Anna To The Infinite Power by Mildred Ames Page B

kindness and understanding Michaela thought so important.
    He began on the first book, showing her every photo he came across that was taken inside a camp. She glanced at all of them with no sign of recognition, just as he’d guessed she would. One after another, he riffled through the books, looking for the somewhat rare photographs. She studied each and shook her head. You see, he wanted to say, I told you so. He was growing impatient and there was still a huge pile of books to check.
    He opened the next one to the first picture and flashed it briefly in front of her. Before he could pull it away, she grabbed the book and pulled it closer, her eyes riveted to the page. He glanced at the photo with her. The caption said it was the main gate to the Nazi concentration camp at Auschwitz.
    “Freedom Through Work,” Anna said.
    “What are you talking about?”
    She pointed to big letters emblazoned above the gate. “That’s what it says.”
    “Anna, you can’t know what it says. That’s German. You’ve never studied German.” She looked bewildered. He took the book from her and began reading the text on the page facing the photograph. There was nothing there that bore out Anna’s translation of the sign. He turned the page and the words hopped out at him. Anna was right. “That’s what the words say, all right,” he said, puzzled but still unruffled. “I don’t know how you knew, but there has to be an explanation. You’ve probably read about it someplace.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    She looked frightened, he thought. He noticed that the whole book was about Auschwitz and Birkenau, the women’s camp. He turned pages until he came to another photo. Feeling uneasy now, he held it up to her. The noise that issued from her throat chilled him.
    She looked up at him and said, “That’s the unloading ramp. They brought in the prisoners and turned them out there.” She pointed to the large groups of people. “You see, the commandant has just made a selection. That’s why some of the people are standing on one side and some on the other. Behind them is the building that Mama disappeared into. You can’t see the chimneys in this picture.”
    Hearing her call a strange woman Mama gave him a peculiar feeling. He moved to take the book from her, but she pushed him away, then began to read the text. She read on and on and when she finished, closed the book and laid it on the table. She said quietly, “The building Mama went into was the one where they prepared people for the gas chamber. The chimneys were crematoriums. After they gassed the people, they burned them. That’s what smelled so bad.”
    She stared into space, her eyes focusing on a world he couldn’t see, then she turned to him and in a choked voice said, “Oh, Rowan, they killed Mama. They killed all those people. And the chimneys smoked day and night.”
    For the second time that day, her eyes were brimming. He just didn’t think he could bear it if she started crying again. Whatever was happening to Anna was beyond his understanding, and that frightened him. Awkwardly, he patted her hand and said, “Try not to think about it. Maybe if you go to the restroom and splash some cold water on your face, you’ll feel better.”
    She nodded, dabbed at her eyes, and got up. He watched her head for the lobby, and wished she had never shared her strange experience with him. What was he to make of it anyhow? It had to be some kind of fantasy. Had to be. Music that could throw someone back in time and into the shoes of someone else? Impossible.
    Rowan remembered that she’d said the piece was called Reverie and that it had been written by a woman. On the off chance that someone had recorded it, he quickly made his way to the audiovisual department. He searched through the microfilm that listed every tape currently available. Several had that same title, but only one interested him. The composer’s name was Clara Muller. He seemed to recall that there was a