CHAPTER 28 - OLDENBURG, GERMANY—JANUARY 30, 1917
Bruno, kneeling in the garden, labored to harvest winter leeks while he waited for Anna to come home from work.
He hacked away at the frozen earth with a hand trowel, sending throbs of pain through his joints and bones.
His intentions were to add sustenance to Anna and her vater’s meager diet, which mainly consisted of turnips.
And he hoped that by toiling away at the solid ground he would distract himself from the cancerous guilt that consumed his soul.
Instead, his isolated act of penitence only exacerbated his torment.
This morning, on his way home from observing Anna train at the school grounds, he witnessed three children, no older than twelve years of age, break into a barn and flee with a handful of looted rutabagas.
Rather than attempt to stop them, he’d watched the children—emaciated, with protruding cheekbones and sunken eyes—devour the vegetables as they scurried away through a snow-covered field.
Despite the atrocities that he’d experienced at the front, he was shaken by the horrid condition of the children.
Although he’d heard the rumors of malnutrition, he had been detached from the daily sight of starvation in Germany.
The food shortages were not entirely caused by the Allied blockade, Bruno believed.
The empire was also to blame. After all, the army had seized most of the horses, and they conscripted the bulk of the agricultural workforce.
Additionally, farming fertilizers were scarce due to diverting nitrogen to produce explosives.
I should have paid more heed to Anna’s letters about the dwindling supply of rations.
I could have brought more food with me from Lille.
But in his shaken state of leaving Celeste, he hadn’t thought to load his leather case with more food.
His travel home from the front had not been delayed as he’d led Anna to believe.
The first two days of his military leave were spent with Celeste.
Upon learning that she was pregnant, he refused to leave her, despite her encouragement for him to go home.
“It’s not your problem,” she’d said, curled next to him in bed.
But it was his predicament, he believed, and it was their baby that was growing inside her.
Like friends, rather that lovers, they talked through the options for the pregnancy and themselves.
At the end of two days, much of which was spent in the confines of his room, they decided that Celeste would have the baby, and that Bruno would provide for her and their child.
And Bruno insisted that Celeste move to Germany—in the event that the German Empire was defeated—so that he could care for her and their child in a town near Frankfurt, rather than her be ostracized for having what the French referred to as a “Boche baby.” However, Celeste was reluctant to commit to leaving France, despite the risks to her, and the shame that might be cast upon an illegitimate child.
Bruno loathed his father’s affairs, and now Bruno had a mistress, too.
I’m repeating the sins of my vater, he’d thought while consoling Celeste.
Before the war, he’d intended to lead a different life from his vater, which Bruno hoped would include a lifelong commitment to one woman.
Falling for Anna had reaffirmed his conviction.
However, the years of killing had ravaged him, and in a fragile state he’d sought comfort from his pain in Celeste’s warmth.
Months from now they would have a war baby.
And for the rest of his life, he would need to live with the consequences of his lapse in faithfulness.
Far more had been compromised, Bruno believed, than his fidelity to Anna.
Since he’d foolishly accepted Fritz Haber’s recruitment to a special chemical warfare unit, he’d committed unspeakable acts.
Thousands were gruesomely killed or maimed by poison gas.
Someday, Bruno believed, he would go to hell, if there was such a place.
And in the interim, he would live in a purgatory of secrets and lies.
To protect himself and the woman he loved, the past and present would need to be compartmentalized—his life with Anna, his care for Celeste and their baby, the atrocities that he’d committed at the front, and his family’s role in the German Empire’s chemical warfare program.
And if Anna were to find out about any of the other facets of his life, he’d likely lose her forever.
As Bruno loosened a frozen leek from the ground, the back door squeaked open.
“There you are,” Anna said, entering the garden.
He tossed the leek into a tin bucket, and then stood and hugged her. “How was work?”
“Gut,” she said, releasing him. “Danke for digging up leeks.”
He nodded. “There aren’t many left. I’ll see what I can do to acquire more food.”
“We’ll manage. Come inside and I’ll—” Her eyes locked on his bloodied knuckles. “Your hands.”
“I forgot my gloves inside the house,” he said.
She carefully clasped his fingers and examined the cuts. “Your hands are shaking.”
“I’m cold,” he said, hoping to hide that his nerves were shot.
“Come with me, and I’ll tend to your wounds.”
He followed her to his room, which Max had slept in before moving to a cot in the workshop. She retrieved a basin of water and soap, and placed them on a washstand.
“Soak them,” she said.
He inserted his hands, numb from the cold, into the basin.
She cleansed his cuts with soap, turning the water red.
As the numbness began to subside, a prickly tingling ran through his fingers. He looked at her. “You’re beautiful.”
She shook her head. “I’m thin and ragged.”
“Not to me.”
“Danke,” she said, her eyes focused on his hands.
Piano music emanated from the living room.
“He’s playing earlier than usual,” Bruno said.
“Norbie sometimes talks Max into performing a few pieces before dinner.”
He nodded. “Perhaps we could go for a walk.”
“I’d like to,” she said, “but my legs are exhausted from training all day.”
His shoulder muscles tensed. “We haven’t spent much time together.”
“We will,” she said. “Tonight, after I transcribe for Max, we’ll sit in the living room and listen to music.”
He soaked his hands. “You’re with him a lot.”
“Of course,” she said. “I’m his trainer, and I’m boarding him in our home. We’re together most of the time.”
“How long will he be here?”
She retrieved a towel from the washstand. “A few more weeks, at least. Graduation is delayed due to the cold weather, and Fleck has not provided a date.”
A smidge of resentment smoldered inside him. “I was hoping we could create more time for us.”
“We will,” she said, a hesitance in her voice.
“When?”
She handed him the towel. “We can stay up late in the living room, when everyone has gone to bed.”
“I look forward to it,” he said, drying his hands.
She looked at his wounds. “The blood has stopped. I don’t think you’ll need bandages.”
Bruno set aside the towel and lowered his hands, feeling the outline of a key in his pants pocket. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach. “I went to the boardinghouse today, and I secured a room for us.”
She looked at him. “I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for me to be away.”
He stepped to her and placed a hand to her cheek. “I’ve missed you.”
“Me too, but—” She lowered her eyes.
He stepped close. “I know you feel obligated to be here for Max. But it might be good for him to spend more time alone. Soon, he’ll move away with his dog.”
“It’s not that easy,” she said.
“It can be.” Using a finger, he gently lifted her chin.
Her eyes met his.
His pulse accelerated. He leaned in, drawing his lips toward hers.
Norbie’s singing, accompanied by the piano, erupted from the floor below them.
Anna eased back. “We should go.”
“Wait.” He placed his hands on her shoulders “I know things feel a bit strange between us. You do know that my affection for you hasn’t changed.”
She drew a breath. “I do.”
“The war has been hard on you, and the fighting at the front has taken a toll on me. But time together will mend the distance between us.” He caressed her shoulders with his thumbs. “Do you remember how happy we were when we first met?”
She nodded.
He searched through his memories. “I wrote you poems to convince you to spend time with me.”
“Ja.” A slim smile formed on her face. “They didn’t rhyme all that well.”
“They were awful, and I’d assumed it was your pity that allowed me to court you.” He leaned in, his forehead touching hers. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things as they were.”
“I have so much that I want to talk to you about,” she said, her voice soft.
“Me too.”
“Anna, Bruno!” Norbie called. “Come and join us!”
Anna swallowed. “We should go.”
He straightened his back, feeling space grow between them. “Tomorrow, meet me at the boardinghouse after you’re finished at school.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
He looked into her eyes. “We’ll only be gone a short while. I promise.”
“Anna!” Norbie called.
“I need to go,” she said.
“Please.”
“All right,” she said, slipping away from him. She picked up the water basin and left.
He sat on the bed and dabbed his marred hands with the towel.
Everything is going to work out. A moment later, a piano folk song reverberated through the house and, after a few bars, Anna and Norbie began to sing.
Rejuvenated by Anna’s promise to meet him at the boardinghouse, he stood, brushed the wrinkles from his uniform, and went downstairs to join them.