CHAPTER 34 - OLDENBURG, GERMANY—JULY 17, 1917
Anna pumped a bucket full of water from the school well and carried it inside the barn, where she poured it into a communal trough for a group of thirsty German shepherds. The dogs lapped water and wagged their tails.
“You’ve worked hard today,” Anna said, stroking a dog’s back.
“You have, too,” Emmi said, chopping turnips into feed at a nearby butcher block. “You haven’t sat down all day.”
Anna nodded, and then glanced outside to a group of trainers who were taking a cigarette break.
Determination burned inside her. Someday, I’ll convince Fleck to allow me to return to being a full-time instructor.
He’ll eventually realize my success with training Nia wasn’t a fluke.
Anna wiped sweat from her brow and went to the well to retrieve more water.
She was committed to do whatever it took, even if it meant having to accept a temporary step backward in duties, in order to fulfill her dream of training guide dogs.
However, there was another reason she incessantly toiled away, and that was to distract herself from the huge void in her heart left by the departure of Max and Nia.
The past five months had been difficult for Anna.
Thoughts and images of him never left her, and memories of his music echoed in her head.
She’d thought that the passing of time would lessen her sorrow, but it only exacerbated her yearning to be with him.
As promised, she’d written Max at least once a week, and he’d also written to her, although his letters were not as frequent, as if he wanted to be polite yet not mislead her into believing anything further would ever come of their relationship.
Regardless of Max’s unwillingness to reciprocate her feelings, she missed him immensely.
She’d invited him to visit, but he’d declined on the basis that he thought it was best to give Nia more time to acclimate to her new city.
And to complicate matters, Fleck remained unwilling to grant her a leave of absence for at least another six months, which dashed her chances of taking a train trip this summer to visit him.
It might be a year before I see him again, she’d thought while walking a shepherd to a trainer.
Maybe he’ll change his mind and visit me.
According to Max’s letters, Nia was doing well with guiding him through the city of Leipzig, although they had many unfamiliar streets left to explore.
When Max wasn’t working on the piano or running necessary errands, such as obtaining rations, they took walks in a wooded park that was several streets away from his apartment building.
Also, he’d reported that Nia’s frail paw grew less sore in the warmer months, which delighted Anna.
Max’s letters were typically factual, rather than emotional, in nature.
However, he often ended his correspondence with a bit of humor or uplifting words.
“Please inform Norbie that I am, indeed, spoiling Nia with treats and belly rubs,” he’d written in a recent letter.
While Nia was adjusting well to her new life, Max was encountering difficulty with gaining work as a pianist. Anna admired Max’s resolve to pursue employment, regardless that the government deemed blind veterans as one-hundred-percent disabled.
However, there were few musician jobs, if any, available and Max doubted that he would find any type of employment soon.
Max did not lament in his letters about not having a job, but she presumed that he was disappointed.
And Anna was disheartened that Max, whom she believed was a brilliant pianist and composer, might struggle to find work for many months, if not years.
Even with the passing of seasons, there seemed to be no end to the war in sight.
In fact, the fight had grown worse with the United States declaring war on the German Empire after one of their steamers was torpedoed by a German U-boat.
It was only a matter of time before many thousands of American troops arrived at the front to battle fatigued German troops who’d been fighting for years.
The German newspapers continued to print optimistic reports; however, the rumors of losing the war, and a way of life, had grown rampant.
Last week in a ration line, she’d overheard a woman talking about her plans to flee Germany after the war.
And Anna hoped that things would never be bad enough to compel her and Norbie to emigrate from their beloved homeland.
Although the war was worsening, the food supply was showing marginal signs of improvement.
With the spring and summer harvests, they’d begun adding cabbage and mushrooms to their diet.
After subsisting on turnips for months, the new foods tasted rich and were difficult to digest, but she and Norbie were relieved to satisfy their hunger.
There were no official government reports, or at least ones that were released to the public, that provided a tally on the number of deaths associated with what people now referred to as the “turnip winter.” Many people speculated that the famine, compounded by unseasonably cold temperatures, had claimed many thousands of lives.
And Anna believed the rumors to be true given the scores of new graves—the grass sparse and two shades lighter than the other plots—in the Oldenburg cemetery.
“Fr?ulein Zeller,” Waldemar said, entering the barn with a shepherd.
Anna put down her bucket and approached him.
“Tend to this dog,” he grumbled, tossing her a leash. “She’s infested with ticks.”
Anna’s face turned hot. She’d seen him on more than one occasion during a smoke break, permitting the dog he was working with to run free near the tree line. “She wouldn’t have so many ticks if you’d refrain from letting her do her business in the woods.”
“She likes the pines,” Waldemar said, scratching his beard. “Besides, removing parasites gives you something to do.”
Anna clenched her hands, digging her nails into her palms.
Waldemar snickered, and then turned on his heels and left the barn.
“I don’t understand why Fleck keeps Waldemar around.” Emmi gave a hard chop with her cleaver, splitting a turnip in half. “He should have kept you on the course and terminated him.”
“I’m disappointed in Fleck’s decision, too,” Anna said. “But I can’t forget what Fleck did for us. His gifts of turnips got us through the winter.”
“Ja,” Emmi said, her voice turning soft. She put down her cleaver and joined Anna. “I’ll help you check her over. It’ll go quickly if we both do it.”
Anna and Emmi groomed the shepherd, removing six ugly ticks, and then returned the dog to Waldemar. They finished their afternoon chores and went home. Exhausted, Anna entered her house to the smell of boiled cabbage, and she found Norbie in the kitchen stirring a steaming pot.
“Hallo,” Norbie said, placing a ladle on the counter. He gave her a hug. “How was your day?”
“Same,” she said, releasing him.
“It’s only a matter of time before Fleck assigns you another dog and veteran to train,” Norbie said, as if he could read his daughter’s thoughts. “I have faith in you.”
“Danke,” she said. You always know what to say to make me feel better.
Norbie glanced to the counter and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You received a letter.”
Anna’s heart leaped. She reached for the letter.
“It’s not from Max,” he said.
Anna froze, staring at the handwriting on the envelope. Bruno. A lump formed in the pit of her stomach.
“You don’t have to open it if you don’t want to,” Norbie said.
“I know.” She contemplated throwing away the letter, but she decided to open it, even at the risk of aggravating old wounds. “As much as I dread reading it, I think it’s best that I do.”
Norbie placed his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “I’ll be in my workshop if you need me.”
“I’d prefer if you sat with me while I read it,” Anna said.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, and they sat at the kitchen table. She drew a deep breath, attempting to quell her anxiety. Using her finger, she tore open the envelope and removed the letter.
Anna’s mouth turned dry. She squeezed the paper between her fingers.
Anna paused, rubbing her eyes, and then continued reading.
Anna folded the letter and placed it in the envelope. She looked at her vater, his eyes filled with concern. “It’s an apology letter.”
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I am,” she said. “I feel nothing but pity for him, and I hope that he can find his redemption.”
Norbie nodded.
“It feels strange to be emotionally numb toward him,” Anna said.
Norbie patted her hand. “It means you’re beginning to heal and move on with your life.”
I hope you’re right. She glanced to the pot on the stove. “May I help you with dinner?”
“It’s all finished,” Norbie said. “I’ll serve the soup in an hour. It’ll give you time to wash and relax.”
Anna, knowing she’d never want to read the letter again, disposed of it in the trash.
Instead of going upstairs to wash, she was drawn to the living room where she sat without thinking at the piano.
A swell of loneliness washed over her. She ran a hand over the empty spot on the bench next to her. God, I wish Max was here.