Free The Edge of the Earth by Christina Schwarz Page B

and the dryness of the air, I suppose.”
    I turned and turned again, trying to take in every vista at once—the sea, the mountains, the olive groves, the gleaming white buildings under the marvelously warm sky—“Oh, don’t you wish we really could go there? Just for an afternoon! It would be like stepping into a dream!” Spinning, I felt exhilarated and also slightly giddy, and my hand, when I put it out to catch myself, grasped an arm. It was not Ernst’s. Had I known that?
    Immediately, Oskar laid his hand over mine. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on Greece, though the whole of my being was focused much nearer to home. For seconds his long fingers encased the whole of my hand, his warm skin pressed against mine.
    In those seconds, the lights dimmed, and the spirit voice descended on us again. “The time has come to bid farewell to Ancient Greece. Please step down the passage to your left, so as not to collide with the incoming group.”
    By the time we reached the sidewalk, Lucy and Charles and I had been pushed by the crowd a little apart from Oskar and Ernst, and when Ernst came up to us a few seconds later, he was alone.
    “So!” he said. “We’ll get a snack and then off to our next bit of entertainment! My solo!”
    “Shouldn’t we wait for Oskar?” Lucy asked.
    I’d thought the same but had not dared to voice it while I could still almost feel the pressure of his fingers.
    “He had to go back to the boatyard,” Ernst said. “Something to finish, he said. Off on another of his tangents, I guess.”
    “He’s not going to the concert?” I brought out.
    After what I’d felt at Oskar’s touch, I’d not been prepared for him to take himself casually back to work. He’d not even bothered to tell me goodbye. The heightened senses I’d enjoyed that whole afternoon dulled, and the fruited hat that earlier had seemed to lift my chin now pressed heavily around my temples.
    “That’s all right,” Ernst said. “As long as you’re there.” He gave my shoulder a squeeze to pull me toward him, and on top of my disappointment, I felt piercing shame. Without my willing them, my feet copied the rhythm of his as we walked toward the music hall.
    I did my best to be bright in the seat near the front that Ernst’s parents and my own had held for me. I caught his eye and smiled; I applauded energetically; but when it came time for the final number and the music master turned to announce that we were all to join in, I had to gird myself for what I knew was to come.
    The popular “Du, du liegst mir im Herzen” swelled from the audience like a wave, and I sang, too, although my voice was only a whisper. “Du, du liegst mir im Sinn.” The words about pining for a lover who doesn’t care enough bruised my throat, and I felt the push of tears behind my eyes. I allowed myself to be swayed back and forth in the waltz tempo, my shoulders locked with the shoulders of all in my row, but I knew I was alone.
    ∗ ∗ ∗
    At the restaurant afterward, Aunt Martha frowned at her liberally salted hackfleisch. “Oskar ought to have come. We’re giving him a home, after all, even after what happened with Ida. And a job. The least he could do is show some gratitude and loyalty.” She helped herself to a large forkful of the raw meat and paused to chew it before going on. “He failed half his classes at Oberlin, you know. He’s in no position to act as if he can’t be bothered.”
    “I’m sure he’s had a hard time of it,” my mother said kindly. “It must be very difficult to follow in Manfred’s footsteps.”
    “You can hardly say he’s done much following. Poor Peter despairs of his ever making a success of himself.”
    Stewing in my own mix of longing, disappointment, and shame, I said nothing about walking on one’s own feet.
    ∗ ∗ ∗
    While we were out, a cheap envelope of the sort used to pay the iceman was pushed through the letter slot. It was addressed to me, so Gustina laid it on my bed. It