Chapter Text
“Hallo! Lars!” A pretty young woman in a floral shirt, blue jeans, and black glasses with long dark hair and blue eyes ran to her brother, laughing. “Lars! We hebben de papieren!”
Lars gasped. His brown eyes lit up. “Je doet?” He embraced his sister, grinning.
Anne smiled. “Nee, dat doen we!” she supplied. “We gaan naar Amerika, broeder.”
“Heb je het Marit al verteld?” her brother asked. He held Anne at arm’s length. She bestowed a grin upon him.
“Ja, broer, ik heb haar tien minuten geleden gebeld. Ze is erg opgewonden! Zij en Nathan willen meteen gaan,” she replied. “Marit's mening is deze: ze wil naar Los Angeles, ze wil alles zien wat er is.”
Lars laughed. “Dat klinkt als mijn Marit!”
Anne smiled. She felt so happy. She and her siblings, and Marit’s husband, Nathan, had been wanting for so long to immigrate to America, the land of dreams. “We kunnen niet voor 25 mei vertrekken.” That was just under a month away. She felt like her heart was exploding. “Jij en je Duits, en ik en mijn Engels, en Marit en haar Italiaans. We kunnen alles begrijpen wat ze zeggen!” she blurted. Lars chuckled.
“Wees niet zo haastig, oudere zus. We moeten wachten!” he warned. His tone was playful. Anne snuggled into him.
~~~~~~
Two years later, Anne was standing inside her little apartment in Los Angeles, baking a cake as a thank-you for one of the neighbors, who was originally from Flanders and had gone wild making Anne and Lars cookies and sent over some pickled beans. Her name was Lola van Dyke; she seemed like a nice person.
Washing her hands of some egg white, Anne glanced down, pulling her driver license out of her pocket, with her picture and information (her picture, her date of birth. Anyone could look at that and deduce she was twenty-five). She kept it on her all the time. Marit and Nathan were still working on their driver licenses, she and Lars brought them things from the next apartment building. Sometimes Nathan walked to town to get groceries if he was in the mood.
A knock on the door; Anne ran to get it. She opened the door to a pretty blonde woman smiling excitedly at her and holding out a dish. “Hello! I’m Lise van Sutton,” she said in careful English. “I’m a few apartments down. I heard you were the new neighbor and made a lasagna to bring to you. Weren't there two of you?” she inquired.
Anne smiled. “Lise, hello,” she responded. “My name is Anne; my brother Lars is out right now looking for a job. Did you want to come in?” she asked. Anne’s English had been learned when she was twelve, and so had been used for many years; obviously this woman hadn’t learned much in school. Lise smiled gratefully. “Heel veel, ja; bedankt.” She stepped in.
Lise ended up staying for three hours, long after Lars came home. She helped Anne with the cake, then helped her dust and deliver the cake to Lola. Anne taught Lise a few English words, and Lars demonstrated his quicksilver German. Lise was amazed. “How can you speak so fast?” she’d asked, in accented, practiced English that was all harsh consonants and swooping syllables.
“Lars is very good at languages,” Anne told her. “He knows Dutch, of course, and also German, Latin, and Greek. I am beginning to teach him English.” He was a fast learner. Lars demonstrated a Greek poem for Lise, then they told stories of childhood. Lise was also from Holland. She came from a major town called The Hague, and had moved to America almost six years ago. Anne really liked Lise, who spoke French, Dutch, English, and Yiddish (her grandfather on her mother’s side was Jewish).
Just as Lise was about to reply, sirens began to blare.