The American Lady (31 page)

24

“She hasn’t been in touch with your mother either,” Johanna said to Wanda as soon as they left the post office. She shook her head. “I just don’t understand it! Never mind that we haven’t had any new designs from her for months now, but she must know that we’re worried about her.”

Johanna stopped dead in the street.

“And that Franco’s no better, if you ask me! It’s no way to behave. What is it, are you even listening to me?” She plucked at Wanda’s sleeve as she walked on.

“What were you saying?” Wanda gave a start. She tried to blink away the tears in her eyes.

“Look at you!” Johanna exclaimed. “What are you crying about?” She put her arm around Wanda’s shoulders tenderly, though, which drew some of the sting from her words.

Wanda burst into tears. “How can she do this to me? Mother’s so cruel!”

She had chosen her words so carefully when she told her mother that she wanted to stay in Lauscha forever. She had lain awake at nights pondering how to break the news and anticipating her mother’s reaction, but what she heard first was the crackle on the line and silence from Ruth’s end. She had been ready for almost anything but silence. After a few moments, Ruth began stammering helplessly. Wanda had never heard her mother like this, though Ruth recovered herself after a couple of minutes. And when she did, there was no use pleading. Ruth was implacable: Wanda could stay for another four weeks, but after that she had to come straight back to New York. After all, she could hardly stay on and be a burden to Johanna any longer!

When she said that, Wanda had turned her back on Johanna, who was standing next to her, and dropped her voice to say that Thomas Heimer would have no objection if she moved in with him. Ruth answered icily that it would not come to that. If Wanda was really thinking of staying on and living in Thuringia—and Ruth objected strongly to the idea—then at least they would make the necessary arrangements. And they would make them from New York—after calm reflection—and with Wanda there to discuss the matter.

It was probably just a cheap trick to get her to come back home, Wanda thought. Mother very likely believed that once Wanda was back there, her fascination with Lauscha would vanish like smoke up the chimney. But she was wrong. All right, maybe she had once been a bit of a scatterbrain. But this time nothing and nobody could change her mind! The thought comforted her somewhat.

“And just when things have begun going so well,” she sniffled, then had to leap aside to avoid being knocked down by a wagon.

“If you fall under those wheels, it won’t matter how things are going,” Johanna answered. Then she led Wanda into the nearest café, quite unprompted. She ordered them a cup of coffee and a slice of tart each.

“Come on, give us a smile! As I understand it, your mother isn’t entirely against the idea of your living in Thuringia. But this kind of thing needs planning, I agree with Ruth there. For instance what about this Harold, who your mother says is your fiancé? Doesn’t he have a right to know what you intend to do with your life?” There was no mistaking the note of reproach in Johanna’s voice.

“Harold!” Wanda said scornfully. “There was never anything official, that
engagement
of ours was more like a private joke. Do you know I’ve only had two letters from him since he was appointed bank manager? Out of sight, out of mind—you say that in Germany too, don’t you?” She sighed. “But you’re right about one thing. It’s about what
I
intend to do with
my
life! I don’t owe Harold any apology and Mother shouldn’t imagine that she can make me feel guilty about him.”

Johanna drew a deep breath as if she were about to deliver a strong response, but Wanda watched her fall silent when she saw the waitress coming over. The scent of freshly roasted coffee beans rose up to them and after the first sip Wanda decided that Johanna was right to call coffee the elixir of life. She already felt a little bette
r . . .

Johanna looked up from her tart. “If I can come back to our conversatio
n . . .
Whether or not it was an official engagement, I do feel that you should tell him the truth straight out. Or do you want to just wriggle out of things, the way Marie did with poor Magnus?”

No, she didn’t want to do that, Wanda admitted silently. She always felt sad when she saw Magnus suffering in silence, with that look in his eyes that said he still didn’t understand how the love of his life could simply vanish like that. Not that she believed Harold would suffer the same way—he seemed to have adjusted quite nicely to life without her. All the same, she was ready to make a clean break. But that didn’t mean she had to go back to America, did it?

“And then there are financial considerations. Even banal details like handling your own household budget need thinking about, you know. Please don’t misunderstand me, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Johanna said. “But you won’t be able to live out of a suitcase forever. And you must have things back home that you miss.”

“I have everything I need,” Wanda answered huffily. For all she cared, her mother could give all her possessions away to charity—what need would she have here for a ball gown or pearl-encrusted strappy sandals? “Mother only had a suitcase when she left here, and she never even told you she was going. And Marie left everything behind when she went to live with Franco in Genoa. It seems I’m the only one who has to do what everyone says.”

She thrust out her lower lip petulantly. What if she just stayed here?

“Oh, Wand
a . . .
Why are you so dead set on repeating the mistakes of the older generation?” Johanna sighed, looking tired all of a sudden. “Wouldn’t it make sense to at least
try
to do a little better?”

“Why didn’t you tell your mother that we’re getting married?” Richard asked, frowning. “I’m sure that would have changed her mind.”

“Married?” Wanda squealed. “We’ve never even talked about tha
t . . .
”

“Why are you blinking like a startled deer? It was clear from the very first that we’d stay together. Which means it’s just as clear that we’ll get married one day. Actually I wanted to wait unti
l . . .
well, until I had more to offer you.” He waved his hand vaguely about the room. “But if we have to, then I’ll go up to your father this very evening and ask for your hand in marriage. Whether it happens sooner or later—what difference does it make?” He shrugged as though everything were decided. “Would the future Mrs. Stämme like to give her bridegroom a kiss?” He reached out to Wanda with a twinkle in his eye.

Mrs. Stämm
e . . .
She was extremely tempted to snuggle up in his arms and enjoy the warm glow that his words had kindled within her. Instead she shrank back. She knew her heart should be beating wildly, but she felt a surge of anger.

“Actually I had pictured a proposal of marriage a bit differentl
y . . .
” she said in a haughty tone.

He could spend hours talking about a new glasswork technique or telling her everything that Gotthilf Täuber had said on his last visit, but he hadn’t bothered using more than a few words to address something as important as their wedding! And he hadn’t even
asked
her. Besides, Wanda didn’t believe that her mother would be at all keen if she told her she wanted to marry. Quite the opposite: she would probably do all she could to stop her daughter from marrying a glassblower! Wanda said as much to Richard.

For a moment they were both silent. Finally, hesitantly, Richard began to speak.

“I can see that your parents might have objections t
o . . .
well, to me. I’m not too sure of myself either. S
o . . .
I mea
n . . .
” He ran his hand through his hair, and it stuck out in all directions. “I’m sure that I love you, of course, but everything els
e . . .
” He waved his hand helplessly. “Perhaps the reason I’m rushing at it like a bull at a gate is that otherwise I feel my head will explode. What can a man like me offer a girl like you? The question haunts me in the middle of the night, first thing in the morning, even when I’m at work. It’s like a great dark monster and I can hardly fight it off.
A . . .
clever girl like you, with all your book learning and worldliness. A New York lady, staying here in Lauscha for the rest of her life—”

“But
I . . .
” Wanda interrupted him, but Richard carried on. “Of course you like it here now, when everything’s new to you. But there’ll be another winter next year, that’s for sure. And then another after that. How are you going to cope with the fact that sometimes Lauscha is completely cut off by snow? Will you be so bored you start to hate me? And how will you like life in a glass workshop day in and day out? Do I even dare do that to you?” He sighed. “Sometimes the monster’s stronger than I am, and then I think we’ll never be together. But now that I’ve told you that’s what I want, I’m so relieved! Wanda, love—we can make it work! I know that we can, and I’ll do everything I can to make you happy!”

There was a note of stubborn certainty in his voice that didn’t agree at all with the doubt in his eyes. Wanda had never seen him look so vulnerable. Her heart was brimming over with love for this man, who always did what he had to do and said what he had to say, no matter what. She took his hand and looked at him earnestly.

“I’m a little scared by all that too. But it’s just as you say—we have to fight the black monster. Doubt is a dragon, but we can slay it! Doesn’t love conquer all?” she said.

He blinked skeptically. “Was that a yes or a no?”

Wanda grinned. “It was a yes, you big dumb ox! Yes, yes, yes!”

This time she let him take her in his arms. He picked her up and swung her around the room as if she were as light as a feather, whooping with joy. “She’s going to marry me! Hurrah!”

Wanda laughed happily. She kissed Richard on the lips, on his ears, on the back of his neck under the fringe of hair.

He eventually let go of her gently and raised his brows as he looked her straight in the eyes.

“There’s just one little problem—apart from the fact that we have to get your parents to agree. An organizational problem. Nothing we can’t sort out.” He went to the cupboard and came back with a letter in his hand. “From Täuber,” he said. “We can’t get married until June at the earliest. In the second and third weeks of May—”

“We haven’t even started talking about the date,” Wanda interrupted. She might have said yes but that didn’t mean she had no say in the matter! And they still had to talk about her trip to New York.

“I’ll be in Venice. Do you remember the art fair that I told you about? This is my invitation. Gotthilf Täuber wants to introduce me to some of the glassworkers there. And he’ll pay for my trip too. He says I can use the chance to learn as much as I can from the Italians and—”

“You’re leaving?” Wanda’s voice was faint. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now,” Richard replied. “Anyway, it’s only for two weeks. Täuber says I shoul
d . . .
”

“Two weeks! We have even less time than I thought, then!” Wanda grumbled. If she ended up having to go back to New York, then she would have left Lauscha by the time he got back. And what if he fell in love with a beautiful Italian girl on his trip? Just the way Marie had fallen in love with her handsome Italian? Then she’d be left all on her own in New York an
d . . .

She flung herself into Richard’s arms and held him tight. “Please don’t go!”

Her fear of losing Richard was suddenly stronger than anything in the world. Perhaps she should ignore what her parents wanted and stay in Lauscha?

For a moment the only sound was the monotonous drip-drip-drip of snow melting into the brimming rainwater barrel behind the house.

“Why don’t you just come with me to Italy?” Richard suddenly murmured into Wanda’s hair. “The art fair might be useful for the Heimer workshop as well. They say a lot of business gets done there. That’s the other reason I want to go—though I’d never say as much to Täuber. But I’d like to have more than just one customer, do you see what I mean?”

Wanda nodded, still leaning her head on his chest. She knew just what he meant. She worried that so far she had only managed to interest Karl-Heinz Brauninger in her father’s wares. Finding more buyers was right at the top of her list. But how should she go about it? That had always been the question.

“The two of us in Venic
e . . .
” Wanda heaved a heartfelt sigh. But before she could fall too much in love with the images this conjured up, she pushed herself away from him. “But there’s no way in the world that Aunt Johanna would allow that! Not any more than my parents would!” She didn’t say whether she meant Ruth and Steven, or Ruth and Thomas Heimer.

Richard gnawed at his lip. “And I can understand them too. We’re not married yet, or things would look different of cours
e . . .
”

The image of gondolas in the pale glittering sunlight was fading away when another thought struck Wanda. “How far is Venice from Genoa, though?”

Richard shrugged. “I have no idea. Why?”

“Do you have an atlas where we could look it up?” Wanda asked, though she knew that he didn’t.

“An atlas—me? Where would I get something like that? But your aunt has one, Anna brought it over one time. We wanted to see how far it is to the Bavarian Forest and the Black Forest, there are a lot of glassblowers down there as well. We would have liked to visi
t . . .
” He waved the idea away. “You get ideas like that on the long winter evenings. But tell me, why do you ask?”

Wanda fought back the twinge of envy she had felt at Richard’s words.

“Well, if I remember right, then Marie will give birth sometime in May. And I’m wonderin
g . . .
what if I used the time I have left to go visit her? Nobody can object to that, can they? I’m family after all.”

In fact, Johanna objected a great deal, as did Ruth and Steven. Even Thomas Heimer scowled more than he usually did when Wanda told him her plan. They all said the same thing: that it was not proper for an unmarried girl of her age to travel with a man, even if they would part company as soon as they’d crossed the Italian border. Wanda thought it best not even to mention that she planned to follow Richard to Venice once she’d been to see Marie. Even she felt rather alarmed at the thought of catching the train from Genoa to Venice all on her own. Nor did they mention anything about getting married. Wanda had persuaded Richard that this was not the time to say anything. Wanda was quite sure that her parents would be even more worried about their daughter’s virtue if they knew that she and Richard were planning a wedding. So instead she repeated that she was almost frantic with worry for Marie. It was some comfort to think that that wasn’t even a lie.