Bruno turned and froze at the sight of Anna, standing at the entrance to the living room with her hands clasped. “Anna, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Dinner is ready,” she said.
How long was she there?Bruno thought. “We’ll be right in.”
“All right.” She turned and left.
Bruno, his pulse thudding inside his eardrums, went to the kitchen and took his seat next to Anna at the table. Dinner discussion was sparse, with the exception of Norbie, who attempted to fill the conversational void with fond stories of his late wife, Helga.I’m so sorry, please forgive me,Bruno thought, glancing at Max’s opaque eyes.But if it wasn’t for a French shell, he rationalized,Max would not have been blinded. And if he wasn’t injured, he might have been killed in combat.He struggled to keep the fork in his hand from quivering as he forced himself to eat a turnip cutlet with slivers of leek. And he prayed that he’d convinced Max that his regiment assignment in Ypres had nothing to do with poison gas or the Disinfection Unit.
After dinner, Anna joined Max at the piano to work on his composition, and Bruno excused himself to take a walk outside for some fresh air. He walked, his legs feeling like they were filled with sand, along the icy cobblestone street. Memories of gassed corpses, their mouths contorted and faces the color of plum, played over and over inside his head. Forty meters from the house, his stomach lurched and he vomited onto the snow.
CHAPTER29
OLDENBURG, GERMANY—JANUARY31, 1917
Anna, a restlessness growing inside her, walked along the landing of the train station with Max and Nia. Fleck had assigned them to train in town, and she thought that Max might become more talkative as the day progressed. But the longer they worked, the less he spoke. Even last night, he’d cut short their work on the piano composition with the excuse that he was tired. It wasn’t unusual to be exhausted, especially with training in the cold and nearly always being hungry. However, his silence—as well as Bruno’s reticent behavior, considering he’d gone to bed early rather than stay up with her in the living room—seemed to have begun with the conversation that she partially overheard before last night’s dinner.
“Would you like to tell me why you’re quiet?” she asked, walking with Nia between them.
Max tapped his cane over the ground. “I’m a bit worn out, and my lungs ache from the winter air.”
Nia glanced back but continued padding over the ground.
Anna wondered if something had been said between Max and Bruno to upset them. Her mind raced, attempting to piece together the conversation that she’d interrupted. “What were you and Bruno discussing last night?”
“The war,” Max said. “And how I was blinded.”
“I’m sure that wasn’t easy for you to talk about,” she said.
He nodded.
“Did you discuss anything else?”
“His family’s business.”
She waited for him to say more, but he continued walking and tapping his cane. Her heart rate quickened. “I overheard you say something about a Disinfection Unit.”
Max’s pace slowed.
“What is it?”
He glanced toward her, and then tugged on the harness. “Halt.”
Nia stopped.
“Are you sure you want to talk about this?” he asked.
“I do.”
He rubbed his face with a gloved hand, and then said to Nia, “Find a seat.”
Nia scanned the landing and padded to a wooden bench.
Anna sat next to Max, holding his cane with both hands, and Nia curled at their boots.
“I’ve been thinking about how to discuss this with you,” Max said, staring straight ahead. “What would you like to know?”
“Everything.”
