The Woman Who Heard Color by Kelly Jones

Author:Kelly Jones [Jones, Kelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Contemporary Women
ISBN: 9781101545140
Google: jpLRH7dKpI4C
Amazon: 0425243052
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 2011-10-04T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Hanna

Munich

April–June 1937

With great frustration Hanna looked for work and soon discovered that for a woman her age with limited skills, there was nothing.

She applied for a position as a seamstress’s assistant, but when she was asked her name, the position was suddenly filled.

Then she answered an ad for a millinery shop that called for a Christian lady.

“I have experience working with customers,” Hanna told the owner.

“Where have you worked?”

“At an art gallery here in Munich.”

“Selling art is hardly the same as selling women’s hats and gloves,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

Of course, he didn’t.

She visited Ernst Hausmann, the new owner of the Fleischmann Gallery, now the Hausmann Gallery. He was a small, thin man with a soft lavender voice. Hanna had met him once after he’d expressed his initial interest in buying the business. Josef, and then a man from their bank, had handled the actual sale of the gallery.

Herr Hausmann graciously offered her tea, getting up to prepare it himself.

She gazed about the room. A client stood with Moses, and she could hear her husband’s low, even voice, though she could not make out his words. The walls were covered with color, and then Moses along with the colors evaporated before her eyes and ears. Now Josef moved in a quick flash about the gallery, his voice rising and falling with excitement.

She was hallucinating, of course. She understood this much. Did this, the realization that it wasn’t real, mean she was not going crazy? She felt a tightness in her throat, and then she felt as if she was about to stand up and scream. Holding her hand to her heart, she took a deep breath, attempting to pull herself together. Again she studied the room, and now she saw that it looked and sounded nothing like it had when it was the Fleischmann Gallery. Could she spend her days here again with memories of how it was then, how much everything had changed?

“How may I help you, Frau Fleischmann?” Herr Hausmann asked as he placed a tray with tea, milk, and sugar on the table, and then sat.

“I’m looking for work.”

“I was under the impression that you had left the country.” He poured her a cup.

Would he be less inclined to offer her work if he knew how desperately she was attempting to leave? Hanna shook her head, but felt any words she might utter were stuck in her throat. She gulped a drink of hot tea, feeling it burn as she swallowed.

“No,” she replied. “I’m still here in Munich.”

“I’m looking for someone . . . well, to help with various menial tasks around the gallery,” he said, waving toward the tray, his words almost apologetic. “I’m afraid this is all I have to offer right now.”

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