CHAPTER 40 - LEIPZIG, GERMANY—SEPTEMBER 29, 1917
Anna woke and quietly rolled over in bed. Morning sunlight beamed through a crack in the curtains. She paused, watching Max’s chest rise and fall, and then carefully slipped out of bed and put on her robe.
“Nia,” she whispered.
Nia rose from a blanket, which had been placed on the floor on Max’s side of the bed, and padded to her.
Anna and Nia left the room, and she gently closed the door behind her. She crept to the kitchen, doing her best not to wake Norbie, who was sleeping on the sofa, but Nia padded to him and licked his face.
“Good morning, Nia,” Norbie said, rubbing the dog’s head.
“I’m sorry,” Anna said. “I should have made sure that she stayed with me.”
“It’s all right.” He rubbed sleep sand from his eyes and glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s seven. I need to be getting up. But first I need to give this one a belly rub.”
Nia, as if she understood his words, rolled onto her back with her paws in the air.
Anna smiled. She was happy to have her vater’s help and, even more, she was immensely appreciative for his acceptance of her relationship with Max.
Not every parent, she believed, would condone their unwed daughter sleeping with a man, let alone entering a relationship with someone who was ill.
However, Norbie had expressed no concern or even surprise by the unorthodox arrangement.
Since his arrival, he’d displayed nothing but understanding and support for Anna and Max.
And for that, she would be eternally thankful.
Norbie made coffee while Anna prepared a bowl of mushed black bread, the consistency of oatmeal, by adding a bit of hot water. She placed a cup of coffee and the food on a tray and carried it to Max’s room.
“Good morning,” Anna said, setting the tray on a side table.
Nia padded into the room, her toenails clicking over the hardwood floor.
Anna went to the window and opened the drapes, allowing sunshine to flood the room. “It’s a lovely morning. Would you like me to open a window?”
Nia whimpered.
Anna turned.
Nia, standing next to the bed, pushed her snout under Max’s hand but he made no effort to pet her.
Oh, God. “Max?”
Nia whined. She nuzzled his limp arm.
Anna, her legs feeling like twigs about to snap, approached the bed. She caressed his cheek. “Oh, Max,” she cried.
Norbie entered the room and stood at his daughter’s side. Tears formed in his eyes.
With trembling hands, she clasped Max’s wrist and felt for a pulse but found nothing. Grief-stricken and gutted, she lowered her head to Max’s still chest and sobbed.