two

The sun is bright, the August heat oppressive, as Stephie, Nellie, and the lady from the relief committee clamber into a taxicab outside the train station. Stephie is all itchy inside her heavy new coat. Before they left for Sweden, their mother had a winter coat made for each of them by Fräulein Gerlach, the seamstress. Mamma asked Fräulein Gerlach for especially thick linings; she knew Sweden was a cold country.

The coats are light blue with dark blue velvet collars. Their matching hats are blue velvet, too. Stephie would have loved the coat if it hadn’t been made because they were leaving.

After a long ride the taxi stops at the harbor and they get out. Ships as large as buildings are docked along the pier. A little white steamer out at the far end resembles a toy boat as it bobs in the waves.

The lady pays the taxi driver and walks ahead of Stephie, holding Nellie by one hand and Nellie’s suitcase in the other. Stephie drags her own heavy suitcase behind.

When they get to the gangway, the woman buys tickets from one of the crew members. She speaks to him in Swedish, pointing to the girls. At first the man shakes his head, but the woman continues talking until, finally, he nods.

“Come on,” he says to the girls, showing them to two seats in the covered section of the boat. Nellie looks disappointed.

“I want to stand out there,” Nellie says to Stephie, pointing to the deck. “Ask him if it’s all right.”

“You ask!” says Stephie.

Nellie shrugs and sits down. When the engines begin to throb, Stephie realizes they never said goodbye to the lady from the relief committee, and she hurries to the aft deck. The lady is gone.

The boat pulls away from the pier and out to the middle of the river. Black smoke rises from the smokestack, dissolving into thin mist.

Nellie stays in her seat, looking as pitiful as a rag doll. Stephie notices that her sister’s coat is buttoned crooked, and that one of her cheeks has a smudge of dirt on it. She rubs at the smudge with her handkerchief.

“Where’s this boat taking us?” Nellie asks.

“We’ll soon see,” Stephie replies.

“To the bathing resort on the coast?”

“Sure.”

“Tell me what it’s like,” Nellie requests.

“There are long, soft, sandy beaches,” Stephie tells her, “and palm trees growing along the boardwalk. People lie on deck chairs under colorful beach umbrellas. The children play in the water and build sand castles. There are ice cream vendors, carrying freezer boxes around their necks.”

Stephie’s never been to the seaside. But Evi, her best friend in Vienna, was at an Italian resort two years ago. After ward, she told Stephie all about the beach and the palm trees, the beach chairs and the ice cream vendors. Stephie and Nellie and their mother and father always spent their summer vacations at a little country hotel on the shores of the Danube River. Or at least they used to, before the Nazis came along.

Stephie senses they’re being stared at. She looks up to find two old men, on the bench opposite the girls, gazing openly and curiously at them.

“Why are they looking at us like that?” Nellie asks anxiously.

“It’s the name tags,” Stephie guesses.

One of the men puts a wad of snuff under his top lip. A drop of brown saliva seeps out of the corner of his mouth. He says something to his friend, chuckling.

“Let’s take them off,” Stephie decides, folding the name tags into her knapsack. “Come on, we’re going outside.”

The girls stand on the deck. They can see where the river joins the ocean. A tugboat is piloting one of the big ships toward the port. The little one seems to be pulling the big one, like a child eagerly tugging at its mother to show her something. It looks funny. Red brick warehouses line the riverbanks. Huge loading cranes jut into the air, looking like giraffes with long necks.

Nellie fingers her coral necklace. It’s actually her mother’s, bought by Papa long, long ago when the two honey mooned in Italy. Nellie has always loved the irregular slivers of pink coral. Her mother gave it to her just as they were leaving on this journey.

“Tell me more about the resort, Stephie,” she begs. “Will I be able to swim there?”

“You’ll have to learn,” says Stephie. “Every afternoon the people go to their hotel rooms for a rest. After dinner they stroll in the park and listen to the band.”

“Are we going to stay at a hotel?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the people who are taking us in will be hotel owners.”

“Then we’ll get everything, free of charge.”

“Or maybe they have a house at the shore. With a private beach.”

“Will they have children?”

Stephie shrugs. “I hope they have a dog,” she says.

“Will there be a piano?” Nellie asks for the hundredth time.

“Of course there will,” Stephie assures her.

Stephie knows how badly Nellie misses their piano. She had just started lessons when they had to move out of their spacious apartment by the park with the huge Ferris wheel. If it had been up to Mamma, they would have taken the piano with them, despite the fact that it would nearly have filled up the entire single room they were forced to move into. But Papa refused.

“There’s barely space for four beds as it is,” he said. “Do you think we could sleep on the piano?”

The boat has left the river now and is out on the open sea. They pass rocky cliffs and lots of little islets. It’s windier out here, and dark clouds are gathering at the horizon. Nellie tugs at her sister’s coat sleeve.

“Stephie, will there really be one? Are you sure?”

“What?”

“A piano I can play,” says Nellie. “Will there?”

“Yes, yes,” Stephie promises her. “But do stop nagging!”

Nellie starts humming a children’s song, one of the melodies she knows on the piano. Nellie has their mother’s beautiful voice, while Stephie can hardly carry a tune.

The boat passes a peninsula. The wind hits, and the boat starts to rock. Stephie hangs on to the rail.

“I’m cold,” Nellie says.

“Go on inside, then.”

Nellie hesitates. “Aren’t you coming?”

“Not yet,” says Stephie. The deck has begun to roll under her feet. She’s feeling queasy. The sky is getting darker and thunder roars from afar. Nellie heads for the cabin, then changes her mind and comes back.

“Go on in,” says Stephie. “I won’t be long.”

She clings to the rail, eyes shut tight. The boat rocks from side to side. Stephie cranes over the water and vomits. Her throat is burning and she feels exhausted and dizzy.

“Are you ill, Stephie?” Nellie asks nervously.

“Seasick,” says Stephie. “I suppose I’m seasick.”

She hangs on tightly to the rail, eyes still shut. Her knees are weak under her. Nellie helps her back to the cabin. She lies down on a bench, using her knapsack as a pillow, and rests. The world is spinning…

From the depths of sleep, Stephie feels someone tugging at her sleeve.

“Leave me alone,” she mumbles. “I need to sleep.”

But the tugging persists. She cannot ignore it. Her eyes open.

“Stephie!” Nellie shouts. “We’re there.”

It takes Stephie a moment to remember. Nellie is standing next to her, hopping up and down eagerly. Her cheeks are rosy and the ribbon on one of her braids has come undone.

“Hurry up! We’re there.”