The Roses Underneath (21 page)

On her lunch break Anna stopped at the makeshift post office and message board to send another
Lebenszeichen
to Thomas. She had already sent two of the little postcards, the Signs of Life that sent word of survival between scattered family. First she scanned the messages pinned to the board, but they were the usual: people looking for jobs, household items to buy or trade, or transportation to various towns in the region. Someone offered tutoring services in “all languages,” which made Anna smile. Another was looking for a supply of zinc tubs of very particular dimensions. And then there were the photos of orphans and displaced children. Each one held a paper with a name written on it under the headline, “Do you know me?” Their faces were like an accusation. Many of them were from the Wiesbaden DP camp, and Anna assumed that Oskar’s face would soon appear on the wall as well. Each one was more heartbreaking than its neighbor. Sweet little girls gave big hopeful smiles, teenagers wore tired, mistrustful expressions, and the toddlers looked confused and scared. So many lost creatures floating about, needing a soft place to land.

She took her postcard to the counter and wrote her message in clear, large print. At least it looked confident.
We are at Wolf home. Adolfsallee Wiesbaden.
She counted the words. Three more to go to reach the ten that were allowed. She tapped the pencil on the paper.
Please come now,
she added.

It was a version of the same thing she had written both times before, but she could not think of what else to say. She handed the card to the woman behind the counter who looked at the address through a pair of glasses she held up with her hand.

“Kappellendorf? Where is that?”

“Just east of Weimar. Twenty kilometers.” Anna replied.

The woman made a sucking noise through her teeth. “Not much getting through to that sector since the Russians took over. It’s all locked down. I heard no one was coming or going. This is some kind of peace we have on our hands, isn’t it? My sister’s mother-in-law, she’s been trying to get out for weeks. Poor thing. She’s eighty-two years old. You’d think they’d just let her go.” She shook her head. “Anyway, this will go out next week, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Anna thanked her and walked back out into the day feeling alone and small. Whenever there was a pause in activity, a moment to think, the hopelessness returned, a wave lapping at her feet, threatening to pull her under. Maybe her photo should be pinned up alongside the children on that wall, she thought. “Do you know me?” it would ask. “I am lost.”

After her lunch break Anna met Corporal Miller in the courtyard so he could drive her to the supply store. The drive took them away from the town center toward the airfield where the Americans had all their logistics facilities. They did not speak for the whole twenty minutes, Anna clenching her teeth to keep from gasping at the American’s terrible driving. She studied his profile as she braced herself for his erratic turns and weaves: He had a slack jaw that melted into his neck and the flattened face of a boxer who had gone a few too many rounds. Behind his Army-issue sunglasses, his eyes were deep set under thick brows. A fly landed on his cheek and he slapped himself hard, then wiped it away.

When they arrived at the vast complex of warehouses and boxy office buildings she exhaled with relief. Miller weaved the jeep between clumps of GIs and parked trucks and came to a stop outside a long, low, windowless building. He jumped out and lit a cigarette. “Meet you back here in thirty minutes,” he said before shouting a hello to another
Ami
and catching up with him.

Anna was glad to be rid of Miller and went inside, flashing her papers at the MP as she saw others do. A tall blonde woman in an immaculate Army uniform sat at a metal desk guarding a black binder and a cup of pencils. Anna asked for the office supply storeroom and the woman gestured to her right.

In the supply room, Anna handed the list to the clerk behind a counter who noted each item with an authoritative “uh-huh” until he got to the bottom of the list. “Yep, we’ve got all of this, except I’ve only got three of those typewriter ribbons left. I’ll give you all of ‘em.” He winked.

Anna thanked him and looked around. The clerk’s name strip said Bender and his insignia designated him a corporal. His puffy cheeks and rounded features gave him a cheerful bureaucratic quality that was matched by an easy bounce in his step. A long, tall counter stood between Anna and several rows of shelves that stretched like cliffs into the darkness beyond. The room was dingy and hot, and Bender’s uniform showed sweat stains under his arms. Anna fanned herself with her papers.

“Have a seat. Sorry it’s so hot.” He turned on an electric fan in the corner before being swallowed between the shelves. Anna was lulled by the hum of the fan and the breeze it blew at her with every rotation. Bender brought reams of paper, packs of carbon paper, and all the forms and blank custody cards Cooper had asked for. There were also several boxes of pencils, stacks of file folders, and the typewriter ribbons.

“Here’s some photographic film, too. More ribbons are coming end of next week but until then I got no more to give you.” He held up his palms in apology. “Tell Cooper you’ll need to come back. How is old Coop? Haven’t seen him in ages.”

“He’s well.”

“You got a car outside? Here, I’ll help you. Sign here first.” He pointed to a line at the bottom of a form and Anna obliged. “And here. Here. And then here.” He produced three more forms and stamped each one after Anna signed. He took the reams of paper under one arm and tucked the boxes of pencils and packages of forms into the space under his armpit. With the other he took the remaining papers. Anna took the folders and typewriter ribbons and pulled open the door.

“Tell Coop ‘Hi’ from me. I’m Corporal Bender. We were in Italy together for a while, before he went off with those Venus fixers. The arts guys. Haven’t seen him since. Makes sense that he’d end up here. So, you Coop’s secretary or what?”

“Translator,” Anna said. “And secretary too, I guess. I do whatever needs doing.”

Bender nodded. “Well, you got lucky. He’s a great guy, Cooper. Saved my tail more than once. I’ll have to come by and have a visit with him.”

“I’ll tell him you said so,” Anna said, holding the door open. She helped unload everything into the jeep and thanked him.

Bender shook her hand. “Real nice to meet you, Anna Klein. You take care. Come see me again.”

Miller saw her from across the parking lot and nodded. He threw his cigarette on the ground and got into the driver’s side. “Got everything you came for?”

Anna nodded but Miller made no move to start the jeep. He spat onto the pavement next to the driver’s side. “So, Frau Anna Klein can I ask you something? It is Frau, right?” he asked, leaning an elbow on the steering wheel and turning toward her. He sucked on his teeth as he pulled a cigarette from the breast pocket of his shirt. Placing the smoke between his lips he let it hang there. Anna wondered if he expected her to light it for him.

“You and Cooper. What’s going on there?”

“I’m sorry?” Anna knew what he meant.

“What’s going on there? You two seem awful close.”

Anna felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh come on. You understand just fine.
Me and some of the guys, we were just talking the other day and we made a bet. I said I was pretty sure I had seen Cooper going into your house—over there in the Adolfsallee, right? And leaving at real strange hours. They didn’t believe me. They said you were too stuck up. A real icebox. But I don’t think so. You’re not fooling me.”

Anna’s head spun around to face him “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said, trying to sound convincing. How could Miller have known that Cooper was at her house at four o’clock in the morning? Was he watching her? She stared at her own reflection in his sunglasses. “What concern is it of yours?” she added. Perhaps he was bluffing. It was clear that everyone from the workers at the Collecting Point to Frieda Schilling to the meddlesome neighbor Frau Hermann thought that her job had progressed to something more quid-pro-quo in nature. Maybe Miller was just shooting in the dark.

Miller snorted. “Oh I’m not concerned. I’m just asking. There’s a law against fraternization, you know.” He leaned his head toward her. “Not that we don’t all do a little of that here and there. Lots of German girls are willing, you know what I mean? And you all sure are a pretty bunch. Makes our jobs so much nicer,” he laughed. “Such a funny word, ain’t it? Fraternization. Sounds like we’re all going to college.” He pulled a lighter from his pants pocket, lit the cigarette and blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth with a loud hiss.

“I really need to get back, Corporal.”

Miller nodded. “I just wanted to mention it. I ain’t the only one who’s seen you two in his office, whispering. People notice that stuff and they talk. You know how it is. I know it would be a real shame if Cooper got nailed over something as stupid as sleeping with the enemy. He’d get a transfer and you’d be out of a job. He’s already on thin ice.”

Anna fumed. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” She wanted to ask Miller what he knew about Cooper, but didn’t dare. She thought of the report that Cooper hadn’t filed.
His refusal to hire Schneider. The stolen gun and the missing painting. What exactly was Miller insinuating?

“Sure you do.” He blew a stream of smoke at her face. “I can tell you are a real by-the-book kind of girl. What you don’t know about Cooper is that he tends to get himself in trouble. If Cooper’s got you involved in one of his harebrained schemes, I’d watch out. You’re getting set to take a real big fall. I’d say it’s better to play by the rules.”

Anna said nothing. The sun on her head felt like hot liquid.

“Everything all right there?” Bender called from the open door.

“Oh yeah, we’re fine. No problem,” Miller called back. “We were just leaving.”

“Captain Cooper called from the CCP. He’s expecting the
Fraulein
back. Wondering what’s taking so long. You better step on it.”

Miller gave a wave and settled in his seat. He started up the jeep and turned it in the direction of the city. They backtracked the route they had come and Anna relaxed a little as they got closer to town, even with Miller bobbing and weaving the jeep all over the road.

She wanted to trust Cooper. He could have fired her that first day when she left Amalia outside. Or the second day. He had been understanding and never crossed any line with her, not really. He had even tolerated her outbursts. She liked him, despite his bull-in-a-china-shop way of doing things. The thought of him using her in some scheme and throwing her to the wolves made no sense, but she knew it was possible. After all, what did she really know about Cooper? He was kind, she knew that for sure. Kindness was enough, she decided. For now. She closed her eyes and let the wind blow the doubt from her mind. In its place she put Amalia’s smiling face and the sensation of her daughter’s little hand in hers. As long as she had that, somehow everything would be all right.

One block away from the Collecting Point all traffic was stopped. Miller stood up in his seat to get a better view of what was ahead but sat back down. “Might have to be here a while. Looks like they’re setting up the security perimeter for the delivery. You got your papers? You can walk if you’re in a hurry. Don’t want to keep the Captain waiting.” He threw her a sideways look. “I’ll bring the stuff when I get there.”

Anna was grateful for the release and picked up her bag. She reached into the back seat and took the typewriter ribbons from the top of the pile of supplies.

“Think about what I said, why don’t you? It’s good to know
who you can trust. And you can always come to me if you got a problem.” Miller snorted and then spat to his left onto the street, into the path of a stooped woman walking past the jeep.
Schwein
, Anna thought as she walked away.
Pig
.

When she came over the little hill, Anna saw the cause of the back up. Three Sherman tanks sat on the street in front of the Collecting Point. Her heart gave her a kick as the familiar gasoline smell drifted her way. One of the tanks rumbled to life and began to move. A handful of Americans shouted and waved their arms, trying to direct it into a small open patch at the southwest corner of the new fence. The tank lurched back and forth in the tight space like an overgrown bear trying to roll over in its cave. The same back and forth had happened when the American tanks had rolled into the narrow streets of Kappellendorf. One had gotten stuck in a tight corner and the Americans had simply run it into the offending building, sending its facade crumbling to the ground. The whole town had gathered to watch the arrival, hanging white sheets from their windows and standing in solemn observance. The Americans had stumbled on the Buchenwald concentration camp in the forest on the other side of Weimar only days before. Confirmation of the rumors of its atrocities had raced through the town. The Germans, no longer shrouded by willful ignorance or fear or even fervent support, absorbed the contemptuous and accusing stares of the Americans. There was nowhere left to hide, after all.

Days later the Americans rounded them up and marched the good Germans of the area through the camp to see with their own eyes what their complicity had wrought. Anna and Thomas had been separated during the march and she walked through camp without him, following a fat woman with a feathery hat. How this woman could have put on her Sunday best for this journey Anna would never understand. The memories of what she saw still flashed in her mind daily, sometimes hourly, searing and unbidden. Men so emaciated that their skin barely covered their bones, their mouths contorted in painful death, stacked more than a meter high, unfathomably neatly, head to toe, like firewood. The bodies were a translucent green—from starvation, Thomas had told her later—and the stench of rotting flesh permeated everything. She saw the crematorium with its half-burned bodies buried in ash; the bunks that resembled morgue drawers; the cellar where prisoners had been hanged or tortured, blood stains still on the walls underneath the meathooks. A bloody club was leaned against the wall in the corner, as if ready for its next victim. Anna vomited more than once, and an American photographer had taken her photo as she convulsed, her empty stomach forcing up nothing but shame and fury. She had known about the camp, of course; everyone knew about it. For years there were whispers and glimpses of emaciated prisoners being marched through the streets. It had been very easy to avoid any confrontation with the truth and Anna had been all too willing to turn away. But even having seen the truth with her own eyes it was beyond human comprehension. And to think it had been happening under her nose in the countryside she had so loved. It was no coincidence that Himmler had placed the camp exactly in the place on the Ettersberg where Goethe, the father of all German culture and civility, had liked to write his poetry. It was a calculated annihilation of all that had been beautiful about Germany. The Nazis had always been so good at symbolism.