“How did it go with Fleck?” Max asked.
“Neither of us are terminated, at least for today.”
“Gut,” Max said. “Do you see Waldemar?”
“Fleck’s talking to him by the barn, and Waldemar doesn’t look happy.”
Max nodded. “I appreciate your efforts to protect me, but in the future, I suggest not stretching the truth with Fleck.”
Anna clasped Nia’s harness, the dog wagging its tail between them. “You risked everything to help me.”
Max placed his gloved hand upon Anna’s. “That’s what friends do. Right?”
Friends, Anna thought. “Ja.”
Fleck blew his whistle, signaling for the group to line up on the course.
Max slipped his hand away and clasped the harness.
For the morning, they performed training walks with turns and artificial obstacle work. The snow grew heavier and the temperature plummeted, but Fleck didn’t give them a break. Instead, he pushed them harder, as if he were leveraging the horrid weather conditions to harden the veterans, as well as their shepherds, for the difficult future that lay ahead of them. By afternoon, Nia’s bad paw grew tender and she began to hobble. Anna expected that Fleck might replace Nia with Elfriede, now that the dog’s toenail was healed. But Fleck permitted Nia to stay on the course. And for the rest of the day the trio of Max, Anna, and Nia trained with the other groups, while Waldemar, his face filled with contempt, stood on the sidelines.
CHAPTER22
OLDENBURG, GERMANY—DECEMBER18, 1916
Anna, Max, and Nia entered Norbie’s workshop to a toll of chimes, dongs, and clangs. Shivering, Anna and Max unbuttoned their coats and loosened their scarfs, while Nia greeted Norbie at his workbench.
“You’re home early,” Norbie said, ruffling Nia’s ears. In front of him was a mantel clock, its back opened to expose internal gears, and an array of intricate tools that gave Norbie the appearance of a doctor performing surgery.
“It’s bitter cold,” Anna said, rubbing her hands together. “Fleck was concerned about everyone getting frostbite, so he gave us the remainder of the afternoon off.”
The chimes stopped, revealing an underlying chorus of ticktocks.
“That’s the second time this week that he’s curtailed training,” Norbie said.
“Ja,” Anna said. “Fleck says that if the weather continues to be dangerously cold, he’ll need to delay graduation for the veterans.”
Max peered in the direction of Norbie. “How do you feel about getting stuck with me for another week or two?”
“That would be splendid,” Norbie said. “However, I’ll need to start charging you board.”
Anna’s eyes widened. “Vater.”
“It’s okay,” Max said. “I don’t have much, but I’d be happy to pay you what I have.”
Norbie grinned. “Would you agree to me waiving your rent in exchange for evening piano performances?”
Max smiled. “I think I can make that work.”
Nia’s tail batted the workbench.
Anna approached her father, squeezed his hand, and silently mouthed, “Danke.”
For the next few days, Max played the piano in the evenings, performing soul-stirring pieces by Frédéric Chopin, Johannes Brahms, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Claude Debussy, Antonio Vivaldi, Ludwig van Beethoven, Joseph Haydn, and Richard Wagner. Max had played each composition from memory, constructing mental tones for the pitches that were outside of his range of hearing. Their living room with an audience of three, including Nia who lay near Max’s feet, had been transformed into a diminutive concert hall. And she was appreciative that her father was encouraging Max to play.Soon,Anna thought,he’ll resurrect his dream of becoming a professional pianist.
A solo grandfather clock chimed.
“Confounded pendulum disc,” Norbie muttered. “That clock is always off; I’ll work on it later. Come upstairs and get warm. I’ll make you coffee to take off the chill.”
