The Roses Underneath (12 page)

“Emil, where is your sister?” she asked. Maybe small talk would get things moving.

Emil shrugged. “She had to meet someone. A friend. Amalia came to wait with me. We had a good time, didn’t we?”

Amalia nodded but inched closer to her mother who placed a protective hand on her head. Cooper finally moved and began to survey the room, inspecting the furniture and the paintings as he had done earlier at the villa. Anna felt a seething rise inside her.
Damn
Amis. She ventured an apologetic smile at Emil, who was happy to take it. He rubbed the knuckles of his missing fingers.

“All right, ladies, I’ll drive you home.” Cooper walked between them, forcing Emil to take a step backward.

Anna grabbed Amalia’s hand and pulled her into the hallway. “Thank you, Emil. Good night,” she said.

The three of them got into the jeep and Amalia climbed over the seat to the back. Anna wished Cooper would go away, but she decided to let it go—she was too tired.

“Well, Amalia? How are you?” Cooper asked Amalia in heavily accented German. “Was it a nice day?
Schoener Tag?
” His jovial mood had returned.

Anna disliked Cooper’s taking the question that was hers to ask, but turned to her daughter and put on an expectant smile.

Amalia nodded. “Yes, it was. I got to play with all the toys. Mama, did you know that Fraulein Schilling has a whole trunk full of dolls? She let me play with one that had long blond hair and a pretty red dress. She is the most beautiful doll I ever saw.” Amalia yawned and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the seat backs.

“And we had pea soup for lunch. It was good. I was hungry. And we had a rest. I fell asleep. Fraulein Schilling gave me a nice pillow and blanket and she
laid down on the floor with us. And we dug holes for the potatoes.” Amalia paused. “Then we went to the museum and the other mothers were there waiting, but you weren’t.” Her voice rose and then fell into the accusation.

“I know, Maus, but it couldn’t be helped.” Anna gritted her teeth. She did not want to have this conversation in front of Cooper.

“Tell her it was my fault,” he said, as if on cue. “That we were late. I’ll take the fall for that.”

“Excuse me?” Anna said.

“I pick up more of the language than you think. I just can’t make myself understood. My mother is German, you know. She speaks German around the house. So, tell the duchess it was my fault and I’ll make sure you won’t be late again.”

Anna translated, happy to pass the blame.

Amalia looked at Cooper with intense eyes. “Okay,” she said and laid her head on her forearms. If not for the jolting of the jeep, she would already have been asleep.

“Your mother is German?” Anna asked.

“Yep. Engel was her name. Elizabeth Engel. Her people come from the north, up near Hamburg. But she’s never been back since she came over as a girl. Her family got out before World War I and she grew up in Iowa, where they settled. She met my dad in high school and they married.”

“Is she still alive?”

He nodded. “She’s on the farm. She and my dad still work the place. Probably my little brother will take it over. Me, I want nothing to do with it.”

“The war must have made for hard times for her, no? As a German?”

“It’s been hard for her to have me over here, that’s for sure.” He downshifted as they rolled down the hill toward the city. “Say, is she really named after a duchess, or was she pulling my leg?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder at Amalia.

“Well, yes and no,” Anna said. “Anna Amalia was the duchess of Weimar, which is near where we lived before we came here. So between the two of us we make one duchess. She just likes to claim the title for herself. Many places in Weimar are named after her--the duchess, I mean. Amalia loves to insist they were all named for her. How did you know this?”

Cooper laughed and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “I figured it out. She told me she was a
Herzogin
. So I looked it up.”

Anna shook her head and laughed. She pointed to the address in the Adolfsallee and held on as
Cooper pulled the jeep over and pitched to a stop. Anna got out, feeling depleted. She lifted Amalia from the back seat and set her down on the sidewalk.

“Thank you very much for the ride, Captain. Where shall I report tomorrow?” Anna stepped up onto the curb and took Amalia’s hand.

“Oh, let’s say we start at nine. I kept you much too late today and I have a bunch of paperwork to do. You can report to my office and help me sort through everything. Just remember, not a word to anyone.”

Anna nodded. “All right. Thank you, Captain.”

“
Gute Nacht
, duchess!” Cooper winked at Amalia, who waved. He revved the engine and made a flamboyant U-turn on the street, then drove back in the direction of the Rheinstrasse. Anna fumbled for her keys in her bag, willing herself to be upstairs inside her familiar walls, with the door to the world closed firmly behind her.

“Well, Frau Klein. How nice to see you! This is a pleasant surprise.”

Anna turned to see Frau Hermann, the woman from the bakery.
How long had she been standing there?

“Frau Hermann, hello. How nice to see you.” Anna pulled Amalia toward the entrance.

“So nice of the American to drive you and the little one home. I went up to bring some eggs for Frau Wolf, but no one was home. I know you are quite…busy.” She smiled, her face flushed and glistening in the heat like a pork roast fresh from the oven. She folded her hands in front of her round belly and shifted her weight onto her heels. Waiting.

Anna bristled. “That’s very kind of you. Frau Wolf is still in the hospital but she is doing much better. I will tell her you asked after her.” She pulled her daughter’s arm. “Come, Amalia, let’s go.
Guten Abend
, Frau Hermann.”

“And to you as well, Frau Klein,” the battle-ax chirped. “I do hope you will hear good news from your husband soon.”

Lying in the lukewarm bath, Anna tried to erase the film of dust she had gathered in the villa’s basement but the sliver of soap only seemed to move it around on her body. She wished for some lotion to smooth her hair and her dull skin. Her hipbones protruded from a concave belly and her legs looked like withered branches from a dying tree. Her feet, once delicate in pretty shoes, now looked like an old farmer’s—the toenails yellow and brittle, the veins visible through her skin like rivers on an old map. She ran her tongue around her teeth, looking for the troublesome one,
the incisor on the top left. It was still there, but wobbly. She wondered what she would look like when it finally fell out.

Sighing, she sank under the water, savoring its touch on her face, inside her ears, and enveloping her completely. She thought of Thomas. It had been a nightly ritual before Amalia was born, one of them in the bath, the other on the chair next to it. It was their time to talk, about their shared day at the hospital, about the patients, the successes and failures. Sometimes Thomas would read to her, either Rilke or Schiller, or they would find something to laugh about even on the darkest days. They were so intertwined that there was no space between them, as if they were held together by a magnetic force. They moved through the world as one being, seemingly untouchable. When Amalia came, the nightly bath enlarged to include her. It was a bright light in days that were growing inexorably darker and more frightening. Their little house began to feel frail and vulnerable in the swirling storm and she pressed herself harder to Thomas to keep the space between them from opening even the smallest amount. It had even worked for a while.

Anna exhaled loudly as she surfaced. He heart pounded and her temples throbbed. The bathroom was empty and the water cold. She was alone, and the Thomas she still loved was far away.

In the morning Anna and Amalia took the bicycle so they could visit Madeleine in the evening. Anna rode and Amalia ran alongside, swinging Lulu by one arm. As they passed the bakery, Anna peered in to see Frau Hermann back at work, the line outside already twenty-long. A truck full of laborers rumbled past, some of them old men, some wearing ties and hats.
Party members, perhaps, hoping for a rescue and imminent return to a world more to their liking. The wind picked up and the faintest smell of breakfast floated past, escaping from the overflowing plates of American colonels at the Hansa Hotel.

Amalia ran ahead and Anna pedaled faster to catch up. They made their way up the hill to the Frankfurter Strasse and turned into the Gustav-Freytag-Strasse. At the Schilling gate, Amalia rang the bell.

“Mama, you can go now,” Amalia said, turning her back.

Anna was taken aback, expecting a tearful good-bye. She leaned the bicycle against the
stone wall and squatted down.

“Don’t I even get a hug?”

Amalia obliged with one eye on the front door. It opened and a boy ran down the steps. Amalia let her mother go immediately. “
Hallo
, Fritz,” she said as the scrawny kid used all his weight to pull the iron gate open. “Bye, Mama.” With only half a wave, Amalia was gone. Anna watched her disappear into the house.

“Frau Klein, it’s all right, I am here,” Frieda called from the upstairs window. “We will see you this afternoon. Will you be on time today or should I plan to feed Amalia her dinner here?”

Anna stepped back to get the sun out of her eyes. “No need. I will be on time today.” She tried to tamp down her defensiveness.

“Very well. I will bring them to the museum at five o’clock.
Tschuess.
Bye now
.
” She waved a dish towel and retreated into the shadows.

Anna stood in the street, listening for sounds from inside the house. What sounds exactly, she was not sure, but nothing came, even with all the windows open to the warm morning. She turned the bicycle back toward town and gave the house one last look before swinging her legs over the saddle and coasting down the hill.

Anna was removing the clothespins from her pant legs when she heard Cooper approach. Not by his footsteps—American boots had rubber soles, not like the hobnailed German ones that still echoed in her head. As usual, it was his voice that announced him as he chatted his way through the workers in the courtyard. She straightened just as he spotted her.

“Pants again, huh?” he said. “Good idea. We have a visitor. I need you to translate.” He turned on his heel and motioned for her to follow. “Come on. I don’t want him to get away.”

“Who is it?” Anna jogged a few steps to catch up.

“Schneider, he says his name is. Ludwig. Wants to talk to an arts officer. All the others are out in the field today or in Frankfurt meeting with the brass. So he gets me.”

“What does he want?”

“Well, beats me. That’s what I need you for.” As they began to climb the stairs, he pulled Anna’s elbow to stop her.

“Listen, I want you to tell me if anything seems suspicious, okay? Just tell me your honest impression.”

“Yes, of course,” Anna nodded.

Ludwig Schneider sat in the chair opposite Cooper’s desk. His black fedora lay on his lap and a battered briefcase rested against the leg of the chair. As Cooper approached, he stood with some exertion and extended his hand.

“Please, I am Ludwig Schneider,” he said with a slight lisp and hint of Bavarian accent. His thin hair stood up on his scalp in a halo effect, which added a whimsical quality to an angular face softened with the sagging of age. He was shorter than Cooper and his tie reached only to the middle of his round belly. Sweat stains permeated the armpits of his threadbare shirt and he gave off a smell of stale smoke.

Cooper returned the introductions, anointing Anna his assistant and translator, which earned her a raised eyebrow from Schneider. Cooper pulled a chair to his side of the desk for her and slid a pad of paper in her direction. He sat down heavily in his chair. “So. What can we do for you today, Herr Schneider?”

“Yes, Captain, I wanted to introduce myself to you and offer my assistance,” he began in German, pausing to look at Anna, who translated.

“You see, I am an art appraiser and I also ran a small gallery before the war. Perhaps I can be of service in the work you are doing. And I would also like to apply to re-open my business. So as to support myself and my family.”

Cooper regarded him coolly. “I see. And in what capacity would you be able to assist us?”

Schneider leaned forward and rested a hand on the desk. “I have knowledge of German artists and restoration practices. I have many connections in the art world here in the area. I am interested in helping return the pieces to their owners.” He pulled at his collar, which was too tight, and licked his lips.

“We have people to do that, Herr Schneider,” Cooper said. He cocked his head. “Tell me, what happened to your inventory, as a gallery owner. Did you manage to hang on to it?”

Schneider shifted in his seat and seemed taken aback. “Well, as a gallery owner I had very few pieces of my own, you understand. Most of the work was on consignment. The art was not mine to keep.” He cleared his throat with a loud honk.