Searching for Love - Part Four.
Hi,
This is nicah la Cortes' 'Secret Family', the first book of the Family Secrets Series. Long story short, deadlines, they beat me😞. So I decided to combine my final edit (Don't think I can't see you smirking.) with the beta edition and release it in episodes.
Yes, the cover picture has changed, and the name of the series. The book titles and the series names seem to cause confusion. It makes more sense now. The stories haven't changed.
I've had a torrid time with my printer and laptop both failing, so sorry I haven't posted recently but where is part four.
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9.
After their visit to the police station Alrik and Tim returned to the hospital. Maddie, who just wanted to be near John, seemed content to talk to him for hours in the hope that it may help. From time to time there were short moments when he seemed restless with small tremors and REMs (Rapid Eye Movement) that seemed to disturb his rest. The doctors explained the patient could manifest episodes of disturbance for various reasons, and they should try not to make too much of them.
“Don’t read them as signs of improvement or distress. They are unconscious movement and sounds or even spoken words that everyone experiences when they dream and not lucid." he explained.
Nonetheless, Maddie found it difficult and interpreted them as signs of improvement. Her frequent phone updates sounded encouragingly upbeat and the cloud of uncertainty that had cloaked the last few hours gradually began to dissipate to be replaced by a cautious optimism.
Later that day, the ICU team informed her that they would begin to initiate the weaning protocol to bring John out from sedation before extubation. The Doctors explained there was a link between the time a patient was intubated and undergoing assisted breathing and healing time. The shorter that time was, the better the patient outcome and less the risk of respiratory infections was. Prolonged intubation has its own problems and it was a carefully judged call. Hopefully he would be able to be extubated and be strong enough to manage with just assisted breathing.
Things began to look a little better. They all gave a sigh of relief and Kellie shed a small tear as her mum told them the news on the phone. They knew it was just one small step in a long road, but he was on the road to recovery and everyone had sent their prayers and best wishes.
At the hospital Maddie and Tim waited nervously and the minutes crawled as they tried not to convey their fears to John. Finally, the appointed time arrived. With Maddie holding John’s hand they worked so fast as the Doctor commentated and encouraged him in English.
“Monitors... OK, Hold his head... Remove the tapes.”
John tried to turn as the nurse held him firm.
“Doing well John... Almost over John... Suction ready...”
Struggling with nurses John tried to turn the other way.
“Stay still John, doing well... Suction... Swabs... Wonderful John... All over... Well done!”
The doctor smiled at Mum and the nurses checked John’s throat and chest. It had been over in less than two minutes but for Maddie it seemed like more like two hours, and she felt she hadn’t breathed once during the procedure..
His breathing was shallow but regular, he was getting oxygen by the cannula, and his breathing should become stronger over the next hours. He would be monitored continually.
“Don’t worry that he is sleeping again; he is still very weak. Have some more time with him, then you look like you need a good sleep yourself. Tomorrow he may feel well enough to speak," the Doctor explained to Maddie encouragingly. Then giving his instructions to the nurses in German he left.
Maddie spent her time holding John’s hand, talking and stroking his face. She was desperate for him to wake, or at least to make an indication that he realized that she was at his side. If only he would speak or even open his eyes, any sign. Eventually, the nurses convinced her that he was resting comfortably and there was nothing more that she could do. Beside she needed to rest for tomorrow when he was conscious. It was true what the Doctors said, she was not coping well with the stress and a good night's rest would help.
It was early evening when they prepared to leave the hospital.
“Do you mind is we just walk a while first before we call Alrik?” Maddie asked. “I need to decompress, get some fresh air and feel the wind in my face. I feel like I've been locked inside the hospital for two weeks instead of two days."
“It’s too far to walk all the way to the hotel.” Tim was checking Google Maps on his phone. “OK, but if we walk along Seestrasse we could catch the U8 at Osler Straube to Alexanderplatz - Don’t worry about Alrik, he has plenty of work to get on with."
A cooling breeze chased the oppressive grey clouds that shrouded them in the humid heat of the late June day as they walked and talked.
“I’m sorry about Alrik.” Maddie apologized, “I’ve been selfish I should have realized he needed to work. Both you and Alrik have been so good. I don’t know what John and I would have done without you. I’m so grateful."
“Rubbish! You are family and family stick together especially when it’s tough."
“I really miss my family; John is all I’ve got ... And Kellie of course."
“Don’t you have any brothers and sisters, cousins or whatever?"
“None, I'm the last of the Mohicans, and he's my rock. Well I have a distant cousin in America who I haven't seen I was a kid. We used to write. Well you know how it goes." Her eyes were empty and forlorn looking into the distance. The silence was painfully empty, and lasted longer than he could stand.
“You’ve not Rosy," he said and paused, momentarily shortening his steps, “and me,” he muttered. Uncomfortable with feelings and even more of talking about then he found himself unable to stop talking. “How are you holding up Maddie?" He cursed to himself silently. Him and his big mouth. How did he think she was holding up, he spoke before his brain woke as usual.
“We are going to get wet,” Maddie appeared to have to not hear what he'd said as a big spot of rain slashed on her head, “and my hair's going to turn into a frizz-bomb.” She scurried to the nearest cover as the sudden rain storm turned heavy. Within a couple of steps, it had begun to pour down. By chance, she dived into a bus stop.
“There’s an M13 in two minutes,” Tim pointed to the sign and as predicted the bus arrived. They boarded the bus and Tim paid with his card. Maddie looked at him in bewilderment, so he paid for her using his card too.
“Do I have one of those?” said Maddie pointing at it, “I need a few other essentials too from a pharmacy or a department store. I need money; euros. Can we find a Bank at the station?”
“Use your AmEx card,” he reminded her, “We can get everything you need at Alexanderplatz.” She smiled embarrassed at her 'duh' moment. “It's the stress.” he said passing it off.
They managed to miss the worst of the short summer storm during the journey. Maddie fussed with her wet hair and talked about the stress and worry of the last few days. How she had felt out of control on the edge of panic. How shocked she was when she first saw John, especially when earlier when she saw him fighting and gagging with that tube down his throat. That had been brutal, but she felt that the worst was over, and she decided to take the Doctor’s advice and have the sleeping pill and early night.
Tim was not known for his skills in social conversation. He smiled and nodded embarrassed, praying this journey and its nightmare of talking about emotions would end soon. Tim did not tend toward introversion particularly the kind the involved emotion. None the less he missed the shared moments and conversations at made married life enjoyable, since his divorce.
Maddie finished unburdening her fears and fell silent. She sensed his discomfort, and they spend the remainder of the journey in silence. She fussed with her hair trying to straighten it, but the rain and the damp warm atmosphere of the underground had caused it to explode with the predicted and inevitable hair frizz-bomb. She gave up fussing with it in disgust. She thought how John and Tim had similar issues with emotional situations and wondered if it was a family trait or one of genders. No, it was something else she thought. She longed to be home with John. Soon please... Soon, she prayed.
Finally, it was their stop; She grabbed Tim's arm holding tight. She realized she had no clue of where she was or where she was going. She was completely lost without him. She never thought to use her phone app that Kellie had downloaded for her. She added a city map to her growing mental list of needs. They exited the station to see the streets refreshed in the damp cool air the wet pavements appeared to glisten silver with renewed hope.
“I can’t believe how hungry I am! Let’s eat. I really want a burger,” Maddie announced wandering purposelessly, remembering that John had mentioned something about a McDonalds on the way to the hotel. She spotted it and headed for it. “Food. I can find what I need in the shops tomorrow. Look there’s a Primemark and a green cross sign, doesn’t that mean it’s a chemist’s shop?" She waved vaguely in the direction of the train station.
“Food and sleep sounds good to me,” Tim agreed.
They had it planned to have a girls evening, Marte wanted to continue the interrupted session of looking through her 'wardrobe' determined on making Kellie to try on everything. They looked about the same height Marte was 5’10 1/2” in heels and Kellie was 5' 11” and always wore flats. Marte was a curvy size 14ish who favoured her father’s Nordic heritage. Kellie was more, well, not curvy and definitely not Nordic, but she was blonde well she called it 'dirty blonde'.
“I wish I was brunette; blondes are just so ‘dime a dozen’ in Norway, and look at you, so tall and slim and elegant. I am totally going having to flaunt you in front of Debbie again, especially as she's fat and pregnant,” she grinned relishing the thought. Marte lay across the bed and breathed in deeply trying to close the zip of her jeans before giving up. Kellie could wear Marte’s jeans and skirts but her tops were all too big.
“I’m so fat, I have chunky thighs, and a fat bum and my boobs are way too big. Don’t ever go on the pill; I was like you until I went on the pill and look at me now,” Marte wailed, “I tell everyone that I am embracing my feminine curves but the pill has made me pile on the pounds.”
More information than she needed Kellie thought, as she looked swamped by Marte's tops.
“Just tie a knot in the bottom of your bust”, Marte suggested gathering and knotting the baggy tee showing the effect she favoured on Kellie. “See it's a fashion statement.”
The laptop chirped, with a text from Solo. He was finished. So soon, and Kellie hadn’t even started yet as she stifled a twinge of guilt. ‘No rest for the wicked’ had a kind of irony she thought. Kellie logged in to her laptop and spoke to Solo.
“Marte is with me, so try to behave yourself,” Kellie warned.
“Hi Solo!” Marte waved to him giving him a big smile through the webcam over Kellie’s shoulder. She was changing and flashing a lot more flesh than modesty and Kellie deemed strictly necessary.
“And don’t you mess with him." An annoyed Kellie instructed Marte as she moved the laptop so that Marte was not in shot, “I'm warning you, no peeping. So, what did you manage to find for me?”
“I got everything you asked for except the licence stuff. That’s too dangerous right now.”
“Did you get the Facebook accounts and passwords, and the other social media accounts?”
“I got it all, but I can’t figure out who's who. Which one is the mother, an' who’s the daughter?”
“The one that's not posting is the dead one you Nerf herder, so I doubt she’s still posting,” Marte grinned at Kellie’s reference to Solo and a Nerf herder and gave her a thumbs up.
“OK, you didn’t tell me that one of them was dead. That's a problem because neither of them as posted for days, about a week in fact. Anyway, l gave you full access to the accounts, the details are in the file.”
“Good work.”
“I put a tap in all the accounts, if anyone posts you’ll get a copy. I’ve got a tap on her cell. Fortunately the German telecom provider’s SS7 protocol is still broken, “ he sneered.
“Thanks! You did good. Sorry about the nerf header thing.”
“No biggie. Bye Marte,” he cut the line before she said anything else. She was staring a Kellie big her eyes wide.
“O-M-G! What are you doing? You’re stalking, aren’t you? You’re stalking that poor dead woman and her daughter.”
“Well technically it’s WE, and WE are not stalking. WE haven’t intercepted any communications yet. Anyway you can't stalk a dead person.”
“No, no, no, no, I haven’t done anything. YOU have messed with a foreign country's telephone systems. YOU and your - your - your geek gang - you're like some gang of international cyber criminals”.
“Technically we’re hackers, but I would prefer investigators. Anyway it’s not like it's criminal, you can look as anyone’s posts on social media, you don’t even need to log in for some of it. We searched those images from Facebook without logging on, remember? It’s not illegal. It’s sneaky I grant you, but it’s not illegal. Everyone is searching for this kind of stuff all the time. Anyway, it can’t be illegal or there wouldn’t be a Google app for it,” she rationalized.
“Well. I guess, but bugging her cell phone is.”
“Haven’t you ever listened to a conversation with a crossed line? That’s not illegal. It happens all the time. We’re just listening to crossed lines. It’s not like its secret messages, and we’re not doing anything with it, it’s not like insider trading or anything. It’s just one of millions of calls every hour that can’t be traced." Kellie impressed herself how easily she was able to excuse her actions.
“I still don’t like it.”
“OK, I won’t hack their cell phones ever again if you don’t want me to. All right?" True she didn't need to run the hack again, once it was done it would copy everything until she cancelled it.
“Promise?”
“I promise. I still want to check posts about my dad. I need to know what's going on.”
“Are you really sure you want to know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it could be an affair, or maybe she’s a blackmailer.” Marte’s words seemed to trigger Kellie’s anxiety, and she began twirling a lock of her hair.
“If it is, then I'm glad she’s dead."
“That’s a bit harsh - What if she knew your dad when he lived in Germany before he was married. They were in love, but he returned home, and they lost contact not knowing she was pregnant never knowing he had a daughter. A long-lost daughter.” Marte was getting into her story. She began to notice Kellie's hair twirling thing. It was distracting and annoying.
“OMG. What made you say that,” Kellie squealed. She stopped twirling and started twisting her arms.
“Well, the timing would be right. Maybe they just met again in Berlin but her mum was killed in the accident, and he brings the daughter to live with him in England.”
“Again! What made you say that? That's gross. That’s my life you are screwing with. Besides Tim was the one who lived in Germany.”
The frequency and intensity of the arm twisting increased, and she started digging her nails. Marte finally noticed, and so she stroked her hair and face then held her arms still. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry, I got carried away. You know you’re my ‘little sister’ and always will be. I always pretended I had a big sister too. It was just imagination of course, but I would play with you and talk to you for hours, and make mum lay a place on the table for her and you at dinner time. She was called Sophie, and I’d always blamed her when I’d done something naughty. Do you think I’m weird"?
Kellie smiled, she still had an imaginary friend that she spoke to, and it was comforting to think that someone else was like her. “You’re almost as weird as I am.” She felt a bond with her ‘big sister’ and her stress fell away as she got into the game. She could manage another ‘big sister’ as long as she remained in her imagination.
“Have we got any more pictures of her? You said she was called Anja, Anja Turnau." She asked.
Kellie noted the ‘we’, she was on side and tried to ignore the other stuff. So she quickly found the links Solo sent and scanned her Facebook and the pictures she found earlier.
“She looks about our age, maybe a little older.”
Marte was reading the posts as she reached over and scrolled down.
“It’s all in German,” she said sounding disappointed.
“Hey I was reading that.”
“Sorry, I forgot you speak German.”
Marte pulled the nasty medicine face, as Kellie did a another time line search and the screen filled with images.
“The mother-load,” Kellie said as they examined then.
“She's very pretty, she looks a lot like you. A lot like you. Are you sure you don’t have a secret sister.”
“No! I don’t have a sister, anyway she would be a half-sister. Thank you. And you can have her,” she snapped. Kellie was still uncomfortable to cross that line even in her imagination.
They perused the images commenting on them, she was a senior at ESCP, whatever that is. Google supplied the answer, ESCP Europe, Ecole Supérieure de Commerce, the world’s oldest business school. There appeared to be a boyfriend, and a group of girls who appeared several pictures probably her bbfs. There were several pictures for her and her friends hiking and the forest in what looked like the Alps. Nothing that indicated she even knew dad.
“Try Jana Turnau.”
“No one I know in these.” They scrolled around the pictures.
“Maybe we need no search other sites and names.”
“Who’s the stalker now?"
“Well, it’s interesting, and they could be long lost family. You look like . . . ”
“No! Stop saying that. They are not my family."
Eventually, they adjourned for a hot chocolate in the kitchen carrying the laptop. Rose entered the kitchen disturbed by the girlie hilarity.
“Mum. Look at this,” Marte nodding to Kellie, “show her the pictures, see it she sees it?”
Reluctantly Kellie showed her the images. Rose studied them for a moment.
“Just what this I that I’m supposed to be seeing?”
“The girl, the mystery woman's daughter, who do you think she looks like?” Marte was pointing to Kellie and grinned fit to burst.
“Well, I can see a similarity, there is something in a few pictures, I definitely see a family resemblance with the mother and there is something nagging me about her face.”
“See, she sees it. Maybe I’m right and you have a German half sister,” Marte was wriggling with delight. “Wasn’t uncle John in Germany?" She continued.
“Tim was posted in Berlin for several years, but John was just in and out." Rose agreed, frowning at Marte wanting to calm it down.
“That’s all it takes, so I hear.” Marte smirked.
“Marte!” shocked Rose scolded, “That’s enough for that kind of talk. No need to be coarse. Try to think of Kellie’s feeling, you should know better -“ The girls were shaking with the effort of trying to keep a straight face. “- The two of you -" She trailed off and turning on her heel she stalked out.
That was all it took. They lost it in fits of laughter, eyes streaming, as each time they looked at one another they started again.
“I can still hear you." Rose called from the other room. Another outburst of laughter ensued. Eventually with tear-stained and sore cheeks the laughter subsided
“OMG, but what if it was true?” whispered Marte hoarsely.
“That wouldn’t bare thinking about. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Let’s see what she’s been posting,” Kellie translated as much as she could.
It seems a group of girls had flown to Boston USA and met the sister of one of them to drive to North Woodstock.
'Flight boring, road trip interesting. USA just like in the movies but prettier reminds her of the Black Forest. Stayed in Boston early start to drive to Kinsman Notch. Started trail off Route 112 at Kinsman Notch 07:00 weather clear."'
“There are pictures?" They flicked through to pictures.
“It looks wild and rugged,” Kellie translated the captions.
“What’s a Notch?" Marte asked.
“Google says it’s a local word for a mountain pass."
‘Kinsman Notch to Lonesome Lake Hut 13.5 m -70s F clear, South Kinsman 4358’ + North Kinsman + East Wolf. Really tough and rugged climb, plagued by black flies, exhausted. More than happy to stay at hut and pay using one of our prepaid coupons. Got ‘work for stay’. Will post whenever we can but signal is patchy, don’t worry if you don’t hear for us for 2-3 days."
Kellie managed a rough translation. A little searching with Google filled in the blanks. The were hiking Northbound on the Appalachian Trail in the White Mountains, and were going to hike across the Presidential Mountains. The next three posts confirmed it with more pictures and details of the hike. The next posts were sent together, obviously sent as soon as the signal strong enough to communicate.
“Lonesome Lake Hut — Greenleaf Hut 9.5 m — 70s F cloudy cold night, Lafayette 5294’ + Lincoln, Little Haystack."
“Greenleaf Hut — Galehead Hut 7 m — 53 F Fog, Lafayette 5249’ + Garfield."
“Galehead Hut — Crawford Notch 14.7 m — 38 F cold wind 15-20mph, Fog clearing, South Twin 4902’ + Guyot."
“That’s it for now.”
“Wow! Sounds amazing, I’m so jealous. We go hiking in the mountains in Norway every summer. Dad's family has a cabin. I'll get them to invite you.”
“Sounds like hard work to me.”
“I love it. Dad and I go skiing; you know Norwegian skiing, cross-country sometimes in the winter.”
“It's OK if you're a fitness freak, anyway it's summer now, what's with the snow in New England in summer?”
“I don't know. It's just what the messages say. Anyway, it solves the mystery of which one of them is dead. Anja the daughter is on holiday in America, and she doesn’t know that her mum is dead yet.”
Kellie never let anyone notice how much the appearance of Anja Turneau disturbed her, but she spent much of the remainder of the day in discovering everything she could find about her. Thankfully there was not a single word about Jana and John Turner.
10.
Kellie woke to the sound of rain on the window. She felt exhausted,10. like she'd been walking all night. Her bedding was on the floor where she must be kicked it off during the night. She dragged the quilt back over herself and closed her eyes listening to the rain.
There is the kind of rain falls in a constant gentle patter of raindrops making a soothing backtrack to your study and there's the other kind. This was the other kind. It was chaotic, blustery and thudded against the glass like it was trying to attack you. There was a dip in the guttering outside her room that overflowed and splattered and splashed against the window pane and the sill before it drummed into the sun-room roof where Yoda lay. Yoda slept through it all oblivious, but the racket was driving Kellie insane.
It was going to be one of those days. She had visions of laying in the garden soaking in some rays while finishing up her school project. She stopped and caught herself in the process, stuff the project; she was quitting school. What was she thinking? The thought of school lead her to the accident and took her back to 'that woman' and her nightmares. And just like that her day was ruined, doomed before it had started. Fruck
Rose noticed her mood and commented that she appeared to be in a little in the dumps at breakfast. She suggested that shopping might distract her.
Going to the shops where Rose lives generally means a visit to Southampton, about a 30 to 40 minutes drive round by car, or catching the ferry from Hythe. The ferry trip was probably longer especially if you included driving, parking and the walk or ride down the pier, but it was a novelty for Kellie. Marte took the trip to school by ferry for years and claimed to be over it, but Kellie never tired of it. If you were lucky you could be yards from the beautiful, stately cruise liners or the massive container ships as they docked and sailed. She remembered walking to the shore to watch the Cunard line 'Queens', and the 'Princesses', the P&O cruise liners as they entered port and sailed. They were happy memories and she asked if there were any arrivals or sailings today.
As it happened Rose cruelly burst her bubble by announcing it was not that kind of shopping day, not serious shopping spending all day looking for shoes, bags, and other essentials as Marte described it. No, this trip would be food shopping and that meant a visit to the local supermarkets, Waitrose in Hythe and Tesco in Dibden. Rose had written a list and the shops to visit and Kellie and Marte were tasked with fulfilling it.
“If you want to pick up a couple of photo albums, you can sort and mount them as you girls are so fascinated by looking at family pictures," Rose announced, “I’ll dig out the boxes in the cupboard while you girls get the shopping. John has asked me to look through Nana’s old photos, so you’ll be doing something useful for your father too. ‘Two birds with one stone.’" Rose's smile of smug satisfaction told it all, tedious task farmed out, girls occupied and out of trouble, and John would stop bugging her about it, ‘three birds’ whatever. Kellie was not thrilled, first the recipe database, now photos of dead people she'd never seen before, this was starting to sound like hard work.
There were three boxes of photos. The girls started the task of sorting them into family groups: the ones of Marte, Rose and Per were easy, as were the ones of Dad and Uncle Tim and Nana and Gaga Turner (grandmother and grandfather). Per’s family were more difficult, but there were fewer photos of them. Then there was a group that neither Kellie nor Marte couldn’t identify. They had fallen into a rhythm as they sorted.
Marte looked to Kellie who was staring with an old photo in her hand. ”Come on, keep up!”
Kellie was transfixed, she was trembling, her face pate.
“Kellie! Wake up babe!” She gently shook Kellie's arm, “you look like you've seen a ghost”.
“I have. Three of them.” She whispered. She was eyes wide staring at a black and white picture.
Marte grabbed the photo from Kellie's hand. She looked at a photo of three teenage girls, they were all similar in appearance, possibly sisters, and dressed the same way, in traditional dirndls.
“Do you know them?” Marte asked.
Kellie nodded. The now familiar sick feeling churned in her stomach. Kellie opened the laptop and quickly flipped to the selfies they'd downloaded from Google. She pointed to them and without doubt the mystery woman was in them. But then it couldn’t be her, not unless she was a time traveller or hadn’t aged in the last 100 years.
“O... M... G... ! They're the same woman. How can it be the same woman? Has it been doctored? Has someone used some kind of filter?”
“Three of them. I've died and woken up in my own personal hell. My worst nightmare.”
“Who is she?”
“That woman, Jana Turneau.” Marte explained to her mother, “but it appears to be about one hundred years old this photo is from the 1930s and this one of Jana shot this week!”.
“Why do you think the photo was from the 1930s they’re wearing dirndls you can’t tell anything from their costume?"
“Cause it says ‘Vera, Nadja und Ljuba, Oktoberfest 193ზ', something. I can't read the last number. It's on the back in barely visible faded ink,. It could be a 5 or a 6 or even an 8." Kellie explained, “The names could be a clue, they are the Germanic/Slav names Faith, Hope and Charity, very catholic, and I bet their mother was named Sophia," Marte looked at Kellie in amazement. “The names of the saints and martyrs. The mother and her three daughters. I don't know what they did, but they were definitely saints.” Marte looked at her slack jawed and wide eyed in mockery. Kellie huffed in frustration, rolling her eyes heavenward and continued, “I have two American cousins on my mum’s side, called Faith, Hope, and their mum is called Sophia."
“Of course you do. Good call." Marte rolled her eyes mocking Kellie and grinning, “Everyone knows that - It’s a good thing your mum didn't emigrate to America, or you could have been called ‘Charity’ to complete the set for them." Marte teased.
“Oh, you’re so cruel." Kellie made a gagging face.
“Not as cruel as calling someone Charity, but I don’t recall having seen them before."
“Says the girl called Martyr.” Kellie mispronounced the name deliberately.
“That would be Norwegian Marte for the English Martha and not Martyr spelled with 't — y — r' as you well know, thank you," Marte explained sticking her tongue out.
The laptop chimed into life and Kellie quickly checked the message. It was one of the alarms on the social sites.
“Good! She posting!”
“Who? Let me see. Lemme see.” Marte lunged at the laptop.
“You can’t read it. It's in German," Kellie grabbed it back.
“Huh! So read it to me, meanie. P-l-e-e-e-e-s-e.”
“It's nothing important, it just says, “Bad signal, don't worry, hike awesome. Making good time. Weather cold. Love mama. Xxx”
“Is that all? Nothing from a boyfriend, no juicy gossip? Don't German girls have any oestrogen?”
“That confirms a couple of things.” Kellie started.
“That she called Anja, and she's in America.” Marte mocked.
“That she doesn't know that her mum is dead.”
“That's awful.” Marte sounded genuinely stressed.
“She must have been out of range of a signal or out of power. I mean, even though I knew in hours, maybe even minutes, but she doesn’t know her mum's dead for days!”
“We need to stop calling her the mystery woman now we know she's Anja."
“No, that’s the daughter’s name; she’s Jana or was." Kellie either hadn't heard or didn't get it. She continued finishing updating her database and the timeline.
“Don't you care?”
“Nope. I'm glad she dead. She was interfering with my family, and she got what she deserved.”
“Kellie!” she was shocked by her attitude.
“What?” She appeared oblivious.
“What if it had been your dad instead of her mother, how do you feel? I hope you don't believe in Karma, or you will be deserving of an almighty kick up the butt for that.”
Kellie ignored her and continued working on the message metadata to pinpoint the location of the transmission. She showed Marte the map of the location on Google Maps.
“I’ve checked the time line; she’s definitely hiking the Appalachian trail in New England. According to her posts they only get in contact every two or three days if they've got power and a signal. I've checked the locations of the transmission towers along their route and assuming that they are going to Mount Washington there could be chance to message at a couple of points, conditions permitting. Failing that, the mast at the top of Mount Washington is where we'll pick her up again."
“Bad timing! Can you get any messages from her friends? I was really hoping for a boyfriend or some juicy gossip," Marte added disappointedly as Kellie started pecking at the keyboard, “Hey! Just joking. No hacking, remember.”
Rose looked at the photo, for a moment, a little puzzled. “Yes, this is one is in the wrong box."
“So you know who they are?" Marte prompted hopefully.
“Not actually. They are photos that were from grandma. I inherited them from her after she had died, but I never had a chance to have a good look at them. There’s another box in the back of my closet. Get a step ladder and bring them down, you might as well as look at them too."
There were only a few pictures, of young girls and babies, something from when the were older. There were certificates Grandpa’s war medals, and a bunch of old letters, browned with age and almost completely faded. The few pages that could be read were in German. They all looked at one another, as a shiver went Kellie's spine.
“Can you read it?" Marte asked.
“You could read it yourself if you hadn’t dropped German,” Rose chided, “You were so gifted in German. Such a waste!”
“I dropped German for a reason,” Marte responded sharply. It seemed that Rose would never let her forget dropping German, “Alright, I'll tell you. The real reason I dropped German was because my teacher was a creep. No, make that, a creepy old pervert and he used to make me feel uncomfortable."
“Well I - If I had known that, I would have done something about it." Clearly this was news to her and Rose appeared a little fazed by the revelation.
“No need. I had it sorted. I cut German for French. So, what does the letter say? Can you read it or not?” Marte turned to Kellie, killing any further conversation about German.
“Barely, just a few words here and there. They’re faded and in the old German script it’s difficult to read. It seemed to be to someone asking it he has found them. It doesn’t say who it is. She looked at the next letter. He says he could find no trace of them at the old address, but the area has been ‘bombardier ten flach’ that’s bombed flat, so they would have ‘floh’ . . . ur fled."
“Hey! I saw that, You’re cheating, you’re using Google translate."
“Just for the hard bits."
Losing interest Marte went back to rummaging through the box.
“What’s this?” She pulled out a small flat leather case, that looked like a compact.
“Oh! That’s one of Grandpa’s medals." Rose took it and opened it. They passed it around.
“And what is that?” Marte held a polished wooden box, it wasn’t a medal case it was more like a jewel box and she held onto it. She was determined to be the first person to open it.
“That was Nana’s. She never wore it. She said it gave bad luck to anyone who wore it." Rose explained as Marte opened it.
Kellie craned to examine it. They saw what appeared to be an engraved glass oval, edged with flowers and birds. Dominating the centre were three young women in profile, their tousled, windswept hair intertwined with flowers. The faces appeared similar, but subtly different like they were sisters, definitely related.
“They look like the girls in the photos, Faith, Hope and Charity.” Marte said.
“It had a different silver frame and a chain at one time, or maybe it was a brooch, I can't recall. I don't think it's valuable. Definitely so pre-war, it belonged from Great Grandma. They say it brought the wearer bad luck." Rose explained.
“I think it’s stunning, the way the light strikes it. It beautiful." Marte held it to her neck.
“Your Nana wanted it to stay in the family, like I said I never wore it. Oh, not because of any bad good omen or anything, it's not my kind of thing. You can have it if you want, but look after it and don’t give it away or sell it, pass it down the family. It doesn’t have any value its just sentimental,” she held to locket chain for Marte to fasten it round her neck.
“Thank you. I’ll take good care of it."
Maddie had planned to get the ICU after the midday rounds to get an update of John's status. She was even looking forward to a quick shopping trip before heading to the hospital. Tim was not a big fan of shopping, surprise, surprise, but felt obliged to go with her. The last thing he needed was to lose her in Berlin, so he opted to go with her but waiting outside in the many coffee shops and pavement cafes while she shopped inside the big shops. The list of shops and the pile of purchases grew at each stop.
Maddie bought John a couple of cheap pairs of pyjamas, slippers and a dressing gown from Primemark, as well as some essential items for herself. John only had a regular hospital gowns in the ICU. He really had no need for a dressing gown and slippers but Maddie felt she needed to get something for him. She wondered what had happened to his clothes; she needed to remember to ask at the hospital. She had not meant to stay in Berlin and not planned for it, it had all been a shock and panic. They had expected to fly in, collect John and bring him home. Now it seemed it would be at least a few days before he would be strong enough to travel in an air ambulance, so both of them needed a change of clothes.
She was careful not to overspend having already to put the flights and hotel on the AMEX card, the flights and other expenses must be racking-up. Oh well, Kellie had said there was need to worry about money she reasoned but the hard years of barely making ends meet were difficult to shake off. She vowed that one day she and John would go shopping in Berlin, it was a shopper’s paradise. But just being with him was the main thing for now.
With time running out Maddie grabbed a Sub as they headed to drop their purchases at the hotel, Tim had spent the morning stuffing cake and coffee and didn't need lunch. He'd spent his morning on the phone to his office and and reading the reports that Alrik sent him. Now they were on the way to the hospital. They opted to use the underground as they did yesterday evening and arranged to meet Alrik later at the hospital.
That the ICU the station nurse called “Frau Turner.”
“O God!” Maddie startled involuntarily.
“ I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you Frau Turner, the Doctor wants to speak with you please." she said.
“Is John OK?”
“Yes, yes, he is resting." the nurse said picking up the phone. “Get call Dr Neuhausser please." She spoke on the phone indicating that they should take to a seat.
“Mrs Turner," Dr Neuhausser stood and ushered them into the office, “I wanted to speak with you before you visit John. He is mildly sedated following undergoing some tests, but he is resting quietly and in a satisfactory condition. I had to intubate John again this morning before you arrived. There is no immediate cause for concern but his breathing appeared to be getting weaker and rather than cause the patient distress we acted sooner than later than risk further damage. This is often the case in these cases, and it just means that he needs a little more help with his breathing while he rebuilds his strength and especially his lungs. We will try again to extubate him again in a few more days.”
Maddie’s demeanour told everything. She visibly shrunk before them, her eyes darkened and teared-up, her head and shoulders bowed, she nodded her disconsolate acknowledgement. No words were needed.
“Can we seem John now?" Tim asked.
The Doctor nodded and the nurse led them to John’s bed. Tim could see how the news had affected Maddie, and watched again has Maddie transformed before them again.
She entered the room took a deep breath, raised her head, smiled and held John’s hand and kissed him tenderly on his forehead and eyes (he had a breathing tube taped in his mouth). She whispered something that he missed. She sat and holding his hand in hers as she stroked his hand with hers and started to tell him her day. She became animated as she told of the shopping and told him what she'd bought. She laughed as she told him how Tim trailed behind his hands full with a pile of bags, like a bellhop in a scene of an old movie. She told him she couldn’t for him to get better, so they could go shopping in Berlin, to have coffee and lunch together in Alexanderplatz. She told him about the underground and the bus ride to and from the hospital and the sudden shower and her frizzy hair and getting a burger. Finally, she pleaded for him to get strong and come home, most of all to come home together.
Tim was transfixed, by the scene, a shaft of sunlight shone down on them, no one else existed other than the two of them. He silently slid from the room, reluctantly dragging his eyes away, desperate not to interrupt the moment, he felt like an involuntary voyeur witnessing the lovers acts of intimacy. He leaned on the wall beside the door, looking down, eyes wide, glazed. The strength of his emotion blind-sided him, emotion for his brother, jealousy for his brothers love, for the love he’d lost, the love he had yet to find, maybe all of them? In this moment of clarity, he realized what he wanted, he wanted the kind of love that John and Maddie had found. He had been on himself for too long, he promised himself that when they got back he would find himself someone. He breathed out longingly and looked up, a lump in his throat, swallowing an attempt the desire to well up. It was times like this he wished he’d never given up smoking. Fresh air, he thought and hurried out.
The afternoon was sultry and the clouds started piling up to form thunder heads. There would be storms again tonight Tim thought. Stopping to get a couple of coffees he returned to the room. Maddie had managed to squeeze herself onto the edge of John’s bed and was cuddled up with her head on his shoulder.
“Where did you get to? Oh, coffee!” She unfurled herself from the bed and sipped from the cup.
“I just needed to get some air,” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry, I embarrassed you. I know you don’t approve of public expressions of affection."
“I’m not that bad. I’m just a bit uncomfortable in certain social situations.“ Tim palmed his phone as it chirped. “We’re at the hospital ... When! ... Here at the hospital ... Is there a chance we could be there? ... Thanks, OK, let me know... Tschuss." he ended the call and turned to Maddie. “That was Alrik; the woman's daughter is arriving tomorrow. She wants to see her mother, and she’ll have to make a formal Id at the hospital. I’ll be with Alrik."
“I don’t want to see the body," Maddie shuddered and shook her head,”but I would like to meet the daughter.”
“OK. There’s no official reason for us to be there but I’ll ask Alrik if we can make our condolences."
“Thanks and don’t think that this is the end of our little conversation." she said smiling faintly.
“And what conversation would that be?" Tim asked genuinely puzzled.
“The one this Rose and I will be having with you about all your women friends,” a smile momentarily flickered across Maddie's face.
“I don’t have any women friends.” he exclaimed, beginning to colour-up.
“Exactly," she teased, “Oh, you’re too easy. Fish in a barrel. Poor Tim."
During the afternoon and evening Kellie kept returning to the thought of Anja not being aware of her mother's death and especially about what Marte had said. For some reason it disturbed her. She managed to push it to the back of her mind while she was active but it weighed on her thoughts as she tried to go to sleep.
Finally unable to sleep she gave up and turned on her laptop. She updated the messages and files from Solo loading the data into the 'accident database'. This was definitely part of the plan for revenge. She had also copied the relevant photos using her phone and downloaded them to her growing database with notes of names and dates where possible. She didn't really know what she wanted to do with this data yet, but she did it anyway. She had an unsettling feeling about the Turnau family, there was something that she was missing.
When she finally fell asleep that night, she had bad dreams but when she tried to remember them they disintegrated and slipped like sand through her fingers. She could remember walking in the woods with the fresh smell of conifers and damp moss. Then she was in a sunny alpine glade with a crystal stream, she was laying in the meadow, enjoying the clean air and the warm sunshine on her face. Then it became cold and damp and she was climbing as a mist descended. She was searching in the mist, reaching out calling to a vague figure of a woman who was always just beyond her reach. She was climbing, endlessly climbing, slipping and falling on an endless mountainside filled with granite rocks and boulders the size of houses, blanketed in a swirling grey mist. She followed a slippery, crumbling path with a sheer-rock face on one side and a vertiginous drop on the other, barely able to see a couple of feet ahead her face. Finally the woman in front heard her and turned toward her. She was familiar, but she couldn't see her clearly. Kellie strained forward to get a better look through the swirling mist. She felt herself falling off the edge of the precipice.
She woke breathless, sweating and cold, alone in the darkness with her nightmare. There were messages from Anja. They had been queuing on her phone wait for a signal, now they flooded in. Now she was able to fill in the picture as she quickly scanned then. It read like a travel log, it was not the news she was waiting for, Anja still didn't know. Kellie nestled into the pillow again, unaware that for both of them the nightmare was about to get worse. Like a precursor on the day ahead, her night was restless, her sleep like the fractured and fragmented like a shattered mirror.
.
11.
It was five days since Anja had left Berlin and four days since she’d spoken with her mother. They knew that they could be out of touch for days at a time. Still, she’d tried calling every day but the cell phone signal was patchy to non-existent for most of the time. So it wasn’t a surprise that she hadn’t heard from her mother for so long.
She’d seen the trip as her last chance of having one big adventure before her finals. Looking back on it now it seems to have been doomed from the start. The trip had been organized by the university, and she hadn’t hesitated when one of the group had dropped out and invited her to take up the numbers. Her meagre college grant meant she’s had to move back with her mum, and the tips she made from working double shifts at her waitressing job meant she couldn’t really afford it, but with a few euros borrowed from her mum she’d scraped together enough.
They had all hiked with various members of the group before and it was the trip of a lifetime, two to three weeks hiking across the northern Appalachian trail through the White Mountains. Along with her five girlfriends from ESCP they had planned to hike and live under canvas to cut down on expenses. They would only visit lodges if they were forced to because of really bad weather. They were all seasoned hikers, having trodden the picturesque meadows and evergreen forests for their native Black Forest since childhood and all were members of the DAV Deutscher Alpenverein (German Alpine Club, the world’s largest climbing association).
That no males were invited had been a deliberate choice. It was not that they didn’t have boyfriends, who had been more than happy to volunteer their services as guides and companions, but it was something the girls wanted to do alone. No men making everything a competition and no gender politics. Boyfriends were a complication that the girls didn’t need on this trip.
Hanna, one of the girls had an older sister called Mia a graduate of ESCP, was doing her Masters at MIT Sloan School of Management, she would be joining the party at Boston. Mia had been instrumental in organising and coordinating the hike. She had been able to borrow an old camper van which they had planned to drive to their starting point at Kinsman Notch. From there they would hike the 90-miles north to Gorham over the White Mountains. They figured it would be eight to ten days hiking, weather permitting, before they would decide to rest before continuing the hike to Berlin and Andover or return to Boston and do the tourist thing for a few days. They were not in a hurry and an average of ten miles a day would leave them time to relax and explore side trails to other landmarks.
Mia was waiting to meet them at Boston O Hare Airport when they arrived. Norwegian DY 7147 from Berlin Schoenefeld was on time arriving at 19.05. The waiting to get through immigration and baggage check seemed interminable. Finally, they found Mia jumping up and down and waving her arms at arrivals; She hadn't seen her sister for over a year. After many hugs and a cacophony of squealing they made it to the van and piled in.
Fortunately, Mia had organised for them to stay the night with her landlady, so they were saved a long drive and the cost of finding lodging for the night. The downside was having to get up at six o'clock in the morning for the two and a half hours to drive to Kinsman Notch. Mia drove the route the previous weekend as a dry run. They took route 93 from Boston and then the 112 to the car park to Kinsman Notch. At that hour the traffic was light, and they made good time taking a break to eat their first McDonalds in the USA near Concord, NH.
For some of the girls like Anja, it was their first time in the USA. She found the experience had a surreal quality, unmistakably foreign, and at the same time familiar due to the influence of the movies and TV. When they reached the mountains, she noticed that the age of the landscape. In the Alps the mountains were young with jagged peaks with sheer sided glacial valleys. Here they were more like the mountains of Scotland or Wales, smooth mounds of shattered rock worn by millennia and ground down and crushed by the weight of endless ice sheets.
Kinsman Notch to Lonesome Lake Hut
It was 8:45 as they headed along the trail, a clear crisp morning. A steep rocky slope led beyond. At this height (1870’) the vegetation was in the boreal zone, mainly Spruce and Fir, Pine and a few outcrops of Birch. Under the canopy lived ferns and shade loving plants where there was enough soil. In the rocky areas everything was covered with a carpet of moss, here and there were boggy clearing where lush marsh grasses grew. As they climbed, higher so did the temperature to a humid 66F and as the altitude and temperature raised the flies came to plague them.
South Kinsman (4358’) turned out to be one of the steepest, longest, roughest, climbs of the whole hike. It was hard going for even the fittest. They paused for a rest beside a pretty pond part way up where they could see the trail to the summit over an impressive rampart. The second part was harder than before and they rested their tired legs and snacked on dried fruit and nut bars before continuing. They were still below the treeline as they crossed the saddle to North Kinsman (4293’) in an area of alpine flowers and encountered the swarms of black flies again. The downslope was very steep and rough but eventually they found Lonesome Lake Cabin where they had decided to stay. The day’s hike was harder than they expected, with the descents frequently as difficult or worse than the ascents.
Exhausted by the rough terrain and hard climb they decided to take a cool dip in the lake before setting camp but nature thought otherwise with a sudden lashing rainstorm. They legged it to the cabin. The thought of a hot meal and a warm bed versus pitching their tents in the pouring rain and a cold damp night under canvas proved irresistible. It was then, as Anja was weighing up how much she could afford, she discovered that many of the cabins had a ‘work for stay’ scheme. She was more than happy to serve dinner and wash the dishes for the others guests to earn her keep. The hut served a mixed group of adults and older kids and everyone was friendly and in good spirits having spent the evening singing German songs as the girls entertained the crowd.
Lonesome Lake Hut to Greenleaf Hut
Anja woke early to tend for the breakfast shift. The low cloud covered Franconia ridge. It is difficult to determine between fog and cloud at those altitudes. Whatever it was cold and wet and dangerous. Everything stops at 7.00 AM for the weather forecast from Mount Washington, it appears to be a daily ritual in the White Mountain Wilderness. By 08.00 having had a good breakfast Anja and the girls were ready to go. Today they would cover the 9.5 miles to Greenleaf Hut starting by climbing Little Haystack (4,760’).
The weather was forbidding, the fog and mist persisted all-day, it was like walking in a cold shower. Cold sapped their strength but finally they glimpsed the hut in the mist and felt a palpable sense of relief as the ordeal ended. At the hut Anja was able to get ‘work for stay’ again and the weather cleared a little and the fog lifted as evening fell. This setup the perfect condition for Alpenglow, where the mountain tops and clouds are painted with a glowing rosy red at sunset. Everyone went out of the hut to marvel at one of nature’s stunning sights, as fog descended again and the temperature dropped below 50F.
Greenleaf Hut to Galehead Hut
The morning arrived with them marooned on a sea of white outside. It was 50F outside and the fog had come in with a vengeance, visibility was only 10 yards. You could barely see the trees outside the cabin.
The weather around the White Mountains are some of the most variable and extreme in the USA. Mount Washington, in particular, is reported to have 86% days of cloud cover. That’s only 3-4 per month when the weather is clear. It also has the highest recorded wind speed in the USA at 231 MPH. The Presidential Range is notorious for its frequent fast changing weather and often fatal temperature drops. Mount Washington is one of the most dangerous peaks in the eastern states.
The wind was gusting to 40 MPH in their faces, the temperature only 40F. Even carrying heavy packs the girls were literally in danger of being blown off the mountain. With such difficult conditions every step pushed then to the right off the trail and into danger.
As they started down Mount Lafayette the fog suddenly lifted. Between Mount Lafayette and Mount Garfield they paused to strip off their waterproofs and at the summit they were and they were thrilled by the views of the trail winding down the ridge all bathed in glorious sunshine.
As a bonus the sunset at Galehead Hut was the most beautiful of the trip. They stood huddled together wrapped in a couple of blankets as the sunset lit the little clouds scudding above, painting them in pinks and reds and purples. The horizon shone in streaks of pale to dark blue with hues of orange and the yellows from the setting sun.
Galehead Hut to Zealand Falls Hut
That night was a three blanket night. Outside seriously cold, sub freezing with the wind chill. Freezing fog, with a 20 mph wind. Whoever said that were only two clear days per month in the White Mountains wasn’t lying.
Zealand Falls Hut to Lakes of the Clouds Hut
The seven o'clock weather forecast promised a clear and bright of 60F with a wind of 15 mph, a definite improvement from the last few days. They had planned to hike up to Lake of the Clouds Hut between Mount Washington and Mount Monroe and to tackle the top of Mount Washington the next morning. It was a steady climb of about 2500’ between the huts, much of it ridge walking in the krumholz and sedges above the treeline.
Lakes of the Clouds Hut to Madison Spring Hut
The morning routine had become standard. The babble of voices and languages that ceased at seven o’clock for the all-important weather forecast. A clear and sunny 40F with a wind speed of 23 mph. Two good days in a row at Mt Washington left everyone in high spirits. It couldn't last. They started their ascent to Mount Washington 6288’ summit in good spirits. The first thing they encountered as a huge sign.
STOP
THE AREA AHEAD HAS THE WORST WEATHER IN AMERICA.
MANY HAVE DIED THERE FROM EXPOSURE, EVEN IN THE
SUMMER, TURN BACK NOW IF THE WEATHER IS BAD.
WHITE MOUNTAIN NATIONAL FOREST
Mount Washington is nicknamed ‘the big rock pile’ for good reason. The felsenmeer was intimidating. It may not be the steepest slope or the longest but it must be one of the most exhausting climbs in the White Mountains. The uneven, unstable rocks were difficult to traverse, especially with the buffeting wind that was increasing as they got higher. A fall here would end in a broken limb or ribs and could bring a sorry end to their adventure. The wind constantly caught their packs threatening to topple them at each step. Every step draining their rapidly depleted reserves. Then atop a large boulder they spied the summit just over the next ridge. With renewed energy they scrambled over the ridge and to the summit.
Slowly they focused to the foreground. The Observatory seemed to jar, appearing out-of-place, a modern intrusion among the raw majesty of the wilderness. Within moments they found themselves enveloped in the clouds had followed them up the summit and the view disappeared in the mist.
One of the girls mentioned that they may have WiFi and somewhere to charge their phones. They had not been able to contact home for a couple of days now. So they headed to the Observatory which also housed a Post Office, visitor centre and cafe.
They noticed that most of the fat unfit people and their children went from their cars and 4x4s straight to the cafe, puffing and panting by the time they got there just as they did in Germany. It seems only the geography changes. They looked around for a while at the exhibitions ending at the cafe.
It seemed that the moment they sat down a large policeman, a State Trooper, strode meaningfully toward them. He paused a moment as he surveyed them, then looking straight at Anja he said.
“I’m looking for an Anja Turnau mam," his deep voice rumbled.
“I am Anja Turnau." She confirmed, her heart rate soaring, at the sight of the State Trooper. His impassive eyes locked on hers. The conversation in the room seemed to pause as all eyes looked at hers. There was an almost inaudible intake of air from the girls. Anja felt the heat in her face and an uneasy queasy feeling in her tummy.
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to verify your ID, mam."
“Am in some type of trouble?” Anja asked as she fumbled in her jacket for her papers.
“No mam, but I have to deliver a personal message." He reported as he checked her passport. He indicated her to follow him to a quiet corner outside the cafe. The babel of conversation burst out even louder as the two of them step out of the cafe. The remaining girls looked at one another and the door speaking together in German. They stood ready to run after Anja to help her, but in the same moment the State Trooper ushered Anja back again in. She rushed toward them, a couple tear tracks stained her cheeks.
“Meine Mutter ist gestorben!”
Anja was guided to a chair but stayed standing as a mug of coffee appeared as if from nowhere. The girls circled her hugging her and stroking her hair. No one spoke but the sniffing and dabbing of eyes said far more than words. The State Trooper borrowed a chair from a nearby table and they all sat.
He quietly explained he had no details other that there had been an incident involving an auto-mobile. Anja needed to return to Germany as soon as possible, and that the necessary arrangements were in hand. They all offered to go with her, but there was only one flight available. So they would go with her to the airport, but there would not be room for all of them in the police car or on the bus. He said it would be best if they stay there. They said their goodbyes in tears and hugs as Anja climbed into the State Trooper’s Chevy Tahoe.
She glanced wistfully at the old train as it puffed its way down the mountain. She wished that she was riding that train with her friends; The train ride looked cool and she was missing her friends already. The State Trooper touched her arm and pointed to the seatbelt and showed Anja where to plug in her phone as he signed-in over his radio confirming they were on their way. He told her that they could stop at the Pinkham Notch Visitor Centre so that she could get a shower, wash her hair and change her clothes before they drove to Concord. They continued in silence for a while then as she processed the events at the Observatory before she spoke said.
“Do I smell that bad?” She asked looking and sniffing at her clothes, turning her nose up and blinking.
“No. No, you don’t smell. That’s not what I mean. You just won’t have anywhere to get washed up until you get to Berlin. There’s nowhere in Boston Airport or in the coach or the plane. It’s Pinkham Notch or nothing I'm afraid." He tried to rescue himself.
“It’s OK. I could use a long hot shower and some fresh clothes. It might help me unwind. Webber, that is a German name." Anja said pointing to the name badge on the officer’s uniform and already desperate to find something to distract herself from the road. He may have been used to drive it but she swore she never would.
“Yeah, the family immigrated from Germany between the wars. Been in New Hampshire ever since."
“Do you live locally?” She tried concentrating on him and not the road. She didn’t want to appear to be toward but she really wanted to hug him, and close her eyes and scream aloud.
“I live with my wife and baby daughter in Concord. That’s where we are headed after the visitor centre, then it's the bus to the airport and home for you I guess. What about you, where’s your home?" He rolled his eyes as he noticed what he'd said."Duh!" he added.
“I live with my mother in Berlin." Anja smiled at him, pulled out a tissue and dabbed her eyes, as the thought of her home and mother threatened to overwhelm her. She breathed deeply to calm herself and continued. “I live on Siemensstadt it’s a big housing estate in the Charlottenburg - Wilmersdorf district. It’s famous for its postmodernist architecture, it’s a UNESCO world heritage site.” ‘Good Lord, don’t they believe in crash barriers in America,’ she thought as her stomach lurched again.
“I guess it’s a bit different from our local Berlin then." He grinned, thinking of the contrast and tried to change the subject, he really hadn’t thought this through. “Were you planning to visit Berlin on your hike?”
“We thought we should see it as we were there. Just to say we’d gone there. You know ‘selfie of me and the girls in Berlin, USA.’ God willing!" She smiled weakly at the thought and started to fiddle with her phone checking to see if her phone has enough power to get a signal yet. She continued to fiddle with the phone with eyes closed, as they continued to the visitor centre in silence.
In the centre Anja went to get cleaned-up while officer Webber ordered them soup and coffee for lunch. The shower was metered so it wasn’t the long soak that she craved but it did lift her spirits. Then they were on the road again to Concord.
“How did you find me?" Anja asked.
l you logged your route like all good hikers should. We have been trying to reach you by phone but the signal’s bad. We just missed you at Zealand Falls Hut so that meant you would have to sleep over at either Lake of the Clouds Hut or Mizpah Spring Hut but whichever you choose you would be at Mount Washington this morning. So I got there early and saw you as you were climbing the rock field before the summit. Six young women hiking together are not that difficult to spot." He explained smiling.
“My phone died on the second day. Now I’ve got a dozen missed calls and messages from my phone."
“OK, don’t worry about the ones from the 603 prefix; they will all be from the NHPD trying to contact you."
“And I expect a lot for the ones from Berlin and Germany are from the German Police." she concluded.
“A lot of folks have been trying to find you this week."
“But you were just looking at me when you asked who I was." Anja puzzled.
“Oh yes, well I have a copy of your passport photo on my tablet."
“I don’t know what to think. That you were stalking us, or that were you protecting us?"
“We were not stalking or spying on you, we were assisting you. We have a duty of care to assist and protect the citizens of the USA and the citizens of our allies and guests."
“I didn’t mean that. I worry we surrender our freedom and privacy to technology so easily for the sake of convenience, without understanding the consequences. Someone in Berlin asks where you are and literally moments later they can pinpoint where you are on the other side of the world. That's scary when you think about it."
“That’s the cost of technology. It cuts both ways."
“You were saying you are you of German descent?" Anja asked.
“Yeah, my wife and I are of German descent. We're third generation German, our families came to America between the wars. My wife's family name was Ritter. Pennsylvania Dutch as what the call them, but they weren't Dutch and they didn't live in Pennsylvania, they were German and settled in New York State about one hundred or so miles north of New York City. A couple of years ago we moved my in-laws in with us in Concord. They were finding it difficult to manage, 'cos of illness, the big C."
“Oma lived with mama and me as long as I can remember, now there's only one left,” she wiped her nose on a tissue. He didn't know what to say, so said nothing. He kept glancing across at her.
“Say what, would you do me a big favour?" he asked when he finally spoke, “I need to drop in home for a minute and ma and pa Ritter would be thrilled to meet someone from the old country, would you say 'Hi', to them for me? It'll just be for a moment. I'm officially off duty."
She was between the proverbial rock and a hard place. The last thing she felt like was acting nursemaid for some strangers sick elderly grandparents, on the other hand she felt it would be rude to her potential hosts by refusing their hospitality. The nerve of him even asking such a thing, how dare he put her in this situation, she stewed indignantly trying to invent some way to avoid the inevitable without causing offence.
In the event it was not as awful as she expected and the visit served to distract from her situation. Her hosts displayed that kind of split personality unique to certain Americans, a blend of home-spun American patriotism combined with a nostalgia for a homeland that they'd never visited and no longer understood. In fact it transpired during their conversation that they had never ventured out of New York State until they had moved in with their daughter and son-in-law in Concord despite identifying themselves as German.
The fact that their rooms were stuffed with years of holiday souvenirs from far-flung and exotic places completely bemused Anja. The dresser and the walls were covered with postcards and knick-knacks from places they had never visited, arm-chair tourists. She had been fixed on a particular collection of mementos and pictures that she assumed was from a trip from Germany, typical tourist keepsakes. Her eyes were drawn to just one picture.
“This is Oktoberfest, yes?” she asked pointing to the picture, “you visited Berlin during Oktoberfest. Can I see please? I have a picture of my family at Oktoberfest." She peered intently at the picture that they handed her. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought about it. Could it be possible that sheer luck had guided her to her lost family half a world away?
“I bet you can't guess there that picture was taken?” grandpa Ritter chortled, “Hunter Mountain in the Catskills up-state New York. I told you they all look the same, dirndls, lederhosen, beer, and sausages no need to go to Germany."
“What were you saying about your family?" grandma Ritter waved at the old man shush with a dismissive gesture, “Tell me about your picture?" She asked.
Anja told the story of the picture and the cameo as the old woman listened intensely.
“Well if that ain't the saddest story I ever heard," grandma Ritter said, “and they were never seen or heard of again?"
“That's what my mama told me," Anja confirmed, “I think she had found something just before the accident."
“Well you follow-up on that my dear. If that ain't a story just waitin' for a happy ending. You can't get a story like that end that way. It seems to me; the lord’s got unfinished business waitin' for you young lady."
“Don't want to rush you, but you've got a bus to catch." the State Trooper announced.
She thought about it when she boarded the bus and realised that despite her reservations she had been distracted from her worries for a moment and telling the story seemed to ease her emotional pain.
Anja sat there updating her Facebook, maybe the girls would catch a break and get a signal at the next hut. Everything happened too fast, but seemed to take an age to happen. She had been so rushed to get home but now she found she could do nothing but wait for hours for her flight. The next Norwegian flight would take forty-eight hours, with almost a whole days stop-over in Oslo. She had nothing against Oslo or Norway in particular, but some other time please, right now she just needed to get home. She was so pleased she'd been able to get cleaned-up, as she contemplated another 48 hours before she got another shower. She took a bite of her sandwich and switched off mentally, trying to seal herself in an invisible bubble. Grandma Ritter's words about her story not being finished echoed back to Anja in her thoughts, 'the Lord’s got unfinished business for you young lady'. She wasn't a religious person. Her mother went to church Easter and Christmas but she had never felt a need for faith. The departure lounge public address system shattered Anja’s reverie.
“Would passenger Anja Turnau on Norwegian flight DY 7142 please return to the ticket desk. Anja Turnau to the ticket desk please."
What how? She sighed irritably. All the waiting round and hassle, was really grinding her down. Anja joined the end on the line the service desk, near to tears. She was juggling the sandwich and coffee bought with the change she’d scraped together with the last of her US currency. She hadn’t thought to pay in euros, her mind was not up to the task, her thoughts were already in Berlin and the problems that awaited her there.
“Miss Turnau, Anja Turnau?" a pleasant faced woman in a Sunexpress German ground crew uniform smiled at her as she stood in line.
“Miss Turnau, please follow me, You’ve been reallocated to an earlier flight." she gestured to follow her.
She followed without thinking. “My bags! What about my bags!”
“Your luggage has already been loaded on your new flight. Your new flight will take off before the Norwegian flight lands in Boston. You will have a short layover in Koln, where the ground service crew will assist you with your onward journey. You're scheduled to arrive at Berlin Tegel before 10 AM tomorrow where I believe there will be someone to meet you in Berlin."
Three thousand, two hundred, and forty miles away in England not long before midnight and while she tossed and turned in her nightmare, Anja’s Facebook messages were delivered silently to Kellie's laptop. Seconds earlier in O’Hare, at check-in her boarding card triggered a message in Berlin to alert Alrik at she was on the Lufthansa flight. It was Alrik who conjured the magic that changed her schedule to an earlier flight. He would be alerted again when she arrived in Koln and re-boarded for Berlin. It was Alrik who would meet her from the aircraft in Berlin Tegel and drive her to the hospital the next day. Anja Turnau would finally get to meet her unknown guardian angel in ‘the cloud’, an invisible hunter who tracked her from afar.
Anja slumped down in her seat trying to get comfortable for a long sleepless night, and immediately fell asleep exhausted. As Anja fell asleep Kellie woke up from her nightmare. She sensed something was wrong but she couldn't pin it down. She spent the day feeling unsettled and out of sorts.
Email: Anja / Ma Ritter
Dear Anja,
I hope your flight was good and you managed to get some sleep. I can't stop thinking about your story your quest for your missing Oma's. I mentioned it to some friends and they would love to help you in your search for your missing family.
Would you mind my friends helping you in your quest. We have access to the Ellis Island records where the names of everyone who emigrated from Europe is listed. More important we already know and are members of most of the German heritage clubs in New England - include for us a list of all names of your relatives who have emigrated to the USA since 1934.
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