Read Online The Roses Underneath by C.F. Yetmen - Free Book Online

was carefully controlled even as they teased each other, as if there was a subtext she could not read. She took another bite of strudel.
    “Finished!” Amalia said, setting her plate down and wiping her mouth with the napkin.
    “Right,” said Frieda as she stood up and held her hand out. “Let’s go. Frau Klein you stay here and finish your strudel. Emil will help you find us.” The two went off down the short hallway and Anna heard a door open and Frieda say, “This is where all the children play.”
    Anna hated having Amalia out of her sight. The fear of having to leave her in the care of a stranger felt as real and solid as if it were sitting next to her on the sofa. The fact that she had to admit that the strudel and the coffee, not to mention the lovely home, could maybe make her ignore it unsettled her. The whole scenario made her feel cheap, like she was being bought.
    “How many children did you say your sister keeps?” she asked Emil, who had helped himself to a generous slice and was refilling his sister’s cup for himself. He poured milk into the coffee with a shaking hand. Anna noticed the tips of three of his fingers on his left hand were gone just above the first knuckle.
    Emil noticed her attention and wrapped his other hand around the affected fingers. “Frostbite,” he said. “My souvenir from Leningrad.”
    “Oh, I am sorry,” Anna said, feeling the war enter the room again. Its odor was always present, even when there were only Amis around. But these young soldiers—the Soldaten that they were all supposed to ignore now—always brought the reality back.
    “Bah, it’s nothing. I got off easy.” He kept his fingers hidden. “I think it’s four now. Children, that Frieda watches,” he said. “Two girls and two boys. It varies, people are so transient now, but it’s mostly mothers who work at the Collecting Point like you. Well, like us both, I guess.” He stopped speaking as if catching himself before saying something he shouldn’t.
    Anna nodded, feeling awkward. She tried to find something to fill the silence. “How are the Americans treating you?” was all she could think of.
    “Oh the Amis are fine, most of them. I don’t bother them, they don’t bother me. I figure if they can clean up this mess then that’s all right with me.”
    “I guess so,” Anna replied. Her eyes landed on the paintings on the wall behind Emil’s chair. “You have a lot of nice paintings.” She wondered how they had survived all this time, not having been sold or traded for food, or their frames broken for kindling.
    Emil exhaled. “Ah yes, my mother’s paintings. She was a bit of a collector. I even bought a few things myself, before the war. They aren’t really very valuable, mostly they are from local artists—Rhine painters, you know? But I like them. They are nice scenes of happy days.”
    “Maybe there will be happy days again,” Anna said, but she didn’t believe it. The didn’t deserve it anyhow.
    “For you, yes I think so,” Emil said. “But not for me. Not for us soldiers. All we can do is hope that the children don’t have to pay for what we did, right?”
    “Is that why you are helping us? Me and Amalia?”
    Emil shrugged. “I guess.” He shifted his weight in the chair. “So, what do you say? If Amalia likes it, I am sure Frieda can arrange a workable payment for you.”
    “You have been most kind.” Anna thought if she had worn a hat she’d be clutching it in her hands now, playing the part of the down-and-out mother, having just been bribed with strudel and coffee, ready to sign over her greatest treasure into the care of another. “Shall we go see the room?” It’s going to take more than strudel and coffee to buy me , she thought.
    But as soon as she peeked into the playroom, the deal was sealed. It was filled with toys and books that sat in an orderly fashion on low shelves lining the walls. A small chalkboard stood on an easel, flanked by a row of low