The American Lady (18 page)

6

By the time Johanna got to Coburg it was twenty of two. Wanda’s train was due at two o’clock. Johanna muttered a hasty farewell in French to Monsieur Martin and flung open the door to his hansom cab before the cabbie could even climb down from the coachman’s seat. As she hurried through the railway station’s grand front door, she heaved a long pent-up sigh of relief. She’d made it!

That morning it hadn’t looked as though she’d be able to meet Wanda’s train. One of her most important clients, Monsieur Martin from Lyon, had turned up at the door quite without warning to place the Christmas orders for his chain of five department stores. By the time Johanna had gone through the whole catalog with him, there was no chance of catching the train to Coburg. Of course she had made contingency plans, and in her last letter to Wanda before her departure, she had explained in detail how to catch every train connection from Hamburg to Lauscha, changing at Braunschweig and again at Coburg. All Wanda needed to do for the last leg of the journey was ask for the train and then climb aboard. But Peter and Johanna had agreed that they ought to meet Ruth’s daughter in Coburg if they possibly could manage it. Johanna felt that it was her duty. If one of her children were making such a long journey, she would be reassured by the idea that someone was waiting at the other end. So she was all the more upset when Monsieur Martin took half the morning to place his order. She had done her best not to let it show, but Martin had noticed that she was on edge. When he heard that she was due in Coburg, he insisted on giving her a lift in his carriage. Johanna hesitated at first; she still had trouble trusting strange men, no matter how honorable they appeared. But her desire to meet Wanda overcame her doubts. Once they were on the road, Monsieur Martin told the coachman to drive the horses as though the devil were after them. Johanna felt rather queasy throughout the breakneck journey, but at least they had got there on time.

In addition to her, there were two men in black coats standing on the platform, their collars turned up against the cold, while the other passengers had taken shelter in the waiting room. An icy wind blew the fallen leaves of a mighty chestnut tree across the tracks; although it was early afternoon, the dark seemed to be drawing in already. Johanna wished the weather were better for Wanda’s arrival.

She drew her shawl tighter around her shoulders but stayed on the platform so that she could see the train pulling in.

Wanda! Little Wanda was coming back—Johanna still couldn’t quite believe it. The only thing that would have made her happier would have been if Ruth were coming as well.

In the first few years after Ruth left, Johanna had missed her sister dreadfully. “Why don’t you come and visit?” she had asked again and again in her letters. “Don’t you miss Thuringia at all?” Of course she missed the old country, Ruth wrote in reply. But she had been traveling on forged papers, and it was impossible to come back. And later? Ruth had come up with all sorts of reasons not to undertake the journey. Johanna had eventually stopped asking, but she missed her sister dearly. Although they wrote letters, that wasn’t the same.

As the cold crept up Johanna’s legs, she began pacing up and down the platform. Then she remembered that she must have a pair of gloves somewhere in her coat pockets, left over from last winter. She put them on and the cold became a little easier to bear. And a good thing too, since Wanda’s train was obviously delayed—it was now ten past two. But her excitement grew with every minute she waited. And besides, when did she ever have time to let her thoughts wander like this? It was good to have a few minutes to herself, even if it was an unfamiliar feeling. Johanna sighed happily and plunged back into the past.

It was odd, but she had always been able to talk to Ruth more easily than to Marie. Maybe it was because the age difference was less? Ruth had been nine years old and she had been eleven when their mother died, and they had taken care of seven-year-old Marie as well as they knew how. Ten years later, when their father had died and left them penniless, she and Ruth had been the ones to take charge. Or at least so they had imagined—in the end it was Marie who had gotten them back on their feet by teaching herself to blow glass. Even today Johanna was ashamed to remember how she had wallowed in self-pity while Ruth had marched off to Sonneberg with a few Christmas baubles in her basket to find a wholesaler. After her dreadful experience with Friedhelm Strobel, her employer at the time, she simply hadn’t been herself. What luck that Marie had grabbed the opportunity when it came an
d . . .
Johanna felt a pang in her heart as she remembered that Marie had now left the family business too. The worst part was the
way
she left! Couldn’t she at least have come back to Lauscha to say good-bye? To tidy up loose ends, to collect some of her things, to explain?

And then there was Magnus.

Johanna heaved a sigh.

He and Marie had lived together for years like man and wife, and all of a sudden she didn’t even think him worthy of a decent good-bye! She had sent no explanation and not a word of apology.

It wasn’t as though Johanna saw Magnus as a brother. They had never had very much to say to one another, in good times or in bad. But that hardly meant that she didn’t care about his feelings. Johanna felt desperately sorry for the poor man, who was obviously most upset. He had only heard about Marie’s wedding from the telegram that she sent to them all as a family, and he didn’t deserve such treatment.

Johanna put her hand to her brow and tucked back a lock of hair. She didn’t want to think of Marie today. This was a happy day.

She stopped in front of one of the station windows and sneaked a look at her reflection. She was happy enough with what she saw. She still had the figure of a young woman, and her thick braid of heavy chestnut-brown hair had the same rich glow that had made all the other girls envy the Steinmann sisters when they were young. Though she now had a strand or two of gray at each temple—and no more than that—Peter insisted the gray made her look “distinguished.” Peter! As though she could trust a word he said in the matte
r . . .
Johanna smiled. Whenever she complained to him that she found new wrinkles on her forehead every day, he just looked at her, baffled, and declared that she looked as lovely as ever. Well, that certainly wasn’t true, but Johanna was nonetheless quite pleased with her looks. She glanced once more at her reflection. She had wanted to change into something more cheerful for Wanda’s arrival, but their French visitor had put an end to that idea. In fact she always felt most comfortable in this dark-blue outfit, the one she called her “work clothes.” She grinned. Ruth would probably fall over backward in shock if she knew that Johanna was still wearing exactly the same styles she had twenty years ago. But fashion was the last thing she needed in the workshop. What was most important was making a good impression with the clients.

Someone cleared his throat next to her, tearing her away from her thoughts.

“Pardon me,
madame
, but are you perhaps waiting for the Braunschweig train?”

“Yes, what about it?” Johanna stared in alarm at the railway official who stood next to her with a notebook open in his hand. For heaven’s sake, had something happened to the train?

“It’s running about two hours late, although I’m afraid I don’t know why. I thought I should tell you just in case, so that you don’t catch your death of cold out here. Do go into the waiting room; at least it’s warm in there.” He touched the brim of his cap, gave her a cheerful nod, and then went on his way to see who else was waiting for the train.

And she’d been in such a hurry! Johanna walked over to the waiting room, annoyed. She was just about to look around for a free seat when she spotted a sign through the station window: “Coburger Stadtcafé.” She might as well enjoy a cup of coffee and a sweet pastry while she waited. She hardly broke her stride as she pushed open the wrought-iron station door. If she had to wait, she could at least pass the time pleasantly.

The train screeched harshly as it lurched into motion. Not too many more miles and they would be in Lauscha.

“I can hardly believe that I’m finally here!” Wanda flung her arms around her aunt’s neck, who sat next to her on the wooden bench. All of a sudden she felt so weepy that she had trouble holding back the tears that pricked at her eyelids. “Finally home,” she added with a sigh.

Johanna looked at her, astonished.

“It’s not far now, is it?” Wanda peered anxiously out the window but couldn’t see much more than the forest. Her eyes stung and she rubbed at them quickly with both hands.

“No, it’s not far now,” Johanna assured her. “My poor girl! You must be dreadfully tired after the long journey.” She stroked Wanda’s head as though she were still a child.

“I’ll be all right,” Wanda said brightly. In fact she had to struggle not to burst into tears.

She had had to supervise the transfer of her baggage every time she changed trains, always with the nagging fear that one of the cases might get left behind on the platform or even stolen. Now she was exhausted, although happy to be with her family too.

“I’m a little cold, that’s all. The train stopped in the middle of nowhere for two hours—nobody had any idea why—and it became rather chilly in our carriage.” Then she sneezed hard, as if to add conviction to her words.

“Well, I do hope you don’t fall ill,” Johanna said, frowning in concern.

“Certainly not! I’m so much looking forward to exploring Lauscha, but first of course I’m looking forward to meeting all the others. Uncle Peter, Johannes, Anna, and Magnus! I had expecte
d . . .
” Then she broke off, shaking her head.

“What?” Johanna looked at her, smiling.

“Well,
I . . .
” Wanda was suddenly embarrassed. “I had thought perhaps that the others might be at the station as wel
l . . .
”

Johanna burst out laughing. A married couple sitting on the next bench looked at her disapprovingly.

“Oh, you’re wonderful, my girl! And who did you think would do all the work meanwhile?”

Wanda blushed furiously. What kind of nonsense was she blathering here when she knew quite well how things were in the workshop?

“But I’m sure they couldn’t concentrate on work today, because they can hardly wait for us to get home,” Johanna added.

Johanna asked how she had spent her days on the ship, and Wanda told her about how Wilma had prided herself on having a rubber baron for a fiancé. That led of course to the subject of Marie and Franco, and Johanna wanted to know all about him. Wanda felt flattered that Johanna was talking to her like an adult, and she wanted to share one or two spicy details about Franco de Lucca, but all she really knew was that he was very good-looking. So she said, “Marie always calls him her
handsome Italian
.”

Johanna laughed sadly. “I don’t begrudge my dear sister her happines
s . . .
but it all happened so fast! Or maybe not, it depends how you look at it. Even in the months before she set out on her travels she was behaving so strangely that I hoped she didn’t have some dreadful illness that was wearing her away from the inside. But it seems she just wasn’t happy with her life anymore. All the same, though—who would have thought that one day Marie would simply leave Lauscha without a word of farewell, and all for love?” Johanna pursed her lips.

Wanda put a hand on her arm. She would have liked to offer her aunt some words of comfort but didn’t know how to begin.

It wasn’t so bad just to sit in silence. Wanda used the time to take a look at Johanna out of the corner of her eye. It was astonishing how much alike the three sisters looked. They all had the same regular features and the same big dark eyes that never gave too much away. Her aunt also still looked amazingly young—despite her old-fashioned outfit. She had appeared much older in the photograph Wanda had seen, rather like a strict schoolmarm, but the camera had clearly been lying. Wanda’s mother always wore makeup to give her skin that pearly luster, but it looked as though Johanna was wearing none at all—either she thought that she didn’t need it, or she regarded it as an unnecessary indulgence. Wanda began unconsciously to lick her lipstick off.

“So have you made any plans for your time in Thuringia?” Johanna asked, breaking the silence. “We’ll have a great deal of work on our plate until the end of the year, but after that there will certainly be time for a few sightseeing trips if the weather plays along. If there’s anything you particularly want to do you must be sure to let me know.”

“I honestly don’t want you to go to any trouble for me. Quite the opposite,” Wanda replied earnestly. “I just want t
o . . .
be there with you. Do what you all do. You know, Marie told me so much about the worksho
p . . .
” All at once she found it hard to put her desires into words.

“And there is probably somebody else you particularly want to mee
t . . .
” Johanna said, raising an eyebrow meaningfully.