The Day the Flowers Died Read online

  “Who are we reading today?” Rebecca asked.

  “Heinrich Heine, a German poet of Jewish origin.”

  “Oh.” Rebecca teased with catty intonation.

  “Are you mocking me?” Eli asked halfheartedly with the look of sensuality in his dark brown eyes.

  “I really do love poetry,” she insisted. Eli flipped through a few pages and read aloud, loud enough for her to hear and soft enough for the words to travel through the ears of the strangers passing by.

  E'EN as A LOVELY FLOWER

  by: Heinrich Heine (1799-1856)

  E'en as a lovely flower, so fair, so pure thou art;

  I gaze on thee, and sadness comes stealing o'er my heart.

  My hands I fain had folded upon thy soft brown hair,

  Praying that God may keep thee so lovely, pure and fair

  “There is something about his words. The poetry… the words… are captivating,” Rebecca whispered, elating Eli by her enthusiastic approval.

  “He is one of my favorites. He blends French modernism with German sentiment.” Eli turned the page to Heine's bibliography and read the line quoted at the top without so much as a waver in his voice.

  “Where one burns books, one will, in the end, burn people.” Eli opened his mouth about to say something political, but before he could, Rebecca interrupted his thought.

  “Read me some more of his poetry,” she asked like a child with a bedtime story. Gazing at her blue eyes that matched the sky, he turned the page to find another poem. “I really like this poet,” she said in her naïve age, never hearing of him before today and not fully comprehending the significance he had for Eli.

  “He’s more than a mere poet. He’s a writer and political-religious thinker of Paris. Have you read him?”

  Eli educated Rebecca as she shook her head no and then he spoke in audible softness.

  MY DARLING, WE SAT TOGETHER

  by: Heinrich Heine (1799-1856)

  MY darling, we sat together, we two, in our frail boat;

  The night was calm o'er the wide sea whereon we were afloat.

  The Specter-Island, the lovely, lay dim in the moon's mild glance;

  There sounded sweetest music, there waved the shadowy dance.

  It sounded sweeter and sweeter; it waved there to and fro;

  But we slid past forlornly upon the great sea-flow

  Rebecca rested easily with Eli on her lap. He wrestled to keep his eyes from shutting with sleep. Their intimacy from an embrace on this almost secluded bench in the middle of a cold winter etched into their bodies, the way his head fell onto her legs and the way she kept his head afloat. She was like the frail boat and he the passenger, amidst a dim day with the sweetest symphony surrounding them, sliding upon a great sea flow.

  “Do you think it could stay like this forever,” Rebecca whispered to him, “with us in each other’s arms, laying here in the quiet breeze of winter.” She knew it could never be true, and yet hoped it all the same.

  “Nothing lasts forever,” he said.

  “Then at least for a few hours,” Rebecca sighed, crumbling into his chest with her head against his stomach. Eli lifted his hands up to her snuggled head and stroked her hair in the few moments left of pleasant retreat. Then he pulled himself off the bench, lifting Rebecca with him.

  They returned to their apartments, knowing they each had obligations to fulfill before the day disappeared. Standing outside the building, Eli continued with some of the thoughts heavy on his mind.

  “Prejudice and political unrest,” Eli thought aloud, wanting Rebecca to join in.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think they go hand in hand? When a country is falling apart, it inevitably divides within itself. People cling to what they know, and fear foreign ideas and differences.”

  “I think it takes a unique kind of a person to think or do something differently from the majority of society,” Rebecca said, and Eli curled his body into hers, holding her gaze.

  “In these times, it’s important to think about these things.”

  “But it’s more important to laugh.” Rebecca tickled Eli and he yanked away, holding his side.

  “Rebecca.” He laughed, hoping she wouldn’t dare do it again. “I’m very sensitive.” Rebecca reached out anyway, testing him with her fingers. He grabbed hold of her and tried to stop laughing. Before they parted, Eli to his office and Rebecca upstairs, he stopped her by gripping her arm.

  “ Would you like to go swing dancing next weekend?”

  “That sounds fun.” She nodded and Eli let go of her arm.

  “Have you ever been before?”

  “No, my mutti would never let me. But I’ve always wanted to.” She almost begged in her words.

  “Then, I’ll pick you up just after the sun goes down Saturday night.”

  * * *

  The crowds brought in by the music and dance of swing epitomized what the youth wanted the country to be — soulful and free. It defined a counter sub-culture opposing the repression and work-bent society of their time, longing for everything not German, but English. The bright lights circled around on the high ceilings. Young boys wore checkered jackets, showy scarves, loud hats and swung their umbrellas as they passed the doors. Young ladies wore excessive makeup coupled with hair sprawled over their shoulders, knowing this bright, boisterous room offered the only place they could truly be free.

  A high school crowd packed the room and a group of college youths on occasion stood on their tables, shouting, laughing and then sat back down. Colorful dresses worn by the young ladies swayed side to side on the wood floor and then, when their partners lifted them up, for the briefest moment, their exposed womanhood reminded everyone in the room this place was like no other in Germany.

  The women cavorted high over the heads of the men bracing them and then swung back to the floor. Feet moved quickly, sliding from one side of the floor to the other and the sound of heels and toes smacking the wood echoed with each thud. The band on stage comprised of an anchoring rhythm section, loosely tied wind and brass players, and a soloist who took center stage.

  Rebecca couldn’t take her eyes off of the room, loud, bright and free. She had never seen anything like it before and wasn’t sure if it was proper. Eli grabbed hold of Rebecca, swinging her about in his arms and then carried her onto the dance floor. Rebecca tried to escape at first, pulling herself toward the wall, unsure of her ability to dance. But Eli held her tightly, lifting her into the air and rotating her around and around high above the floor. He placed his hands under her shoulders and then on her stomach, raising her over his head as she gazed down at the swirling world below her. The dark red dress, cut too low at the neckline, swung as Eli held her with strong, sturdy hands.

  Rebecca caught her breath when Eli placed her back on the wooden dance floor. Though swing wouldn’t become widely accepted for several more years, the lack of popularity of the dance didn’t matter to Eli. He only ever followed his passions, and he was passionate about two things for sure. Rebecca and swing.

  “That was wild!” She shouted to him over the sounds of reckless rhythms, keeping a four beat jive. Feet slid and jumped while toes tapped across the floor. A short robust young man with dark hair, a flashy thick scarf, long black and white checkered jacket and umbrella still in his hands slid over to Eli.

  “Eli! You made it!” he shouted.

  “I did.” Eli pulled her close to him, proudly displaying his affections, “And this is Rebecca.”

  “Nice to meet you.” The short man took her hand and kissed it twice. “I’m Jacob.” He held her hand and pulled her towards him, twirling her. Her eyes widened in surprise and Jacob grabbed hold of her other hand before she collided into him. He tapped his feet and then, with a swing of Rebecca’s arms, he danced with her for a moment before returning her to Eli.

  He nodded when he let her go, grasping his short black hat to pull it down in old fashioned politeness before tapping his feet across t
he floor to the other side of the room where his other friends awaited him.

  Rebecca whispered to Eli in intimate closeness while Eli held her waist. “What a character,” she giggled. Eli guffawed at his friend’s antics and then mimicked Jacob’s audacity by pulling Rebecca back onto the dance floor. He grabbed her hands, swinging them back and forth and moved his feet like everyone else in the room, slowly at first to show Rebecca how and then quickly, like he had done this many times.

  Rebecca tried to keep up with him, laughing at herself and then at Eli. The band slowed down the music, out of a Gene Kardos and his orchestra into a jazz-blues rhythm. The music beat like a heart slowing until the floor became saturated with couples arm in arm. The lights dimmed and Eli held Rebecca close.

  Rebecca draped her arms around Eli’s neck and rested her head on his shoulders. They swayed in a naïve bliss forgotten by society outside the doors. When the slow jazz-blues music ended, the band revived the quick stepping swing and the room filled up with throbbing musical improvisations, causing everyone to get up and dance. The long night of dancing tired their feet and they sat down at a table near the wall. Rebecca watched Eli laugh and smiled as he watched the youth of his generation free and jovial inside this room.

  “When am I going to meet more of your friends or your family?” Rebecca asked him with inquisitive eyes.

  “New Year’s Eve, I’m having a party at my house and I want you to come. Many of my friends will be there. They’re looking forward to meeting you.”

  “You’ve told them about me?”

  “Well, not everything,” he smirked. “What about your family? When will I get to meet them?” Eli turned away from the spontaneity of the swing around him and focused on Rebecca.

  “I’m not sure. I mean if you have time, you could come up for Christmas. My parents were asking about meeting you.”

  “You’ve told your parents about me already. I must admit, I’m impressed.”

  “You haven’t spoken to your parents yet about me?” Rebecca asked with a hint of hurt in her voice.

  “It’s complicated with my parents. I will, but I have to find the right time. After the New Year, I promise.”

  “I’m not waiting any longer than that.”

  “I would never make you.”

  They left shortly after that, and Eli drove Rebecca, checking to make sure she was warm. The weather had progressively cooled from autumn into winter and snow already lumped up in corners of streets and trees. When they arrived home, Eli strolled with Rebecca to the front door, bent down in her favorite spot of grass and broke off a single rose dressed with a light snow lace dripping off its petals.

  “I think we ought to keep this a secret,” Eli smirked while handing the purloined rose to Rebecca.

  “You could get thrown in jail or something,” she teased, knowing the offense would only ever escalate to paying a fine to the landlord. “Then they’d throw me in there after seeing all the evidence laid out in vases in my apartment.” She chuckled into Eli’s coat shoulder.

  “How are you going to keep all your flowers alive in this cold climate?” Eli asked.

  “I keep them close to the window for the morning sun and give them lots of tepid water and nutrients.” She darted her head upward with an idea. “You know, you could help me next weekend. I’m going to change them into new pots and refill their vases.”

  “Next weekend?”

  “The twenty-first.” She clarified the date, knowing Eli kept a tight schedule.

  “Alright,” Eli hesitated, thinking of his former obligation to attend synagogue. “I’ll see you in the afternoon.”

  “About two?”

  “Let’s make it three.”

  “Alright, it’s a date, a garden date,” Rebecca smiled. Eli strolled with her up to her room, kissing her on the lips, and then headed to his room.

  The week progressed like all other weeks in Rebecca and Eli’s life, going to work, coming home, and repeating the cycle all over again until the weekend arrived, when they could spend time with one another.

  On the twenty-first, true to his promise, Eli knocked on Rebecca’s door while he juggled a few pots, bags of soil, and vases in a brown box. He purchased the items during the week in between his hectic schedule at work and stored them in the box for this day.

  The knock on the door ripped Rebecca from her work and to her feet. Eli walked in, lowering the box next to the wall, then scanned the untidy room with pots and bags of nutrients sprawled all over the floor and dining table. A small gardening shovel with an orange handle sat next to one of the pots on the coffee table and many flowers lay in the sink, soaking with water.

  “Wow, what a mess,” Eli chuckled realizing the grand project he’d just entered. “When you said repotting some flowers, I envisioned a small venture.” Rebecca laughed at how little he knew of her love for gardening.

  “It won’t take too long,” she reassured.

  “It’s no problem, really. I didn’t have any other plans for the rest of the day…or for the week, if it takes that long,” Eli joked, walking to the sink to examine the flowers. “You have an assortment here.”

  “Though winter, a few of the flower shops still hold a variety and I collect them from wherever I can. They bring life to the room, you know?”

  Eli’s fingers tarried over a tulip in the sink and he pulled it out to show her. “I see the Cornflower I brought you is still alive. That must be a good sign.”

  “Yes, it is.” Rebecca handed Eli a pot and pointed to the bag of soil on the floor. “You can start with refilling this one. The potted flowers are in this corner of the kitchen.” She went to the box of flowers sitting in soil on top of the kitchen counter. “And the ones in the sink will be put in vases with new water and nutrients.”

  Eli scurried to the box on the counter and peeked inside in awe. “Where do you find all of these?”

  “At a few of the local shops, but many I find outside the city where my parents live.”

  Eli lifted a few Gerber Daises out of the sink, delicately washing between the petals and refilling their vases with water. He then took a handful of nutrients from her bag and sprinkled it inside the vase. Next, he arranged the assortment of white Edelweiss, bright blue Cornflowers, and purple Spindles, and placed the vase on top of her cabinet next to a picture of a mother cuddling a baby.

  “Who is this?” He tried to contain his joyful surprise upon discovering something new about her. “Is this you?”

  Rebecca sped across the room to defend her turf. “Well, if you must know, this is Mutti holding me when I was a baby.”

  “Your mama, the woman I’ll meet at the Christmas Eve dinner?”

  “And my papa’s picture is here.” Rebecca lifted the photo of her father standing under a tree with a book in his hands.

  “Where was this taken?”

  “Switzerland. Just after my high school graduation. It is the last photo I have of all of us. Perhaps at Christmas we can take another with you?” she asked.

  “I’d be honored, and I’ll drive us up so that you don’t have to worry about it.”

  “That would be nice and you can also show off your car to my parents.” She quirked her brows.

  “It’s not anything notable. I’m still saving up for a more reliable car.”

  “Still, at least you have a car and in a time when many don’t even have work.”

  “I’m glad you’re so easy to please.” He tickled her on her ribs. She grabbed her side and, when she tried to tug Eli’s hands away, his fingers intertwined with her own. Eli pulled her hands up to his face and then her fingers wiped over his lips holding a touch of soil in the corner. Her gaze caught his, her long lashes touched his, and their noses brushed as their lips found comfort in one long, delicious moment.

  Thursday, December 24, 1931

  Christmas Eve: The Baum house was decorated in keeping with their Christmas tradition with lush fake flowers and vines winding up and through the metal gat
es. Ornate lights hung high on the house roof eaves and around the doors. Shoveled snow lined the street and the walkway leading to the front door. The two story house reached far from one side of the property to the other as if two homes had been fused to make this one magnificent spectacle. Evergreens wrapped in snowy ermine shawls marched up the driveway in majestic elegance.

  When Eli stopped his beat-up Audi at the front gate, he knew he should have bought a BMW, even though he couldn’t afford it at the time. First impressions went a long way in this German town, making up for any preconceived failures Rebecca’s parents might bestow upon him. He thought arriving in a BMW would have made all the difference but, as he doubted his choice in cars, Rebecca grabbed his hand and squeezed it, content in whatever car they pulled up in.

  The gate buzzed open, the lock was released by Mildred, the servant of the home, who raised Rebecca almost entirely by herself. Eli gawked at the mansion-like home and his face flushed red when he parked his aged car behind their pristine Daimler-Benz.

  With the car doors still shut, in this quiet, private moment, Eli allowed her to see a frail side of him. “I will be an embarrassment. Just look at what I drive!” His palms hit, then gripped the steering wheel.

  “Don’t worry about the car,” she soothed. “And you are never an embarrassment.”

  He paused a moment, then nodded. “Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  His confidence returned and he pushed the door open with his shoulder. Moving to her side of the car, he helped her out, both of them taking deep, calming breaths before making their way over the pebbled walkway leading to the two oak white front doors.

  Mildred opened the door before they reached it, her face alight with joy. “It’s so good to see you this time of year. You bring festivity and felicity with your youthful city charms.” Mildred spoke proud like a parent to the girl who was like a daughter to her. “Your parents are waiting for you in the dining room. Chef Ruben has prepared the Christmas feast and will take it to the table once the two of you have settled and seated.”