CHAPTER 23 - OLDENBURG, GERMANY—DECEMBER 19, 1916 #2
Arriving at the train station, they went straight to work.
Although the structure provided cover from the wind and snow, the temperature remained frigid.
To protect Nia’s frail paw, they took periodic breaks on a wooden bench, where they placed the dog on their laps and warmed her pads with their bare hands.
Since Max did not receive his usual military-issued lunch, which he presumed was at St Lambert’s, Anna insisted that he eat half of her lunch, a leftover turnip latke that Norbie had packed for her.
Regardless of their fatigue and hunger, they pressed on with training, practicing left turns, right turns, and avoidance of obstacles.
Nia excelled at carriage work—when Max told her to “find the seat”—and she shined with intelligent disobedience work by successfully refusing to follow Max’s commands to place him in danger of falling off the ledge of the platform.
Waldemar checked in on them twice to make sure they were working and, while doing so, made disparaging comments about their dog handling techniques.
But Waldemar’s contempt didn’t rattle Max as it did before.
The isolated training had turned out to be blessing, all because he had more time with Anna and Nia.
* * *
After training, they arrived home to a dark, empty home. Anna, still wearing her coat, lit a lamp, and placed it on the kitchen table.
“Norbie is running errands and will be home late.” She removed her leather gloves and blew on her fingers. “We were saving our small stash of coal for later in the winter, but I think we’re going to need it tonight. Would you mind making a fire in the kachelofen?”
“Not at all,” Max said, unbuckling Nia’s harness.
He ruffled the dog’s fur, and then ran his hand along the living room wall until he found the tiled stove.
He removed hunks of coal from a tin bucket and placed them into the stove by stacking on a layer of kindling, arranged like a small wooden pallet.
He stuffed in paper and lit it, using a box of matches he’d located by the bucket.
I so appreciate the latitude to do things on my own, Max thought.
Unlike Wilhelmina, Anna and Norbie don’t fret about me accidentally setting the house on fire.
“I’m boiling water in the kitchen,” Anna said, entering the room. “I’ll prepare you a washbasin.”
“Danke,” Max said. “But you wash first. Your teeth were chattering; the hot water will take off your chill.”
“Are you sure?”
“Ja,” Max said. He patted his lap, and Nia sprang to him. “I have a dog to keep me warm.”
Anna smiled. “All right.”
While Max waited for the tiled stove to radiate heat, he remained in his coat and cuddled with Nia on the sofa.
He took in a few deep breaths, attempting to alleviate the tightness in his chest. The brumal air makes my lungs feel like they’re being squeezed in a vise.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, rubbing Nia’s ears.
Nia panted.
He gently rubbed Nia’s right front leg. “Is your paw okay?”
Nia leaned back her head and gave him a wet lick to the chin.
He chuckled. “I guess so.”
Twenty minutes later, Anna entered the room and approached him. “Ready for your washbasin?”
Max nodded. He stood, unbuttoned his coat, and slid his cap from his head.
“When was the last time you had your hair cut?”
Max ran a hand over his head. “I can’t remember.”
“Come to the kitchen,” she said. “I’ll cut your hair.”
“It’s not necessary,” he said.
“Norbie never goes to a barber. I trim his hair and beard, and he’s never complained about my work, even when I nearly snipped off his earlobe.”
Max fidgeted with the cuff of his coat sleeve.
Anna giggled.
She’s kidding. “All right.”
Minutes later, Max was leaning over the kitchen sink as Anna gently saturated his hair with warm water. Using lye soap, which omitted an ammonia-like smell, she lathered his hair. The touch of her fingers over his scalp sent tingles down his neck and spine. His heart rate quickened.
“Am I getting soap in your eyes?”
“Nein,” he said.
She rinsed his hair and gently dried it with a towel, then sat him in a chair with the towel draped over his back and shoulders. Using a pair of scissors and a comb, she began to trim his bangs.
Anna’s breath caressed his face. His skin prickled. “How long have you been cutting Norbie’s hair?” he asked, attempting to distract his thoughts.
Anna snipped strands of hair. “Since I was in grammar school. He made the mistake of mentioning that my mutter had cut his hair. I offered to do it for him, and he accepted.”
“I’m not surprised.” Max shifted in his seat.
“Hold still.”
He felt the cool steel of the scissors against his forehead, then the sound of snips as she cut along his bangs and temples.
For twenty minutes, Anna combed and cut his hair, while Nia—sitting in the corner—batted her tail against the wall in response to their intermittent conversation. As Anna trimmed around his neck, the clack of Norbie’s footsteps grew in the stairway.
“Hallo,” Norbie said, entering the kitchen and placing a bag on the counter.
Max’s face flushed. “Hallo, Norbie.”
“I’d keep very still if I were you,” Norbie said. “I once sneezed during a haircut, and she nearly severed my earlobe.”
“That was a long time ago,” Anna said. “And it was only a tiny nick that barely bled.”
“I thought you were joking about Norbie’s ear,” Max said.
“Nein,” Anna chuckled. “I’ve never been very good with sharp objects, especially the hypodermic needles that I injected while working as a nurse.” She removed the towel and dusted hair from his neck.
Max smiled, running a hand through his clean, trimmed hair. “Feels good. Danke.”
“You’re welcome.” She turned to Norbie. “Would you like a trim while I have the scissors?”
“Not tonight,” Norbie said. “I have a few things that I want to show you. A small food shipment arrived in Oldenburg, and I waited in the ration line for three hours.” He removed a half-loaf of bread from the bag and placed it on the counter.
Anna gasped, covering her mouth.
“What is it?” Max asked.
“Black bread,” Anna said.
“And one egg,” Norbie said, carefully removing a brown egg from his coat pocket. “It’ll make your turnip latkes even more delectable, my boy.”
A wave of relief rolled through Max. Anna and Norbie will have food for a few more days.
“It turns out that bartering timepieces is a lot easier if you’re not seeking food.” Norbie rummaged in the bag and handed a stack of papers to Anna. “I traded an old watch to a music store owner in exchange for blank staff paper. I hope it’s the kind that you wanted.”
“It’s perfect,” Anna said, examining the paper.
A memory of Anna recording his piano composition on scratch paper flashed in Max’s head.
“I told him about your composition,” Anna said. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” Max said.
Anna peeked in the bag and smiled. “This is for you, Max. Hold out your hands.”
Max accepted what felt like an elaborate candlestick holder, until he explored it with his hands. A nine-branched candelabrum. “Menorah?”
“Ja,” Norbie said. “Anna thought that you might want to celebrate Hanukkah, so I paid a visit to an old friend who is the rabbi of the Oldenburg synagogue. According to the Jewish calendar, tonight is the lighting of the first candle.”
“This is incredibly thoughtful and generous,” Max said. “How can I repay you?”
“You and Nia can join me on a trip to the forest to bring home a silver fir tree for Christmas,” Norbie said. “And you can continue playing the piano. This house hasn’t sounded this beautiful since my wife, Helga, was alive.”
Max nodded. “It’s an honor to play Helga’s piano.”
Norbie drew a jagged breath. He sniffed and wiped his eyes with a handkerchief.
After many years, his heartache is still raw.
Max wondered, although briefly, how long it would take for his own heart to heal from the death of his mutter and vater.
And if he would ever experience the boundless, unconditional endearment that his parents had.
He shook away his thoughts and said, “I’ll make dinner tonight—I insist.”
After a meal of turnip latkes, containing egg and black bread crumbs, they settled in the living room.
For the first time in days, their bellies didn’t ache with hunger.
Anna inserted two partially used candles into the menorah, which she placed on a table near the window.
Max lit the candle in the middle, the shamash.
He said a silent blessing, and then used the shamash to light the candle on the right side of the menorah.
Max—rejuvenated by nourishment and, even more, Anna and Norbie’s warmth—took a seat at the piano.
For two hours he performed classical concertos and suites, as well as a several folk songs—including “O Tannenbaum”—which Norbie sang until he grew tired and went off to bed.
Alone with Anna, Max made room for her on the piano bench, where they sat thigh-to-thigh.
Beneath the bench, Nia curled at the heels of their feet.
With his mind and heart on Anna, Max began to play “Prelude” from the piano suite called Light that they’d worked on the night before.
Bar by bar and with much repetition, Anna recorded the composition on the new staff paper.
The process was tedious and slow. But Anna didn’t seem to mind, and neither did Nia, given the occasional swishes of her tail from beneath the bench.
As the candles on the menorah burned low, Anna leaned her head to Max’s shoulder and yawned.
Max paused, resting his hands on the keys. “Tired?”
“A little.”
“You should go to bed.”
“Not yet,” she said, her voice soft. “I was wondering—do you know what the second movement of the suite will sound like?”
“I think so.” He inhaled, taking in the scent of her hair. “Would you like to hear it?”
“I’d love to.”
Nia’s tail thumped the floor.
Max reflected on his time with Anna and Nia. I feel alive, he thought. Drawing upon the flurry of emotions swirling inside him, he positioned his hands over the keys and played.