All was quiet in Munich.
In a luxurious building on the east bank of the Isar, however, a gentle murmuring could be heard. Not loud enough to wake the house’s inhabitants; just a muffled sound coming from a room that overlooked the square.
The room was old-fashioned, childish, ill-suited to the age of its owner. She had abandoned it five years earlier and hadn’t yet had time to change the wallpaper; the bookcases were filled with dolls and the bed had a pink canopy. But on a night like this one, her vulnerable heart was grateful for the objects that took her back to the security of a long-lost world. Her nature cursed itself for having regressed so far in its independence and resolve.
The muffled sound was crying, smothered in a pillow.
On the bed was a letter, only the opening paragraphs visible amid the tangle of bedsheets: Columbus, Ohio, April 7th, 1920 Dearest Alys, I hope that you are well. You can’t imagine how much we miss you, as the dancing season is due to start in only two weeks! This year we girls will be able to go together, without our fathers, but with a chaperone. At least we’ll be able to go to more than one dance a month! The big news of the year, however, is that my brother Prescott is engaged to a girl from out east, Dotty Walker. Everyone is talking about the fortune her father, George Herbert Walker, has, and what a good couple they make. Mother couldn’t be happier about the wedding. If only you could be here, as it will be the first wedding in the family and you’re one of us.
The tears rolled slowly down Alys’s face. With her right arm she clung to a doll. Suddenly she was about to hurl it to the other side of the room, when she realized what she was doing and stopped herself.
I am a woman. A woman.
Slowly she let the doll go and began to think about Prescott, or at least what she remembered of him: they were together under the oak bed in the house in Columbus, and he was whispering as he embraced her. But when she looked up she discovered that the boy wasn’t tanned and strong like Prescott but fair and thin. Wrapped in her reverie, she was unable to recognize his face.