Saving Anna Read online

  Germany’s sparkling Rhineland is the perfect place for a fresh start . . .

  Warming people’s hearts with true accounts of kindness is what columnist Anna Kelly does best. But no one knows the private misery she endures in her abusive marriage. Still, leaving is difficult—until a deeply personal bequest from a beloved elderly neighbor compels Anna to travel to Germany. There she begins an unexpected adventure of paying it forward that will take her far from her complicated life in Brooklyn.

  Arriving in the historic and picturesque city of Mainz, on the breathtaking Rhine River, Anna settles in at a cozy guesthouse filled with colorful residents. But fulfilling her task will require the help of a translator and knowledgeable guide.

  Josef Schmitt will gladly shuttle the American visitor around if it distracts him from his dark thoughts. Ever since a serious accident sidelined him at the local excursions company, he’s been unable to forget the pain he caused or forgive himself. Now, accompanying Anna on her mission takes them both to surprising places—and they just may find the courage to truly set themselves free . . .

  Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Books by Sharon Struth

  Blue Moon Lake Series

  Share the Moon

  Twelve Nights

  Harvest Moon

  Bella Luna

  The Sweet Life

  The Sweet Life

  Willow’s Way

  Saving Anna

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Saving Anna

  The Sweet Life

  Sharon Struth

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Contents

  Books by Sharon Struth

  Saving Anna

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Author’s Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  SHARE THE MOON

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Meet Sharon Struth

  Copyright

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 Sharon Struth

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First Electronic Edition: November 2018

  eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0357-7

  eISBN-10: 1-5161-0357-2

  First Print Edition: November 2018

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0360-7

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0360-2

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  In memory of my father-in-law, Johann Struth, who through his kind and gentle nature left his mark on the world.

  Acknowledgments

  I’ve said this before, but it’s worth repeating: I’d like to thank the readers of my books, who often tell me they get lost in the worlds I create and wish they’d never end. You make every second of writing (and there are a lot of them!) worth it.

  A thousand thanks to Paige Christian, editor extraordinaire, my agent Dawn Dowdle, and the staff at Kensington Publishing, a place that feels like family.

  Speaking of family, I’m always thankful to my supportive husband and my beautiful daughters—you guys are everything to me. But this time, I’d also like to thank some family related to me through marriage: my father-in-law’s kin in Germany. Our trip years ago to Mainz, where my father-in-law was from, inspired this setting. But what made the trip memorable were the relatives who welcomed us into their homes and hearts. I will never forget any of you and Germany will always feel like a home away from home.

  To my wonderfully supportive mother, thank you for being proud of me and for continuing to hand out my business cards. I am lucky to have a mom like you.

  Special thanks to my writer friends, Rachel Brimble and Joanne Stewart, for being such fantastic and honest critique partners, and to Terri-Lynne DeFino for your grammar guidance.

  And to my friends who always buy my books, your support is immeasurable. I love you guys!

  Author’s Foreword

  This story is fiction, but true past events create the background to my character’s journey as she explores a horrific time in Europe’s history. I shed many tears reading story after story of those who escaped death, all due to the kindness of strangers who helped save them. Let us always search for our inner hero and stand up to prejudice of all kinds. Small actions can make a big difference.

  Chapter 1

  If Anna had known surviving would come down to this moment, she might never have married Patrick. She stood on the sidewalk outside their Brooklyn brownstone, doing her best to act natural despite the rapid thump of her heart.

  He opened the taxi’s back door, poked his head in. “LaGuardia Airport.”

  The driver popped the trunk and hopped out his door just as Patrick lifted his golf clubs. “Hold on, sir. Let me get those for you.” He sprinted to Patrick’s side and took the clubs while Patrick nodded his approval.

  Maybe the driver hoped for a big tip after catching a glimpse of Patrick’s thick Rolex watch or his well-tailored sports jacket. Her husband had impeccable style. Or maybe the driver caught a whiff of Patrick’s unwavering confidence and wanted to stay on his good side. A simple lift of his thick, dark brows always commanded authority.

  Patrick turned and approached Anna. His handsome face glowed with a smile masking the real demon inside, his scrutiny intense as he searched her the way a zoologist watches a caged animal for signs of distress.

  She slipped her hands into the pockets of her lightweight tunic top, comfortable for this September day. But now goosebumps prickled up her arms as she contemplated what he might be thinking. The least suspicious response was to return his smile, so she did.

  When he got close, he drew her to him, securing her arms around his waist. His voice
softened. “I’ll miss you, Anna-belle.”

  The nicknames, the dazzling and disarming sweetness. His charms had lured her when they’d first met and throughout their courtship. But she now knew he was a human Venus flytrap. She swallowed back a vile mix of hatred and fear. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  He tilted his head, watched her with his unnerving stare. “What are your plans while I’m gone?”

  She could practically see the gears in his mind churning. The wrong response would flip his sunny mood upside down. But she’d gotten better at this game and played it up with a flirtatious smile. “You mean besides missing you?”

  His tight expression unwound, and he laughed. “Yes. Besides that.”

  “I plan to finish my column for work, maybe go see an exhibit at the Brooklyn Historical Society. And of course, treat myself to Thai food the nights you’re gone.”

  He nodded, the silent approval making her tense body relax. “Good. When you go out, bring your cell phone. In case I need to reach you.”

  “I always do.”

  Satisfaction glinted in his dark eyes. She despised herself for pandering to his control, though doing so had become her means of survival.

  Patrick’s gaze dropped to her neck. He lifted the delicate heart charm hanging from a thin silver chain.

  She wanted to shudder but held it in.

  “While I’m down in Florida, I’ll look for some earrings to match the necklace,” he said softly.

  She swallowed the urge to tell him she hated the necklace. “You’re always too good to me.”

  He circled her in his arms, squeezing her in a tight hug. Pain pulsed in her upper arm, but she didn’t dare complain. Not after he’d slammed her against the bathroom wall two nights ago because he hadn’t seen her wear the necklace in a while. She’d kept her mouth shut and worn it every minute since. He leaned back and carefully brushed his lips to hers, the severe contrast to his harsh actions of that night mind-numbing.

  He released her and stood back. “Wish me luck golfing. Tom and I have a serious bet going on this year’s tournament.”

  “You’ll do great. But good luck anyway.”

  He got into the cab and winked. “Love you, babe.”

  “Love you, too.” Saying the words carried the bitter tang of a bite from a lemon, making her almost cringe. But she’d never be forced to say them again. “Have fun.”

  She waited by the steps. The driver fussed with something in the front seat, turned to Patrick to speak, and they both laughed.

  Hurry. Leave! Her heart skipped a beat. Breath stalled. For three weeks she’d waited for this chance to leave town before the divorce papers were served.

  The cab finally pulled away and she inhaled a deep breath. Patrick waved from the window. She smiled, waved back, and watched until the cab turned at the end of their tree-lined street and merged with the main road’s busy Saturday morning traffic. She exhaled a sigh of relief and sprinted up the steps. She had a lot to do.

  As she reached for the knob, the front door to the adjoining brownstone opened.

  A woman dressed in a navy blazer, holding a lockbox in her hands, came out and glanced over to Anna. “Oh! Hello. I hoped I’d run into one of the neighbors.” She stuck out her hand. “Maria Rossi, Coldwell Banker. I’ve been put in charge of selling this place for the estate.”

  Anna shook her hand. “Anna Kelly. I’ve only got a quick second—”

  “I know you! You’re the gal who writes a column in the Times. The one about people doing nice things for others.”

  “That’s me. Kindness Connects.”

  “I love your stories. People are so cynical these days, but every time I read one of those, I think about how there are still good people out there. You know, my mother always says, love and kindness are never wasted.”

  “Your mother sounds like a wise woman.”

  Maria placed a well-manicured hand on Anna’s forearm. “Oh, there was one story I adored about…”

  Anna slipped on a polite face, listened, but worried about the time. The flight to Germany would leave with or without her.

  Soon as she saw a spot to break in, she said, “Thank you again. I’m sorry, but I’ve got an appointment and don’t have much time. You had some questions?”

  The realtor asked about the neighborhood and if she had or knew anybody with kids in the schools. Anna hurriedly filled her in. If she and Patrick had children, she’d have been able to answer the questions more fully. They hadn’t, thank God. The idea he might hurt them, like he did her, made Anna sick.

  After a few minutes, Anna said, “I’ve really got to run. Sorry.”

  Maria waved. “Don’t worry one bit. I’ve got to finish some things, then I need to get out of here, too. I appreciate the help.”

  Once inside, Anna flew up the stairs and went straight to the spare bedroom. She flung open the closet door and grabbed her suitcase. Back in her room, she layered the luggage with previously organized stacks of clothing she’d planned to bring to Germany. Enough clothes to carry her through the cooler month ahead. Four weeks away. Hopefully, enough time for Patrick’s anger to dissolve, because she damn well knew he’d be furious.

  She zipped the bag, tossed on the combination lock, and hurried downstairs.

  In two days, Patrick would return to LaGuardia airport and take a cab directly to his office at Goldman Sachs. The lawyer said he’d have the divorce papers served there around lunchtime. By then, she’d already be on another continent. Far away from the physical abuse he’d want to inflict on her once the papers were in his hands. Of that, she felt certain. He’d smacked her around for lesser infractions, starting just days after they’d returned from their honeymoon.

  Even though she would be leaving the country to stay safe, he deserved a note. A note would be easier than a conversation.

  At the kitchen island, she found a pad and steadied a pen on the paper.

  Dear Patrick,

  If you’re reading this, it means you’re back from Florida and have realized I’m not here.

  Anna ripped the page off the small legal pad, crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it on the marble island. She wrote for a living and could do better.

  Dear Patrick,

  For the past two years, I’ve begged you to get help. I understand your father hurt you, but I can no longer accept your past as an excuse for hurting me. ME! The person who always loved you, tried to help you, accepted your many, many apologies. You say you love me, but your actions speak otherwise. I no longer love you. You bully me, make me afraid, and refuse to let me to see my friends and family—

  She ripped the paper off the pad and tore it in half. Too much. She’d spoken these words to him many times after he’d calm down, her speeches always soliciting remorse-filled apologies she’d blindly believed for the first year of their marriage. The second year, she’d grown skeptical, but continued to cover the bruises and lie to anybody who happened to see one. Now, she despised him.

  The clock on the wall showed it was time to leave. She pressed the pen to the paper and the words flowed easily this time.

  Dear Patrick,

  By now you’ve been served the divorce papers and know I’m leaving you. Please seek help and do not look for me. If you are calm when I return, we can talk. Otherwise, you will deal with my attorney.

  Anna

  She propped the note next to a bowl of fruit, where they always left messages they wanted the other to see, then undid the necklace clasp and lowered his gift there. A reminder of what had happened two nights earlier. But only one thing would cause him as much pain as he’d inflicted on her.

  She held out her hand, taking one last look at the antique silver band that served as a symbol of the love she and Patrick once shared. Leaving the ring would send a stronger message than words or a divorce summons.

  She tightene
d her fingers around the band, pulled. A loud pounding on the door made her stop. Patrick?

  Fear rushed her veins like a raging wild fire. She hurried to the foyer and looked through the peephole to find the realtor, Maria, peering back at her. She tossed her luggage and backpack in the closet, took a few deep breaths, and opened the door. Maria stood on the other side holding a worn black briefcase.

  “Me again. Sorry, I know you’re busy.”

  “No problem.” Despite her racing pulse, she forced a smile.

  Maria stuck out a business card. “I’m on my way out, but can I give you this in case you need to reach me? Like if you hear of someone who might be interested in the place, or notice any problems around here?”

  “Certainly. I’ll call if any of those things come up.”

  “Fabulous. You have a great day.” She smiled and headed down the steps.

  Anna closed the door and leaned against it. Thank God Patrick hadn’t returned for some reason.

  After a quick stop in the downstairs bathroom, Anna took her luggage from the closet, hiked the backpack on her shoulders, and walked out the door.

  Taking long strides toward the subway station, she stared straight ahead, made eye contact with no one, and held her chin high.

  I’ve done it. I’ve left him.

  Horns honked. Kids hollered. Background noise as the journey she started two months ago came to an end. She’d almost channel surfed right past the afternoon talk show. Domestic violence, the host had said. She’d skipped to the next channel, only the phrase stuck. Wouldn’t leave her head. So she backtracked and watched. Her mouth had gone dry as each woman described a life where leaving her abuser had been out of the question, due to either a desire to fix the man or plain old fear. That moment cast a spotlight on her reality.

  She reached the subway station and ten minutes later boarded the car that would take her to the AirTrain in Jamaica, Queens that went to JFK. An untraceable route. Once through security, she would make a long overdue call to her sister to share everything she should have said over the past two years. The more time that passed in Anna’s horrible situation, the more she’d worried about condemnation from others. Even with her sister, her closest friend.