Gesine Schulz - The Greenest Wind

“You and your blankets. Are you sure she even wants one?”

“Yes, she does, Mama. I visited her after her dog, Rufus, died, and she was really sad. So, I asked her if she maybe wanted a new afghan. That cheered her up. But she wants it made of only black and gray pieces. Because she’s 87 years old, she says, and because she only wears black and gray, because she’s a widow or something.”

“Goodness, how depressing.”

Lucy nodded. “I thought so too, at first. But then I found seven different grays in the yarn shop, and I’m only using a little bit of black. I think the afghan’s going to look like clouds, everything from light gray to gray-black. Not sad at all. Do you want to see?”

“Later, Lucy. Put your things away now. I’m going to make us some dinner. Salad and broiled cheese baguettes – you like that. And then we’ll think about what you can do on your vacation. We’ll come up with something, won’t we?”

Lucy nodded. She went to her room, put her knitting on the bed, and opened the bottom drawer of her dresser. That was where she kept her stash: leftover yarn she’d gotten from neighbors and the mothers of classmates; skeins with the labels still around them, bought with her allowance; and yarn she’d recycled by unraveling sweaters she’d outgrown.

The skeins and neatly rolled-up balls of yarn lay sorted by color in open shoe boxes. Scores of colors. A stranger opening the drawer would think that someone had hidden a rainbow in there.

Lucy knelt in front of the drawer, examining her treasures. She reached for a little ball in the browns. Caramel brown. Like Rufus’ smooth coat of hair.

She quickly put it with the gray yarn for Mrs. Freitag. The amount would be just enough for one square. A little surprise piece. Near the afghan’s border.

Her hand searched through the yarn. Kora wanted a little blanket for her Barbie doll. One made of tiny pink and white squares. Pale pink or cotton candy pink? Or-

“Lucy, come and eat!” her mother called, interrupting Lucy’s decision-making.

“Here, sweetie,” her mother said. “Have some more salad... Well, there weren’t any more spots open, but I was able to get you onto two waiting lists. For a horseback riding camp in Denmark and a summer camp in Austria, in the mountains. Those would be nice, wouldn’t they? The weather’s been so bad. I bet some kid will get sick and won’t be able to go...”

“Hmm,” Lucy responded.

“But I thought of something else, sweetheart: what does a person have relatives for, anyway?”

Lucy jumped up. “You mean I could maybe go with Papa, Ilona, and Christopher? To the south of France? You wouldn’t mind?”

Ilona was Lucy’s father’s second wife, and Lucy’s mother couldn’t stand her. Lucy visited her father every third Saturday, but only when he didn’t happen to be away on a business trip. And she always looked forward to seeing Christopher and playing with him.

She’d been overjoyed when she found out that Ilona was expecting. Lucy had tried her best not to let on around her mother. But there’d been no need to pretend around Kora.

“I’ve been wanting a brother or a sister forever. And now I’m getting one! Okay, I know it’ll be a half-sister or a half-brother, but that’s almost as good.”

Right away she’d started knitting a baby blanket out of the softest yarn she could find. Creamy white and buttery yellow.

Christopher was over a year old now and starting to walk. He was a cuddly little guy with dimpled knees. It was a shame she couldn’t see him more often. She was always afraid he’d have forgotten who she was since her last visit. But if she could spend her vacation with him, they’d be together for weeks!

“The south of France with your father?” Lucy’s mother said. “That’s not really what I had in mind–”

“Oh, Mamaaaa...!”

“...but, in this case, it would be all right, I guess. Did they invite you to go along? You didn’t mention it.”

“No, they haven’t said anything, but they knew I was going to America with you. When Papa finds out that we’re not going, he’ll invite me along. Maybe. Or I can ask him on Saturday when I’m there. Or do you want to ask him? Would that be better?” Lucy had skipped out of the kitchen and was prancing around the living room.

“Sit down, Lucy. I want to tell you what I was thinking of.”

Lucy plopped down onto the sofa. Her mother sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. “What do you think about going to Ireland to visit your Aunt Paula?”

“Whaaattt?!”

“Don’t shout like that, Lucy. And we say: ‘Pardon?’”

“Pardon?” whispered Lucy. She wasn’t able to shout anymore, anyway; suddenly, she felt very weak.

A Crazy Aunt in Ireland

“Aunt Paula? You want me to go to Aunt Paula’s? But she’s crazy!”

“Nonsense, Lucy. Why on earth would you say a thing like that?”

“Because that’s what you always say: ‘Paula is crazy.’”

“Oh, I see. Well, that’s just a saying. It doesn’t mean she really IS crazy. It’s just that sometimes she does things that a sensible person wouldn’t do. You see what I mean?”

“No,” said Lucy.

“Well, anyway, she’s NOT crazy. And I’m sure she would love to have her niece come and visit.”

“But I don’t even know Aunt Paula.”

“Well, then it’s about time you got to know her, isn’t it? Besides, she did come to visit us a few years ago. I’m sure you remember.”

“No, I don’t.”

“No? Well, all right. I guess you were still pretty little. Doesn’t matter. I know you’d love it there with her.”

“But Mama! She lives in a tent because her house doesn’t have a roof!”

“That was a long time ago, Lucy. I have no doubt her house has been fixed up in the meantime and has a roof, too. We’ve had lots of Christmas and birthday cards from her since then, and if she was still writing them in a tent, I’m sure she would have mentioned it. You see, it’s things like that I’m talking about when I say she’s cra–, I mean...different. If a person falls in love with a place they take a vacation in, maybe they go there the next year, too. They don’t just quit their job and give up a promising career and then use up all their savings to buy a ruin and move in! Still, she seems to like it there. I’ll ask her if you can come for a visit.”

“The house is all by itself in the middle of nowhere, you always said. I don’t want to go there, Mama. Please, can’t I go with Papa?”

“I’ve already told you I don’t mind. If they say you can tag along, you’ll go to France. But I’m still going to write to Paula. Actually, we’re running out of time. I’d better check into sending a telegram. She hasn’t got a phone.”

No phone and maybe no roof! Who knew what else was missing? I don’t want to stay with a woman I don’t even know, thought Lucy. Even if she’s my aunt ten times over.

She grabbed her jacket and left the apartment. A couple of girls from her class were at the playground and waved to her. Lucy waved back and kept walking. She didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. Except maybe Kora. Lucy changed direction and started running. One street-crossing on a red light, a short run straight through the park, and there she was, in front of the apartment block where Kora lived.

Lucy buzzed their signal – one long, three short. Code for: get down here, on the double!

Ninety-three seconds later, Kora opened the door. “What’s up?”

Lucy shrugged her shoulders. “You want to go to Mr. Chang’s for some ice cream? I’m buying.”

“Sure, but I’d rather have hot chocolate. With whipped cream. With cinnamon sprinkled on it. And chocolate flakes. It’s too cold for ice cream. For me, anyway.”