by Hazel Gaynor
“She will always be my sister, no matter the things that have come between us.”
I nodded. Perhaps more than she would ever know, I understood.
Madeleine and I traveled back to the gasthaus in silence, our conversation stolen by the lingering discord between us, and by the awful realization that although Margaret had made peace with Violet, she still didn’t intend to contact her. Some things, it seemed, were simply too broken to mend.
“So, that’s that,” Madeleine said as she stared out of the window of the tram.
“Not quite,” I replied. “I hate to see how Violet and Margaret have ended up. Let’s not make the same mistake.”
She turned to me, a smile on her face. “Really? So you forgive me?”
“‘Forgive’ might be too strong a word. But I am prepared to forget and move on. It seems that while I’m free to choose who I do, or don’t, marry, I am stuck with you, dear Madeleine. For better or worse.”
My sister smiled, and for a moment, the world felt right.
Maddie
It seemed fitting our last night in Vienna—and the final day of our European tour—would conclude with a grand symphony.
Clara and I enjoyed an early meal with Daniel, where Clara filled him in on the news of her break from Charles, and I explained what had happened to poor Mr. Klein and the despicable soldiers who had roughed me up when I’d tried to help him. Daniel was shocked to hear how the men had treated us both.
“I wish I’d been there,” he said. “I’d have given them a kick in the ribs.”
“I handled myself just fine,” I replied.
“I know you did. It’s just . . . well . . . It doesn’t matter.” He looked away, the muscle in his jaw twitching.
I smiled into my glass as Clara nudged my foot under the table. Even if I didn’t need a man in my life, it was nice to know someone was prepared to leap to my defense.
“Why don’t I go back to check on him while you’re at the opera?” Daniel offered.
“Would you?” I said. “It would put my mind at ease. He must at least have some bad bruises, if not a cracked rib. They kicked him pretty hard, and he’s not the youngest of men.”
“It’s ghastly.” Clara’s face was a mask of concern. “That would be very decent of you, Daniel. He was such a kind soul.”
“I’ll look in on him at his office, and if he isn’t there, I’ll leave him a note.” Daniel motioned to the waiter to bring the check, having already insisted on treating us to our last dinner.
After our meal, Daniel left us with a promise to meet in the morning for the early train to Frankfurt. From there, we would take a car to the airfield from where the Hindenburg would launch and we would be on our way home to Violet, at last.
We packed our things, laid out a change of clothes and a few toiletries for the morning, and slipped into our finest clothes. Clara wore a stunning silver gown that poured over her frame like water, and I wore crushed green velvet that tucked and swirled in a way that accentuated my tall, lean figure. We were a sight to behold together, different but complementary, as we’d always been.
I was relieved Clara and I had made amends. We needed each other, even if we weren’t always prepared to admit it. Since we’d left New York, our views of the world—and of ourselves—had changed, and for the better. I was proud of Clara for making difficult decisions, and I was proud of myself for not only taking the next step in my career by also making a difficult decision, but for opening up to a vulnerability I’d never felt comfortable embracing until now.
I buttoned my coat over my gown to protect myself against the cold Austrian spring night.
“I wonder what Violet will say when we tell her about Margaret and Helga?” I said. “Do you think she’ll be shocked?”
Clara put on red lipstick and reached for a handbag matching the dazzling silver of her gown. “It takes a lot to shock Violet. I think she’ll be pleased to know that Margaret found happiness. Sisters have a way of instinctively knowing things about each other, even if they don’t say them aloud. Perhaps she suspected Margaret was hiding something else all along.”
I lost myself in deep thought as we wound through the streets until our taxi dropped us at the entrance of the Vienna State Opera, an elegant building in the Renaissance Revival style. I smiled to myself to notice how Daniel’s influence had rubbed off on me.
“It’s beautiful,” Clara said as we stepped from the taxi.
“Did you know this opera house premiered with Mozart’s Don Giovanni?” I said, following her inside.
She laughed. “Always full of facts, aren’t you! If the writing doesn’t work out, you could always have a career as a tour guide!”
I stuck my tongue out at her and we laughed.
Inside, as we waited for the performance to begin, I looked around at the impressive building, the stunning chandelier that hung from the domed ceiling, the gilded balconies, the sumptuous decor of burgundy velvet seats with gold trim, and the beautifully clad patrons dressed in fine gowns and furs and tuxedos. It was wild to think our great-aunt Margaret had performed here for years with the Vienna Philharmonic, and was being honored by them tonight.
When the curtains went up and the lights dimmed, the crowd hushed, and we were both instantly mesmerized by the performance, the rise and fall of the music sending a shiver along my skin. It was powerful and yet so beautiful, it brought me to tears. Clara smiled and passed me a handkerchief.
As the intermission concluded and we returned to our seats, the director of the opera, along with the conductor, called Margaret forward. She wore a plain but pretty black gown, and the gold barrettes in her hair gleamed in the light. In her hands, she held her beloved violin. The director delivered a short speech, and though we couldn’t understand the language, we knew his remarks were wonderful. Margaret beamed in the glow of the stage lights, bowed to a thundering audience, and at last made her way back to her seat in the orchestra as first violinist.
“It’s so lovely, isn’t it?” Clara said, while we stood and clapped to honor her. “Listen to that applause!”
It was incredible. To see Margaret so revered and loved by her fellow musicians. Yet, as happy as the occasion was, I couldn’t help feeling such sadness that Violet wasn’t here to see what her sister had achieved, and couldn’t celebrate with her.
We sat when the lights dimmed again and enjoyed the rest of the performance. As the rousing grand finale reverberated through the majestic walls of the opera house, my body filled again with the beautiful music and I was swept away by its power and its magic. I squeezed Clara’s hand, and she returned the gesture.
After the performance, we joined Margaret and Helga, along with several of their friends, for a celebration with champagne and plenty of good stories.
Too soon, the night came to an end.
“Any last word for Violet?” I prompted as we kissed Margaret goodbye. “It would mean so much to her.”
Margaret looked wistful and pressed her hands to mine. “Tell her to look at the clouds,” she said with a smile. “Ask her what she sees there.”
As Clara and I made our way back to the hotel, exhausted but happy, I thought about all we’d done and seen the last few weeks. I smiled at the memories; from arguments to contented strolls through the cities we’d visited, dodging suspicious men who spied on us, surviving pickpockets, and run-ins with nasty soldiers, and navigating our way through difficult breakups and new relationships. We’d helped each other through it all. And I wouldn’t change a moment of it.
Back at the hotel, I shared a nightcap with Daniel. I was relieved to hear he’d managed to speak with Mr. Klein.
“He wanted me to assure you he is well, considering, and that apart from some bruising, he’ll make a full recovery. He also wanted me to thank you for intervening.”
“I didn’t really intervene,” I said. “I mostly stood there, frozen in shock.”
“Well, whatever you did, it made a difference. And he is gratefu
l for that.”
And although the entire event still troubled me, if I had made a difference, then I was pleased. To make a difference, to take a stand for what I believed, was more important to me than anything.
* * *
WHATEVER THE DISTANCE or the duration, there is a point at which every journey must come to an end. I thought of how true that was with Clara and Charles, with Matthias and Violet, and soon, with Violet and me. My heart grew heavy. I didn’t know how I’d face my grandmother’s death, or how I would part company with Clara as our lives continued in different directions. I’d grown used to her soft snores in the night, her hard-won laughter and bright conversation.
And then there was Daniel. I certainly liked him; I just didn’t know what came next. I had dreams, plans, goals, and I didn’t yet know where he fit into this new, more confident version of myself. Yet, I found myself peering through the crowd, searching for his fedora, his thick shoulders. How funny to think I didn’t even know him a few weeks ago, then briefly hated him, and now felt a little unmoored when he wasn’t within sight. When I spotted him, there was no denying the happy leap in my heart.
I turned and squinted at the sun perched near the horizon. It cast a golden haze over the airfield, but soon, all would be engulfed in cool twilight. The gleaming zeppelin behemoth that would fly us across the Atlantic was a beast with a metal rib cage, overlaid with a fabric skin, held aloft by hydrogen gas. A true marvel of science, engineering, and modern machinery. The name Hindenburg stretched across the hull in proud red lettering, and the swastika emblem I’d come to recognize all too well adorned the tail fins of the airship. The Hindenburg was a German vessel, which meant it also belonged to the Nazi Party.
Still, it was an impressive end to our adventures.
Whether sparked by worries of spies, or merely by Nazi protocol, officials checked all baggage several times before letting anyone board, making the passengers restless.
“Will they ever finish with our luggage?” Clara huffed, breaking the silence.
“They’ve already searched them three times,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Do they think we’ve packed bombs in there along with our cuckoo clocks and schnapps?”
I couldn’t say I was sad to leave Europe in its current unsettled state, but I would miss beautiful Paris and Venice. In just three days, we would land in New Jersey and take a car to Long Island. I pictured Violet’s loving face, lined with years of laughter and a hint of regret, which I now understood. I only hoped she could hold on long enough for us to say a proper goodbye.
Clara looked past me at the line, scrutinizing the faces of the assembled passengers. I knew she was looking for Charles.
“You don’t think he’ll come, do you?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I have a feeling he listened to me for once. Besides, he hates being humiliated. Pride won’t allow him to come.”
“Good. It would have been awkward as hell trying to avoid him while trapped on a giant balloon together above the ocean for three days.”
Clara’s clear, unencumbered laughter made me smile.
As the crew eventually signaled that it was time for us to board, an excited murmur rippled through the crowd. I glanced over my shoulder at the line spiraling behind us. There were only thirty-six passengers if I’d counted correctly, an exclusive group, plus nearly twice the number of crew, a fact that would hopefully soothe Clara’s nerves.
“Ready?” I asked as we stepped forward.
She looked at me with large brown eyes that drew men to her like bees to a flower. Her lips were trembling but she stubbornly tipped her chin and lifted the edge of her skirt to ascend the steps.
“I’ve always been ready, Madeleine. It’s you who dithers and dallies all the time.”
I laughed. It wouldn’t be true anymore. I’d not waste time believing the worst about myself. I was a proper journalist now, and I had solid ideas. I’d find a way to follow my heart and my dreams. I’d already started down that path.
Daniel put his hand on my back, but I shooed him along ahead of me while I took a moment. I thought about how far I’d come, how much I’d changed. But if I’d learned anything these last few weeks, it was that the end of one journey always meant the start of another. The promise of even greater adventures always lay ahead.
“Madeleine! Come on.” Clara stood at the top of the steps, her hands on her hips. “The captain won’t come back for you if you’re left behind, and neither will I.”
I grinned. “Yes you will! You can’t bear to be without me, Clara Sommers!”
I took a last lingering look behind me, and stepped aboard.
Clara
The Hindenburg was the fastest and most luxurious way to travel from Europe to America, and a fitting end to our journey. Violet had chosen our modes of transport carefully. From the Queen Mary to the Orient Express and now this, she had given us the very best of modern transportation, and I would be forever grateful for the experience.
I tried to suppress my nerves as I stepped into the spacious lobby area of A deck. In different circumstances, I would have preferred to return home on the Queen Mary, even if it meant putting up with a week of horrible seasickness again, but a week felt like such a long time with Violet so ill. I would stand on the wings of a plane if it was what Violet wished, and if it could get me back to her sooner.
A handsome young steward in full uniform approached us and in nearly perfect English said, “Welcome aboard the Hindenburg. I will escort you to your cabin.”
He led us down a long corridor, pleasantly decorated in creams and scarlets.
“She’s surprisingly spacious,” I remarked.
I’d worried the airship would be horribly claustrophobic, but it wasn’t at all.
“She’s a wonder, miss. The passenger accommodation is built within the hull, rather than in the gondola like on most airships. That’s what gives her the extra space. And there’s additional accommodation for crew on B deck below.”
The steward pointed out the port and starboard promenade decks, the dining room, and a writing room.
“You’ll be able to finish your next damning article, Madeleine,” I said over my shoulder. “Bring some other poor unsuspecting businessman to his knees.”
“I thought you’d agreed to forget about that.”
“Did I? I’m sure I can squeeze a few more days of torture out of it before we arrive home.”
The steward paused in front of a cabin door and stared at us.
“We’re sisters,” I explained. “It’s what we do.”
He shrugged his shoulders and opened the door to our accommodation. It was decorated in a very clean and modern style. My lips curled into a smile. It would do just fine.
“You can contact a member of the crew by pressing this button,” he said as he turned to leave. “Have a pleasant journey, ladies. Not many people get to travel on the Hindenburg. It is a special treat to do it with your sister.”
“Thank you,” I said, pressing a roll of dollar bills into his hand. “What’s your name?”
“Lehmann,” he replied. “Walter Lehmann.”
“Well, Walter Lehmann, thank you for your assistance. You have a wise head for young shoulders.”
“I also had a sister, miss. She died last year. It makes you see things differently.”
He tipped the peak of his cap and closed the door behind him, leaving a poignant silence in his wake.
* * *
THE IMPRESSIVE DINING room occupied the length of the port side of A deck. Chairs upholstered in red velvet stood in neat rows alongside dining tables draped with linen tablecloths. Silk wallpaper shimmered beneath the lights and the waitstaff were dressed immaculately in chef’s whites. No expense had been spared.
With a barely discernible bump, we took off a short while later and were finally airborne. I didn’t even mind looking out of the windows in the generous viewing galleries that ran along each side of the craft. The sun had almost set and night would soon
begin its descent over the landscape below.
“It’s more like floating than flying, isn’t it?” Daniel remarked as he joined me at the window.
“It’s certainly not as terrifying as a hot air balloon,” I replied. “Goodness. How long ago that seems.”
Daniel laughed lightly. “At least you and Madeleine aren’t squabbling in midair.”
I grimaced at the memory. “Don’t remind me!”
But his comment prompted memories of Edward’s letter and the ache of our parting in Venice. I gazed out of the window and felt, again, the relief of going home without an engagement ring on my finger. I was quietly grateful to Charles for not showing up. Although I’d asked him not to, he was a man who made up his own mind. Perhaps something of what I’d said to him in the hotel had left its mark, or perhaps the sting of Madeleine’s article was still too sore. Whatever it was, I was grateful for his absence. Now I could relax, forget, and look ahead.
“It’s really none of my business,” Daniel continued, “other than the fact that I’ve come to know you both these past months and have grown terribly fond of your sister, but, for what it’s worth, I’m pleased you’re going home as friends.”
I looked at him. “You really care for her, don’t you.”
He nodded. “More than she knows. Your sister is a very special woman. One of a kind. I hope she might give me—us—a chance when we’re back on terra firma.”
It still amused me to observe Madeleine being so enraptured by Daniel while she adamantly claimed not to be. “I’m sure she will. After all, it’s not often you get to fall for a spy!”
At this he laughed and excused himself.
I understood why Madeleine was having such a hard time trying not to fall in love with him, and yet I didn’t envy her one bit. She was welcome to it, all the heartache and dizzy delight. I was done with all that for now. I felt hopeful. Excited for the possibilities of what my future might bring.
I spent the rest of the evening happily alone in the lounge, capturing the scene in my sketchbook so I could show Violet. How she would love to be here, among such grandeur. I imagined her sitting across from me, dressed in powder blue and rose pink, a smile at her lips as she quietly watched the other passengers and sipped her glass of champagne. Never miss an opportunity to drink champagne, darling, and only ever drink real champagne. The best you can find. They say the bubbles help to keep one young and vivacious.