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The American Lady(126)

By:Petra Durst-Benning


Wanda watched, spellbound, as the slender glass rod swelled up and became a thick-walled bubble. Just as she feared that the glass would burst, Thomas stopped blowing and turned the bubble with a pair of large tongs. Then he warmed the closed end and attached a stem at the bottom. As soon as it was firmly attached, he turned the piece around again, held the open end to the flame, and picked up a set of pliers. He worked his way deftly around the rim, crimping and curving, and gradually the vase took shape.

Eva had been passing through the workshop on her way to the kitchen and hadn’t really intended to stop. But now she tiptoed up to the workbench. When she saw what the men were doing, she grabbed Wanda’s sleeve as though she had never before seen glass being blown.

“That’s it!” Thomas said. He put the vase back into the flame and picked up the tongs, working at the crimps in the lip, teasing them out and giving them shape. The aventurine began to split apart, stretching itself out along hairbreadth cracks.

Great God in Heaven, let everything work out well! Wanda prayed silently, holding her breath, while the aventurine glowed brighter in spots. In some places, it looked just like real gold.

Thomas’s brow was beaded with sweat. He put down the tongs and waved the vase gently from side to side to cool it. For the first time since sitting down at the bench, he looked up. “We did it!”

Wanda finally allowed herself to breathe again.

“Thank God!” Eva called out. “At least we didn’t spend all that money for nothing.” She snorted and left the workshop.

“So what do you think? Not bad for a first try, is it?” The pride in Thomas’s voice was unmistakable.

Wanda had to swallow the lump in her throat before she could speak.

“It’s absolutely beautiful!” she said decisively. “The way it glitters . . . just like a thousand dewdrops on a white lily, catching the morning sun!” She looked from Richard to her father, her eyes shining.

She had known it would work! She had known right from the start that the two of them could do good work together once they set their minds to it.

Richard picked up the vase and held it up to the faint light of the oil lantern, squinting. “The balance of glass to quartz could be better. Next time I’ll try to get the grains to sink in a little bit deeper. I wanted to do that right away, but I was worried they wouldn’t go into the furrows. That would have spoiled everything.”

“Oh, you’re always finding fault!” Wanda scolded him.

Thomas, however, nodded. “It was a risk.” He gnawed his lower lip. “And you’re sure we put the acid on now? Isn’t the vase lovely enough as it is?”

Richard laughed. “Have you lost your nerve? Come on now, let’s experiment! That’s the whole point of the exercise! Why else did we buy the stuff? It cost a pretty penny after all!”

“Now you two wait a moment!” Wanda grabbed her notebook and shoved her way between them. “Before you start the etching, I’d like to know what you were both feeling just now.” She held her pencil ready and looked from one to the other. These notes would be important when the time came to describe the new series to Karl-Heinz Brauninger. It had been easy enough with the Carnival series, since she could describe her own thoughts and feelings in that case. But this was different.

The two men stared at her. Richard scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. “You really should ask the fellow who blew the glass . . .”

Thomas snorted stubbornly. “If you really want to know, I felt my bladder almost bursting. I had to pee the whole time.”

They both laughed. Then Thomas went outside.

Wanda watched him go. She felt as though someone had just poured a bucket of cold water over her head.

“That . . .” She was at a loss for words for a moment. Just when she thought she had got used to his rough ways, he came out with something like this. She swallowed hard and started again. “That beast!”

Richard muttered something along the lines of “don’t take it all so seriously” and “we’ll do the etching tomorrow,” then kissed Wanda hastily on the lips and left.

She stared miserably at the vase as she waited for Thomas to come back inside.

“You’re still here then,” Thomas said as he came in. “I thought you’d be off with Richard.”

“And I thought we were going to work together. It seems I was wrong, though!” she answered bitterly.

Thomas groaned and folded his arms. “What do you want now then? You can really drive a fellow out of his wits. Just like your mother!” he snapped.

“And you can’t do anything but grumble!” Wanda shouted, jumping to her feet. He was her father—how could he be so hurtful? She walked right up to him until her face was just a few inches from his. “Was I asking so much of you? I only wanted you to tell me your feelings!” To her horror she realized that she was crying. She turned away before Thomas could see her tears.