The Roses Underneath (4 page)

Madeleine smiled. “Well he seems nice. Anna, maybe he can help you find out about Thomas.”

Anna snorted. “Oh, I doubt that. I met Captain Cooper today as well. He was not happy about Amalia being there. He thinks me a delinquent mother. He made it clear that she was not to come back.” She shrugged. “Tomorrow will be interesting.”

“Child, I am sure he is reasonable.
If Amalia is not making any trouble. And he gave her a book. . .” Madeleine trailed off. “Well, perhaps that would give him cause to help you find out about Thomas. You know, to reunite the family.”

“I don’t want to ask them for a thing. And even if I did, and he agreed, which I doubt, that does not solve the problem for tomorrow. And anyway, why would he help me? He has enough to do. I’d be better off going to the Red Cross. That’s their responsibility after all, no?” She picked her bag off the floor and dug around inside. “Let’s not worry about that now. Let’s have our dinner.”

She pulled out the slices she had cut from their loaf of bread, spread with a bit of lard and wrapped in an old newspaper. Then the last boiled egg, which she handed Madeleine. For dessert there was an anemic, rubbery carrot cut into three pieces.

“What do you know about Frau Hermann? From downstairs?” Anna asked Madeleine as she handed a slice of bread to Amalia.

Madeleine peeled the egg. “Ingeborg? Not that much. But she was the worst informant during the bad years. Or the best, depending on your point of view. I guess you got the bread from her at the bakery?”

“Yes. She thinks I am trading favors with
Amis
so my child can have a book to read,” Anna said.

“Oh she thinks everyone is trading favors. She thought that during Adolf’s time too. Everyone was sleeping with anyone in a black uniform to get a tin of coffee or a piece of bacon. I think she’s just jealous that no one on either side wants to trade favors with her,” Madeleine laughed.

“So how is it that she’s still in business? Did she lie on her
Fragebogen
?” asked Anna, considering the questionnaire the Amis gave all Germans as a way to sort the good from the bad.
What have you been doing for the last ten years? How many neighbors got sent away thanks to your watchful eye? How much did you love the Reich?
De-Nazification, the
Amis
called it, like de-lousing. As if that were possible.

“Oh she was never a member of the Party, not properly. She was one of those horrible women in the
Frauenbund
, a model of all that German motherhood nonsense, but nothing more. She was just a busybody. She would have sold out her mother as easily to the Nazis as to the Americans if she thought it would get her somewhere. The Americans don’t care if you are an old fashioned fishwife of the first order. That’s not on their questionnaire. Even they can’t de-fishwife the world.” Madeleine laughed again, this time with less conviction. “Some things will never change.”

“Yes, I guess the fishwives will always be among us,” lamented Anna. She shook her head as Madeleine offered the peeled egg. “You two share it.”

“Child you must eat more. You are the breadwinner now. You have to take better care.”

Anna waved her off and watched Amalia bite the egg in half. “Leave the rest for Auntie, Maus,” she said. She leaned back on her elbows and looked at the late day sunlight streaking through the windows above. “Madeleine, what was the name of that sanatorium where Mother worked in Vienna? Do you remember?” Anna leaned back and chewed on her bread.

“Why do you ask that, child?”

“I was just remembering how Mother would read books to the patients—the veterans from the Great War—when she was volunteering there. She would pick books so carefully for each man to make sure it was something he would like, something that would lift his spirits or make him feel whole again, even just for a while. And she would always make those delicious little cream cakes that I wrapped in paper and brought to the hospital every Sunday. Do you remember?”

“Oh, they all loved her there. The patients, the nurses, the doctors. Especially that special doctor.” Madeleine winked at Anna. She meant Thomas, the handsome young doctor who had just arrived from Innsbruck. He was trying some new psychological treatment on the patients to help them fight battle fatigue. The day Anna met him he had just sat all night at a man’s bedside as he tossed in tormented sleep. Thomas spent his days on the ward talking and listening to the soldiers, always compassionate and kind. Where the practice had been to lock these men away, he brought their pain out into the open. As Anna would learn, he was never afraid to face the things that others turned away from.

“He caused such a stir when he arrived there at the hospital,” Madeleine said. “He was very modern with all his talking therapies, or whatever they called it. Everyone thought so.” Madeleine smiled at the memory. “I remember your mother telling me about him one day. We met at Herrenhof for coffee and she had just come from the sanatorium. She was delighted that someone was showing real compassion and concern for the men. I admired that about her, even when we were growing up. She was always concerned with the welfare of others. I think it was her true calling.”

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Anna whispered. “I miss her so much.”

Madeleine put a papery hand on Anna’s and squeezed. “I know, my dear. I do, too.
Kathrin was my best friend for fifty years, can you imagine that? Even with this damnable war I never thought we would lose her. Seems so naive now.”

Hearing her mother’s name spoken
aloud made Anna wince. She bit herself hard on the inside of her cheek to stem the vision of fire and burning flesh that always accompanied her mother’s memory now.

“Anyway, it was Heldenburg,” Madeleine said, shaking her head and taking a bite of the bread.

“What was Heldenburg?”

“The sanatorium. The name just came to me. What brought this memory on?”

“It was the book that reminded me. The one the
Ami
gave to Amalia. And then I couldn’t believe that I forgot the name of the place. I hate how memories just slip away like that. As if they never happened.”

“Mama, can we read now?” Amalia’s voice severed the thread of Anna’s memories. Amalia crawled to the edge of the bed and threw herself down on her stomach, dangling her head off the side and holding the book down to the floor with straightened arms. Even though she’d pretended not to, she had been listening, as usual. “Captain Cooper can help Papa find us right Aunt Madeleine? The Americans know where everyone is, right?” She nodded in agreement with herself. “They can find anything. I watched them all day. Do they get to keep everything, Mama? Since they won? Are we going to be American now?”

“Do you want to be American?” Anna asked with a smile. “You would make a fine American, I think. They need smart girls like you on their side. And you are very good at finding things, too.”

Amalia remembered the button she had found on the street that morning and pulled it out of her pocket. “Look what I have, Auntie,” she said putting out her hand.

“Well, that’s the most beautiful button I have ever seen.” Madeleine looked at the small heart-shaped token and clapped her hands together. “I have just the thing for that,” she beamed. She opened the drawer of her nightstand and rummaged among the papers, then pulled out a short length of green silk ribbon. “That one sweet nurse used this to tie my hair. Watch this,
Schatz
,” she said, and strung the button onto the ribbon. She tied the ribbon around Amalia’s neck and centered the button in the front. “There now. You look smashing. Just like a princess.”

Amalia fingered her new necklace, her smile wide. “Like a duchess,” she said. “Thank you, Auntie. Now I can wear it all the time.” She threw her arms around the old woman.

“Oh! What’s that sound I hear?” said Madeleine putting her finger to her lips. “I hear a terrible rumbling. What is it? Where is that coming from?” She spun her head dramatically around and put her ear to Amalia’s belly. “It’s in here. It’s the belly monster that wants to be fed. We better give him some more bread before he gets angry.” She gave Amalia her slice of bread. “Here, eat this.”

“Auntie, no, it’s yours. You have to eat so you can feel better. I don’t want to eat it.” Amalia pushed the bread away. “Please Auntie, you eat it.”

Madeleine sighed. She took the bread and ate it as Amalia watched her. When she was done, she kissed the girl on the cheek. “You,
mein Kind
, are your father’s daughter. You are a good little sausage. What a lucky old girl I am to have you looking out for me. I promise I will get better. Now, where did you put that book?”

As Madeleine and Amalia sat engrossed in
The Snow Queen
, Anna cleared the remnants of their tiny meal as she sucked on her carrot. She scooped the eggshells into the newspaper and folded it into her purse. She would put the shells into her barley coffee tomorrow. Then she lay across the foot of the bed and listened as Madeleine read. Fairytale visions floated in her head and she considered what would happen tomorrow, when Amalia turned up again at the Collecting Point. Soon the summer would be over and schools might start. First the Americans had to rewrite all the history books, or at least take out the biggest lies.
How long does something like that take, rewriting history
, she wondered. She looked at Madeleine who was putting on a brave front for Amalia, but seemed to be sinking into the bed as she wore out. Amalia, her head on the pillow next to Madeleine, stared wide-eyed at the pages. Madeleine’s voice, a whisper now, told about the devil’s mirror that shattered into a million pieces and covered the land like grains of sand so everyone in the world could see only ugliness in everything around them. As she mustered the energy to go home, Anna realized she couldn’t remember how the story ended.

“
Frau Klein, a word, please.”

Anna looked at the clock.
Quarter of twelve. It had taken longer than she had expected. “Yes of course,” she said as she stood from her table and walked through the door that Captain Cooper held open for her. Out in the hall, he gestured for her to walk with him.

“Let’s go to my office. We can talk there.”

Anna nodded and followed him toward the stairwell. She tried to read the American’s demeanor and gauge how much trouble she was in. He seemed calm but she could never tell with the
Amis
. After so many years of barking and screaming from men in uniforms, the Americans’ friendliness confused her. She walked down one flight of stairs and emerged on the second floor, which was being converted to makeshift offices. Metal desks hugged the walls in the open galleries while salvaged tables and chairs from the museum’s better days teetered in uneven stacks. They made their way toward a small alcove on the far side where a desk and chair formed a small workspace. A telephone wire ran down the back of the desk and along the entire length of the floor before dropping down through the railing into the open space on the floor below. Cooper placed a chair facing the desk and motioned for her to sit. He took his seat opposite her, leaned back and folded his hands across his stomach. He looked at Anna, and blinked as if thinking of something to say. When he spoke, he sounded like a father scolding a child.

“Frau Klein, maybe I didn’t make myself clear yesterday. What I said was that your daughter was not to come back here. I thought we had come to an understanding—or was I mistaken?” He flexed his jaw and waited for her to answer.

“Yes of course, Captain, you made yourself very clear.” Anna tried a smile. “I’ve found a place for her to go on Monday. It was just too short notice for today.” She closed her mouth before more lies could escape. Cooper looked at her skeptically. Anna tried to change the subject. “Amalia is very happy to have her book. That was a most generous gesture. She loves books, and actually that story is one of my childhood favorites. So, thank you. A book is a very great treat for all of us.”

“All of us?” Cooper asked, leaning forward. “Who is ‘all of us?
’ ”

Anna shifted her weight. “The three of us. We live with an old family friend who took us in, in May. She is at St. Josephs—her lungs are bad—so that’s why she can’t watch Amalia. We came here from Thuringia, Amalia and I.”

“Thuringia, that east of here, right? Weimar is in Thuringia, am I right?”

Anna nodded.

“You are widowed?”

“No. My husband stayed behind. He is a doctor, so he was needed. He plans to join us as soon as he can.” She smiled as if to reassure him.

“A doctor. Was he at the front?”

Anna shook her head. “No, he was unable to serve. I mean
, that’s what they—the Army—said. He was in charge of the hospital in our district. That’s what he’s doing now.” A group of German workers passed the desk, talking and laughing. When they saw Cooper at his desk, they fell silent and walked by. One of them, a slight young man with dirty, blond hair fixed his eyes on Anna as he passed and smiled, but Anna looked back at the American.

“Hmm. So he was in the Party, your husband? Most doctors were in the Nazi Party, as I understand it,” Cooper said.

Anna straightened. “No, he wasn’t. Not officially.”

“What does that mean? Either he was or he wasn’t.” Cooper’s palms turned upwards as if to catch her answer.