The Roses Underneath (36 page)

Without breaking stride, Anna slid into the jeep’s driver’s side. She had not driven a car since the truck she and Amalia had driven to Wiesbaden had broken down. She tested the
gear shift and pushed it into what she hoped was neutral. Her left foot found the start button and she put all her weight behind it. As the jeep rumbled awake, she stomped on the clutch, grasped the wheel with one hand, and pushed the gear shift forward with the other. Releasing the clutch, she felt the jeep lurch forward. A small part of her brain introduced the notion that stealing a United States Army jeep might be a terrible idea, one that should be reconsidered before she went much further. Anna silenced it with a press to the gas pedal that sent the jeep careening toward the entry. She held her breath. As the jeep passed the sentry, the guard did not turn his head, instead waving his arm in her direction in a casual salute. Anna turned the jeep to the right, away from his view, and shifted gears. Her fingers choked the steering wheel and she did not dare look back.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she turned onto the Rheinstrasse, heading west out of town. She focused on the road ahead and marveled at how easy the jeep was to drive compared to the lumbering truck she had driven the three hundred kilometers from Kappellendorf.
The wind whipped through her hair and whorled into her ears. She loved driving and all that it represented. For a moment she wished she could push the gas pedal to the floor and never let up. Instead she slowed to a sensible speed, so as not to draw more attention to herself.

At the intersection with the Schwalbacherstrasse, an MP directed the meager traffic with earnest authority. Anna willed him not to notice her, but her own psychic powers were lacking. She could not have been more obviously out of place if she had been wearing a Russian Army uniform. As the MP waved the cross traffic though with one hand, he turned his head and stared, as if to sort out what he was seeing. In three steps he was next to the jeep.

“What the hell, lady? What do you think you’re doing? Do you speak English?” His fleshy face glistened with sweat and his hooded eyes darted from side to side. One hand moved toward the holster on his hip.

She cleared her throat. “Yes, hello, officer. I am on official business, for the Collecting Point.” She pulled her translator papers from her bag and presented them with a steady hand. “I am doing work for Captain Henry Cooper. He needs a dignitary to be escorted back to the Collecting Point. I am just on my way to fetch him.”

The MP looked skeptical. “You shouldn’t be driving. There should be a driver.”

Anna nodded her head as if to agree with him. “Yes, of course you are correct, but it was a bit of an emergency and no one else was available. He told me I might have some trouble, so he suggested that you please be in contact with his office directly. Back at the Collecting Point. I can give you the telephone number.” She pretended to dig around in her bag. Behind her, another jeep’s horn protested and made her jump. The MP shot an angry look at the car and then returned to examining her papers.

“Anna Klein. You’re a translator?”

“Yes. The translator. For the officers.” Funny how the lies became liquid, flowing easily and filling the space once you let them loose.

The MP stared at her and seemed to be considering his options. Anna made a show of being in a hurry, placing one hand back on the gear shift, ready to drive on. Finally, he stepped back. “Okay, fine.” He handed the papers back to her. “You’re free to go. Drive on.” He waved her through with irritation. Anna stepped on the gas and smiled to herself. Cooper had definitely rubbed off on her.

Anna slowed the jeep near the entrance of the displaced persons camp and pulled over to the curb. Somehow she had to get Oskar to talk this time, to tell her about the art in the villa and what he was really doing there. He was the only other witness.

On her right was a two-story, stone-front building that was mostly intact. The large entry door was still in one piece and was closed. The building looked like the kind of place where an
Ami
might have official business. She decided to leave the jeep parked there rather than risk driving it into the camp and being questioned a second time. She jumped from the jeep and crossed the street in a quick jog, Otto’s old boots making her strides long and easy. When she arrived at the gate, she showed her papers again and revised her story about official business for the Collecting Point. This time she was there to question a resident on an urgent matter. She threw out Cooper’s name again and was waved through with no questions.

Maria was clearing tables in the dining room. The air was damp and hot and smelled of body odor and grease. Women picked up stacks of metal plates from the ends of the long tables and talked loudly amongst themselves. Anna picked up a stack near her and caught up with Maria as she walked to the kitchen window to deposit them with the dishwashers. The women greeted each other warmly and Anna asked where she could find Oskar.

Maria’s face darkened. “He’s run away. I didn’t know how to find you. I wanted to tell you,” she said, wiping her hands on her dress.

Anna’s heart sank. “When?”

“Yesterday morning, I think. He wasn’t at breakfast and no one saw him in the morning, except for one boy, who thinks he saw him sneak from his bed at dawn. I can’t imagine where he could have gone, especially since he had good news the day before.”

“What good news? Did someone come for him?”

Maria nodded and gestured for Anna to sit down.

“Day before yesterday, a man appeared.
In the morning. I had taken all the linens to the laundry and was helping with the washing when it happened, so I wasn’t there, but the other women told me about the visit. A man came to see Oskar, said he was the boy’s family, and they talked for a while out in the play yard. Then the man went off to file the paperwork to take Oskar home. That usually takes a few days, so he would have had to come back for him. But after that, something wasn’t right with Oskar. He wasn’t happy at all. I tried to talk to him but he fell silent again, like he was when he first came. I thought maybe the reality of everything was sinking in, finally. But it was odd. He had been happier before the visit, if you could say that. I was concerned, but I never thought he would run away. I mean, where could he possibly go?”

“You didn’t see this man?”

Maria shook her head. “No. But they said he was quite friendly, looked like an upstanding fellow. Seemed very eager to help the boy.”

“Did he fill out any papers here?”

Maria shrugged. “I don’t think so, not here. But you could check.”

Anna stood. Now she was sure she had seen Oskar on the street the day before.

“Do you think you could check? I have to go right now, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Of course. I’ll go to the administrative office later today.” Maria tilted her head. “Where is your Captain? Did he bring you?”

Anna reddened. “No. I came alone. I just wanted to be sure Oskar was all right. I was worried for him.” She looked at the floor by her feet. “And he’s not my Captain. Not anymore,” she added and then wondered why she had mentioned it.

Maria let the words
lie, pushing herself to her feet and picking up another stack of plates. “If you say so.” She smiled a tired smile that did not take hold on her face, gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Anna walked back to the jeep as fast as she could. Lunchtime at the Collecting Point was well over and the typing pool would be back in business by now. She sat in the driver’s seat and considered her next step. If she didn’t go back, Frau Obersdorfer would have her fired for sure. Then again, if she did go back, the result would be the same. Either way, she was in trouble. What was interesting was that she didn’t much care. It was an entirely new feeling. A fly buzzed around her head and she swatted at it, squinting into the sky as she considered this change in herself. A warm breeze tickled the back of her neck and she smiled. She might as well make the most of her shrinking autonomy while she could. She put the jeep into gear and pulled out into the sparse traffic. Two hands firmly on the steering wheel, she accelerated and continued heading west, away from the city.

The gravel crunched under the tires as Anna drove up the long lane toward the front door of the villa. The place looked as deserted as the day she and Cooper had found it, unsuspecting of what the visit would bring. Nothing had changed; there still wasn’t even a lock on the door. She left the jeep in the drive in front and pushed her way into the house. Inside the hall, she stood for a moment, listening. The house was dead and silent, the air thick and stale. She wanted to throw open the windows, to clean the coating of dust from the surfaces, to bring the place back to life. The downstairs rooms seemed untouched since her last visit and she turned her attention to the upstairs. She and Cooper had not made it much past the bedroom at the end of the hall, the one where they had found Oskar. Now she climbed the stairs slowly, allowing them to creak under her feet, waiting between steps for any other sounds. At the top, she turned right and tried each of the four doorways leading up to the room at the end. All the rooms had been stripped of their valuables. They were like empty cardboard boxes, their contents removed and only the packing material left. Here a bed frame, there a dresser of drawers. Anna pulled open wardrobe doors, looked under beds and peeked behind curtains. The place revealed nothing, as if it had been scrubbed clean of its identity.

The room at the far end, overlooking the back garden, was much larger than the others. The shutters were closed and the curtains drawn. Anna held her breath as she crossed to the window to let light in. The curtains released a shower of grit when she pulled at them, then she cracked the shutters open. The dusty sunlight revealed a room full of white metal bed frames stacked along the far wall. A large cabinet with drawers and a glass front with several shelves stood near the window. She tugged at its small knob and opened the door. Inside were bandages and bottles of tinctures and other medical items. The drawers revealed more of the same, as well as tablets for pain and others for fever. Anna opened up a box full of tins of arnica cream. She put two into her pocket, then closed the box. The top was marked with a stamp:
Lebensborn Kinderheim.
The orphanage.
Anna clenched her teeth as she rummaged though the box and pocketed all she could fit: aspirin, bandages, even a small thermometer. The sensation of something nipping at her heels made her jump, but when she looked at her feet, nothing was there. She scanned the room again.
A sickbay or clinic, maybe
, she thought. She tried to picture the small faces of the children who had lived here. She could see a smaller version of Oskar, his short pants and knee socks, hair standing in every direction. Had he been here, then, too?

She paced the room and tried to think. Why did Oskar run away from the camp when the man came for him? The boy had told her he had no one. Surely he would have known this person? But why not be happy to see him? And where had Oskar
run to? She was surprised to find herself a little angry with him for not coming to her. She thought she had made more progress and that he had begun to trust her. But, then again, he still thought of her as the enemy. Still, she knew for sure that she had seen him outside the fence at the Collecting Point, and a small part of her knew he would turn up again, somewhere. She worried he was scared and hungry and she wanted to will him to come to her. She wanted to keep him safe. But, for now, she felt useless. Her pacing took her back into the hall and to the other end—to the room where they had found Oskar. Its contents seemed much the same: the rumpled bed, the dirty bath, and the open wardrobe. Even Oskar’s piles of rocks in the corner were still there. She studied the footprints in the dusty floor, reliving their meeting. The small smudges must have been Oskar, and the medium ones with the small heel print were hers. Cooper’s prints were unique—American Army issue boots with their rubber soles, and were in a clear line from the wardrobe to the window and back to the door. A fourth set of footprints was visible in the corner and near the wardrobe. They were large, a man’s shoe, but not a rugged army boot—something more refined. Neither she nor Cooper had ventured by the far wall and Anna knew with near perfect certainty that the prints had not been there before. Still, that meant nothing. She shook her head. The front door was still unlocked; anyone could have come inside.

Walking around the room, she slid the dust around under her feet and was about to close the wardrobe door when something inside caught her eye. A small package, like a brick wrapped in newspaper, had been pushed to the back corner of the wardrobe floor. When she picked it up, the weight in her hands told her immediately what must be inside. She slid a finger under the seam of the wrapping. When the newspaper unfolded, she saw her hunch had been correct. Inside was a stack of American dollar bills, all different denominations. She flipped through the bills and then counted them out deliberately. There were fives and tens and many one dollar bills, crumpled and dirty. They added up to exactly three hundred dollars. Anna sat back and to spread the newspaper out on the floor and saw it was the front page of the
Stars and Stripes
. An earnest General MacArthur stared at her from the photo, awaiting Japan’s capitulation. The paper was dated 13 August, the day before the Japanese had surrendered, ten days ago. She scanned her memory to put all the events in the proper order. It was the day after the Japanese surrender that Cooper had come back out to the villa, alone, in the night. Was this money the reason Cooper had been attacked? Or—something tickled her conscience—had he put it there himself, as a bribe? But for whom? She stared at the money and fanned it out on the floor in front of her. American presidents she had never heard of stared up, daring her. Three hundred dollars. So much money. Her mind focused on another possibility. Three hundred was the exact amount Schenk had quoted her for the travel papers, either for Thomas to come to Wiesbaden, or for Anna and Amalia to return home. He had made a point to say the amount more than once. Was this money put here for her to find? Who had put it there? And what if she did take it? Thomas could come, she could quit the job, and get Schenk off her back. She could get on with putting her life back together and return to being a wife and mother. They would disappear and build their new life somewhere far away. She closed her eyes to imagine the scene: the smell of food cooking in a kitchen in a small house; flowers in the garden; Thomas working in his office; the sounds of children playing outside the window. She imagined herself grabbing the money and getting in the jeep and driving away, fetching Amalia from Frieda’s house and disappearing with no explanation and no reason. Just dissolving into the ether or into another life, one with no politics or sides to choose, just her and Thomas and Amalia. But she knew this was just a dream. In this world there were always sides to choose and Thomas had chosen his. Soon she would have to choose hers, too.