The American Lady(50)

“Ruth made a mistake by never telling you about him. Thomas isn’t such a bad fellow, in his way,” Marie added. “He never married again, by the way.”

Wanda looked at her foot as though she had no idea what it was doing in that puddle.

“All these years . . .” she said. “I always wondered why I felt so out of place my whole life long! Now I know at last. They never wanted me here. I was always just in the way, spoiling their royal majesties’ fun with my presence.”

“Wanda, that isn’t true! Ruth loves you more than her own life! When you were a baby, she always used to call you her own little princess.” Marie’s heart ached as she told Wanda how she and Johanna had always thought Ruth loved the little girl too much.

“Once”—Marie laughed without thinking—“she saved up all her hard-earned money to have a photograph taken of you. And God knows that wasn’t something that just anyone did, back then! Believe me, no mother has ever been prouder of her baby than Ruth was. You meant the world to her. And nothing’s changed since then.”

As she spoke, thunder roared overhead. Lightning lit up the shapes of the skyscrapers all around, which seemed to reach toward them like clutching fingers. Black clouds raced across the sky. All at once it was cold.

Marie blinked as she felt a raindrop splash onto her dress. This was all she needed! With any luck, though, the storm would pass over quickly.

“But why did she lie to me for eighteen years?” Wanda said. “Nothing means anything anymore; everything’s just a lie, even the least little thing she says! She’s always talking about my cousins Claire and Dorothy, Steven’s nieces, about how hard they work at school and how polite they are to their parents. But I’m not their cousin! I’m not related to them at all!” She sobbed from a mixture of despair and rage. “I was never elegant enough. She always says that I’m too lazy, too cheeky, too much I don’t know what. Why is she always trying to make me into somebody else? Do I remind her of my father—is that it?”

Marie shook her head. “Your mother has entirely forgotten your father. I think she’s suppressed the memory so entirely that he never existed as far as she’s concerned—which is probably why she never told you about him. You aren’t the least bit like him, believe me. You are who you are!”

“And who’s that, then?” her niece shot back. “All my life I’ve believed I’m American, and now I suddenly find out I was born in Germany. In the back of beyond, in the middle of the forest.”

“Now don’t talk that way! You’re still Wanda; you’re an enchanting young lady with more charm than most other girls,” Marie cried out. Who am I, really? The question kept coming up—it seemed she couldn’t run away from it.

Now the skies had really opened. But Marie couldn’t bring herself to suggest that they take cover somewhere. She wanted to finish the conversation up here, one way or another. As she huddled closer to the chimney, Wanda suddenly jumped to her feet and ran out into the middle of the roof.

She spread out her arms and raised her face to the sky.

“Maybe the best thing would be if I were struck by lightning right now! Then it would all be over!” She laughed hysterically as lightning flashed nearby. “Closer, please! One more try! Here I am!” She spun around wildly.

A moment later, Marie had wrestled her to the ground.

“Are you mad? You could have died!” She held her niece firmly in her arms, a trembling bundle of misery. “You’re out of your mind!”

Wanda sobbed again. “Mother has Steven, Harold has his bank, Pandora has her dance, you have your glassblowing—everybody but me has something to live for! I’m nobody; I’m good for nothing. I feel as empty as a bird’s nest in December. Useless, worthless. I can’t go on like this.”

Wanda’s despair shook Marie to the core, more strongly even than the storm that raged around them. The thunder growled and echoed back from the skyscrapers, the rain lashed across her back and her arms, but for the first time in ages she felt a deep gratitude well up within her. She had her gift. All at once it was easy to answer the question of who she was. She was a glassblower, and she always would be!

“Everything will be all right, believe me. I’ll tell you all about Lauscha; I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I’ll tell you about your father; I’ll tell you about his brothers and about your grandfather. If you want I can describe every piece of glass they ever made, everything that came out of their workshop. You’ll know where your roots are, I promise you that.” Marie shook Wanda by the shoulders.