Somewhere to Belong

by Judith Miller

  “Just wait until tomorrow. You’ll see how busy I am,” she said.

  The following morning I shooed the maid and told her I wasn’t accustomed to help with my clothing. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but the mere thought of someone assisting me in and out of my simple attire caused discomfort. After donning my dark calico and cap, I hurried down the hallway. It had taken hours for me to finally fall asleep, and even then my sleep had been fraught with unpleasant images of a frightening confrontation with Louisa. I felt as though I’d had no rest at all. Possibly I could convince Wilhelm to change his mind. I would much prefer meeting with Louisa today or tomorrow. But it was Larissa who greeted me when I descended the steps.

  “We’ll have our breakfast and then we can plan our morning. I think several stops along State Street, then we’ll have lunch and—”

  “Is Wilhelm having breakfast with us?”

  Her curls bobbed when she shook her head. “No. He left more than an hour ago. Work, work, work. He’s not happy unless he can be at his desk by eight o’clock.”

  “And does he come home for his noonday meal? Maybe I could speak with him then.”

  “No, not often. It takes him away from his work for too long— at least that’s what he says. I think it’s because I’m usually busy with my activities or lunching with friends. I work with several charitable groups.” She beamed at me as though I’d understand.

  But her routine was foreign to me, and I couldn’t understand why Wilhelm wouldn’t eat his meals with his wife in this luxurious home where they paid someone to prepare their food. Larissa waved me toward the dining room, and I pushed aside any hope of speaking to Wilhelm. It wasn’t until she once again mentioned going to State Street that I had another thought.

  “Perhaps we could stop by and say hello to Wilhelm before we go shopping.”

  Larissa looked up from her plate of scrambled eggs and buttered bread. “There won’t be time. I’ve planned a busy day. We’re going to have great fun. Would you like to guess what we’ll be doing this afternoon?”

  “I can’t even imagine. Tell me,” I said, attempting to hide my disappointment over Wilhelm.

  “There is an operetta at McVicker’s Theatre this afternoon. It’s a benefit for the Hahnemann Homeopathic Hospital—a special adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood. A perfect afternoon of entertainment and all for a wonderful cause. Isn’t that grand?”

  “Yes, it sounds exciting.” I didn’t add that I would have preferred a few minutes with Wilhelm. It was obvious Larissa was doing her best to provide me with an exciting visit, and I didn’t want to appear ungrateful. “Does Louisa attend these events, as well?”

  “She’s involved in charity work, but you need not worry. We won’t see her. I made certain Wilhelm knew the events we would attend, and he’s going to advise Louisa of our plans.”

  “So he’s already met with her?” My heart skipped a beat, and the smell of the breakfast sausages suddenly made my stomach lurch.

  “He was going to stop on his way to work this morning. Louisa and her husband are early risers, and he wanted to give them as much time as possible to prepare for meeting with you.”

  Why did he think it was so important to give Louisa time? Hadn’t she had twenty-one years to prepare to see me? If she hadn’t managed to gain the fortitude to meet me before now, would two more days really matter? My anger mounted. Why wasn’t Wilhelm concerned about the effects this waiting was having upon me? The longer I waited, the deeper my anxiety.

  Larissa didn’t give me much time to consider Wilhelm’s decision. We were soon off for our morning of shopping at Field and Leiter. I gaped at the gas chandeliers, the frescoed ceilings, and the glass dome that permitted additional light to shine down on the variety of goods. We made an odd pair, she in her beautiful walking dress and me in my dark calico. We received more than a few stares as we wended our way among the counters of perfectly arranged gloves, jewelry, ties, ribbons, undergarments, hose, collars, and fabric of every imaginable color and weave. On one of the upper floors we saw rugs of all shapes and sizes, and there was little doubt this store employed more workers than all the residents of my Amana village. With all these choices, how could anyone ever decide what to purchase? Yet ladies in all their finery seemed to have little difficulty. One after another, they pointed to the items they desired and quickly moved on to the next counter.

  “When we finish here, we can go to Stewart’s Emporium. It isn’t as fancy as this, but they have some fine choices, too.”

  But Larissa dallied at the counters far too long, and by the time we departed, she declared we’d save the trip to Stewart’s until the next day. The decision pleased me. I didn’t know if my senses could withstand another such emporium in one day.

  Once outside the towering store, Larissa signaled for the carriage. “We’ll have a leisurely lunch and then go directly to the theatre.” She clutched my arm. “I’m so pleased you’re here, Johanna. Isn’t this fun?”

  I agreed, but I didn’t think it was something I would enjoy every day. Even now I couldn’t fully enjoy myself. Although Wilhelm had notified Louisa of our whereabouts, I found myself looking at each woman we passed in the aisles of the store, wondering if we might see her.

  Our lunch in the hotel restaurant was no less magnificent than the store where we’d shopped. But my discomfort increased as soon as we entered the restaurant. I was sorely out of place in my plain clothes and black cap. The man who’d taken Larissa’s name assumed I was her maid and said I could wait in a room off to the side of the dining area. I don’t know who was more embarrassed—the waiter, Larissa, or I.

  “Tomorrow we’ll purchase you a new dress,” Larissa said as we departed the restaurant after our meal.

  I didn’t reply. There was no need for another dress. Mine was perfectly fine. Larissa gave the carriage driver instructions to deliver us to McVicker’s Theatre on Madison Street. We arrived none too early. The sidewalk was already lined with ladies in their fine attire, small groups visiting as they waited their turn to enter the stone-arched brick building.

  I stared at the decorative ironwork that adorned the second-floor windows, and while Larissa waved to several acquaintances, I examined the playbills enclosed in wood and glass cases outside the doors. Once we entered the foyer of the theatre, two of Larissa’s friends approached. I didn’t fail to see their censure as they eyed my clothing. Even after our introduction, these women were cold and aloof toward me. I considered the many visitors who passed through our villages dressed in fine clothing. We treated them with kindness and respect, even though they looked different from us. Society might consider these women well-mannered, but their actions spoke louder than words. I thought them far less gracious than the people in our villages.

  When we finally took our seats, I studied the program while Larissa visited with a woman seated behind us. When the hand-painted stage curtains finally opened, I heaved a sigh of relief. Soon the orchestra sounded, and the stage was filled with young children dressed in bright fairy and bird costumes of every variety. They danced in circles, flapping their sparkle-bedecked wings until the queen of the fairies and the queen of the birds arrived on stage. While the queens danced, the smaller fairies and birds looked on in admiration. When the dance ended, the fairies departed the stage while the birds migrated toward the painted woodland scene.

  As the orchestra began the next song, Red Riding Hood made her appearance to great applause. She sang several songs before a smaller curtain was pulled back to reveal the wolf in her grandmother’s bed. I laughed at the sight of the wolf wearing the huge sleeping cap. Those around me hissed when the wolf sang a gruff song about eating a good lunch and pointed his furry claw at Red Riding Hood. Some time later the queen of the fairies emerged to save Red Riding Hood, and the audience jumped to their feet, cheering. All thoughts of Louisa escaped my mind as I sat mesmerized. Not in all my life had I seen anything that compared to the show. It wasn’t until the performance ended
that my anxiety returned with a vengeance.

  Larissa was apologetic when she explained we’d be dining at home two nights in a row. “Wilhelm thought you might not want to overdo your first few days. I told him he was being silly, but I finally agreed. I hope you aren’t disappointed. I do wish I hadn’t planned a dinner party for tomorrow evening, but the invitations went out long before our trip to Amana. Still, Wilhelm will make certain you have sufficient time to visit with Louisa before the other guests arrive.”

  “Wilhelm is right. I’m not accustomed to so much activity. I’d much prefer to remain at home this evening. I’ll need to rest myself for tomorrow.” I wasn’t physically tired; I was accustomed to hard work. But the nagging fear and anxiety accompanied me like a heavy weight and exhausted me. And I, too, wished my first meeting with Louisa wouldn’t be followed by a dinner party. Secretly I wondered if Wilhelm had planned it that way. Perhaps he thought the pending arrival of dinner guests would curtail any emotional outbursts when Louisa and I finally met.

  After another day of shopping, visiting a museum, and walking through an enormous library filled with so many books I couldn’t begin to count them, we returned home to prepare for dinner. I’d seen so many things in the past two days, I didn’t know how I would remember it all. Last night I had written notes to help me recall. Berta would want a full report. And I hoped Mother would be curious for details, as well.

  Though I would have foregone all of the day’s events for an earlier meeting with Louisa, Wilhelm had been clear. He wanted to be present when Louisa and I met for the first time. I climbed the steps to my room, my heartbeat picking up speed as the time of our meeting approached. Waves of nausea attacked as I slipped into my clean frock. The same style as the one I’d worn earlier in the day, but this one was dark blue with a smattering of white dots.

  After combing my hair and fashioning it into a loose knot that rested at my neckline, I tucked my dark blue shawl into the band of my skirt and settled my cap on the back of my head. For a brief moment I considered yanking back the bedcovers and hiding beneath them. I chided myself for the silly thought and padded across the carpet.

  My apprehension remained unchecked as I continued downstairs. How would I act? What would I say? Did Louisa harbor ill feelings toward Mother and Father? How would her husband act toward me? And would I be able to withhold my anger? Both Larissa and Wilhelm had done their best to set my mind at ease, but I was stepping into uncharted waters, and even they couldn’t be certain what would occur.

  “You’re positively pale,” Larissa said when I met her in the parlor.

  “I’m worried this won’t go well.”

  “It will be fine,” Larissa said as she pinched my cheeks. “You need some color.” She appraised my dark calico. “I do wish you would have permitted me to purchase a new dress for you—or that you’d consider wearing one of mine. We’re the same size, and I’m certain I can find a dress in my wardrobe that’s a color you wouldn’t find objectionable.”

  “I don’t find any of your dresses objectionable, Larissa, but I’ve already told you that I would be uncomfortable wearing anything other than my own clothing.” Our gazes met in the beveled mirror that hung above the mantel, and I grinned. “And I promise I won’t ask you to wear any of my dresses the next time you visit Amana.”

  Larissa touched a finger to her head. “Must you wear the cap?”

  She sounded apologetic rather than aloof, and I silently guessed her concern was to protect me. Probably she feared the possible stares and whispers of the additional guests she’d invited to join us later in the evening would create an air of discomfort for me. “I don’t suppose that I have to, but I would feel strange not wearing it. Do you mind too much?”

  Larissa stepped forward and hugged me. “No, of course not. You look perfect.”

  I knew that wasn’t true, but I didn’t argue. I could hear guests arriving in the front foyer. “Do you think that’s Tante Louisa?”

  She nodded. “Yes. And her husband, Bertrand. Everyone calls him Bernie. The other guests aren’t due to arrive until seven thirty.”

  “I believe I’ll call him Mr. Williams until we’re better acquainted.” I thought it odd that Wilhelm and Larissa didn’t refer to the man as Onkel Bernie, but I didn’t inquire. At the moment my concerns ran much deeper. “Do you think he will join Tante Louisa and me while we become acquainted?”

  “I’m certain he’ll give the two of you privacy. I imagine he and Wilhelm will retire to the library and enjoy a cigar while they chat about the wonders of Chicago.”

  Her answer dispelled a portion of my concern, but not all. I stepped near the entrance to the parlor and peeked into the foyer. The woman didn’t appear near old enough to be my mother. “She’s beautiful,” I whispered.

  “You’re quite pretty, as well, Johanna. It’s the clothing. If you’d wear styles that fit your figure in shades that lend color to your complexion and permit my maid to fashion your hair, you’d put the rest of us to shame.”

  I shook my head. Larissa and her guests would have to settle for my simple clothes and plain hairstyle, for I wasn’t eager for her suggested transformation. Larissa tugged me forward, and the couple turned in our direction as Wilhelm bounded down the stairs. A smile transformed Louisa’s stately countenance, and she gestured for us to hurry.

  Before Wilhelm could introduce us, Louisa pulled me into a warm embrace. “It is wonderful to finally meet you, Johanna. I am your Tante Louisa.” Holding my upper arms, she leaned back a few inches and stared into my eyes. “I would know you anywhere. You have my hair and eyes.”

  While it was true we both possessed blue eyes, hers were as dark as indigo, while mine were as pale as a summer sky. And her hair was far lighter than my own. Mine had been as white as corn silk during my childhood, but the flaxen color had given way to streaks of light brown and little of the blond remained.

  Once again she wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so glad you finally know the truth.”

  I took a backward step. “I suppose time will tell if it was a good decision. It has proved quite difficult for Mutter and Vater, not to mention my own feelings.”

  She winced at my words but forced a smile as I looked up at her husband. He was quite tall, with strands of gray interspersed in his thick dark hair. He was quite dignified appearing, and I guessed him to be considerably older than Louisa. Then again, I wasn’t particularly good at estimating age. Perhaps it was the gray hair that created the illusion of age.

  Louisa touched her husband’s arm. “I’d like you to meet my husband, Bertrand.”

  He flashed a bright smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, Johanna.”

  “My pleasure, Mr. Williams.”

  “No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Please don’t address me as Mr. Williams. I feel far too ancient as it is. Everyone calls me Bernie. You must do the same.”

  “I couldn’t, Mr. Williams.”

  “Then how about Uncle Bernie. Is that better?” He chuckled and handed his hat to the maid.

  Neither Bernie nor Uncle Bernie would be easy for me, but everyone remained silent as if awaiting my response. “Yes. That will do.” I could only hope I wouldn’t have to address him by name, for I’d surely stumble.

  “I’ll leave you ladies to your visiting and join Wilhelm in the library. Louisa tells me Larissa has planned some time for the two of you to visit by yourselves.” He patted Louisa’s hand. “I look forward to rejoining you ladies at supper.”

  As he strode down the hall, Larissa waved us toward the sitting room. “You two go in and become acquainted. I’m going to see about the meal preparations. The other guests won’t arrive until seven thirty, so you have more than two hours.”

  Once we’d entered the sitting room, Larissa closed the pocket doors. I could hear the click of her shoes on the tile floor as Louisa and I sat down opposite each other. “I know this is difficult, Johanna. Wilhelm tells me he has explained the agreement I made with Emilie and Fr
ank. I hope you understand it was a very difficult decision for me. I wanted to be certain you’d have a good home with parents who would love you.” She leaned forward, and I could see the beseeching look in her eyes, begging me to believe.

  “I don’t doubt it was hard, but what I don’t understand is why the three of you decided I shouldn’t be told. How unfair it was that I should hear such news from Wilhelm’s wife. Larissa knew about my birth, but I didn’t.” My voice escalated, and I caught my lower lip between my teeth to hold my anger in check.

  She held up her hand. “I understand what you’re saying, and you’re correct. It was grossly unfair. Nobody ever intended for you to find out this way.”

  I gripped the arms of the chair. “Nobody ever intended I find out at all. That’s the truth, isn’t it? You all planned to keep your secret hidden. After all, why should I, of all people, know anything about this?” She reached to touch my hand, but I yanked away.

  None of them grasped the depth of my pain.

  “I’m sure you feel as though your entire world has crumbled and your life has been sustained by nothing more than a pack of lies.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I thought having this extra time before we met would give you an opportunity to consider our decisions and accept that they were made out of love and concern rather than with any intent to hurt you. Our hope was to give you the best life possible. You have been dearly loved by Emilie and Frank. And I’ve held you in my heart for all these years, too.”

  Words, nothing but words. It was easy for her to sit there and say she’d held me in her heart while she went on about her life as though I didn’t exist. “That may be true, but even if my parents objected, you should have come to visit. You’re family. No one would have suspected anything if you’d come to see us, least of all me.”