The Day the Flowers Died

by Ami Blackwelder

  The Day the Flowers Died

  Ami Blackwelder

  Published: 2011

  Tag(s): "historical romance" "war world II romance" hitler catholic jewish germany munich 1930's prejudice oppression "war world II romances" "germany romances" "munich romances" "ami blackwelder"

  FORWARD:

  This novel holds a special place in my heart. Inspired by a dream while teaching in Thailand in the fall of 2009, I awoke with such a great emotional experience between the two main characters, that I had to tell the story. The feeling stayed with me long after I awoke. I could not rest until the story was told.

  Following that day, I researched books, the internet, You Tube, and read historical accounts from survivors as well as quotes and popular music and poetry of that time. Listening to music of that period and watching Heindenburg in black and white walk on german streets into a building to vote for an election, as well as seeing first hand the actual footage of Hitler in Munich was astounding.

  I wanted to stay true to the time period and so outlined the story according to history and survivor’s accounts. I read a variety of points of view to gather a broader picture of events that actually did happen to people living during that time period in Munich. Sometimes what occurs in life is in the history books, but many times we learn about events from the mouths of individuals. I also read old Nazi propoganda from that time from magazines and on brouchures, dating back as early as 1930.

  Each chapter begins with a day of the week and date. This is accurate according to the calendar from the 1930’s in Germany. All feasts fall on the correct days. All days of the week are matched with the appropriate dates. I did this deliberatley to coincide with reality.

  I prefer the old English grammatical usage of an before words that begin with H, as the article is softer than the hard a; therefore, I utilized that preference in my title page. This is not accidental or a result of carelessness.

  The novel was edited once for grammar and content and then edited again for German Jewish accuracy and the one last time for German historical accuracy. This does not mean perfection, but the novel is pretty close.

  If you find anything out of place, please fell free to write the author:

  touch-of-grace@hotmail.com Subject: The Day the Flowers Died

  Please read the activism page at the end of the novel. I include a page of activism at the end of all my fiction novels.

  Praise for The Day the Flowers Died:

  ‘This is truly a love story. I love the way they meet and everything else. They are two people not from differing worlds but upbringing. This is a situation that is very close to my heart. Your descriptions are brilliant and in my opinion for a book of this genre perfect. This is a sensitive subject for some even now but you deal with it perfectly.’ -Ron S

  ‘I will say that I liked your use of color. Not only does it set the scene in the opening chapter, but you keep it as an on-going theme.’ -B. J. Winters

  ‘You have something very special here. You have created a world that you cannot have known personally, but which is completely believable, and that is what all writers aim to do, but only the really good ones achieve as well as you have.’ -Philip Carlton

  ‘This is simply so adorable and sweet at the moment, although I am sure it will not continue that way. The prologue shows the strength of their loving union and the first chapter deals well with their introduction. I love the minute character descriptions - the blue silk tie, missing button, the contrasts of manicured hands and slightly dirty fingernails, but overall, the almost awkward interaction between them as they so obviously are attracted to one another.’ -Kendall Craig

  ‘The gentle love story is told with realism for the time and with the caution of ethnic difference. That's not referred to very often and this shows where Germany was before the Nazi powers were in control. It feels well-researched. The flow of the story is very readable and the particulars and setting give it much atmosphere. You’ve captured the social ambiance preceding a wrenching time. This promises much more’. –Katherine

  Book Taste Review:

  Lovers in a turbulent Europe:

  Ami Blackwelder paints with words. Her special talent is creating scene and atmosphere populated by credible characters. The Day the Flowers Died is a love story, gently narrated, that recreates prewar Germany during the 1930s, and the German government’s menacing swing to the Nazis. The girl’s sweetheart is Jewish, her parents point out the brutal dangers, but innocent ecstasy ignores the politics and the racial hatred that are sweeping the nation.

  As fascist ideology becomes law, the lovers encounter the harsh reality of life and death. Released as an E-book, this novel has quickly gained an unusually large number of downloads. Can there be a trend (much welcomed) away from vampires and back to realistic human passion? This author’s books vary in genre. Happy reading! Posted by Cathy, 9 December 2009.

  The Day the Flowers Died

  An historical fiction

  Ami Rebecca Blackwelder

  The Day the Flowers Died

  An Historical Fiction

  © 2010 by Ami Rebecca Blackwelder

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Ami Blackwelder’s books may be ordered through local book venues and online retailers or by contacting the author:

  http://amiblackwelder.blogspot.com

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  ISBN: 1450571689

  ISBN: 9781450571685 (eBook)

  Published by Eloquent Enraptures Publishing

  Content editor Magnolia Belle

  German Jewish editor Ryan & Joanna B.

  Historical editor Jennifer L.B.

  Cover Art by Web Designs

  Printed in the United States of America by Lightning Source.

  The Day the Flowers Died

  By Ami Rebecca Blackwelder

  Summary:

  An historical fiction set in Munich, Germany in the early 1930’s before the outbreak of War World II. Eli Levin and Rebecca Baum fall passionately in love and while their differences should have separated them, they instead forged a passionate bond that would change their lives forever.

  While religious and social differences weigh heavily on their families in an increasingly tense Germany, the lovers remain unadulterated in spite of the prejudices. After overcoming family issues and social pressures, the two must sustain under a growing violent governmental regime. When the Nazi party heightens in popularity and the party’s ideas influence law, they must face the harsh reality of life and death.

  Poetry used in this novel by Heinrich Heine

  For Mom and Dad

  With Eyes of Prejudice

  With eyes of prejudice upon us,

  Shades of color to hide,

  Ashamed of what they see,

  Ashamed to look inside,

  Encroaching around us,

  Like coffins closed,

  To describe the act of violation,

  There could never be enough prose

  –Ami R. Blackwelder

  Table of Contents

  Friday, September 25, 1931 7

  Saturday, October 17, 1931 19

  Sunday, November 8, 1931 29

  Thursday, December 24, 1931 38

  Thursday, December 31, 1931 50

  Friday, January
8, 1932 58

  Sunday, February 14, 1932 67

  Saturday, March 19, 1932 76

  Wednesday, April 20, 1932 86

  Saturday, May 7, 1932 97

  Thursday, June 2, 1932 105

  Sunday, July 17, 1932 112

  Friday, August 5, 1932 120

  Thursday, September 15, 1932 126

  Saturday, October 1, 1932 133

  Sunday, November 6, 1932 141

  Friday, December 16, 1932 148

  Sunday, January 1 1933 153

  Monday, January 2, 1933 157

  Monday, February 27, 1933 163

  Wednesday, March 1, 1933 174

  Saturday, April 1, 1933 181

  Wednesday, May 10, 1933 189

  Monday, June 16, 1933 196

  Saturday, July 22, 1933 212

  Wednesday, August 9, 1933 222

  Friday, September 1, 1933 231

  Friday, September 25, 1931

  Autumn in Munich was always the most beautiful time to her. The leaves changed colors and fell beneath her feet. She loved to walk over orange, yellow, and brown irregular leaf shapes on the cobblestone sidewalk near her home and listen to the crunch. Chalky white clouds and streams of variant blues filled the sky. She skipped off the sidewalk and onto the wet grass, lowering to the rose bushes aligned around her apartment.

  She snipped a few deep pink roses with the pruning scissors she kept in her side skirt pocket, a pocket stitched just below a 1920’s German Dresden Wire Mesh purse dangling from her left shoulder. She chose the purse because of the lavender colors and flowery design. Her long brown skirt dangled over the grass and moistened around its hem. Her black blouse was missing its top button and it ruffled out of her skirt as she bent.

  “Rebecca! Rebecca!” A man’s voice yelled down to her from five stories above. She placed the flowers in her left hand and glanced up against the sunlight, raising her other hand to protect her eyes. Not recognizing his voice, she squinted to make out his face, his shape, anything, but no one she knew came to mind. The window above closed and then boots clogging against the hard cement steps raced down to greet her. She placed the roses into a brown paper bag nestled under her arm.

  A man a foot taller than her, with eyes chocolate brown and wavy dark, short hair, stumbled out of the door. His beige wool trench coat caught the door’s latch as he fumbled with his silk embroidered pale blue tie which swayed over a crisp white shirt. “Rebecca.” His soft shaven face featured kind eyes under thick eyebrows. He reached his hands out to untangle his coat from the door and rolled his eyes at himself. “I always get stuck here. They ought to do something about this latch. It’s a hazard.”

  Rebecca giggled, holding her hand over her mouth to keep from being impolite. He took a long moment to study her face and then, after a few moments of awkward silence, he pulled an envelope out of his trench coat pocket. “I meant to give this to you. It came to my mailbox by mistake.”

  Reaching towards the envelope, Rebecca noticed miniscule amounts of dirt underneath her fingernails when she brushed across his soft, manicured hands.

  “Thank you,” she said surprised, but then felt herself relaxed.

  “I don’t think we ever were formally introduced. My name is Eli Levin.”

  Her summer sky blue eyes widened, framed by her honey touched dark brown hair draping over her shoulders. He extended his hand to shake hers and she reciprocated, then stepped back, allowing him room to walk away from the door. Like children with lanky arms dangling and not knowing what to do with them, they walked together to the sidewalk.

  “How did you know who I was?” she asked. The sounds of cars and buses from the street vibrated through the soles of her feet.

  “I’ve seen you around. I live…” Eli pointed to the fifth floor, “…right above your room.”

  “I think I’ve seen you…” Rebecca thought back, “two nights ago. You were coming in, holding a leather briefcase.”

  “That was me.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I get home late from work. I remember seeing you heading out that night.” He glanced sideways at her.

  “I was meeting friends for dinner. It was an unpleasant day.”

  “What do you do?” Eli asked with curious wrinkles in his forehead.

  “I’m a waitress at the local diner down the block.” She pointed up the street with her out-stretched forefinger. “Do you know the place?”

  “I’ve tried the food,” he said with a stressed smile.

  “Didn’t like it?” She tilted her head.

  He shrugged with a half gesture of uncertainty. “My friends enjoy the culinary experience there.”

  Rebecca straightened her back and wiped her nails with her fingers. “But you don’t like the food there?” Rebecca caught him off guard with her blatant honesty.

  He fidgeted with his umbrella. “I’ve eaten there once, maybe twice and it wasn’t my favorite.” His eyes widened. “Except now that you work there, perhaps I might have a change of heart.”The corners of his mouth rose and he blushed in his audacity.

  “It’s not my life’s ambition, but it pays the bills.”

  “What do you want to do?” Eli emphasized.

  “I’m going to University for nursing. I want to help people.”

  “That’s wonderful.” He played with his tie. “Are you about finished?”

  “Next summer.” She glanced into the street and noticed cars rushing to get home from work. Then she returned her gaze to Eli and shifted her weight to her back foot. “What about you, what do you do?”

  “I’m helping the family business.” He kept his sentences short. “The only son.” He rolled his eyes. “The eldest.” His lips wiggled a bit and then he finished, “my father wants me to learn the business. I finished school at the University of Ludwig Maximilians a year ago, business school. Didn’t have much choice in the matter.” He wiped his chin.

  “Don’t you hate that, parents choosing our lives for us?” He chuckled at the way her nose wrinkled in frustration as her lashes batted toward the sky.

  “How about your parents? Did they force you into nursing?”

  Rebecca laughed at his question and, out of habitual high class expectation, covered her mouth with her hand again.

  “No, no. I fought to convince my mutti I was not destined to be a house wife.”

  “At least you convinced them. I can’t even get a word in edgewise with my father.” The guffaw of both faded into a comfortable silence which they rested in before Eli cleared his throat. “So, I guess you were on your way upstairs before I interrupted you?”

  “No intrusion. Thank you for the letter. I don’t know what’s wrong with the postman these days. This is the second letter I haven’t received. At least this one found me.”

  “Let me walk you back to the door. It looks like it’s about to rain.” Eli opened his grey umbrella in his left hand. The rain began to pour and the beads dropped and slid off the grey cascading canopy. Eli kept most of the umbrella on Rebecca’s side and walked her to the front metal door where the apartment ledge offered another canopy from the rain. Rebecca reached for the doorknob and then turned around.

  “It was a real pleasure speaking with you. At least now we won’t be strangers.”

  “True,” Eli smiled, “and if I get any more of your mail, I’ll drop by your room.” Rebecca beamed at his suggestion with a certain flirtation familiar to Eli from other women while at University.

  “Maybe I’ll stop by later in the week,” Eli said with a tone of propriety, “perhaps when we’re both free?” He paused for her answer.

  She grinned and her brows rose. “I’d like that.” They each stepped toward the other, without realizing it, with peering, inquisitive eyes and felt each other’s breath on their skin. As they each recognized their own indiscriminate and eager draw to the other, they both stepped backward and allowed the conservative city to intervene between them.

  “I have to go.” Eli blinked and retreated and Rebe
cca twirled to go inside, her long hair bouncing at her sudden movement. Eli took in a deep breath of her, the woman he had seen for months, wishing he had the courage to speak with her. He turned towards the street with a jaunty smile.

  Rebecca ran up four flights of stairs to her apartment. The door squeaked opened to a musty room with a variety of room deodorizers. She pulled the roses from her paper bag and took out a clear crystal vase to fill with water. She arranged the roses in the vase and set it on her kitchen table.

  “There, perfect.” She moved the vase a bit to the left so it sat in the center. Picking up a washrag, she wiped down the table and dusted off her small vanity and dresser chest against the living room wall. In a brief moment, she studied a picture resting on the dresser, a picture she imagined through the black and white exterior of a blond, blue-eyed doting father and dark haired, blue-eyed mother holding their hairless blue-eyed baby wrapped in a thick quilt.

  “I’ll see you guys soon.” After pressing a kissed fingertip to the photo, she strolled to her bedroom. Minimal furnishings scattered through the small one bedroom apartment, which Rebecca preferred; it allowed her more space to move about. After showering, she pulled out a plate of chicken with broccoli from the fridge and sat on her white sofa to eat it cold. For company, she watched her British 1928 Baird Model “C” television set, without sound. Her father, with adamant resistance from her mother, bought it for a birthday gift a couple years ago after his business trip to London. He always bought her expensive presents, even during the Depression, since his mind for business kept his family living an affluent lifestyle.

  She sat with her legs curled underneath her, admiring the mahogany detail of the television’s cabinetry. It was a wooden rectangle, styled with long legs and ornate glass circles at each high corner. It was the subject of much talk in the building and her friends were envious of her to receive such an expensive gift. The reception came in by electro-mechanisms and, though it carried no sound, the pictures kept her entertained. She sifted through many channels of white fuzz until finding a black and white silent program. After watching for several minutes, her eyelids drooped and she fell asleep.