Alma wrapped a scarf around her neck and stepped out into the crisp autumn air. She was early, but Fritz was often early, too, and would likely be waiting for her at their meeting place on East Second Street. She was glad to have mended things with her parents. They owed her an apology, but she wouldn’t get one, and that had to be all right. It was who they were. They wouldn’t change for her. And they didn’t have to see eye to eye, but neither did she have to remain silent when the insults came. She could stand up for herself, make her own choices, and live the life she wanted, with or without their permission.
She’d nearly wept with relief when Helene and the young secretary with whom she lived had welcomed the idea of another lodger sharing their living expenses. Dividing everything three ways was a much more affordable proposition for them all.
Alma smiled as she thought of the paycheck that was hers and hers alone. She’d never have to give Robert another cent of her hard-earned wages, and every spare coin would be saved for classes at New York University. Perhaps next year, she’d be able to enroll. Jeremy had offered to study with her, should she need help.
She thought again of dear Francesca. Perhaps it wasn’t worth the cost her friend had paid to come forward about John Lambert, but Alma was grateful nonetheless. The day he was fired had felt like a victory. She had been thrilled to send the news to Francesca, who seemed to be doing well in a position in an Italian restaurant on the west side of Chicago. Alma hoped the situation was decent for her, especially with the baby on the way.
She waved at her brother, who walked toward her, and tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. The city noise buzzed all around them: trains and bicycles, the clatter of horses’ hooves, and vendors shouting in the streets. Home. At least, it was home for one of them. Soon, Fritz would have a new one.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“More than ready,” he replied.
When they reached the train station, they stopped and studied each other silently. The determination he’d shown all of his life was there, etched in the lines of his forehead, set in his jaw, but his piercing blue eyes were bright and shone with emotion.
“They’re probably reading the letter now,” he said.
“At least we won’t be there to see their faces.”
Fritz had requested a transfer at work to Chicago without telling his parents—until this morning, in a letter. He’d already quietly shipped his things ahead of him.
“I couldn’t let her go.”
“I know.” Alma smiled, though inside she ached. She wanted Fritz to be happy and knew he must follow his heart, but to lose a best friend and a brother in only a month’s time was difficult. “Does she know you’re coming?”
“No, but I’m hoping that won’t matter much.” He smiled nervously.
“She’ll be the happiest woman you’ve ever seen.” And Alma knew it was true. Francesca deserved every bit of happiness the world could provide. She’d suffered more than her share of heartache.
“I’ll visit, of course,” he said. “Perhaps in time, we will visit.”
Alma straightened his collar, picked at a piece of lint on his coat, desperate to hide the tears welling in her eyes. “Send me a letter when you arrive?”
“Of course. Goodbye for now, Al.” Fritz embraced her. “I’m so proud of you. You’re really something, you know that.”
“So are you,” she whispered.
“No more tears.” He smiled and touched the end of her nose with his forefinger. In a flash, he’d climbed the steps to the train platform.
As he ducked into a car, the tears broke free. Things hadn’t worked out the way they had planned, but they’d forged their own paths. She was grateful to live in a place that offered so much, gave her the ability to be who she wanted to be. She wouldn’t squander that choice. Francesca had taught her to see that. Now, her dear friend would also be who she wanted to be. A part of a family, no longer a woman against the world all on her own. She’d become a Brauer officially, where she belonged, even if she was a little farther away than Alma liked.
It was a new chapter for them all.
Alma waved to Fritz as the train pulled away. Once it was out of sight, she crossed her arms over her body against the wet wind of a New York autumn. A small cyclone of shredded newspaper and dried leaves whisked around her feet and caught the wind, giving them flight above her head and beyond, until they disappeared into the backdrop of the bustling city.
A smile at her lips, she walked north of Grand Street to her new home.
Author’s Note
The first time I visited Ellis Island, I was acting as a chaperone for the Spanish classes at the high school where I taught for some years. It was an awe-inspiring experience, to say the least. The building was magnificent from the outside, the grounds immaculate, and the storied halls echoed with an essence left behind from the past. I obsessively read the informational plaques, spoke with the park rangers at length, perused the bookstore, and bought a few trinkets. Needless to say, the building left its imprint on me in a profound way. As someone who is a former military brat, a traveler, and a former world language and geography teacher, I am continually fascinated by the question of how culture and language shape who we are. I’m especially interested in what it means to be American, a citizen of the world’s “melting pot” composed of many cultures, ethnicities, and religions. When I boarded the ferry back to Manhattan that day, I knew I would return.
It wasn’t until several years later as Hamilton: The Musical was released and we, as a nation, were beginning to examine who we are and where we came from that I found myself on the shores of Ellis Island once again. This time, I was ready to roll up my sleeves and get to work.
My book took a long and winding path to completion. To say the life in New York City in the early 1900s was interesting is an understatement. I quickly became absorbed not only in the immigrants’ plight but also the division of classes and the waves of progress sweeping the city—from the expansion of the rail system that would go underground for the first time to the women’s rights and labor movements. I also discovered what was considered the biggest disaster in New York City history until the attacks on September 11, 2001, when over one thousand German Americans perished on a ferry headed to a church picnic. This forever changed the scope of Kleindeutschland in what is now the East Village in the southeastern part of Manhattan Island. This event took place just after my novel concludes and secured the mass exodus of Germans from that part of town.