her book to her chest. “I still miss Papa. If he was here, he would read the book to me.”

Anna sighed. “I know,” she said.

“Do you think he’s safe?”

Anna started walking to avoid looking her daughter in the eye. “Yes, I do.” A lie. “I think we’ll see him soon when he comes to find us.” Another lie. She had not been able to contact him or anyone back home since they had arrived. The
Amis
kept promising that lines of communication would be up and running soon and then blamed the Russians for not cooperating. It had been weeks and she was at a loss as to what else to tell the girl, who didn’t believe her anyway.

“You left him there. I wanted to stay with him.” Amalia’s stared at her shoes. “He’s my Papa and you just left him. We are supposed to take care of each other.” She stood rooted to the spot.

Anna made to scoop Amalia into her arms but the child resisted, pushing her mother away and then swinging at her, landing a solid jab on Anna’s left cheek. Anna took a step back and put her hand to her face.

Although the blow stung only a little, tears clouded Anna’s eyes. Amalia turned her back on her mother and began to sob, her head bent over her chest and her tiny body shaking. Anna straightened and wondered for the hundredth time if she had been right to leave. Maybe they should have stayed. But she knew deep down in her center that they had to leave, or it would have been the end of them. Everyone knew about the rapes and the murders. Thomas had promised to protect them, but Anna knew it was impossible.

She took a step forward and pulled her daughter toward her, then squatted down to look her in the eye, gently holding her face in her hands. “I know, little Maus. I wanted to stay with him too. But it was not safe for us.” How to explain this world to a child? Even with her innocence already eroded, there was no reason to accommodate more horrors in her young mind. They had made it this far, and if they were very lucky, things would get better.              

Amalia finally crumbled, allowing Anna to pick her up. The girl buried her face in her mother’s collar and wrapped her arms around her. They both hung on to each other for dear life, and Anna welcomed the weight around her neck. It kept her feet from sliding out from under her.

She looked up at the glowing sky looking for some reassurance, but it only reinforced her insignificance. She blew her daughter’s hair away from her mouth. “All right, Maus. Lulu wants to hear your new story and so do I. We’ll go fetch some more food for Auntie and go visit her, how does that sound?”

Opening the door to the hospital’s public ward, Anna felt the warm, stale air and smelled the combination of urine and disinfectant; it made her grimace. She peered into the dim room, its long corridor formed by rows of beds and curtains lined up like some kind of waiting room for the afterlife. Nurses bustled from one bed to the next, moving trays and bedpans with no discernible purpose. At the far end, a small, fat nurse spotted Anna and Amalia and turned to the person lying in the bed near her.

“Frau Wolf, your daughter is here.” The nurse’s voice seemed to echo between the tiled walls and high ceiling. She gestured at Anna to come in.

“Wait here, Maus,” Anna whispered and left Amalia standing in the open door as she crossed the room. They had devised the ruse that Anna was Madeleine’s daughter in order to secure visitation rights. Their papers were lost, they said, but the hospital didn’t seem to care that much anyway. Anna walked past the beds of patients, some sleeping, others sitting with visitors, and a few lying dormant, eyes open but not moving, like porcelain dolls presented on beds of white linen.

The woman’s wrinkled face sprang to life when she saw Anna. “Are you back again? Oh, I am so glad.” Madeleine stretched out her arms to invite an embrace. Anna leaned into the woman’s bony frame, cradling her like a newborn. Madeleine smelled of rosewater as she always had—a small constant that comforted Anna.

“Where is my girl?” Madeleine whispered, eyes sparkling. Anna straightened to beckon Amalia but she was already there. She jumped on the bed.

“Look at what I got, Auntie, a book. It’s about the Snow Queen.” Amalia held up the tattered book and ignored Anna’s motions for her to be quiet.

Madeleine laughed and clapped her hands. “A book? Where on earth did you get such a treasure?” Madeleine looked at Anna.

“One of the
Amis
gave it to her,” Anna said, sitting down on the bed. “It probably came through the Collecting Point with some other belongings. It’s not worth anything, so I guess they didn’t know what to do with it.”

“Captain Cooper gave me the book, Auntie. But he can’t read German, so maybe I will read it to him when I am big.” Amalia wiggled the book in her hands so Madeleine would take it from her.

“Captain Cooper? Who is he? He sounds important.” Madeleine pulled herself up onto her elbows, sparking a coughing fit that sent Anna for the carafe. She poured water into an old teacup, held it to the woman’s lips, and helped her take a few sips.

“Madeleine you should rest. We just wanted to come and give you a hug. We’ll only stay a few minutes.”

“Nonsense. I have been resting all day.” Madeleine shooed Anna out of the way to make room for Amalia to snuggle up. “Now,
meine Kleine
, my little one, tell me about everything you saw today.”

It occurred to Anna that she had been so preoccupied that she had not asked her daughter about how she had passed the day, or what Captain Cooper had said to her. Between the mess with him and wondering what they would have for dinner, she had not even thought to ask.

Amalia giggled. “Oh Auntie, everything was so strange. I sat on my bench and at first the American at the gate, he didn’t talk to me. I watched all those jeeps go in and out. I watched the men fix the windows. Then the guard smiled at me and gave me a wave. So I waved back. Then he started making silly faces. He was very funny. Then Captain Cooper came, and the first guard—he stopped and pretended not to see me anymore. Captain Cooper asked me my name but he talked very funny. He said
was ist deine name?
”