CHAPTER 25 - OLDENBURG, GERMANY—JANUARY 23, 1917
Anna, accompanied by Max and Nia, stood on the landing as the evening train chugged into the Oldenburg station.
Her heart rate quickened as the train’s wheels screeched over steel rails.
Although she was excited to see Bruno, an uneasiness stirred inside her.
It’s been so long since we’ve been together.
I hope things will be the same between us.
In an attempt to bury her worry, she removed her leather gloves and ran her fingers through Nia’s fur.
Nia looked up at Anna and panted, her breath misting in the cold air.
“You’re a good girl, Nia,” Anna said.
The dog swished her tail.
“Do you see him?” Max asked, as the train hissed to a stop.
Anna scanned the passengers seated next to the carriage windows. “Not yet.”
The carriage doors opened and passengers, a blend of civilians and soldiers, descended upon the landing.
Anna stood on her toes, but was unable to see through the growing crowd of people.
She left Max and Nia, and then wriggled through the throng, like a spawning salmon fighting a current.
But within a few minutes, the passengers filtered out of the station, leaving the landing empty except for Anna, Max, and Nia.
Anna’s shoulder muscles tightened. “He’s not here,” she called to Max.
“Forward,” Max said to Nia. They walked toward Anna. He tapped his cane over the ground. “Halt.”
Nia stopped.
“I’m sure he is fine,” Max said. “It’s not unusual for train schedules, especially routes to and from the front, to be delayed.”
“Ja,” Anna said reluctantly.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m disappointed,” Anna said, deciding not to include her uneasiness of reuniting with Bruno. I’m going mad. We’re engaged, and I should be overjoyed to see him.
“I’m sorry,” Max said. He extended his elbow. “Let’s go. We’ll celebrate tomorrow, when Bruno is home.”
“Danke.” Anna clasped Max’s arm, and she walked with him and Nia out of the train station.
Over the past few nights, Anna had prepared the house for Bruno’s arrival.
She’d scrubbed the floors, cleaned the windows, and washed the sheets.
To spruce up the kitchen, she placed old wildflowers—which had been hanging upside down to dry on a hook in Norbie’s workshop since last summer—in a ceramic vase on the table.
Unlike Bruno’s last visit, when he’d resided in a local boardinghouse while they courted, Norbie insisted that Bruno stay with them.
However, her vater expected that Bruno would take his room, and that he would sleep in his workshop.
“You will share a bed on your wedding night,” Norbie had said, unfolding a cot beside a workbench.
She admired, as well as appreciated, her father’s etiquette, especially since he likely deduced that she’d already been intimate with Bruno, given the amount of time she’d spent in his boarding room during his last military leave.
She had planned to give up her virginity when she was married, but things changed when she met Bruno.
He was charming, attentive, and made her feel comfortable.
Eventually, she accepted his invitation to meet him at his boardinghouse room, where he confided in Anna about his fear of returning to the fight, and his desire for emotional support and intimacy.
Anna’s heart ached for him. As a nurse, she’d heard many stories of soldiers making appeals to their girlfriend or fiancée for sexual relations.
The war had placed enormous strain on men at the front, as well as women who were struggling to survive at home, and traditional sexual norms, Anna believed, were beginning to decay.
Regardless, she politely declined Bruno’s request on the basis that they should wait until they were wed.
But as days passed, and his time to return to the fight drew near, she accepted his invitation.
We’re engaged to be married, Anna had rationalized, slipping into his bed.
I want us to experience being together should something dreadful happen to him at the front.
For Anna, the sexual intercourse was awkward, and it was more painful than pleasurable.
What I’ve done cannot be undone, she’d thought curled next to him.
Although she didn’t regret her decision, she hoped that the next time that she and Bruno would be intimate would be on their wedding night.
Norbie’s sleeping arrangements for Bruno’s visit weren’t ideal, but she assumed that Bruno would be amenable to her vater’s request. However, with her guide dog obligations, she was relieved to know that she wouldn’t have to sacrifice time away from Max and Nia to be with Bruno.
It was crucial, Anna believed, for her to remain focused on her training responsibilities, especially since Fleck now had other shepherds that could replace Nia.
Last week, the dogs that had contracted canine infectious tracheobronchitis returned to the group, thanks to Emmi’s herbal remedies to reduce their coughing and expedite their recovery.
Anna was happy to see all of the dogs, healthy and wagging their tails, back at school, despite her fear that she and Nia could be replaced at any moment by another trainer and shepherd.
But, to her astonishment, Fleck continued to allow them to work with Max.
Although Fleck hadn’t committed to permanently assigning Nia to Max, Anna believed that the pair would remain together as long as she didn’t make a mess of things.
Hour by hour, and day by day, she trained them on obstacle avoidance, traffic work, navigation of unpaved country roads, traffic crossings, and space training to ensure that Nia was providing enough room for Max’s height and width.
Anna followed Fleck’s directions to precise execution, and she was determined—more than ever—for Max to graduate and take Nia home.
Training, however, had been complicated by the winter weather, which remained unseasonably cold.
The temperature rarely rose about freezing, and piles of snow and ice covered the sidewalks, making navigation hazardous for the veterans and their shepherds.
Therefore, Fleck had modified the schedule to work partially indoors at the Rathaus (town hall) and St. Lambert’s Church.
But unlike Waldemar, who’d refused to permit Max to enter a Lutheran place of worship, Fleck had not raised the issue of Max being a Jew.
Anna was delighted for Max to explore the castle-like church, and to experience the smell of the ancient timbers and echoes of their voices in its vast space.
And Max seemed exceptionally proud when he and Nia climbed the colossal clock tower, despite him having to stop to catch his breath, to place his hands to the giant ticking timepiece that Norbie kept in working order.
Although things were progressing well at the guide dog school, that was not the case for Oldenburg’s food supply.
The shipments of rations, which consisted mainly of turnips and black bread laced with sawdust, were infrequent at best. The citizens of Oldenburg had turned haggard with dark, sunken eyes and protruding cheekbones.
There were rumors that people, particularly the elderly and very young, were dying of starvation.
And based on Emmi’s interaction with a hospital nurse—who spoke of emaciated patients, too far gone to digest mashed turnip and broth, dying in their beds—she believed that the stories were true.
The meager rations they received were not enough to keep them nourished.
And if it wasn’t for Max sharing his military-provided lunches, as well as Fleck giving her another sack of turnips, Anna would not have the strength to train.
Anna, Max, and Nia arrived home from the train station long after sunset. Cold and hungry, they entered the kitchen, where Norbie was preparing dinner.
“Bruno wasn’t on the train,” Anna said, taking off her coat.
“I’m sorry.” Norbie removed a pan from the stove, and then hugged her. “The trains are about as dependable as my confounded grandfather clock.”
She squeezed him.
“He’ll arrive on the morning train,” Norbie said.
“Ja,” she said, feeling appreciative for his reassurance.
He released her and smiled. “I made turnip cutlets. We’ll save one for Bruno.”
“Danke,” she said.
They ate dinner and, like they did each night, settled in the living room. Max played the piano, a medley of classical and folk pieces, until Norbie grew tired and went to bed. Afterward, Anna gathered a pencil and staff paper and joined Max at the piano.
“It’s been a tiresome day,” Max said, resting his hands on the keyboard. “Let’s skip working tonight. You’ll be more rested for training—and to see Bruno.”
“Nein,” Anna said, scooching next to him on the bench. “We need to finish your composition.”
“It can wait,” he said facing her.
“I’d rather work.” If I go to bed, I’ll only worry about Bruno. I’ll feel better here with you. “But you’re welcome to rest if you’re too worn out to play.”
“I’m all right,” he said. “I’ve been rehearsing the next movement of Light Suite in my head. Would you like to hear it?”
“I’d love to,” she said. “Your music is captivating; it makes me forget about the war.”
“Then I’ll play until dawn, or until a peace treaty is signed, whichever you prefer.”
Anna smiled.
He placed his hands over the keys and played. The movement began with beautiful, yet sad, diatonic chord progressions.
An ominous feeling washed over Anna. She closed her eyes and imagined a fragile paper boat floating in a vast sea.
With his right hand, Max added a flowing, delicate melody to the chords. His fingers danced over the keyboard, and the music grew more intense.
For several minutes, Anna listened to the piece, which Max played effortlessly, as if he’d rehearsed it for years. The music stopped, which was followed by a few seconds of silence, then the thumping of Nia’s tail on the floor.
“What do you think?” he asked softly.
Anna took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “It’s magnificent.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do.”
“I have some changes to make,” he said, “but what you heard was essentially the music that has been percolating in my brain for the past few days.”
“I wouldn’t change a thing.” Echoes of the piece replayed in her head. “At the beginning, I felt alone and sad. But as the movement progressed, I had hopeful feelings, like there was a reason to fight on, in spite of turbulent times.”
Max placed a hand to his chin, as if he was contemplating her reaction to the piece.
“Ja,” Anna said. “I felt—hope.”
“I’m glad.” He placed his hands on his lap and turned to Anna. “What is it that you hope for?”
She took a deep breath, pondering his question. “An end to the war. Bountiful food for Germans. Bruno to be safe.” Anna fiddled with her sleeve. “And for you to have Nia as your guide.”
“Those are all very good things, but they are hopes that you have for others. What hopes do you have for yourself?”
“Well, for starters, I hope that Fleck will continue to permit me to train.”
“He will,” Max said. “He’d never allow the best trainer in Deutschland to leave the school.”
She grinned.
“What other hopes to you have?”
A childhood memory of Norbie and her mutter holding hands flashed in her brain. “To someday have the type of relationship my parents had—filled with laughter and affection.”
Max smiled. “Would you like to have children?”
“Ja,” she said. “Two.”
“Very precise.”
She chuckled. “I guess so. With me being an only child, I’d always wanted a sibling.”
“Me too,” he said. “You and Bruno will have a good life.”
She nodded, despite a faint foreboding in her gut. “What hopes do you have?”
“That you’ll train enough guide dogs for every blind person in Germany to have one.”
“I’ll do my best.” Anna nudged him with her elbow. “But I was referring to something you desire for yourself.”
He drew a breath. “Nothing else.”
“There must be something that you yearn for,” she said.
He turned toward her. “I’ve already received my wishes—you’ve helped me resurrect my passion to play the piano, and you’ve given me Nia.”
“That’s sweet of you to say,” Anna said. “What about having a person to share your life with?”
He shook his head.
“I know it might feel a bit soon to be considering this now, after what happened with Wilhelmina, but you have your future ahead of you.”
“I’d once hoped for that, but I’m not sure if that will be an option for me.”
“It still is,” she said. “You’re kind, handsome, and a brilliant pianist. Someday, you’ll perform at the Great Hall in Vienna, and loads of women will be seeking to gain your attention. You’ll have lots of opportunities to meet the right person.”
Max played with a button on his shirt.
“You’re blushing,” Anna said, noticing a slight redness in Max’s face.
“So I am,” Max said. He stretched his arms, and then positioned his hands on the keyboard. “How about we record a bit of music before we’re too tired to stay awake?”
“All right,” Anna said, feeling a bit disappointed to end their conversation.
For hours, Max played while Anna recorded notes onto staff paper.
Like the previous movement, they worked in small increments, repeating each bar of music over and over, until they were both satisfied that the notes were accurately recorded.
Consumed with transposing the piece to paper, they worked until a ruckus of clock chimes sounded in Norbie’s workshop.
Anna silently counted the tolls. “It’s midnight.”
Max stood and extended his hand. “Time for you to go to bed.”
Anna clasped his hand and rose from her seat. His hand slipped away, and then she placed the draft of the composition in a storage compartment in the piano bench.
“Come, Nia,” Max said. “I’ll take you outside.”
Nia stood and stretched, arching her back.
“Good night, Anna,” Max said, clasping Nia’s harness.
“Sleep well.”
Anna extinguished a lamp, turning the room black. As she felt her way along the wall, the sound of Max tumbling down wooden steps sent her heart rate soaring. Oh, no!
Nia barked.
Anna, her blood turned cold, shot to the stairwell. “Max!” She peered down into the blackness of Norbie’s workshop and waited for his reply. But all she heard was Nia’s whines.