When I stepped off the train, I heard the reunion of families and couples. "You have gotten so big!" "You look more beautiful than ever." "How could you become even more handsome while you were away." "I love you, sweetheart."
I made my way through the happy crowd, wanting to clutch my heart to make the pain go away. I wondered if she waited. I wondered if she was there, somewhere.
When I departed the area of the railway station, I felt overwhelmed by the aromas of bakeries and flower gardens. Healthy green trees were scattered, and the world felt untouched there. Locals were walking around as if life had been typical, and they knew nothing different. I was jealous of the ease most wore on their faces.
Some locals gave me a once over. I assumed it was because I was unshaven, my hair needed a cut, and I was wearing my brown trousers and pale tan collared shirt from the uniform I had been forced to wear like a second layer of skin.
I felt uneasy as if I was riding a bicycle for the first time in fifteen years. This way of life shouldn’t be something forgotten, but after such a long while, it was no longer second nature.
"Flowers for a special lady, sir?" A man stepped out from beneath a small awning in front of a flower shop and reached his arm out to me, his hand filled with bunches of multi-colored flowers. The smell of lilacs and roses assaulted my senses, and I leaned in to take a closer whiff. I could inhale the delectable scent all day. I reached into my pocket and retrieved some money.
"Ja, I will take them. Danke." The man handed me the flowers with a toothy grin. "I hope your lady enjoys them."
Amelia would love these.
I held the flowers up to my nose until I reached a bed and breakfast just a couple of miles outside of town. It was the first place to stay that I came across.
I knocked gently against the hickory door, and soon after heard footsteps clamoring from within. An older woman opened the door. Her white hair was short and in curls, her skin covered with fine lines, and she wore a house dress layered beneath a stark white apron. "Hallo, may I help you?" she asked, a questionable smile outlining her lips.
"Ja, Fräulein. Do you have an open room?"
"Frau Joel," she corrected me. "Herr Joel and I run this inn together, and we do have a free room. How long will you be staying?"
"I’m not quite sure, Frau."
"Very well. Come on inside, young man." Frau Joel held open the storm door, welcoming me into the inn. The house smelled like Mama’s kitchen—fresh breads and pastries, as well as vanilla and hydrangea—I have not enjoyed these scents is so very long.
"The inn is beautiful, Frau."
"What is your name, sohn?"
"Charlie Crane," I answered.
The woman narrowed her eyes at me, almost as if she was studying me. "It’s a pleasure, Charlie."
"Same," I responded.
"Wait right here," she said, disappearing into what looked to be a dining area. Frau Joel soon returned with a camera and a tripod. She stood the mechanism in front of me. "One … two … three." She took my photo, but the quickness and unusualness of it all made me snicker.
"What is that for, Frau?"
She took me by my good arm and brought me to the stairwell. Gold-plated framed photos lined the wall. "If you stay in this inn, you become family, Charlie Crane." I placed my hand on my chest, taking in the photos that looked to span at least a decade. I only had a chance to see half of them before she pulled me off toward the kitchen at the end of the oak-covered hallway. "You look starved."
"I am quite hungry, ja." I couldn’t tell if Frau Joel was nervous, or always quick on her feet. She seemed a bit frazzled, but I didn’t know anything about her.
Frau Joel sliced some bread and poured me a glass of milk. She whipped a placemat off the oven’s railing and laid it down on a small table in the corner of the kitchen. "Sit and eat." It had been less than five minutes since I knocked on the front door. I was feeling a bit unsettled, but there was fresh bread waiting for me, and I was not one to turn down food.
I placed the bunches of flowers down on the table as I took a seat on the handmade apple-red seat cushion. After pulling my chair in, a thumping sound yanked my attention away from the food. I glanced toward the window above the sink, seeking the source of the odd thumping sound. "What is that sound?"
"Ah, Herr Joel is chopping wood in the back. There’s nothing to be concerned about."
I redirected my attention back to the food, slowly feeding myself crumbs at first. "You look like you’ve been through a lot, Charlie."
"Ja. I have not had it easy, Frau." I should not have said that. I had it quite easy compared to most.
"You were a soldier," she said as a statement, rather than a question.
"Ja, but that’s not my story."
