The Roses Underneath (6 page)

Anna woke with a start, her heart pounding in her ears. She sat up and tried to get her bearings. When she remembered the events of the previous afternoon, she fell back into the pillow and groaned. What would happen now? She had left the Collecting Point without notice or explanation and not returned. She could see Frau Obersdorfer’s smile spreading across her face as she considered a more worthy replacement for Anna. Next to Anna, Amalia slept, her breath steady and her small body cool to the touch.
That Cooper might stand up for m
e, Anna thought, but she hated the idea of being beholden to anyone, let alone an
Ami
. Then again, the job was the only thing standing between her and complete despair. She was earning all the money that fed Amalia and Madeleine. They depended on her. All three of them depended on the damn
Amis
. She closed her eyes. Thomas’s face appeared before her, and she let it stay. In the morning quiet it was as if the two of them were alone and she inhaled his presence, taking in the memory of his smell, the feel of his starched collar against her cheek when she turned her face toward his. The sight of him was vague and shimmery; she couldn’t make out the particulars of his face, which worried her.
I am forgetting him
, she thought, and tears burned the corners of her eyes.

Later she and Amalia sat at the little square table having a breakfast of leftover bread toasted on the stove. With some butter and a cup of real coffee it would have been a decent meal.
One out of three is better than nothing
, thought Anna. She was still in the green, flowery nightgown that Thomas used to say made her look like she had been swallowed by her mother’s drapes. It was her favorite because she had worn it in the hospital after giving birth to Amalia. Now that her frame was considerably smaller she thought that both of them could easily fit in it together again. Amalia chewed on her toast and drew a picture on a scrap of paper. Anna felt the warm, late-summer breeze slide in through the window and stroke her face. It was going to be another hot day.

“Mama, look!” Amalia held up her picture.

Anna guessed it was a woman wearing a large headdress. Big circles hovered where ear ears would be “Very nice,” she said, distracted.

“Mama? Who is Queen Nefertiti?” Amalia asked twirling the pencil between her fingers.

The question took Anna off-guard. “Queen Nefertiti? Well, she was the wife of an Egyptian pharaoh. Why do you ask about her?”

Amalia ignored the question. “What else?” she asked.

Anna racked her dormant mind. “People say she was the most beautiful woman to ever live.” She squinted at Amalia. “Why do you want to know about her?” She took a hair clip from the table by the bed and began gathering her hair at the nape of her neck.

Amalia jumped onto the bed. “Because I think Captain Cooper told me she is coming here.”

“That’s impossible, Maus. Queen Nefertiti has been dead for thousands of years,” Anna laughed.

Amalia giggled. “Not the
real
queen, mama. The statue. It is coming. Captain Cooper said.” She played with Anna’s hair. “Captain Cooper said he would let me see Nefertiti when she comes.”

“Oh he did?” Anna’s voice was at a low simmer. “Well we’ll see, little Maus. You know, I want to tell you something.” She tried to act indifferent to her own words, hiding her anxiety over what she was about to say. Amalia, as usual, sensed her unease right away and set her
jaw, ready to defy whatever it was that was coming her way.

“Listen to me,” Anna began. “Today we will go visit a nice lady who can maybe look after you while I go to work. So you won’t have to wait for me anymore.” She smiled a pained smile.

“What kind of lady?” Amalia fingered the edge of the blanket.

“A very nice lady I’m sure. We will go visit her together today, you and I. And then you can see for yourself.” She reached out and stroked Amalia’s hair. “And there will be other children there too, so you can make some friends. Won’t that be nice?”

Amalia looked away, her bottom lip pushed into a scowl. “But what about Captain Cooper? He is my friend.”

“Well, if you start going to this new lady’s house then you won’t be at the Collecting Point anymore. So you won’t see Captain Cooper anymore either.” Anna stood, surprised at her own irritation. She hadn’t meant to sound so final, but it was true. And anyway, she probably didn’t have the job anymore, after missing a whole afternoon. She would have to find new work right away. Amalia deflated and shot her an angry look.

“But I want to see Nefertiti. And Captain Cooper is my friend, not yours, so you don’t get to say.”

Anna sighed. She refused to use up her energy on a fight today and for sure not over some promise the
Ami
had made. “Yes, Maus, all right. We will talk about it later. Let Queen Nefertiti arrive in one piece and then we’ll see, yes? Now let’s have a quick bath. I’ll go see if there’s any water.”

In the afternoon, after they had picked up their new ration book, Anna and Amalia rode around town on Madeleine’s old bicycle. Heading north on the Wilhelmstrasse they cut through the park, stopping to sit by the pond for a while. Amalia ran in circles between the plane trees. Work crews made up of former Nazi party members organized the rubble into manageable piles under the watch of American guards. Because the rubble train did not reach this far, the piles were well picked over for anything that might be useful and now had to be transported by wheelbarrow. The wood was all gone—stored up for the winter or used for cooking—so all that remained were the dusty fragments of stone and concrete that had been the arcade of the state theater next to the park.

After a while they rode up to the casino and spa where the noble and famous had come for centuries to rejuvenate and revive themselves. Now it was the Americans’ turn. They had requisitioned the place as the Eagle Club, exclusive to officers and dignitaries. Anna wondered how it looked inside and what luxuries were bestowed on those deemed worthy to enter. She and Amalia stood at the edge of the bowling green, the once great lawn that was the casino’s welcome mat. Rows of jeeps were parked at the entry, and officers milled around the bombed-out arcades, chatting up German girls and showing off. Others sat on the edge of a fountain, their laughter rising in the air and floating past Anna’s ears on its way somewhere else. She felt like a child with her nose pressed against the window of a pastry shop.

“Mama?” Amalia pulled at her skirt. “Being American looks better than being German.”

Anna had to agree. It did look that way from where she was standing.

“Mama? Will you have to go to work every day?”

“Yes of course, Maus, you know that.”

“But what if Papa comes? Will you still have to go to work?”

“I don’t know. We will see. I need to earn money so we can put our life back together. Maybe get a new house. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Amalia nodded. “A new house with Papa?”

Anna nodded and took the girl’s hand. They started toward the old city, pushing the bicycle through the Kaiser-Friedrich-Platz with the half-demolished Nassauer Hof Hotel, which Anna remembered having visited once when she had come with her mother to visit Madeleine before the war. It had been an elegant, storied old place. Now it was a badly wounded relic of another time, over which the Kaiser’s statue still presided. Even he was looking toward the Americans across the street, watching them rebuild his beloved country. Anna had always thought that Friedrich’s more liberal attitudes toward government and his hatred of war to be a kinship, but now she viewed him with disdain. He stood, one leg in front of the other, trying to take a step toward the
Amis
, but rooted forever to his plinth, forced to watch and accept his fate.

They turned back to make their way to the Schilling house through the narrow maze of streets that led to the Marktkirche in the center of the city. In between the burned and bombed façades, some semblance of everyday life had resumed. Here and there a makeshift shop was open, trying to sell whatever bare necessities were on hand. But the only people with any money were the
Amis
, who walked the streets in small packs like tourists on a ruined vacation. They wanted to spend their dollars on souvenirs, but the kind of souvenirs they wanted, the kind that proved they had won the war, were burned or buried in back yards all over the country. The people who had all the money didn’t want what was for sale, and those with no money desperately did.

At four o’clock Anna and Amalia stood at the iron gate of a small Wilhelminian villa on the Gustav-Freytag-Strasse that did not look too much worse for wear. The neighborhood to the east of the old Landesmuseum that was now the Collecting Point retained
a leafy nobility despite the occasional evidence of bombing. Anna double-checked the address and then leaned the bicycle on her hip to straighten Amalia’s dress, which had become twisted during the ride up the hills. They had put on the best dresses they had brought with them: Anna’s was a red one with little white flowers and a bow at the neck, Amalia’s a too-short blue hand-me down with a sailor’s collar. Anna tried to flatten the curls that had escaped from the girl’s braids as they always did and then checked her own hair. Finally, she pushed the button next to the metal nameplate that read
Schilling
and looked at Amalia.

“Best manners please, Maus,” she said. “Remember
please
and
thank you
. And don’t take too much food, even if it’s offered.”

“Let’s not embarrass ourselves.” Amalia said, anticipating her mother’s next words. Anna smiled into her collar.

A door at the side of the house opened and a tall, athletic woman bounded down the short run of steps toward them. She crossed the small yard in three long strides and opened the gate with a hard pull.

“Frau Klein?
Wilkommen.
I am
Frieda Schilling.” She offered a strong handshake and a warm smile. Her bright face was framed by blonde braids coiled on top of her head but her flowery dress was threadbare and faded. She seemed to Anna to be very young. “Please do come in. Bring your bicycle inside the gate too. We have to keep everything nailed down these days.” Her voice was loud but friendly. She trained her eyes on Amalia, bent over, and cocked her head to one side. “And you must be my new friend. I am happy to see you. I hope you will like it here.”

Amalia shrank behind her mother’s legs and said nothing. Anna thanked Frieda and walked the bicycle and her daughter through the open gate. “You are kind to invite us,” Anna said. “Thank you.”

“Nonsense,” said Frieda, guiding Anna to the front door. “Emil tells me you are in need of childcare, and that is the one thing I am good at. We must all pull together and get through this difficult time.”

The door opened to a large foyer with a staircase leading up and down. A door on the left was closed. Frieda led the way up the stairs. “Emil has taken the downstairs apartment since he returned from the front but I live upstairs. It’s much nicer. You can get some fresh air up there.” The stairs creaked underfoot in a comforting, homey way and the smell of cooking floated in the air. At the top of the stairs a beveled glass door stood open. Frieda gestured them inside.

The upstairs was smaller than Anna expected, but well-appointed. Refined but well-worn worn fabrics in dark red and green covered the antique furniture and paintings were stacked two and three high on the wall. Amalia’s wide eyes took everything in without blinking.

“You live here with your family?” Anna asked.

“Emil and I have the house to ourselves. It’s been in our family for generations. Mother used to live upstairs on the top floor but she’s passed on. It’s been just us for a long time.” Frieda motioned for them to take seats on the long sofa. Amalia crawled up next to her mother and leaned in close.

“I am terribly sorry,” said Anna. “It must be very hard.” Talk about people’s families made her uncomfortable because it inevitably led to questions about hers. She changed the subject. “So the Americans are not interested in your house? How fortunate.”

“So far, we’ve been lucky. There are much nicer mansions that are more their taste. I think they’ve overlooked us. But I suppose that could change at any moment.” She took a seat on one of the end chairs. “You are not from Wiesbaden?”

“No, we came in June. We are staying with a friend until my husband joins us.”

“He’s a doctor, my Papa, is,” said Amalia.

Frieda smiled at her. “How nice. I am sure he misses you very much.” Frieda leaned in close from her seat in the armchair. “Amalia, may I ask you a question? Do you like
Apfel Strudel
?”

Amalia’s eyes expanded. “I’ve never had it.”

“Never? Well, I’ve just taken one from the oven, just for you.” Frieda clasped her hands triumphantly.

“You made apple strudel?” Anna’s mind ran down the list of ingredients for a strudel: butter, sugar, flour,
apples. Frieda may as well have said she cooked magic beans in a pot of gold.

Frieda stood and made her way toward the kitchen across the hall. “Yes, we got a bit lucky and I got my hands on some apples this week. Not the best ones, but apples nonetheless. And the only thing apples are good for is strudel, as my mother used to say.”