The American Lady(75)

Good-bye, New York!

Millions of people came here to make a new life.

Her mother had come here and found happiness.

Marie had come here and found happiness.

And now she, Wanda, was turning her back on the “capital of the world,” as Steven called it.

It was a strange feeling to leave the city where she had grown up so that she could go back to the country where she had been born.

On the gangway she handed her papers over to a steward, her hands trembling. As he checked that all her documentation was complete and correctly filled in, she felt a growing urge to turn around and run back to her parents. What if the whole trip was a huge mistake?

“Welcome aboard!” The steward smiled as he handed her papers back.

Too late. There was no turning back now. And surely only cowards had second thoughts like this! All the same the thought of having a couple of familiar faces on board was tremendously comforting—even if they were just Yvonne and Wilma Schwarzenberg.



Apart from the Schwarzenbergs there were five other passengers at the table: an old married couple from Kentucky who bred horses and whose name Wanda didn’t catch; Sorell and Solveig Lindström, two sisters in their midthirties traveling to Northern Germany to collect an inheritance; and Mr. Vaughan, a railway engineer.

The first course at lunch was beef broth with julienned vegetables, during which Sorell and Solveig regaled their traveling companions with an account of the letters their long-lost rich uncle had written them before his demise. The second course was poached salmon with parsley potatoes, accompanied by Mr. Vaughan’s thoughts about a new type of railway engine that would apparently be faster and more comfortable than the current model. At that the Kentucky couple retorted that no technology in the world would ever replace horses. As the dessert was served, Wilma and her mother looked as though they were about to burst with their own news—how could an inheritance or technological advances compare to a rich husband? But before Wilma could even say the word “rubber,” Solveig Lindström turned to Wanda.

“Pardon my curiosity, but what brings you to undertake an ocean crossing?”

Wanda put down her sorbet spoon. She had been expecting the question and had already prepared an answer some days ago.

“I’m on my way to Thuringia, where my mother’s sister owns a large glass workshop. They’ve run into some trouble ever since several key members of the staff had to take time off work. I’m on my way to lend a hand in their time of need.” She smiled around the table. “I only hope that I can be of some help to my family.”

“You’re their guardian angel! Now who would have thought it!” Solveig said.

Sorell nodded, impressed. “Just imagine: we had something much the same happen back home! There was a bakery that was a whisker away from having to shut down when the owner fell ill with a lung infection. Hardly surprising when you think he’d spent his whole life inhaling flour. But his brother and sister-in-law came all the way from Missouri to take over the bakery while Charles Klutzky got over his infection.” Sorell nodded emphatically. “They worked day and night to make sure that all the customers got their bread fresh every morning.”

“When you live in the country, you’re even more dependent on your family for help,” the horse breeder added. “One of our neighbors down south lost his wife to childbed fever, poor man, and was left with four little ones and the newborn. If his wife’s only sister hadn’t dropped everything and come to his aid, he’d never have coped. The work on the farm, the children, keeping house . . . Marjorie was just a young slip of a thing when she came to the farm but from the very first moment she set to work as though she’d never done anything else.”

The engineer nodded. “People never know what they can do until they find they have to. I know of a similar case. Some friends of my parents . . .”



As they got up from the table, the gentleman from Kentucky clapped a hand on Wanda’s shoulder. “If you don’t mind, we’ll drink to your health this evening.”

“Oh indeed, we ought to recognize it when young people show themselves so willing to help,” his wife chipped in, glancing at Wilma as she spoke. “Most young ladies seem to be seeking only to satisfy their own pleasure these days . . .” Wilma had finally gotten the chance to share the news of her engagement after all.

Wanda nodded softly, doing her best to look selfless.

She almost felt her shoulders drooping under the weight of her new responsibilities—not that she disliked the feeling. Quite the opposite.



Instead of going off to explore the ship, Wanda lay down on her bed and went over the table talk in her head.