Max nibbled his bread. “The spätzle is mouthwatering, but it’s not quite as tasty as mymutter’s recipe. Her spätzle called for a rare variety of nutmeg—grown on a secret spice island—and eggs from hand-fed ostriches.”
Norbie chuckled. “That’s the spirit.”
They’re creating an imaginary dinner to help us feel better.She fought back tears and took a spoonful of soup.
With a bit of encouragement from Norbie, Anna joined the childish make-believe game. As the meal progressed, they attempted to outdo each other with the usage of delectable words and far-fetched recipes. Anna forgot about the war, British naval blockade, and threat of starvation. Long after dinner was finished, they chatted at the table, like a family after a holiday meal. The scant amount of food had done little to curb the grumble in her belly, but Vater and Max had filled her heart with hope.
CHAPTER18
OLDENBURG, GERMANY—DECEMBER9, 1916
Anna, anxious to read a letter that she received from Bruno, finished her evening chores and went to her bedroom. Although she was exhausted from working outside in the cold for most of the day, her heart thrummed as she opened the envelope.
Thank Goodness!She took a deep breath to calm the quiver in her hands.
Anna’s mind flashed to the bowls of watery turnip and leek soup that they’d eaten for the past two days. With the exception of Max’s veteran rations that he’d insisted on sharing with her and Norbie, they’d consumed only soup and bark coffee.
“Of course,” she whispered, feeling heartbroken for him. As a nurse, she’d witnessed the aftermath of the mutilation that took place on the front. But she could not begin to imagine what it would be like to be forced by the military to fight, let alone kill, another human being. She wished that there was something that she could do to ease his anguish, and that the bloodshed in Europe would come to an end.
A mixture of excitement and melancholy stirred within her. She was elated by the news that Bruno would soon be home, but his remorseful words had shaken her core.He’s hurting. I’ll find a way to help him when he’s home. But Fleck will never give me time off from work while boarding and training Max.
The past two days were arduous for Anna. The other trainers had spoken little to her, as if they didn’t believe a woman, especially one who lacked a military background, had earned the right to train dogs. Through the corners of her eyes, she’d frequently seen Waldemar, glaring at her from the sidelines of the obstacle course. And Fleck had criticized many of her training techniques, most notably the manner in which she instructed right shoulder work—the capacity for Nia to leave ample room for Max on his right when passing fixed objects such as signposts and benches.
“Your right shoulder work is pitiful, Fräulein Zeller!” Fleck had shouted. “You need to make certain your dog protects its handler from head to toe!”
Anna, her nerves rattled, had made adjustments with Nia. Throughout each day, Max provided words of encouragement, which she greatly appreciated. But being on the obstacle course, as opposed to watching from the sidelines, revealed her flaws and how much she needed to learn in order to become a competent instructor. Although she worried that Fleck might reconsider his decision to allow her to temporarily train, and that Nia might be removed from the course when the other dogs were healthy, she refused to give up on her quest to be a guide dog trainer.
The sound of a solitary piano key resonated from the living room. She straightened her back and listened. The tone faded, and the same note was played again. Driven by curiosity, she placed Bruno’s letter in a drawer and descended the stairs to the living room.
Max, standing at the piano with the front panel removed to expose the strings and tuning pins, tapped a key. A twangy resonance filled the room.
“I think it’s sharp,” Norbie said, standing beside Max.
“I believe it’s flat,” Max said.
Nia, lying in the center of the living room, thumped her tail.
“Are you sure?” Norbie asked.
“Ja,” Max said.
“It’s definitely flat,” Anna said, approaching them.
“Ah, Anna,” Norbie said. “Max is going to tune yourmutter’s piano.”
“That’s very kind,” she said.
“We don’t have a tuning key,” Max said, “but a wrench from Norbie’s toolbox should work well as a substitute.”
“How is Bruno?” Norbie asked.
“He’s coming home on leave,” Anna said, hesitant to disclose details of Bruno’s emotional turmoil.
“Wonderful,” Norbie said. “When will he arrive?”
“Next month,” she said. “He doesn’t yet know the date.”
“That is grand news,” Max said. “I’m happy for you.”
