Chapter Four
The bath had been wonderful. Anya felt renewed and ready for a night at the opera. She sat at the vanity and dressed her hair in what she hoped was a fashionable style for the time period. If she were in her own body, her hair wouldn’t be nearly long enough for any elaborate styles. Her hair color was similar to Ana’s, but that was where it ended. Ana had long, honey-blonde hair, and Anya’s is more of a shoulder-length, burnished-blonde. She supposed the blonde hair worked well for Ana’s father. With the Nazi belief of the Aryan race being superior, she definitely looked the part... Not that she found that fact particularly appealing, but with all things, she would use what she could to her advantage.
With her hair done, it was time to finish dressing. She’d been careful to pick a dress she wouldn’t need Ida’s help with; thankfully, most didn’t require her maid’s assistance. Anya despised the woman and wished she could dismiss her and find a new maid. She didn’t know how Ana managed to deal with her every day. Perhaps Ana had realized it would be easier for her if she didn’t need Ida to assist her and ordered them that way. Anya couldn’t be certain. She wasn’t well acquainted with 1930s fashion.
The dress she’d chosen to wear was a delicate, embroidered, blush pink mesh over a matching silk lining. It was elegant and ethereal with a sultry scoop neckline and buttoned down the side. The embroidered mesh split toward the bottom of the hemline, giving it a luxurious appearance. Anya loved it. Sometimes it felt good to dress up and go out. She hadn’t done anything so extravagant in ages. Now that she didn’t have much choice and was far from being herself, it felt silly that she’d worked so hard and forgot what it was like to play a little.
She finished her ensemble with a pair of pink and white two-tone T-strap heels. Anya sighed and took one more look at herself in the mirror. She still couldn’t resign herself to looking at another person instead of herself. Maybe after she did a few good deeds she’d earn her way back home. She didn’t belong in this era and she didn’t want to experience the Holocaust first-hand. This was a nightmare she couldn’t wake herself from.
Satisfied with what she saw in the mirror, she grabbed her white fur wrap and put it over her shoulders, tying it in place with the silk ribbon, then left the sanctity of her bedchamber. It was the only place she felt remotely safe, and even there, Ida intruded more than Anya liked. Arthur Jones would be waiting for her, and she hated being late. She hoped he was not irritated that he had to attend the opera with her.
The performance would be all in German, and she knew very little of the language. She could make out a word here or there, but she had never cared to truly learn it. She was both grateful and irritated she wouldn’t be able to understand much. Grateful because the propaganda would be truly atrocious and irritated because it would make eavesdropping on conversations harder.
Perhaps Mr. Jones spoke some of the language… Would he be willing to eavesdrop for her? She would have to ask him a few discreet questions and see how he felt about the Germans and what they were doing to the Jews. She didn’t know anyone in this time, and she didn’t want to make a fatal mistake. Edward Wegner had chosen him as her guard. He must trust Mr. Jones for a reason. The last thing she needed was for him to tattle to the man who was supposed to be her father.
There were several sections and entrances to the embassy. She wasn’t required to use the main one because she lived in residence. It made it easier to leave when she was allowed to step outside of the embassy. When she reached the foyer in the part of the embassy where she was housed, Mr. Jones was already there waiting on her. He was dressed in a dark suit, a crisp white shirt, and black tie. His ebony hair was brushed back, making his cobalt eyes even more vivid. He was devastating to behold. Her breath caught in her throat, and she had to remind herself to breathe. If she wasn’t careful, she could quickly become enamored of this stoic gorgeous man.
“You look lovely,” he said and held his arm out to her. “Are you ready for an entertaining evening.”
She placed her arm over his and nodded. “Of course.” Anya barely remembered to smile. “It’s been a little stifling in the embassy. A bit of fresh air will be a welcome change.”
“If you wished to go outdoors all you had to do was ask.” He led her to the door, and they exited the embassy. “I would be happy to accompany you wherever you wish to go.”
She was glad he was willing because she fully intended to take him up on his offer. Though she would prefer to do it when her fiancé was not in Berlin. It would make her reasons for having Mr. Jones accompany her make more sense. Dierk wasn’t supposed to return for another week. She would take advantage of his absence as much as possible.
“I don’t know how much my father will allow.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “He’s a bit overprotective.” More like overbearing and controlling.
“He has good reason to be. It’s quite tumultuous in Germany these days.” He let go of her arm to open the car door for her. Mr. Jones gestured toward the seat, and Anya slipped into the car. He shut the door and then went over to the driver side. Once he was in the car, he started to speak again, “I’ll keep you safe. I promise. If you want, I can give you a tour of the city and show you some of my favorite places.”
“I would like that,” she replied, her tone quiet. Did Mr. Jones have feelings for Ana or was it her, Anya, he liked? She was suddenly filled with so much self-doubt it made her ache. Ana didn’t know what she should or should not do. What if she started something with him and messed up Ana’s life or her own? What if she was stuck in this time in Ana’s body? Shouldn’t she try to explore all the possibilities?
“Make yourself comfortable.” He smiled and then started the car. “We will be at the opera in no time.”
Anya took that as a reason to remain silent. She was at a loss for words anyway. He had given her something else to contemplate, and she didn’t know how to feel about any of it.
* * *
Mr. Jones had been correct.It hadn’t taken long to reach the opera, and she hadn’t had nearly enough time to think. He parked the car, and they strolled toward the entrance. They had given the ambassador a box, and he’d given his staff permission to use it in his place. His wife had heard that Anya wanted to attend the opera performance and had written her a note to reiterate that authorization. Anya liked the ambassador and his wife. They were kind and intelligent people, and nothing like Edward Wegner. Why couldn’t Anya have had a father similar to the ambassador? He would be much easier to deal with and was far kinder in the long term.
She sighed.
“What’s wrong?” Mr. Jones asked. His tone was filled with concern, but his expression remained blank.
“Nothing,” she said quickly. “It’s a lovely evening isn’t it?”
He nodded but didn’t meet her gaze. His focus was on their surroundings. He looked everywhere but at her. That was his job, she supposed. Mr. Jones had to be aware of what happened around her, and as long as she didn’t go wild, he could do his job assured of where she was. Anya didn’t know much about what a bodyguard did, but she couldn’t find fault in Mr. Jones. At least, not so far. “The weather is fair. Before long it will be bitter cold.”
Anya wrinkled her nose. “I hate winter.” She shivered. “Honestly, I hate being cold. The snow is pretty, but it’s also messy and annoying. Wouldn’t it be nice to live someplace that is warm all the time?”
“I actually do,” he began. “I’m from California. We have nice weather most days.”
She’d never traveled to the States, but she couldn’t admit that. Ana was supposed to be American. Though, from the way her father treated her, she doubted Ana had traveled beyond New York. “I’ve never been to California. It must be lovely there.”
“It is,” he said. “One of the greatest places on Earth. I look forward to returning.”
He was being more open than he had been in their previous conversations. Not that there had been many, but he didn’t seem to want to give her too many details about himself. Interestingly, he felt comfortable enough to do so now. “What made you decide you wanted to be a bodyguard.”
He chuckled softly. “I joined the army when I turned eighteen. They taught me everything I know.” He went quiet a moment. “This is all I know.” His words were mumbled, but she’d heard them clearly. He didn’t expand on his statement, but she wanted to know more. Didn’t he want something more for his life? Did he have no real ambition? She’d have to remember to ask him all of that later.
