The American Lady(9)

Back in early April she had mentioned that she might like to travel to America one day. No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she realized that she had set an avalanche in motion that she could not stop. Rather than objecting—as she had expected them to—Johanna and Peter had said it was a wonderful idea. She deserved a reward for all her hard work, and a change would do her good. Marie had protested, asking who would do all her work, but Johanna had just waved a hand dismissively; they could get by without her for a while, especially if she traveled during the summer when there was less work. It would be quite enough if she came back in the fall, since they didn’t need to have the new catalog ready until the following February. When Marie had tried to say that the journey would cost too much, Peter just frowned and asked whether she planned to take her savings to the grave. Besides which, he added, she would be staying with Ruth and wouldn’t need to spend anything on room and board.

And so Marie had had no choice but to get used to the idea of leaving Lauscha for a while. Magnus had kept quiet, as he usually did. He may have been silently hoping that Marie would ask him to come along, but if so he hid his disappointment well when she did no such thing.

If Marie were honest with herself, the idea of getting away from his dogged devotion for a bit was at least as tempting as sightseeing in New York and the thrills of the big city. And so she set out on her own to the county hall in Sonneberg to apply for her passport.



But now that she was all on her own in the narrow little cabin, Marie couldn’t understand how she could have been so mean. She felt as though she had turned around and suddenly discovered that her shadow was missing.

She tucked her dictionary under her arm and went off to one of the second-class passenger lounges. She picked out a sofa in the far corner of the room and sat down, her face to the wall. Perhaps she’d feel a little less homesick here.

She was just learning how to say, “Excuse me, sir, but I’ve lost my way,” when she heard the rustle of linen and felt a jolt through the sofa cushions as someone sat down next to her.

What kind of ruffian would just take a seat without asking . . . ?

Marie looked up, irritated, and found herself looking into a beaming round face.

A plump white hand reached out to shake hers.

“Do excuse my manners—I haven’t even introduced myself! My name’s Georgina Schatzmann, but you can call me Georgie—everybody does. I’m on my way to my sister’s wedding, and unless I’m quite wrong, you and I are the only ladies on board traveling on our own. So I thought it would be nice if we got to know one another a little better. I’ve been keeping my eyes open for you”—she giggled—“and now I’ve found you, haven’t I?”

Sadly so! thought Marie. She was just trying to think of a polite but firm way to give this woman the brush-off when Georgie prattled on.

“You’ll probably think me very forward, but I’ve been all aflutter about the trip, you know! The crossing, the wedding, New York—I feel I might burst from all the excitement!”

When Marie looked at her neighbor’s roly-poly features, she decided this wasn’t at all unlikely; Georgina Schatzmann’s eyes were practically popping out of her face and her eyelids were indeed aflutter. Her cheeks were shot through with a network of fine veins and they rose and fell as Georgie chewed on her prominent lower lip. Her teeth were off-white. All in all, it was a tragicomic sight.

“I’m Marie Steinmann, and I’m on my way to visit my own sister. Although she’s been married for quite a long time now,” she heard herself reply.

“Well whoever would believe it! Steinmann and Schatzmann—we’ve even got the same name, almost!” Georgie shook her head. “That must mean something . . .”

What it means is that I’ll never learn English on this crossing!

From that moment on Georgina Schatzmann clung to her like a lapdog who had found a new mistress. At mealtimes she waited in front of Marie’s cabin so that Marie had no choice but to go into the dining room with her, and between meals Georgie managed to track Marie down again and again in one or another of the lounges. On the third day, Marie simply gave in to her persistence; if she couldn’t have a bit of peace and quiet, then she would make the best of the company she had. Since it turned out that Georgie was a teacher by profession, she asked whether she would be willing to help her learn vocabulary. “Of course,” Georgie replied.

Georgie was good at thinking up funny images to help Marie remember the difficult words, and soon her knowledge of English was coming along by leaps and bounds. The language barrier had been her biggest worry before the trip, but it seemed that she might have a knack for speaking English. At least that’s what Georgie said.