When she awoke in the morning, Max wasn't there. Part of her was disappointed, wanting to have woken up to find him there. But then, would the morning hide the fact that he was a ghost? Or that he was not her husband, and she had given herself so willingly?
These thoughts plagued her, and though she knew she shouldn't be happy about what occurred last night, she was. She had enjoyed the way he held her, the way he pleased her. It was so different from what she had heard the marriage bed was like, that she hoped that he would return tonight.
But she also couldn't help but wonder why her husband, Pietro, was not the one who came to her at night. Where did he go? Was there some ailment that prevented him from his husbandly duties?
She dressed for the day, wondering what to make of this strange castle that she now called home.

She was lost in her thoughts, and almost didn't hear Pietro calling for her as she walked into the kitchen.

"Anna Marie?" His voice caused her to turn around.

"Oh…forgive me, Pietro. Ah must have been lost in my head again."

There was something in her expression that made him pause.

"Anna Marie….are you unhappy here?"

She took a deep breath, unsure how to answer that question.

"I understand that your work is important to you, but so am I. I've tried to talk to you about the ghosts in this house-"

He sighed. "Anna Marie, if you are talking about my father, he is a madman. Don't listen to a word he says-"

"He knows that you leave me alone at night. It upsets him and me." She was telling a half-truth, surely.

Pietro narrowed his eyes. "My father has visited you at night?"

She realized her mistake. "Once or twice. He….he doesn't seem so mad at all. He was quite lucid."

Pietro let out a frustrated sigh. "That bastard won't leave us alone, even in death."

She was trying very hard not to say something that would give away her feelings, and she walked towards the tea kettle, silently working at the stove.

The tension must have been noticed by him, for she felt his hand gently resting on her shoulder.

"I've upset you." It was a statement more than a question. "By being absent."

She took a breath before turning to face him. "Have ah done something wrong?"

His face showed regret.

"No….you have done nothing wrong. I….I suppose I have been far too distant with you, haven't I?"

She smiled a little as he extended his hand to her, and she slipped her fingers into the palm of her husband.
"What do you say we go into town? Just the two of us. It will give you some fresh air, and I can show you the town in all its glory." He suggested with a smile.
She warmed at that, thinking that maybe this could work, that he would turn a new leaf as it were.
"Ah'd like that…." She admitted softly, and she was met with a grin from him, his blue eyes sparkling.
They made the trip into town, despite a slightly miffed look from Wanda, and it seemed to be a normal outing, complete with Anna Marie's hand slipped through the crook of Pietro's arm, like any normal husband and wife walking down the street.
The snow was coming down as they entered the post office, Anna Marie wanting to check for anything from America. The postmaster handed her the letters, and there was one from Kurt, another from Mr Creed, and a letter to an A. Eisenhardt that didn't look familiar to her.
That's odd. Ah don't recognize the address.
She pocketed the letters, and Pietro was having a conversation with a constable outside, but Pietro seemed to not like what he had to say.
She walked out to where they were standing. "Pietro?"
Pietro glanced at Anna Marie, and the constable tipped his hat. "My apologies, Freifrau. The snow is getting worse, and I'm afraid it's too dangerous for you and the Freiherr to return to Wernigerode until the morning."
Anna Marie could see the annoyance on Pietro's face, and she was trying to hide her own anxiety over this development.
"Do you….have somewhere we can stay for the night, Constable?" She asked.
"There's a room next to the postmaster's quarters on the second floor of this building. I will speak to the postmaster and arrange it personally."
Pietro took a long breath, and he seemed to reign in his frustration. "It would be appreciated."
"Freifrau, you should come in from the cold…." The constable led her inside, and she cast a glance at Pietro, who was obviously not happy about going home tonight.
Her own thoughts, though she tried not to show it, were of Max, hoping that she didn't worry him by being gone.
The fire roared as Pietro helped Anna Marie turn down the bed that they occupied for the night, and he seemed a little calmer now than before. She was trying not to let it show that she was disappointed that they weren't going home for the night, nor that her thoughts were of Max.
Pietro could sense how quiet she was, and he came around the bed, and took her hand, guiding her to sit with him on the bed.
"You're anxious. I can see it in the way you hold yourself." He commented.
"Ah'm just….I wasn't expectin' to stay the night here. But….ah'm sure it'll be fine." She smiled for his benefit, and he seemed to be wondering if she was being truthful.
"You're still upset with me."
She sighed, knowing that at least this part she didn't feel guilty about saying out loud. "Pietro….we've been married for almost a month, and we behave like strangers. You treated me more like your wife when you were pursuing me when we were back in America."
The look in his eyes showed how regretful he was. "My dear Anna Marie….forgive me. I was….unsure of what to do….given the circumstances of what happened to your father so soon before our marriage."
The mention of her father, and his murder, gave her pause. Had he simply been giving her time to grieve? Had she read it all wrong? Was she being selfish?
She felt the tears form in her eyes, and the brush of his thumb on her cheek. "Oh, schatzi, I didn't mean to upset you…."
That term of endearment made her freeze. She didn't want him to call her that. That was what Max called her.
Tears ran down her face, and, assuming what they were for, Pietro embraced her, comforting her. He rubbed her back, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost convince herself it was Max holding her.
Ah wish it was him….
In an effort to console her further, Pietro pulled away from their embrace, just barely enough so that he could look at her, his hands caressing her face as he moved closer.
She closed her eyes, knowing that if she pulled away, he would ask questions, start to wonder. She had already let slip that Max had visited her once or twice, and she couldn't allow him to find out about her affair with the ghost of his father.
And so, when he kissed her, she pretended it was Max, pretended it was the man she wanted to be kissing, to be held by.
He laid her down on the bed, and his touch….it felt so strange being touched by someone alive, someone who should have been the man she loved.
It was at this moment that she realized that she didn't love Pietro, not anymore.
What she had felt for him was eclipsed by the love she felt for a ghost, a man who had consumed her thoughts, barely a day after claiming her as his own in her bed.
She loved Max, and had to keep that a secret from Pietro, lest there be consequences she couldn't undo.
She would pretend, if it meant keeping Max with her.
She could feel the differences between Pietro and his father, the way he was hesitant to touch her where Max had been confident yet gentle. He fumbled with her dress, and as much as he tried to bring her pleasure, it was no use for either one of them. He seemed to not be as engaged as she was trying to be, and after what felt like eternity, he finally rolled off of her, muttering apologies.

When she finally fell asleep, it was in hopes that tomorrow she could return to Wernigerode, and to Max's arms.