The Roses Underneath (44 page)

Madeleine and Amalia were listening to the American radio station as Anna sat on the kitchen stool leafing through the list of gallery owners and staring at the SS pin
laying on the table, almost afraid to touch it. How had Frieda gotten past the
Amis
? Were they checking anyone at all? Everyone walking around Germany now had a past full of secrets and Anna felt stupid for ever having thought otherwise. She unfolded Oskar’s papers and searched the form again for any clues. She had no doubt that he must have spent time at the children’s home at the villa. Had he been one of the children borne by the young women doing their duty for the Reich? He certainly had the perfect Aryan look and the attitude to go along with it.

A loud knock on the door made her jump. She looked out the window. The sun had set and the curfew was nearly in effect. She wondered if she should get the gun resting on her toilet tank. The knock came again. After sliding the SS pin and the papers into the kitchen drawer, she stepped into the hall. “Who’s there?” she asked into the
door frame.

“It’s me, Frau Klein. Oskar.”

Anna pulled the door open and saw Cooper’s smiling face. His hands rested on Oskar’s shoulders.

“Guess who I found?” He pushed Oskar toward her.

“Oskar!” Anna said, making her voice bright. “Where have you been?”

“I caught him digging through the trash behind the mess hall after dinner. One of the guys chased him off, but I grabbed him.”

Anna opened the door wide and motioned them both inside. “He ran away from the camp. Didn’t you?” she said. She wanted to yell at the boy and throw the blame for everything that had happened that day at his feet. Of course that was unfair, but it was easy. He was dirty and his legs were bloodied and scraped. A large bruise circled his right eye.

“Oh my God, Oskar, you poor boy. What’s happened?” She reached out to him, but Oskar winced and jerked away.

“So, you want him? Or should I take him back to the DP camp?” Cooper asked.

Oskar crossed his arms but kept his eyes locked on Anna.

“Oskar, it’s you!” Amalia ran toward him and nearly knocked him off his feet. “Mama can he stay?” She wrapped her little arms around his shoulders and squeezed.

“He can stay,” Anna said. “Let’s get him cleaned up.” She ushered the boy into the living room and got him situated on the sofa. “Maus, introduce Oskar to Auntie and you all stay here while I talk to Captain Cooper.”

Cooper stood by the door as if to make an easy escape. Before Anna could speak, he held up a finger. “I know. I am just as mad as you are about the hearing. Believe me, there was no way for me to get there. I got called to a meeting in Frankfurt and I had to be there. Phillips set me up, I swear. And I know you want to tell me all about it, but let’s do that tomorrow. I—” He stopped as Anna brushed past him into the bathroom, ignoring him. When she re-emerged she presented Cooper’s Colt to him on the palms of her hands as if it were a special dessert.

“I believe this is yours,” she said.

Cooper drew a sharp breath and shook his head. Taking the gun, he turned it over in his hand, inspecting it from all angles. “Do I want to know where you got this?” he asked without meeting her eyes.

“From Emil Schilling. He was the one who took it from you from you that night at the villa.”

“Your
Wehrmacht
friend? Well, shit. You’ve got to be kidding me. How do you figure that?”

“He told me. He also told me that he saw the Runge painting there. He’s our witness. Except he’s dead.”

“Say again?”

“I’ll have to tell you the whole story another time,” Anna said.

“Emil? Is dead? But how is it that you have my gun now?” Cooper asked, tilting his head sideways, the same way he had the first day they met in the hallway outside the typing pool.

“I don’t have your gun. You do.” Anna said. “And you should probably go now.” She walked to the door and pulled the handle.

Cooper holstered the weapon but made no move to the door. “You’re really not going to tell me?”

“Not tonight,” Anna said. “I am too tired.”

“Okay,” Cooper said. “Sure thing.” He stepped out onto the landing but couldn’t resist one final attempt. “There’s nothing at all you want to tell me?”

“There is a lot I want to tell you, but it will have to wait. You will receive my report tomorrow. I will bring it to the Collecting Point.”

“Oh, good, so you are coming back to work? Everything turned out okay?”

“No, it didn’t. It didn’t turn out
okay
,”Anna sneered. “Now, please just go.”

Cooper tried one more time but Anna opened the door and waited.

“Okay, I’m going,” he said. “But this isn’t the end of the story.”

“No it’s not. It’s not the end of your story,” Anna said, and closed the door before he could see her tears.
But it might be the end of ours.

“Start from the beginning,” Madeleine said as she stroked Anna’s hair. “Tell me everything.”

Anna sank into the bed and began recounting the events of the past few days. The children were downstairs playing in the courtyard. Oskar had barely tolerated Anna cleaning him up, but he had not lashed out at her as he usually did. Their laughter floated through the open window and Anna thought it made life seem almost normal. It had been a long time since she had heard the sounds of children playing outside her window. But as she told Madeleine about Emil and Frieda and the disastrous hearing, the familiar anger rose up in her. She felt helpless and used, like she was a pawn in someone else’s game. She had felt that way for as long as she could remember.

When Anna had finished, Madeleine squeezed her hand. “That poor Schilling girl.
And the boy too. It’s just terrible, even after all that’s happened. May God rest his soul. When will you tell Amalia?”

“Oh I don’t know. I suppose I’ll need to tell her soon enough. It depends on what happens with the
Amis
. Maybe we’ll be gone and I won’t have to tell her.”

“Now stop that. You aren’t going anywhere. Look, this not as bad as you think.
If this Schenk person’s name is really Gerhard Heinrich that won’t be hard to prove. You’ve planted the seed that you are on to them. The Americans just need to check the records. You can get your American to do that for you. It will just take some time.”

“Yes, exactly, “Anna said. “I just don’t know how much time I have.”

“There must be someone who knew this Heinrich from the war, or from before. He must have some family somewhere. He didn’t just hatch from a chicken egg yesterday. Now, why don’t you make me some tea and then show me these paintings?” She gave Anna a push off the bed.

While the tea steeped, Anna brought Emil’s painting and its Collecting Point sibling to show Madeleine. “Emil said the artist of his painting was a friend of his. And look, this one is clearly by the same hand wouldn’t you say?”

“Hmm,” Madeleine nodded. “A bit amateurish. But I guess they have a certain charm. What will you do with it?”

“I haven’t any idea,” Anna replied. She leaned the paintings against the wall and sat down on the bed. “Schenk recognized the one I brought to the Nassauer Hof, so he must know the artist too. Somehow it’s all connected but I can’t figure out how. I’m not going to ask Schenk and it’s too late to ask Emil. I can’t prove anything Emil told me, either.” She sighed.

The door opened and Oskar and Amalia thundered into the living room, arms and legs flying and voices bright with laughter. They tumbled onto the sofa, their smell of sweat and dirt filling the room. Amalia lay back, her head on Oskar’s chest. Lulu peeked out from under his arm. They were both out of breath.

“Oskar, you need to put some cold water on your eye,” Anna said. “It’s starting to swell up. I’ll get you a washcloth, and then you and I are going to have a talk.” She went into the bathroom and ran a cloth under the tap. The water was nice and cool on her hands as she wrung it out. She liked having Oskar with her. It felt more like a family and it was nice for Amalia to have someone to play with and to look out for her. If she could just get the truth out of him, she could decide what to do next.

When she came back in the living room, Amalia was playing with Lulu and Oskar was staring at the paintings, which where she had left them leaning against the wall. He had turned as white as his hair, which seemed to stand even more on edge than usual.

“What’s the matter?” Anna asked.

“Where did you get those pictures?” He looked at her, confusion and fear swirling in his eyes.”Why do you have them?”

“Do you recognize that one from the villa?” She pointed at the smaller landscape Cooper had provided for the failed Nassauer Hof sale. “That’s where it came from. You probably saw it there. This other one, I—”

“Why do you have it?” Oskar shouted. He was angry, back to his defiant self. Now blood rose in his cheeks and his eyes glistened. He looked at her accusingly. “Those are my pictures.”

Anna looked at him and then at the paintings. Something was shifting inside her
brain, a piece of the puzzle inched its way closer to its rightful spot, spinning and twirling around. She took a step toward him and reached out her hand. “What do you mean these are yours? Oskar, it’s very important that you tell me the truth now.”

Oskar shook his head, hard. “No. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Nothing bad will happen. Are you scared of your uncle? He can’t hurt you anymore. You are safe with me. Now, tell me the truth.”

“How do you know about my uncle?”

“Never mind that now. Why are you so afraid of him?”

He jerked his arm out of Anna’s grip. “Because he said he would hurt me if I told anyone. And that he would hurt you too.”

“Me? How does your uncle know me?”

“You met him at that hotel. He told me. You had a picture of mine that you tried to sell him.
A picture of my Mama’s. He thought I had something to do with you going there to see him.”

Anna threw the wet towel on the sofa and sat down. “Listen, that’s enough of all this intrigue. You will tell me the truth now, Oskar, all of it. I am fed up with these guessing games.” She took his chin into her hand and turned his face toward hers. “Tell me everything, now. Nothing bad will happen, I promise. But you have to talk.”

He stared at her for a long time, his jaw working. “All right, I’ll tell you. It was my job to guard the paintings at the villa. After my mama died, I had to go live with him, with my Uncle Gerhart. But he didn’t want me, so he made me stay at the villa so I could tell him if the
Amis
found his paintings. But when you came with the
Ami
, you found me too, and you took me away. That made him even more mad at me. When he found me at the camp he was really angry.”

Anna slid to the floor and stared at the boy. “Your uncle Gerhart? Gerhart who?”

“Gerhart Heinrich.” Oskar said. “He is my mother’s brother.”

Anna’s gaze focused on the boy and she spoke very slowly as she tried to follow the trail. “And your uncle, Gerhart Heinrich, was at the hotel when I tried to sell him this painting?” She pointed to the smaller landscape.

Oskar nodded. “You can’t tell him I told you. He can hurt you. And Amalia, too. That’s why I didn’t tell you anything. I was too scared. I am sorry that I messed things up.”

Anna pulled herself to her feet, only half-listening. She went into the kitchen and came back with the papers she had been studying. The lists of gallery owners, Oskar’s parents’ death certificates. Something had finally clicked. She shuffled though the papers until she found the one she wanted.
The death certificate. The one thing she had paid no attention to had been what she’d needed all along. Oskar’s mother’s name: Magda Grünewald,
geborene
Heinrich. Her maiden name. Oskar was telling the truth.

Anna went back to the boy and pulled him toward her. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Oskar. You are safe now.” She wrapped her arms around him and sat in the revelation as if a light was shining on both of them. Schenk really
was
Gerhart Heinrich. And someone could prove it. Emil had told her the truth. She was relieved and elated and horrified all at once.

After a while, Oskar spoke. “But Frau Klein? How did you get my Mama’s pictures?”

“These pictures belonged to your Mama?” Anna asked. “Really?”

“No.” Oskar shook his head and sniffed. “My Mama painted them. We would go together when she painted, down by the river. This was my favorite painting because I am in it. See?” He pointed to the small shepherd tending his flock on Emil’s painting, his eyes bright and the color rising in his cheeks. “But then she put it in my uncle’s gallery to be sold. She wanted to make extra money for herself. For us.”

“And I knew the man who bought it.” Anna said. Emil’s story was coming into the light. “His name was Emil Schilling. And I think he was your mothers friend?”

Oskar nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Emil. You knew him too? But how did you get the picture?”

Anna inhaled. “I think Emil wanted you to have this painting, only he didn’t know you how to find you. He must have thought you died in the bombs too. If your uncle was keeping you a secret, then he wouldn’t have known you were alive.”