Stating that covering walls in patterned paper was old fashioned, John refusing to consider samples chosen by Hannah and Jane from out of the catalogs, stripped, plastered, resurfaced the interior of his house, then, when every wall was primed, smooth as glass, allowed everyone to argue over what colors to paint them. As no one, except Johann and Henrietta, had ever lived in a house with painted walls, discussions got quite heated until one Sunday supper, John tapped the side of his water glass, waited for everyone’s full attention, then announced, “My friends, the walls of the house will be warm cream, doors and molding two shades lighter for contrast. Those wishing to help after work may volunteer their services. The loan of ladders will be appreciated. Hannah has promised doughnuts and coffee and my wife, to show her gratitude, has offered to clean the brushes after each evening’s session.”
Although they all believed John would rue his radical departure from tradition by insisting on paint and in such revolutionary shades, all of them were eager to help. Even the wives got involved. Henrietta took care of baby Michael so Jane could work with the spirits of turpentine without Hannah worrying the fumes would affect him adversely. Dora, whose former husband had been a baker, brought flour sacking she had saved, arranged it into protective covering, Rosie pinned up her copper curls and, wielding a brush like a saber, went to work.
Feeling faint from the lead fumes, Frederika went outside, sat on the steps of the porch; calling over her shoulder that if she should be needed, they had but to call to her. Only Serafina stayed away. Stan, having finally made his move, asked for her hand in marriage, set a date, she and her overly large family were busy planning a proper Sicilian wedding.
It was Rudy who brought the shocking news. Actually, it was his wife who announced it in a voice quivering with rage after he barged into the Geiger parlor, shouting for Fritz. “What Rudy? What’s happened?”
“The Archduke Francis Ferdinand has been assassinated!” answered Frederika as though proclaiming a death in her immediate family.
Fritz turned to Rudy.
“How?”
About to answer, Rudy was interrupted by his wife. “He was assassinated in broad daylight! Sophie, his wife, whom I never liked, also!”
“Frederika, shut up! Speak, Rudy! Who did it?”
“A Serb. They were on an official visit in Bosnia-Herzegovina, hell knows why … and one of those God-damned crazy Serbs shot them!”
“Mein Gott! Vhat is going to happen now?” Hannah asked as though dreading the answer.
Rudy shrugged, Fritz slumped into his chair. Frederika removing her gloves, spoke with imperious certainty. “We of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire cannot allow such an act of political murder to go unpunished!”
Rudy sighed, “It could mean war!”
“Of course! That is what they deserve!” stated his wife, surprised that any patriotic Austrian should hesitate.
“Fritzchen,” Hannah sat on the arm of his chair, “do you tink dere could be a war over dis?”
“I don’t know—a real one would be crazy. But, something has been brewing for a long time now, and—maybe this could start it going!”
Rudy nodded. “I think so too. Johann’s coming with the others, said he’d meet us here. Okay, Hannah?”
“Sure. I go make coffee, get tings ready. Stan coming also?”
“Johann said everybody, so …” Hannah nodded, already on her way.
Far into the night they talked, none really believing that it could come to an actual declaration of war over this incident. After all, within the broad spectrum of European history, assassinations were not uncommon and one rather unpopular cousin of the Emperor of Austria, though tragic, would not be considered important enough to cause more than a minor stir. Still, the Serbian revolutionary might just have managed to light the fuse that had been ready-primed for centuries. Being so far away, there was nothing to fear for themselves, yet being of European origin, all were sensitized to repetitive border wars, had left relatives behind, so tensions remained.
Nervous that if something did develop, European mail routes might be affected, Jane wrote to Teresa her long overdue news.
Dearest Teresa,
You have surely taken your final vows by now, may I then still address you so? Or is such familiarity no longer permissible? Please, when you respond, do include some instructions as to protocol of your Order. As you know so well, I never paid much attention to such things in school and this is my first attempt at corresponding with a Benedictine nun.
Much has happened since last I wrote. I have born a son we have named Michele, which is Michael in American. I know this will please you for if not one of the Apostles, at least an Archangel will do. The boy is well named, I think, for whoever meets him seems charmed, immediately at ease, as though he truly had the gift to banish Lucifer. Please note how easily I use such an observation, although I have not changed, forgive me, I still can’t. I do find I now make an effort not to insult the belief of others simply to prove my opinions. Our landlady, Hannah Geiger, is the truest human being I have ever known besides your sweet self. Though she is of Jewish faith, she is neither deceitful nor mercenary. A most astonishing discovery for we were taught they were. Remember? Not even her nose identifies her.
It is the purity of her belief that intrigues me. She seems to embrace all that is good, regardless of religious affiliation. Her God is a friend she trusts. In this simple trusting, she reminds me of you.
My husband has bought us a house. It is most ample luxury, with its own front porch. This protrusion before one’s entrance door is very common here in America. Like our balconies one can sit on it to view what is happening in the street.
People here are given more to privacy than they are in Italy. I don’t mean to imply that there is no curiosity or gossiping, there is of course, but here it seems more selective, more personal, not a daily occupation to be shared by the whole village as though it concerned them. I rather like this unusual personal sense of privacy.
Although he does not discuss such serious subjects with me personally, during discourses with his friends I listen and learn.