She’d never return to Salzburg, of course. Regardless she held on to this feeling about the way things ought to be.
Maybe because of this Anna went to considerable lengths to care for her white straw hat, what Frau Eigler called Anna’s Sunday hat. It was the only one the girl owned, after all, and she was conscientious about keeping it clean and preserving the integrity of the brim and band, or else it would sit crooked on her head and all would be lost. Anna was sure. Otherwise, if she didn’t keep busy, Anna worried about her family: if Karel was getting in trouble at the school he attended, if Herr was doing enough business to make the move to Omaha a success, if Silke would find someone to appreciate her despite her shyness, if Theresa hadn’t made a mistake quitting school to take a job with the streetcar company. Anna, stuck in the attic, worried about many things. So she allowed herself some vanity when it came to that hat. How she washed the straw every other week in the kitchen sink. Carefully untied and removed that purple silk ribbon before sinking it in warm water, and formed deftly the straw weave, dabbed with a delicate washcloth Maria allowed her to use, careful to not dent the crown or let it sag out of shape while wet. Sometimes she had to reshape the brim with the steam from a teakettle. That was a difficult task to manage. If a girl wasn’t careful she could make things much worse, trying that. But Anna was very careful. Even if it required great diligence for an entire morning. She’d wash and shape and set it out to dry. She’d replace the purple ribbon.
Anna daydreamed about other hats she’d someday own. If she had some money, if she didn’t rely on Herr for everything, then Anna could afford all sorts of hats. Gigantic ones with wide brims washed out in clouds of virgin white tulle. Silk turbans from the Orient topped with peacock feathers. Dapper canvas safari hats. When she was older, she’d have a job in an office, her own desk with locking drawers, a brass nameplate affixed to a wedge of stained pinewood. She’d seen such desks in New York when she followed Herr around as he looked for work. Those women behind the desks—somehow it was almost always women Herr begged a job from, in the offices he solicited, women who turned him down flat. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you,” they’d say. Anna beside her father, holding his hand, listening and staring at the nameplate on the desk. Did these women polish their brass every day? They must have.
This was before Anna was really sick. It wasn’t until a doctor in the Bowery insisted that Anna stay in bed for an entire month that her illness took over. A month in bed, no sun, no air. Only water and Cream of Wheat. Who wouldn’t feel like dying was preferable? Herr believed what any quack told him those days and then refused to listen to any doctor thereafter, since the advice of counterfeit physicians only made things worse. Foremost among Herr’s ideas was to relocate to the hinterlands. Get some fresh air, get some sunshine. Herr was told about a job in Nebraska, and that Nebraska was in the hinterlands. Herr thought he was onto something. He didn’t know that factories and steel mills existed in Omaha too. Or the three biggest employers here were a lead mill, a soldering plant, and, of course, the stockyards. So much for fresh air.
Herr locked Anna up even more in Omaha. He was probably a little embarrassed about how things were turning out for her. She’d never been sick in Salzburg, after all. A healthy child, engaging and boisterous, sunbathing along the river, frolicking in the Alpine hills. Now this.
Frau Eigler had her own remedies for what mystery plagued Anna, most of which involved eating large amounts of food. All sorts of meats and broths that would fortify a person. Fresh fruit wasn’t so easy to come by those days but was served when possible, in thin slices with granulated sugar. This seemed to work, except that Anna’s body couldn’t hold greasy food or pulpy fruit. She was prone to nausea if she overate, and to diarrhea generally. Not to be discouraged, Frau Eigler had Anna drink dandelion tea, then choke down as many spoonfuls of pureed oat straw as she could stand. After Anna refused to submit to these cures, powders made from watermelon and cucumber seeds followed, mixed with warm milk.
“I’ll give this one week,” Anna finally said. She was tired of having to submit to every possible tonic dreamed up by those who lived in the Eigler house. “If it doesn’t work after a week, you leave me alone.”
“Sure thing,” Maria promised. “Just try this one and see. It’ll work.”
“What is it?”
“Just milk, M?del. Milk and some powders. You can’t taste the powders. Not much.”
“That’s what you always say.”
“This time it’s true. Believe me.”
“Then you’ll leave me alone? No more sneaking potions into my food?”
“This will work. Then that’s that.”
Of course the new concoction did nothing, the cucumber seeds and milk.
Anna wasn’t sure what she was sick with. It wasn’t polio. She could walk. It wasn’t cholera or flux, although there was the diarrhea to consider. Her bones hurt. She was knock-kneed, that was all. She was frail. There was no need to make a whole study of it. Her nose was thin and a little crooked—should they alert the Imperial Academy of Sciences about that too?
Anna wanted to be left alone. She was tired of being the subject of amateur experiments. Tired of everyone watching her and asking how she was. She was fine. That’s right. Perfectly fine. So long as she spent the whole day indoors, up in an attic dedicated to her own disquiets, her crafts, her worrying about what Karel might be up to, her reading. Anna knew something bad was going to happen. She thought it would happen to Karel, but she wasn’t always sure about that. Maybe it just involved him. Which meant maybe it was something bad that was going to happen to her. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to her little brother, who wasn’t so little anymore. She worried about him. This was the only way they communicated.
Karel was always trying to save her when he was around. It was annoying. She didn’t need saving, not by him. He had these ideas about what Anna needed. These schemes of his. Hiking! There’s a whole park out by the river, three miles wide. Didn’t Anna know that? Calisthenics! She’d be amazed at what good some jumping jacks and knee bends could do for her temperament. Posture! Karel sneaking up behind her, crossing his arms around her chest and lifting so her back popped and her blood could flow freely to exorcise her bad humors. Anna screamed when he did that one. Why couldn’t he warn her first before grabbing her and making her body crack?