The American Lady (25 page)

13

New Year’s supper at the Steinmann-Maienbaum family home was a low-key affair. Johanna had made a pot of potato soup and did no more to mark the occasion than add an extra sausage for each person, and there was bread with the meal, as always. But the food was merely incidental that evening. As soon as the dishes were empty, the men cleared all the tables and chairs to the side of the room. Their neighbor Klaus Obermann-Brauner balanced his accordion on his knee, and everybody stood in a circle. Wanda learned that Klaus and his wife, Hermine, celebrated New Year’s Eve with the Steinmann-Maienbaum family every year, just like the rest of tonight’s guests. Klaus began to play, and the dancing began. At first Wanda felt clumsy trying to follow the unfamiliar steps—there was much stamping of boots and kicking up of knees, nothing at all like the dances she knew from the ballrooms of New York—but she found the good cheer so infectious that she was soon whooping more loudly than any of them, leaping in the air and swinging her skirts with gusto. She could have hugged the whole world tonight! Instead she spun around, following the order of the dance, and held out both hands to the man behind her. Her laugh died on her lips.

Richard Stämme.

A shiver ran down her spine. She almost stumbled as she spun around once more.

As though to prove to herself that a strange man could never really have that effect on her, this time she looked him directly in the eye. Hundreds of butterflies fluttered in her tummy. She was almost glad when the next change of partner brought her face-to-face with Uncle Peter.

Goodness gracious, what had that been about?

When she had heard earlier that evening that
he
would be among the guests as well, she had gone quite dizzy for a moment at the thought that she would see him again.

Ever since Johannes had introduced her to the young glassblower, she had been racking her brain for some excuse to seek him out. Every time Johanna needed someone to run an errand, she had jumped at the chance, hoping to meet Richard somewhere in the village. But she didn’t find him at the general store or the post office or the box-maker’s shop. Then she had found herself making detours so that she could pass by his cottage, always returning in her thoughts to the afternoon when she and Johannes had visited Richard there. How his deep-blue eyes had sparkled when he talked about Murano and Venetian glass! His voice had changed as though he were describing a woman he loved—it was husky and incredibly tender, passionate and determined. At that moment Wanda wanted nothing more than to hear him talking about her like that. It was bewildering, astonishin
g . . .
What a ridiculous thought!

And now she was dancing through Johanna’s front parlor with him.

At about ten o’clock Klaus Obermann-Brauner packed up his accordion and called for a beer. The others were glad for the break in the dancing, and the table and chairs were pushed back into the middle of the room. Everyone sat down at the table, sweaty but full of good cheer, as Johanna brought in bread and butter and a tub of salt herring.

Once the fish had all been eaten, Johannes called out, “Now for the second-best bit!” He took a slice of bread and began to dip it greedily in the puddle of sour liquor that the herring had come in. When Peter asked Wanda whether she wanted to do the same, she declined, saying she was already full.

Once again she had to struggle to conceal her dismay at how modest her aunt’s housekeeping was. It didn’t make it any easier knowing that here in the village, the family was considered well-to-do. There was probably more than one family right here in the neighborhood that had nothing at all to eat tonight and that was sitting in an unheated room.

All the members of the Steinmann-Maienbaum family had even treated themselves to an extra little luxury that day: a hot bath. The men had taken turns since the crack of dawn keeping the old stove in the washhouse fed with firewood. Since Wanda was the guest, she had bathed first. Even though she otherwise firmly insisted that they mustn’t make any exceptions for her, this time she was glad of the offer—she didn’t much like the idea of climbing into the bathwater after Anna and Johannes had already had their turn. While the others were still at work, she guiltily climbed into the hot water, steaming and scented with lavender.

If her mother could see her no
w . . .
after her first proper bath since she had arrived, wearing no makeup, dressed for the evening in her everyday clothe
s . . .
Wanda grinned at the thought.

Johannes threw her a cheerful glance across the table. Ever since Wanda had been such a hit with all his friends on their little tour of Lauscha, he had become her greatest supporter—not that anyone outside the family would have realized it, given the way he was always teasing her.

“I have to wonder why we wait for New Year’s Eve to turn the parlor into a dance floor,” Richard said, chewing happily at a slice of bread. “A little bit of music and dancing and life seems very different all of a sudden, doesn’t it?”

The others agreed that working life didn’t leave enough time for fun and frolics. Anna was the only one who disagreed, saying, “Who would do the work if every day was a dancing day?”

Richard frowned briefly but didn’t argue. Instead he passed the bread basket over to Wanda and asked, “Well? How do you like our Thuringian New Year’s Eve?”

For a moment their fingers touched and his eyes held hers. She looked down.

My hand’s shaking,
she thought as she put the basket down in the middle of the table.

“I like it very well indeed. Marie told me so much about the festivities here before I came, but being here is differen
t . . .
I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much,” she answered truthfully. The dancing, Richard’s friendly smile, the warmth in the parlor as the snow fell outside, her family, Richard’s dark eyes, so intense, s
o . . .
Without even realizing it, she had looked back at him so now she forced herself to turn away again.

“Christmas was just as lovely, with all the snow and the Christmas tree.” She pointed to the corner of the room where the tree still stood, decorated with the first baubles Marie had ever made, following family tradition. “My first Christmas in Germany. And it was even more wonderful than the Germans in the New York clubs had told me to expect!”

Richard was still looking straight at her. She could feel his knee pressing up against her leg.

“But New Year’s Eve is something else again, isn’t it?” Wanda asked, struggling to keep her voice light and friendly.

His gaze became a little less intense and was softer now, somehow turned inward.

“Yes, the last day of the year i
s . . .
an ending of sorts. The minutes slip down through the hourglas
s . . .
Suddenly everything that once was seems less important now, because we’ll make a new start soon. Because anything can happen in the new year.”

Wanda nodded. Richard had said exactly what she was feeling. She was even more bewildered now. His knee was pressing harder against her now, and she wondered whether she should move a little farther down the bench—for the good of her soul. She felt dizzier by the moment.

Richard gave her a knowing grin, then turned his eyes away. “We may not be such fine folks as they are in America, but we know how to have a good time, don’t we, Peter?”

The spell was broken. Wanda took a deep breath.

Peter laughed and dipped his ladle into the pot of punch that was simmering gently away on the stove, then began pouring more into everybody’s glasses. Somehow the pot never seemed to run empty. The others had all stopped to listen while Wanda and Richard talked, but as they picked up their own conversations again, Wanda saw that the expression on Anna’s face had turned even grimmer than usual.

Wanda drank half her glass in one gulp.

A little while later they began to play cards, and the mood became even merrier.

Whenever Hermine had a good hand of cards, her husband, Klaus, began to grumble, and she did the same when he was in luck. The more the old couple bickered, the funnier everyone else found it. At some point Johannes and Richard began imitating the two of them and gales of laughter followed. Aunt Johanna giggled like a girl, and even Magnus was not his usual sorrowful self that evening. Anna seemed to be the only one who didn’t find it funny. When she laughed at all, the sound was strangulated.

Wanda looked around the room, her cheeks aglow as she held her right hand over her cards. This wasn’t such a bad han
d . . .

“Whose turn is it?” Why did her voice always have to go so squeaky when she was excited?

Johannes groaned. “Oh cousin, cousin, I think you still haven’t quite got this game. It’s my turn, of course.”

“You watch out, she’s just asking questions to make herself look harmless. These Americans are full of tricks!” Richard said, winking at Wanda.

She joined in the laughter, embarrassed. Look harmless indeed! How was she supposed to concentrate on the game with Richard sitting next to her, when she could feel the warmth of his body? How was she supposed to keep track of whose turn it was when his arm kept touching hers? She peered at him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking straight at her.

Wanda felt herself blush. Hastily she picked up her punch glass and took another mouthful, which only made her feel hotter.

Johanna glanced at her niece.

“It’s eleven o’clock already, and we haven’t cast the lead yet! Johannes, Anna—don’t we want to know what the new year will bring? It always used to be your favorite part of the party. And while you’re doing that, I’ll go and fry the donuts!”

Johanna stood up slightly unsteadily and walked over to the pantry. Hermine followed her to lend a hand.

While Johannes went into the workshop to get everything ready for the fortune-telling, Anna stayed in her seat.

“Why don’t you go and join Johannes? You’re always turning up whenever you like the rest of the time,” Anna said to Wanda.

Wanda couldn’t have been more surprised if Anna had punched her in the stomach. She looked back at her cousin, mortified.

“I daresay the lead will just make lumpy blobs anyway, and we’ll have to rack our brains to see any shapes that mean anything.” Richard laughed as Johanna came back to the table with a dish of freshly fried donuts. “But casting the lead is all part of the fun at this time of year, isn’t it?” Then he turned to Wanda. “Do you do that in America as well?”

She could feel his breath warm upon her cheek as he spoke. Anna’s remark was quite forgotten.

“
I . . .
how can I explai
n . . .
w
e . . .
” She laughed, breathless. What had Uncle Peter put in that punch! She felt as though her head were stuffed with cotton wool.

“What kind of silly question is that?” Anna hissed at him. “Of course they know all about our customs; they were Germans as well once—even if most of them seem to have forgotten that.”

“Anna!” Johanna frowned as she looked over at her daughter.

Anna stood up abruptly. “What do you mean,
Anna
? I think it’s ridiculous what a fuss you’re all making over Wanda just because she’s come from America. As if it were heaven on earth!”

“We’re happy to have Wanda here as our guest,” her father answered softly. “And that has nothing to do with the fact that she’s American, but rather because we’ve welcomed her into our lives.”

“It seems to me that everybody has!” Anna spat, then ran out of the room.

Wanda stared down at the tabletop, mortified. Of course
that
was why Anna was so angry at her. Her cousin had been watching like a hawk all evening and hadn’t blinked once as Richard and Wanda spoke or whenever they touched. Anna had tried to draw Richard into conversation more than once, but each time he had given her a short answer and turned straight back to Wanda.

Under different circumstances, Wanda might even have felt sorry for her. Instead she was worried that the others would notice how happy she was.

“I think I need a little fresh air,” she murmured. Then she too left the room.

14

It was bitterly cold outside. Though it had stopped snowing, the sky was covered with low-hanging, pale-gray clouds. There was no sky sprinkled with stars, no shining moon.

Wanda stayed under the eaves where the ground was dry. The freshly fallen snow glittered in the light from the kitchen window like an evening gown strewn with rhinestones.
What’s Mother wearing tonight?
Wanda suddenly found herself thinking. For a blissful moment she was distracted by memories of the splendid New Year’s parties she had attended with her parents. Perhaps it would have been best if she had never left New Yor
k . . .
But then you would never have met Richard
, a voice inside her whispered.

What now? She sighed deeply, breaking the silence of the night.

It seemed impossible to go back inside and sit down at the table as though nothing had happened. On the other hand—what
had
happened? She was probably only imagining that Richard was interested in her. His behavior could easily be nothing more than the politeness shown to a guest, in which case Anna’s jealousy was childish and unfounded.

The front door squeaked on its hinges, breaking her train of thought. Richard came outside.

She had known he would.

He came toward her carrying her coat over his arm. Gently, he helped her put it on. Then he knelt down and buttoned it up. When he was done, he drew Wanda to him as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Wanda just stood there, her teeth chattering and her arms hanging down at her sides while the heat from his body warmed her. She was too afraid of her own feelings to return his embrace—her passion would surely get the better of her.

“Don’t feel bad about Anna. It was bound to happen like this. It’s best that she know the truth right from the start.”

“What had to happen like this?” Wanda’s face was so stiff with cold that she had to force each word out of her mouth. Her heart hammered as she wriggled free from his arms. She wanted to be able to look him in the eyes.

“I’ve fallen in love with you. As for your own feelings, well, you know better than I.” He smiled.

Wanda didn’t say a word. Should she tell him that nothing in the world mattered to her now except him? That she had never felt this way about anyone before? That she had never desired a man the way she did him? She didn’t doubt his words for a moment, but she wasn’t ready to answer them the same way. She was scared by these powerful new feelings.

“I don’t know how I feel,” she answered at last.

“It’s New Year’s. Anything is possible.” Before she knew what was happening, he was kissing her, on the forehead, on both cheeks, but not on the mouth.

It was as though his kisses unlocked a door inside her. Suddenly she was calm. She stopped shivering. Richard was right. Anything was possible.

All the same she said, “I’m American. I’ll be leaving at the end of April. I only came to Thuringia because I stupidly thought I would be able to help my family while Marie was away. An
d . . .
then there was the whole story with m
y . . .
my father. But I’ve even wondered whether I shouldn’t take an earlier ship back. Because nothing is the least bit like I imagined it would be. As is always the case in my useless life.”

Before she knew what was happening, there were tears in her eyes. Best that
he
knew the truth right from the start as well—she was of no use to anyone.

“And now Anna is upset with me. Johanna will say I’ve been abusing their hospitality. And Peter wil
l . . .
”

“Wanda! Stop blaming yourself. None of them will say anything of the sort.”

Richard shook her shoulders gently. Then he wiped her tears away with his thumbs.

“There was never anything going on between Anna and me. We worked together a couple of times on special orders. She’s a good glassblower, and I admire her work. But that’s all. Perhaps I’m not entirely free of blame if she imagined it meant anything more. I should have told her long ago that I don’t even see her as a woman. I didn’t take her infatuation seriously, though. She’s practically still a child!”

“I’m only two years older,” Wanda said, sniffling. She wiped her nose.

“You’re a woman,” he told her firmly. He took her hands and kissed them. “When Johannes stopped by to visit me with yo
u . . .
I will never forget that moment. You standing there with your hair damp with snow, the snow melting and trickling down into your eyes. You were blinking like a scalded cat.
That’s her!
I thought. It hit me like a thunderbolt.”

Wanda wanted to burst out crying again. He sounded so certain! It was just like when he had talked about Venetian glass.

“Something like that only happens once in a lifetime. If that. Every day since then I’ve been going crazy trying to run into you again somehow.” Richard laughed self-consciously. “Some days I went down to the general store three times hoping to find you there. Mrs. Huber looked at me as though I wasn’t quite right in the head. I wanted to tell her that indeed I wasn’t.”

“But didn’t that scare you?” Wanda asked breathlessly.

She glanced nervously at the door. How long was her family going to leave her alone out here with a man who was, after all, a total stranger to her?

His eyes gleamed. “I was only scared that you might leave for some reason before I saw you again.”

Wanda giggled nervously. Then she admitted that she had been roaming Lauscha looking for him in much the same way.

Richard opened his arms and Wanda clung to him. She shut her eyes and turned her face up toward his, but all he did was stroke her hair and then kiss her on the top of her head, as though saving the rest for later.

How clever he was! Wanda leaned her head trustingly against his chest. She could hear nothing but her own heartbeat and her breathing. Any thought of what her mother might have to say about this vanished as she thought, with every fiber of her being,
I love this man!

She would be able to explain to Ruth one way or another why she had to stay on in Lauscha.

Richard cleared his throat. “As for your departur
e . . .
you can give the ticket away; you won’t be needing it anymore now that you’ll be staying in Lauscha.”

“What?” Wanda tore herself abruptly from his arms. “How can you be so sure of that, we’ve only jus
t—
”

“I’m not talking about us,” he interrupted her, as though all that were settled anyway. “I’m talking about your family. They need you more than you can imagine!”

Wanda laughed. “You’re the only one who thinks so! I folded together a few cardboard boxes and packed some Santa Claus figures into them, but the other hired hands could do anything I do with their eyes shut. Especially since things will calm down in January, and the
n . . .
”

“I wasn’t talking about Johanna.” Richard waved her words away. “You have to go up the hill. To the top of the village. To your other family.”

“You’re joking!” Wanda glared at him, furious. “That’s just mean! I’m sure that everybody in the village has heard by now how ‘overjoyed’ my father was to see me.”

Richard laughed. “But he was, believe me. You should have heard the way he sang your praises last time he came down to the tavern. He told everyone how pretty you are. How clever. Apparently your grandfather was saying exactly the same thing, going on about how nobody would mistake you for anyone but a Heimer. Thomas tells us that your visit gave the old fellow a new lease on life. Supposedly he even tried to get out of bed, though he was too weak for that. So there you have it!”

“I don’t believe a word.” Frowning, Wanda tried to clear the confusion in her mind.

“Why would I lie to you? What good would it do me?” Richard asked intently. “I know your father, and I know that he means what he says. He’s not the friendliest of fellows, and when he’s in a mood it’s best just to leave him be. But he’s honest through and through. If he sits there and tells the whole tavern what a fine girl you are, it really means something. Of course he would never tell you right out how happy he was that you came to see him. When he doesn’t know how to behave, he turns surly. That’s just the way he is. But one thing’s for sure: your visit made him happier than anything has for a long time.”

“Well, God knows I never saw any sign of that,” Wanda said dryly. The way he had sat there staring down into his coffee cup as though he could hardly wait for her to leave. “And Eva was such a snake!”

“Eva’s just a poor sinner.” Richard lifted her face and fixed his gaze on her. “I know they say that blood is thicker than water, but you don’t owe them anything for all that. That’s clear. All the sam
e . . .
”

Wanda put her hand up to stop him. She was exhausted. There was so much going on that she couldn’t think straight.

Richard grinned. “It’s obvious, if you ask me. Your uncle and aunt can get along very well here even without you. But the Heimers are really in a bind. I don’t know all the details, of course, but it seems that the last wholesaler who was taking wares from Thomas has just dropped him. He has nobody to blame for that but himself, the stubborn dog! Why does he always refuse to try anything new?”

Wanda wanted to ask him why he was so keen to help a glassblower who was a competitor after all, but before she could speak Richard continued.

“Your father is still a damned good glassblower. I’d say he’s even one of the best we have. His workshop might not have all the very latest equipment, but it’s still very well furnished. I would be thrilled to have everything that Thomas has to work with. But the fact is that nobody wants to buy what he makes anymore—statues of stags and goblets with hunting scenes and the like.”

“All that may be true,” Wanda put in. “But what does any of it have to do with me? It’s hardly as though we fell into one another’s arms after all those years of separation. I don’t even think he’s a very nice man, for all that he’s my father. I don’t know him, I don’t like that house, and I don’t know the first thing about glassblowing! How in the world did you get the idea that I might be able to help Thomas Heimer?”

Richard sighed. “It’s obvious, I’m telling you. If he’s not going to see his whole glassblowing business go down the drain, your father will have to move with the times.”

He stopped. A crafty smile played at his lips.

“And who better to help him do that than his worldly daughter from America?”