The Lost Wife by Alyson Richman Page B

of the station rushed into our compartment. Families juggling their luggage, hasty farewells, and porters crying out that the train would be leaving in fifteen minutes. I closed my eyes and wished we were already there. But the breeze coming in from the train window cooled me, and I sensed that Josef had not actually forgotten about his overheated train companion. For he continued to look up from his book and sneak glances in my direction.
    We pulled out of the station on time, and Věruška chatted for nearly the entire trip. Josef had taken a book out of his suitcase and I envied his ability to tune out his sister. If the trip had been less bumpy, I might have pulled out my sketchbook and asked to draw sister and brother, but I knew my hands would not be steady enough with the sensation of the wheels underneath me.
    We took a horse-drawn carriage when we arrived in Karlovy Vary, passing the town with its multicolored facades and peaked rooflines. Josef spoke to the driver, giving him directions, and when he caught me staring at him, he returned my gaze with a slight smile. We had not really talked during the train ride. I had returned Věruška’s chattiness with a diligent and attentive ear and Josef had managed to read his book in its entirety.
    When we arrived at the Kohns’ home, deep within the mountains, I knew almost immediately that I’d have ample opportunity to sketch. The scenery was lush and majestic, with stretches of verdant green that reminded me of illustrations of fairies and wooden kingdoms from my childhood books. The smells of wildflowers, tails of lupine, and star asters dotted the landscape. The house itself was beautiful and old, with a broad porch and a Bohemian turret that looked as though it could pierce the sky.
    We were greeted warmly by an old woman named Pavla, who I later learned had been Josef and Věruška’s nanny when they were little. Josef bent down to kiss Pavla on both cheeks, his large hands nearly enveloping the entirety of her tiny round head.
    “Your parents arrived last night and decided to stay at the spa until this evening,” Pavla told them. “I’ve made your favorite cookies with the jam in the center. Would you like them now with some tea?” I had to suppress the urge to laugh, for she spoke to them as if they were still three years old.
    Josef shook his head no, but Věruška, who was always hungry, eagerly jumped at the invitation. “Oh yes, Pavla! That would be wonderful!” She turned to me. “You will need to take a cure at the spa after two weeks of Pavla’s cooking. We will be as big as stuffed geese when we return to Prague.”
    “I just need to wash up and then I’ll join you,” I promised. I was eager to unpack and change my clothes.
    “Let me take your suitcase, Lenka,” Josef offered. His hand was already wrapped around its handle.
    I went to stop him, but he was already walking in the direction of the stairs. “It’s this way,” he said.
    I walked behind him, winding my way up the steps, his shadow and mine two moving cutouts against the white walls. When we arrived at the guest room, he placed my suitcase on the floor and walked over to the window that faced the mountains. There below was a garden filled with roses and a large outdoor seating area with an old wooden table and some white-painted iron chairs.
    “Here,” he said, opening up the two glass doors. “Now you can breathe in all the fresh air you need.”
    “And hopefully there won’t be any dying birds in the garden. It would embarrass me greatly if I couldn’t resurrect one for you.”
    I laughed. “Hopefully your medical powers won’t be needed for birds or for Věruška’s or my sake!”
    “Well, I’ll let you rest before dinner, then. You must be tired from the journey.”
    I looked at him and nodded. “A little rest would do me good.”
    As I walked with him toward the door, I could feel the heat spreading across my face. It wasn’t until he had left the room, and