A month and fourteen days had passed by quickly and somewhat uneventfully. It was now June 21st, the day after the last day of school.

She had packed a suitcase, with enough outfits for a week and a half. She had also packed a dictionary she had yet to go through, the book with essays by Emerson, and Anton's ring. It amused her that all though the ring had been hers for quite some time she still found herself thinking of the artifact as his. As Anton's.

She felt the corners of her lips turn upwards, revealing her teeth. After that one day where Anton had made her feel like a plowgirl, unintentionally of course, she had set herself on a strict path of dental hygiene. And, the results had been truly satisfactory.

Patty found her thoughts of teeth and that summer slipping away as she once again let her mind drift to the upcoming summer months. Would they find enough information? Would they have to leave the country? Would she find out that he was de-She refused to even let herself think that.

He wasn't.

He just was not.

He could not be.

Patty pushed the whole topic away, focusing on what had happened in the past forty-four days. Her father had said that if she didn't behave properly she wouldn't be going, but she knew she would still be going anyway, her father would rather have her gone for a summer than punishing her by making her stay home (and there by punishing him with her being home). She knew how his mind worked, somewhat. Some of the things he did were still a complete and total mystery to her, and there was no indication that those mysteries would be revealed to her in this lifetime.

They had been back to her grandparents' house a few times, her mother throwing tantrums each time, especially when Uncle Ben and Aunt Dorothy had gotten back from their trip. Aunt Dorothy had been giving them a history lesson of Rhode Island, informing them all that the first Jewish place of worship in the whole country was-is-in Newport and was-is-known as the Touro Synagogue.

She was startled from her unfinished flashback by the sound of a car horn. She looked out of the parlor window, grinning at the pickup truck that belonged to Charlene Madlee. She hurriedly gathered her luggage, hauling the suitcase out of the house and next to the car. Charlene had gotten out of the car and was having a conversation with her father. Patty kept her eyes on the two of them, not wanting to seem impatient by trying to get her suitcase into the car by herself.

Charlene was finished speaking with Mr. Bergen in no time, briskly walking towards Patty, a warm smile lighting up her features. "Hey Patty," Charlene greeted, coming up on her right side and grabbing her suitcase, "Why don't you get into the car? I'll put this in the back."

Patty did as she was told, barely registering that there was someone else in the pick-up truck. "Hello," a new voice spoke, a low soprano coming from the silhouette of an adolescent girl. This person had straight shoulder-length strawberry blond (though it was nearly ash blond) hair and piercing jade eyes. She wore a pastel blue dress that tied in the middle by a blue silk sash. She had a black cover-up draped on her lap, and a pair of wrap-around black sandals on her feet. She was somewhat paler than people from around here, which caused Patty to guess that she was from up north. They didn't get as much sun up there, did they?

"Oh, uh, Hi," Patty responded to the greeting, her voice overflowing with uncertainty. Charlene had not mentioned someone else.

The girl was either oblivious to her uncertainty, or chose to ignore it, "I'm Giselle," she began, almost immediately adding, "My full name is Giselle Veronikah Lehmann." She barely stopped talking long enough to breath, "You can call me Gisa or Ellie, though, and please, please, never call me Jelly. My Vater was always calling me that and it was…embarrassing." When she had finished speaking there was a longing look, as if she were wishing that right then and there, this 'Vater' would come and call her 'Jelly'.

"I'm Patty," she responded, not going into some long-winded explanation on her name.

Giselle was about to respond but the opening of a door stopped her. Charlene entered the car, pushing locks of blond hair behind her ear. "I see the two of you have met," Charlene observed. Patty sent a small smile in her direction while Giselle practically beamed.

"Sorry 'bout not telling you Patty, it was quite last minute," Charlene explained, "And do not worry I haven't revealed anything you wouldn't want me to."

For a while, the car ride was silent and uninteresting. That is until Giselle shattered it with, "So, where are we headed first?"

Patty had not noticed it before but the girl spoke with an accent, as if English was not her first language. What could be her first language? And did that mean she had been born somewhere else?

"Well," Charlene began, "We're going to stop in a hotel along the way, and it will probably take a few days but I was thinking first to Rhode Island and then to New York so that we can do our research, or maybe New York and then Rhode Island. I'm not quite sure."

'Our Research'. Patty wondered what the girl's—Giselle's—research was about. Glancing upwards, she realized Giselle was wondering the same thing. Those piercing green eyes were looking straight into her hazel ones, trying to find the answer. Giselle ducked her head sheepishly, sending an apologetic smile in her direction.

"Is English your first language?" Patty tentatively asked.

"Nein, Nein. My first language is German," Giselle answered, not knowing what type of reaction to expect. After all, many who had heard were not pleasant afterwards.

Patty immediately lost any expression that had been or could have been on her face, shock washing over her face as high tide overtaking a beach. "Were you born there?" she inquired her voice soft and whispery.

Giselle hesitated, glancing towards Charlene who was conspicuously focused on her driving. "Ja," she nodded, "I was born in Rosdorf."

"Oh," Patty replied. Although she had expected that Giselle was born there she couldn't keep surprise from crashing into her. It did not stay for long though, it was quickly replaced by joy, even giddiness. "What part of Germany did you live in?" she asked, not able to keep the anticipation and excitement from her voice.

"Rosdorf is in Lower Saxony," she explained, bringing her hand to her face to readjust her bangs, "It was really close to a university town….Gottingen."

DISCLAIMER;; I own a birdhouse gourd that needs to be painted but I am not, and will never be Bette Greene.

AUTHOR'S NOTE;;

Ahhhhhk.

So, so sorry.

It is updated before a Saturday, just not the one I had in mind. I was intending to finish this since I finished the last chapter, but over the past week and days, I ran into many obstacles.

This chapter marks the entry of my first 'original character' (OC), who is, as mentioned in the writing itself, is from Germany.

I apologize if I have gotten anything incorrect. The town website for Rosdorf is in German and I cannot read German all that well, though I do have a basic understanding (I've almost memorized and understood each letter in the alphabet and know quite a few words). I couldn't find a history of Rosdorf, and on the German sites I have no idea which section in History, and translators don' really cut it for me.

Oh, well, hope you all enjoy.

I will update when I can.

Please Review,

&&TABBY/PLUTO