The American Lady (The Glassblower Trilogy Book 2)

by Petra Durst-Benning

  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 explain . . . we . . .” 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 York . . . 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. And . . . then there was the whole story with my . . . 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 will . . .”

  “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 you . . . 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 h
er! 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 departure . . . 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 just—”

  “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 then . . .”

  “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 same . . .”

  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?”

  15

  Genoa, 7 January 1911

  Dear Wanda,

  How could you think of giving me such a shock! When the mailman came to our door with an express letter, for a moment I feared the worst—and you know where my imagination can lead me! I was all the more relieved then to read that everything is all right.

  I can hardly begin to believe what you’re telling me! Richard Stämme has told you that he’s in love with you? Just like that? When you had almost given up hope? And you’re going to help your father in his workshop? I have a thousand questions for you, and I don’t know which to ask first. Your letter was so enthusiastic and so cheerful! And at last I recognized my own dear Wanda again, always full of ideas and get-up-and-go. I have to confess that for a while I feared you would lose heart, what with all the unlucky twists and turns your life has taken recently . . .

  Oh, I’m writing such convoluted nonsense! All I want to say is that I’m happy for you, happy with all my heart!

  Believe it or not, I knew from your very first letter that you had fallen for Richard. Of course I agree with you that he is an extraordinary man. And he’s handsome too. I imagine that poor Anna wasn’t the only girl in the village whose head he has turned. Are you quite sure, though, that you weren’t exaggerating—even if only a little—about what happened on New Year’s Eve in front of Johanna’s house? I had always thought that Richard kept to himself. I would never have thought of him as a loving husband and father—although that hasn’t happened yet anyway, thank heavens. Dear, dear Wanda, I’m so happy for you! All the same I am afraid as well, in case things happen too fast between you and Richard. I can hear you saying that your mother was already married by your age—and you’re right, of course—but please consider that your mother was very unhappy in that first marriage. It would be rather silly to repeat the same mistake, wouldn’t it?

  Now I don’t want to be comparing apples and oranges here, but all the same I will make one comparison: your mother left Lauscha for the sake
of her great love, and you’re planning to stay in Lauscha for the sake of your great love—isn’t that odd?

  What does your mother say to all this? The fact that you want to work side by side with Thomas must be something of a surprise to her, a shock even. (I do hope that you’ve written to her about this!) And what does Johanna say? She must have jumped when she heard it, I daresay. I can’t imagine she’s happy to see you head up the hill to your father’s house every day. Ruth’s phone must be ringing off the hook. And Anna? If looks could kill . . . am I right?

  I’d love for you to tell me a little more, in your next letter, about how everyone around you reacted and less (even if it’s just a little less) about Richard and his dark-blue eyes . . .

  Franco has just looked in on me—I am sitting in the orangery, which is beautiful, and I am breathing in the scent of oranges . . . can you even imagine that where you are, deep in snow?—though only to say that he still has at least another two hours of work to get through with his father in the office! And it’s almost six o’clock. Believe me, married life isn’t all wonderful. There are days when I see the cook or the chambermaid more than I see Franco. This despite the fact that he solemnly promised that he would work less in the new year. Well, we shall see . . .

  I have just decided not to go in to dinner this evening. When my mother-in-law is the only one at the table, I can’t enjoy the food anyway. And so I have time to write a little more about your second piece of news.

  You asked me for my opinion of Heimer and how things stand there. Dearest Wanda, I told you everything I know about his workshop back in New York. When I was still living in Lauscha, I never much troubled my head over other glassblowers and what they might be doing.

  However, I was very surprised to hear that Thomas cannot even find customers for his glass hunting scenes. Even with all the goodwill in the world I cannot tell you how he should go about finding new commissions. Perhaps the simplest thing would be to go knocking on the doors of the wholesalers in Sonneberg to find out what sells. The job could be tailor-made for you!