The American Lady(151)

“No!” Wanda broke in. “Please don’t say another word. I miss you dreadfully, of course I do! But right now all I want is to get back to Lauscha as fast as I can. That’s where Johanna and Eva are, and they’ll help me. Don’t you understand? I’m not entirely comfortable looking after her on my own. What do I know about babies, after all?” She laughed awkwardly.

Richard took a while to digest what she had said. Then he heaved a deep sigh.

“Well . . . to tell the truth I do have some appointments over the next few days; there are some people who want to look at my work. And now that there are three of us, we’ll need every penny I can earn, won’t we?”

“We will indeed!” Wanda said through her tears.

“But I won’t stay all the way through till Sunday, that’s for sure. I’ll leave as soon as I can. I . . . I miss you so much! Poor Wanda . . . I want to be with you and hold you tight. Forever.”

Which was just what she wanted too. “I love you,” she whispered into the receiver.

“And I love you too,” his voice came back over the crackling line.



The next morning Wanda’s eyes were rimmed red and sore with weeping. Talking to Richard had unleashed the tears all over again. But this time she found that it did her good to cry, that it washed away the pain, and afterward she felt exhausted but healed. It was as though the worst of her grief had been blunted.

Richard would be there for her. His love would heal her pain; she knew that now. As the Tyrolean landscape sped by outside the train window, she thanked whatever fates had smiled upon her last night and allowed a telephone connection. However, she was still dreading having to break the terrible news to Johanna and the others. At least she had had the chance to say good-bye to Marie, difficult though it had been. Wouldn’t the others find it almost impossible to accept their loss? Nevertheless, she had to tell them and the sooner the better. And tell her mother as well. Perhaps she would be able to call New York tonight from Munich.

Richard had said that they would look after Sylvie just as if they were her own father and mother. Father and mother—it sounded strange coming from him. Would every man be so quick to take in the child of strangers? Wanda wondered. How would Harold have reacted? She had no doubt that he would have hesitated, that he would have had a thousand questions. But what had Richard said, in that practical way of his? “Now that there are three of us, we’ll need every penny I can earn, won’t we?” Wanda smiled. She suddenly felt that she could face her future with confidence.

Confidence. Wanda thought for a while about what that word meant. It might be the best name for the tiny, warming flame that she felt deep within her, the flame that had not been there yesterday.

After Wanda had made sure that Sylvie was sleeping peacefully in her bassinet, she shut her own eyes too. The rhythmic rattle of the train along the tracks lulled her into a half sleep. When she awoke a little while later, the first thing she did was look at Sylvie. Everything was all right.



When they arrived in Munich, Wanda hailed a cab to take them to the best hotel in the city. She had just enough money left to pay for one night in a luxurious suite. Her last night away from home, Wanda told herself with relief as she followed the bellhop into the room. She eyed the heavy silk curtains, the vast bed with its royal-blue linens where a whole family could easily have slept, the magnificent Persian carpets on the gleaming parquet flooring. But there was no time to enjoy her surroundings. She unpacked hastily and counted her money. Then she washed Sylvie and fed her. Once the baby was lying happily in the middle of the bed with a light towel over her, Wanda rang for the concierge. She was surprised to see how young the woman was. She explained what she needed, and a few minutes later an older chambermaid appeared at the door. Reassured that she was leaving Sylvie in good hands rather than with a surprised and nervous bellhop, Wanda set out to find the nearest post office. As she walked through the crowded streets, she counted time zones in her head; it was nine o’clock in the morning in New York. If she were lucky, her mother was still sitting at breakfast, having a second cup of coffee.

It was not difficult to get a connection to America, though the clerk did insist on being paid for five minutes in advance, explaining that if he could not put her through she would, of course, get her money back.

Five minutes . . . What could she tell her mother in such a short time? Wanda wondered as the clerk plugged and unplugged cables, threw switches, and tested the connection several times through his headphones. Where should she even begin?

“Miss, your connection.”