Saving Anna

by Sharon Struth

  She hurried past them, her heart beating wildly as she found the path. What had she witnessed? A breakup? Or some other matter? It didn’t matter. She owed him an apology.

  * * * *

  “Who’s she?” Claudia stared down the path where Anna had just disappeared.

  “The American you asked me to drive around.” The obvious pity on Anna’s face remained embedded in his brain. As if she’d caught him on display, naked and unable to hide his flaws. How would he look her in the eye again? He walked back to the railing and stared out at the river. “Was she there long?”

  Claudia came up to his side. “I don’t know, but she does not speak Deutsche.” Her voice softened. “Forget about her. I’m glad you finally told me everything bothering you. I had no idea you couldn’t remember what happened during the accident. You haven’t seemed yourself, but I figured it was because of the pain in your leg.”

  “Both things have left me miserable. You’re a good friend for listening.”

  He didn’t need a therapist. All he’d needed was to open up to his childhood friend, who always understood him. Lately, even when with his friends, he’d felt alone with his anguish. Tonight’s confession didn’t fix his problems, but speaking about his worries helped eased some of the pressure inside his head.

  “Let’s go back,” he said.

  They walked the path in silence. Claudia glanced his way. “Are you sure you’re comfortable driving the American around? I can find someone else.”

  “No need. The job takes my mind off my worries.”

  “Okay.”

  As they neared the table, Claudia’s husband waved to them, held a bottle, and pointed to the wine tent. “Looks like we need another bottle of wine. Be right back.” She headed toward the vendor area.

  As Josef continued to their table, he glanced to where Anna sat talking to Ruth. Her big eyes never once strayed from Ruth’s face. The more he thought about it, she was nothing like the fun-loving French woman. Certainly more serious, carrying a touch of vulnerability. Now he’d come along and shown her his worst side. Self-loathing bubbled inside of him. He didn’t like being this way, feeling like he’d lost control of his impulses. If only he could turn back the clock. He wanted a do-over for so many things in his life, but especially that ill-fated drive in France. He even wanted one with Anna, too.

  A do-over.

  A chance to make things right.

  Was it fate that the gods above made damn sure he walked straight into a woman who reminded him of Lily? Anna wasn’t Lily, but she did need help. And therein lay his opportunity.

  A chance to let go of his own problems and help someone else.

  A chance to stop being self-absorbed…

  To stop being like his father.

  Could he change? Maybe. Maybe not. The best thing that might happen was his life might improve. The worst thing was—nothing. He already lived in his own private hell.

  Anna rose and walked in the direction of the food vendors. She stopped, looked at a sign, and continued to the next trailer, doing the same thing.

  He moved fast, not sure what he’d say when he reached her. Once at her side, he casually said, “Hello.”

  She turned from the menu. “Oh. Hi.”

  He smiled, though every muscle in his face fought it. “Decide what you want?”

  “I wanted a plain old pretzel.” She laughed. “Only now has it dawned on me: I can’t read German, so I’m not getting too far finding one.”

  “The word is brezel, but you could probably ask in English. They might understand.” He studied the white board. “This vendor doesn’t have any, but there are sausages, Hungarian langos—”

  “What’s that?”

  “Fried dough, served with sour cream and cheese.” He spotted a man walking away with one. “See?”

  Her eyes opened wide with interest as she watched the man pass by.

  He laughed. “Better than a pretzel?”

  “They don’t even deserve to be discussed in the same sentence.”

  “How about we get in line? I’ll get one, too.”

  As they waited, he turned to her. “Had you needed to speak to me before?”

  She glanced his way. “Oh, no. Well, yes. No.” She blew out a breath. “First, I must apologize. I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

  “It is no problem. What did you want to tell me?”

  She hesitated, but only for a second. “Any chance we can plan to get together tomorrow? Now that I have a birthdate for Gunther, I’ve found several matches online with his name. The locations aren’t in the area. More like day trips.”

  So he would have to drive on the highway again. Farther this time. “Sure. How about in the afternoon? I need to help Claudia in the office in the morning.”

  “Afternoon works. Who’s Claudia?”

  “My boss. She was with me earlier, when you saw us talking.” His cheeks warmed as he remembered how she’d looked at him when he was upset. “Would after lunch be all right?”

  “Perfect.”

  They neared the head of the line, making small talk about the festival. Outwardly, he stayed calm. Inwardly, though, turmoil seized him as he considered doing longer highway rides. All while he’d have to stick to his commitment to be pleasant to her the entire day. Nice. Not selfish, moaning about his aches and pains.

  But what did he have to lose by showing Anna some kindness? He’d lost himself in the accident, and that was his most valuable possession.

  Chapter 10

  Anna’s laptop blurred behind her tears. She shut the lid and crossed her arms onto the patio picnic table, taking a moment to absorb the emotional details of the stories she’d read. Stories similar to Isaak’s, occurring both before and during the war. Each one ripped her heart a little more. Good people who’d suffered because of hate and bigotry. Anger boiled in her veins toward the perpetrators of such violent actions, even though it happened so long ago.

  No wonder Isaak, as well as many others, never returned here. Yes, the political party leading the charge had lost power and the country was restored to normal. But memories were hard to erase. Something she understood first hand.

  These stories hit her hard, deep in her soul, because they made her think about rarely discussed ancestors on her father’s side of the family. Not that the history was a secret. Just that nobody alive today knew much about the names or faces going back that far.

  But one thing was clear; the Abrams clan had a Jewish bloodline going back several generations. And knowing this was part of her genetic pool fused a connection to the people in the stories she’d read that she couldn’t shake away. And a deeper connection to this quest she made for Isaak.

  The family details were sparse. Her great-grandfather had arrived in the US from Poland with his parents. They’d taken on a Christian name and faith but lived in Poland as Jews. Neither her father nor uncle knew more because that was all their father ever shared.

  But Anna wanted to learn more.

  Had prejudicial treatment caused them to go to the US as non-Jews? Probably. What family had they left behind? Poland had suffered under the Nazi regime, too. Had anybody on her family tree faced persecution because of faith?

  The idea sank deep, churning inside her heart and head. More than a distant story. It was personal, as though a Nazi had stepped right inside her door. And knowing that might have happened to a long lost relative… Well, it hurt.

  An urgency to find Gunther rattled her core. As she sat here staring at the river, her mission in Germany developed a personal connection somewhat distant, and yet powerful enough to matter.

  She turned to the sound of footsteps. Dr. Walker, a British resident at the guesthouse who taught theology at the nearby university, approached her with a smile peeking out from behind his graying beard. She’d sat next to him at breakfast yesterday morni
ng and found him to be a very well-traveled and knowledgeable man.

  “Good day, Anna. A smashing one, isn’t it?”

  She forced a smile, her prior thoughts still resting heavy in her heart. “Yup. Perfect fall weather. Although my mind is elsewhere. I was just reading accounts of people who were saved from Nazis by the good graces of others. Incredible stories at such a heart-wrenching time.”

  Dr. Walker’s lips pressed tight as he frowned. “Yes. Horrible, and yet hopeful that not all mankind had gone mad.”

  “Yes. One story told about an Israeli man who still has a picture in his house of the Wehrmacht soldier who’d saved him. But the soldier was later arrested by Hitler’s police and executed because of aiding the Jews.” The heaviness of the outcome forced a sigh. “Details about the Holocaust aren’t new to me, but now it has the face of Isaak, a man I cared a great deal for.”

  “Tragedy is different when it becomes personal.”

  “It sure is.” She shared what she knew about her own lineage.

  Dr. Walker shifted his messenger bag on his shoulder. “Many Jews who migrated to Poland from Germany were still oppressed there for their Judaism. I suppose that’s why it wasn’t uncommon for many to change their names to more Christian-sounding ones after moving to safer places, like America. Your dad’s ancestor might have done the same.”

  Anna nodded, wondering if any of her family had been forced to move to the ghettos of Poland or wear stars on their clothing to show their faith. Or had died because of religious persecution during the war. The thought hit her like a punch to the chest. What if someone like Gunther had saved one of them? She’d certainly want them recognized for it. She vowed to do everything in her power to get Isaak’s message to Gunther.

  “I guess I’ll be off.” Dr. Walker took a step and stopped. “While you’re here, you might want to visit some of the Holocaust memorials nearby. There’s one in Frankfurt and another in Wiesbaden. A visit can be quite powerful.”

  “I’ll try. Thanks.”

  He glanced at his watch. “Time to run. Cheers.”

  “Cheers.”

  She thought about the conversation, wondering if she should email her father. Her parents had no idea about the divorce or her visit to Germany. With a little white lie, sent via email, she’d said she planned to travel the east coast to conduct interviews for her column, all in the hopes they wouldn’t call the house looking for her.

  Once things with the divorce were on track, she planned to return to Whidbey Island for an extended visit to her parents’ home and figure out the next steps in her life. A much better time to talk about her family tree would be while she enjoyed a nice long visit with them. Alone. The kind of visit Patrick had always discouraged.

  * * * *

  Boom!

  Darkness. Silence. Further he fell into the darkness, unable to move any part of his body…

  Boom!

  Josef’s eyes flashed open. His temples throbbed. Sweat clung to his skin.

  He rolled to his side. Outside his cracked-open bedroom window, the noisy trash collectors did their usual Tuesday morning pickup. He flopped back onto his back as the reoccurring nightmare skirted the edges of his brain.

  He shut his eyes, gathered the dream. The end never changed. Always dark and quiet. Before that inescapable ending, he’d been flying through the air, his arms outstretched like a bird’s wings as a breeze cooled his skin. Bright sunshine. Laughter. Lots of laughter.

  Today there was something new.

  An image of Anna’s pretty, heart-shaped face had perched in the bright sky. She watched his flying antics, her expression filled with concern, maybe confusion. The same way she’d looked at him when he confessed about his memory loss to Claudia. To make it worse, the dream gods showed him Anna’s face slowly turning into Lily’s, with the French woman asking in her strong accent, “How could you have done this to me, Josef?”

  He kicked off the duvet cover, glanced at the clock, and dragged himself to the bathroom. Noon. He never slept this late. Too much wine had guided him last night, made his thoughts foggy enough to confess to Claudia and later talk to Anna.

  He scrubbed in the shower. Each time he shut his eyes, Anna’s confused face returned. “Go away!” he screamed. His plea bounced off the shower surround and echoed in his ears.

  After he dried off, he skipped the need to tidy his beard and mustache and tossed on jeans with a slightly wrinkled button-down shirt for the short day ahead. After a meeting with Anna to firm up some plans, he’d head off to the office for a few hours. They’d talked last night, but he could barely think straight right now, let alone remember what he’d said.

  Once in the kitchen, he got the coffee maker going. When their group broke up last evening, Claudia had told him not to come into the office this morning. Thank God. Besides sharp stabs in his temples, his leg throbbed from walking too much. He downed something to kill the pain and grabbed a roll to eat with his coffee.

  Several days’ accumulation of mail sat on his peninsula. He sifted through the pile while eating. About halfway down, a long white envelope with a Montpellier, France return address filled him with dread. Why would Lily’s parents be contacting him again?

  He’d met them at the hospital, a day after learning their daughter had died. Despite the sadness on their faces and the depth of their loss, they’d been kind to him. A kindness he didn’t deserve.

  He drew in a deep breath, tore open the back flap, and removed a newspaper clipping from the French publication Midi Libre. He knew only a little bit of French, but after translating a few words on his phone, he determined the article discussed a fundraiser in Lily’s memory. Monies raised would go to the local hospital’s children’s center where she’d worked as a nurse.

  Next to the article was a picture of Lily in her nursing uniform. He took a closer look. Perhaps he’d been quick to compare her to Anna. There were similarities, but a soft aura surrounded Anna’s heart-shaped face, like she might smile or laugh at any second. Lily’s determined gleam held the hardness of a woman who didn’t take no for an answer.

  He removed a checkbook and an envelope from the kitchen drawer, wrote out a check to the fund, and addressed the envelope to Lily’s parents. The donation wouldn’t bring their daughter back, but it was the least he could do. He returned to the drawer and took out a folder, sliding in the latest article related to the accident.

  His memory folder. The earlier articles showed things he didn’t remember from the crash. The first few months after leaving the hospital, he’d stare at them daily and beg the images to retrieve something—any little thing—from the recesses of his mind.

  He flipped through the pile and removed the most detailed article. The headline read:

  L’accident sur A8 prend la vie de la femme de Montpellier

  His throat constricted as it always did when he studied this one. No matter what language it appeared in, he understood the headline: An accident on A8 takes the life of a Montpellier woman.

  Beneath the headline a photo of Lily’s mangled eight-year-old Alfa Romeo showed the small car crumpled like an accordion into a thick tree trunk. Next to a photograph of Lily, the paper had used his publicity photo from the tour company’s website, taken on a day when he’d had an easy smile, spirit in his eyes. He missed feeling like that man.

  He focused on the destroyed car, boring his gaze into the mangled mess until a chill skipped up his spine. How had he even made it out alive? How had he completely forgotten every single second before impact?

  Concentrate. Concentrate! He squeezed his eyes tight and willed the photo to stir his stubborn memory banks.

  After a minute passed with still nothing, Josef opened his eyes, swallowed back his disappointment, and scanned the article to the line that told about him being admitted with life-threatening injuries. It also said no signs of alcohol were found in his
blood.

  But what had he been doing? They were out late, had come back and climbed into the bed, too caught up in their passion to think of sleep. Sure, they got a few restless hours, but she woke suggesting the drive to Nice. A shower and cup of coffee appeared to wake him, but not fully. Had he fallen asleep at the wheel?

  He sat back. All these months later, he was no closer to answers.

  He dropped the article and gathered his wallet and keys off a table near the door. After swiping up his phone, he left for his meeting with Anna.

  As he eased into the car’s driver seat, the usual panic skipped through his limbs but only half as bad as last time. Yet after five minutes of driving the city streets of Mainz, his hands hurt from gripping the steering wheel. He took a deep breath and loosened his hold, making the last part of the drive a little more relaxing.

  He reached the Villa Von Essen, parked along the curb, and went inside while lifting his sunglasses onto his head.

  “Guten Tag, Josef.” Regina stood at the reception desk, filing papers into a box. She twisted her lips while examining him more closely. “Late night at the festival?”

  “Do I look that bad?”

  She laughed. “You look fine. Just a little, um, perhaps tired. Looking for Anna?”

  He nodded.

  “She was eating lunch on the patio last I saw her. Why don’t you check?”

  He headed to the outside patio but didn’t see Anna. Max Fleisher sat at one of the picnic tables without his dogs. The older man faced outward with his elbows leaning back on the tabletop, his large belly jutting out.

  “Good morning, Max.”

  “Hallo, Josef.” Max waved him over.

  “Where are Lucy and Ricky?” Josef asked when he got closer.

  “Anna is walking them. My knee is bothering me and she offered. The doctor gave me medicine for the swelling, but it may take time to heal.” Max’s mustache twitched as he smiled. “God bless Anna. I will be sorry when she leaves. Such a sweet girl, and very helpful.”

  Sweet. Helpful.