“It’s very strange that we are both only children.”
“Yes, it is. It is another thing that we share in common. And there are so many,” he said.
She smiled at him. “Yes there are…”
They walked through the zoo in the park, holding hands. It was enough just to be together.
Often when we fall in love with someone from afar we find that when we meet them and spend time with them they do not live up to the fantasy we have created of them. This was not the case with Christa. She was everything and more that Manfred had spent his many hours dreaming about.
What began as a regular Saturday night date grew to include a twice-a-week luncheon. Every Tuesday and Thursday, Christa took the streetcar into town to meet Manfred for lunch. Often they dined at outdoor cafes, on bratwurst and beer. They sat under an umbrella laughing, talking, and smiling at the locals who walked by with their dogs on leashes. Whenever the flower girls came by selling flowers on the street, Manfred always bought a bouquet for Christa.
It was early December, and a light dusting of snow covered the trees, when Christa invited Manfred to Sunday dinner with her parents.
“I would like my parents to meet you. They have begun to wonder where I am going all the time, and just what I’ve been up to. It’s time they knew.” She gazed at him her eyes as warm as honey butter. “But Manfred…” she hesitated. “I have to ask you to please not be offended, but you mustn’t wear that uniform when you come. I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I have to tell you again, my father is a little skeptical about the Party.”
Her eyes told him that she was unsure of how he might respond. She needn’t have worried. No matter what, he would not turn on anyone from her family. He would never alert the Gestapo. If need be, he would cover for her father himself, if it meant that her father would give his blessing to the relationship.
“I will wear street clothes,” he said. “Does your father know what I do for a living?”
“No, I’ve just told him that I am keeping company with someone. He was rather angry that I have not yet invited you to the house.”
“I am glad to be invited to meet your family.”
“You know I would have invited you sooner, but I was afraid of what you might say when you found out how strongly my father disapproved of the Party.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he gingerly took her hand in his. The skin was softer than anything he’d ever felt. She turned to face him.
“I believe in the Party, Christa. I believe we are doing the right thing for Germany and the German people. But, well…” He sighed and took a deep breath. Her eyes were locked on his. “I love you.” There he’d said it. His voice cracked, but he’d said it. Manfred cleared his throat “And so I will respect your father and his beliefs. I will keep the secret of how he feels to ensure his safety…and most of all, yours.”
On the Friday night before Manfred met Christa’s family, Christa agreed to meet Manfred in the city. She was to arrive at his office just as they were closing.
“When you come into town on Friday night, I would like to take you to a fancy dinner and then out dancing. Would you like that?” he’d asked.
“Yes, I would, very much,” she’d said.
During the week, as they sat having lunch in the lunchroom, Manfred had asked all of his coworkers for a recommendation as to where to take Christa. Everyone piped up with a suggestion. This was an important night. Manfred wanted to be sure that everything was perfect.
“Oh, the café at the corner is nice.”
“No, that’s not fancy enough,” Manfred said.
“How about the nightclub with the big statues in front?”
“No, that’s not elegant at all.” Manfred shook his head
Finally, one of the women suggested, and Manfred agreed upon an expensive restaurant with a dance floor and complete band right in the center.
“Can you waltz, Manfred?” a secretary in the office asked. Manfred had become friendly with Lydia. She was an older woman, kind and understanding, and always willing to lend an ear when Manfred wanted to talk, especially about Christa.
“Actually, I can. My mother taught me,” he said. “I am a little nervous, however, because I am going to ask Christa to be my wife tonight.”
“Oh, how very special! Well, she should love the restaurant.”
“I hope so.” Manfred’s fingers caressed the box in his jacket pocket. “Would you like to see the ring I bought?”
“Yes, of course.”
He took the box out of his pocket and pulled the top back to reveal the ring. It was diamond, over a carat. So much more than a poor boy like Manfred would ever have been able to afford. Before, before he became a part of the New Germany, before he claimed his rightful place in the world.
“Oh, my goodness! This is a beautiful ring. Magnificent, really,” Lydia said.
“Thank you. She is more than deserving,” Manfred said.
And so Christa came into the city to meet Manfred at his office after work. He saw the admiration shining in her eyes as he showed her his desk. But when he introduced her to Goebbels, she beamed. It was then that he knew that she would accept his proposal. Christa Henkener would be his wife.
She linked her arm in his as they walked a few blocks to the restaurant. They entered to find a large room with white-tablecloth-adorned tables and a dance floor in the center. The waiters wore white gloves, and the centerpieces were made up of wild flowers surrounding a thick ivory colored candle. Manfred had telephoned the restaurant earlier in the day and arranged for the band to play a song and dedicate it to Christa after dinner.
“I will pass a note through the waiter when I am ready. Then you will announce that the song you are about to play is from Manfred for Christa,” Manfred had told the restaurant host. Of course, the request had been received without a question, once Manfred told the host that he was an SS officer working directly under Dr. Goebbels.
Christa looked lovely. She wore a dove grey skirt with a blouse that matched her eyes perfectly. In her ears, she wore small diamonds and her golden hair waved back away from her face just enough to show off their sparkle.
“You are very beautiful,” Manfred said.
“Thank you.” She smiled her eyes catching the light from the candles glow.
Although the food was scrumptious, neither could eat. There was a tension between them, with him, because he knew, and with her because she sensed something. Once the dinner plates had been cleared, Manfred took Christa’s hand and led her to the dance floor. She moved like a butterfly, delicate and agile in his arms. They danced through two songs before he escorted her back to the table.
He sat across from her for several moments. He didn’t speak, couldn’t look at her. His face flushed and his fingers felt as if they were being pricked by tiny pins. In his pocket, he grasped the small box.
“Christa…” he stammered, “I… I…” Then he got down on the floor on one knee, “Will you marry me?”
She took his hand in hers. With her, other hand she lifted his face until their eyes were locked.
“Yes, Manfred, I will marry you,” she said. A tear fell from her eye and lingered on her cheek. Manfred stood, and he lifted her up and took her into his arms. Then he kissed her.
He brought the ring from his pocket. “I hope you like it.”
“Oh, my! It’s lovely,” she said. He put it on her finger.
“Tomorrow, we must talk to your parents.”
“Yes, tomorrow.”
Manfred gave the signal and the bandleader introduced the song.
“This is for Christa, from Manfred,” he said over the microphone. “It’s called, “I Will Love You Forever…”
“Oh Manfred, I am so touched,” Christa said, her eyes shining.
“I will love you forever, Christa…” he said. “I will.”
That night Manfred hardly slept. He’d won the woman of his dreams. Christa would be his wife. She would bear his chi
ldren. And, together with their offspring, they would go through life in a state of incredible bliss. The Party would help him to buy a home. He would become well known as a man of power to be respected. Life was good and it was in the process of getting better. What more could a poor boy from the wrong side of Berlin ever ask for? He smiled in the darkness. Manfred had made this all happen.
Until the Sunday when Manfred arrived toting a bottle of fine wine for Dr. Henkener, a box of chocolates for Mrs. Henkener, and a large bouquet of red roses for Christa, he had never been beyond the sitting room right off the front door in the Henkener home.
When he rang the bell, Mary opened the door and showed him into the living room where Christa waited with her parents. He’d been careful to wear a civilian suit as Christa had requested. It was made of dark gray wool, well tailored, and had cost him nearly a week’s salary. However, he didn’t care. Christa was worth every penny. Manfred presented them with his gifts. Christa’s mother smiled and glanced over at Christa as he gave her the chocolates. But Dr. Henkener just glared at him. When Manfred handed the physician the wine, he didn’t even thank him. Instead, he just placed the bottle on the coffee table as if it were a mere afterthought.
“Mother, Father,” Christa said, “This is Manfred Blau. We have been keeping company for several months.” She looked down at the floor. “He has asked for my hand in marriage. And I have accepted. We would like your blessing.”
“Oh? You would, would you?” Her father said. “You know how I feel about the Nazis and how they have ruined Germany.”
“Father, please.”
“You think you can fool me by wearing that suit? I know who you are, and more importantly, what you are. You are one of them, one of the murderers. I don’t bless this marriage, Christa. Not at all. He is not a man I want to have in my family. You work for Goebbels, don’t you?”
Manfred knew he had to confess. “Yes, sir. I do.”
“Why? Why do you want to be part of a hate squad, son?”
“How did you know I work for Goebbels?”
“I’m a doctor in this town. I see and hear everything. My patients tell me everything. You and your cohorts are responsible for making many people miserable. Do you have any idea how the propaganda you spread affects people? Do you realize what happened on Kristallnacht because of all the nonsense you spew? People were beaten, tortured, killed. Their businesses were taken away from them. Do you realize that the Jews can no longer make a living because the Nazis have decided that it is a crime to buy anything from a Jewish shop? I have seen doctors, friends of mine, Jewish doctors, learned men, healers who have spent their lives helping others, now put out of work. This is a sin. What you are, are little more than a part of, is a sin.”
“Father…” Christa raised her voice.
“I am not afraid to speak my mind. Take me, arrest me. Go ahead. Send me off to one of your work camps if you wish. But I will tell you this. These crimes you are committing, you and your Nazi friends, they will not go unpunished. There is a God. And I have news for you, it is not Adolph Hitler.”
Dr. Henkener walked out of the room. Christa burst into tears. Her mother went to her and took her in her arms. Manfred sat on the edge of the sofa, feeling awkward and uncomfortable. Dr. Henkener had hurt his feelings, forced him to think too much. If the man were not Christa’s father, he would turn him into the Gestapo today for his comments against the mighty Führer who Manfred had come to believe had saved Germany. But a little voice in Manfred’s head said, “If not Germany, well, at least he saved me.”
“Excuse me…” Manfred said. “I must be going.” He got up to leave and Christa rushed to his arms.
“Wait. Please, let me go for a walk with you.”
If he was correct, he saw a glint of fear in her eyes. Did his beloved believe he might turn her father in for treason? Was she that unsure of his feelings for her?
“All right,” he said.
A fresh blanket of snow covered the sidewalk. Manfred held Christa’s arm so that she would not slip, and also because he loved touching her, being close to her.
“My father didn’t mean what he said,” she said as they walked towards the park. “He thinks he knows so much, but he doesn’t really understand. Forgive him.”
“It doesn’t matter what he thinks. If you will still be my wife, we will marry without his blessing.”
“Of course I will,” she said. “Manfred…” She cleared her throat against the cold. “You won’t report my father, will you?”
“No, darling, I would never do that to you. But you and your mother must speak with him. He is far too outspoken for his own good, and for the good of his family. If he continues to voice his negative opinions, he will surely be arrested. There are spies everywhere. He must learn to be quiet. I love you, Christa, and I would do whatever I could for you and your family, but if he is caught I may not be in a position to help him.”
“I’m afraid for him, Manfred. I’m terribly afraid.”
“I know darling. You must go to your mother and the two of you must make him understand. He is not only hurting himself, but he is also hurting the both of you. Silence him. You must.”
She nodded wondering how she would ever reach her strong-willed father.
“Now, on a happier note…let’s plan a wedding,” he said, gently squeezing her arm.
“I don’t know if my father will pay for a wedding.”
“We don’t need him. We’ll have a small ceremony. Something I can afford.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” He gently pinched her cheek. “Your father will come around. He’ll see that I’m not such a bad guy after all.”
“I hope so. He can be so stubborn sometimes, but he is a good man. And it hurts my heart to think he might not attend my wedding.”
“I know. We will do what we can to try to convince him. Yes?”
“Yes.” She sniffled, and he knew she was close to crying again.
“I love you, Christa. I am going to do everything I can to give you a good life and to make sure you are happy. I think perhaps I loved you from the first time I saw you. Give me a chance. Don’t let this thing with your father discourage you. Please…”
“I won’t. I will still marry you.” She said. But he saw that a dark spot of doubt had covered the sunny glow in her eyes.
“Trust me. When he sees how much being on the right side of the Party can do for him, he will surely change his mind. They are generous and good to their own. I promise you this.”
She nodded.
Chapter 3
“I am getting married,” Manfred told Goebbels the following day as they ate their lunch in Goebbels office.
“Oh, is it the girl who was here the other night?”
“Yes, it’s her. Christa Henkener.”
“She’s a real beauty.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You should be proud.”
“I am,” Manfred said. He thought about talking to Goebbels about his future father in law. Perhaps his mentor could help. But then again, he might alert Goebbels to an enemy of the Reich and the doctor could be arrested. That would be a big problem with Christa right before the wedding, best not to mention anything.
“Where are you going for your honeymoon?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t decided.”
“How about the highlands? It’s beautiful country up there in Munich. I’ve always loved Munich. Once, long ago, I wanted to live there. Have you ever been?”
“No sir, my family never had enough money to travel.”
“Ahh, well, I could arrange for the Party to pay for a lovely honeymoon for you and your bride in Munich. Would you like that?”
“Oh yes sir that would be wonderful. And my future wife would appreciate it as well. ”
“I will take care of it right away.”
“When do you plan to marry?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Well, this is rat
her good news. Hitler will be coming to visit again in early May. Perhaps you might want to invite him to the wedding. Of course, only if that gives you enough time to plan everything.”
Manfred thought of his father in law. He worried that the old man might say the wrong thing. Still, Adolph Hitler, attending his wedding! What a compliment; what an honor. He would surely go places in the Party with a credit like that under his belt.
“Of course. I would be honored, sir. And we will make sure to date the reception during the time when our Führer will be here in Berlin. Do you think he actually might attend?”
“He might. You never know with him. Sometimes he will do something so wonderful and unexpected. There is no telling.”
“I will send an invitation to his secretary as soon as we book the banquet room.”
“No need to book anything, son. Would you like to have the wedding at that lovely restaurant where you proposed?”
“You know where I proposed?” Manfred didn’t remember telling him.
“Of course I know. I know everything that goes on around here. That’s why I am the Minister of Propaganda.”
Manfred felt a pang of concern. Perhaps Goebbels knew about Dr. Henkener as well. “I would love to have it there, but I am afraid it might be too expensive.”
“You’re future in-laws have plenty of money, don’t they?”
“Yes, but they are not as generous with it as we would like.”
“Well, don’t worry. The Party will cover the wedding as well. You just tell your future wife to get her guest list together. And let’s get started planning this wedding. And perhaps, just perhaps, I might play a song on the piano at your wedding.”
“You play piano, Doctor?”
“In fact I do. I love music.”
“So do I,” Manfred said.
“So, Manfred, what do you say? Shall we begin wedding preparations? ”
“Oh, yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Thank you so much,” Manfred stammered. The Party was good to him, very good.
Chapter 4
With only a few months to plan the wedding, the couple was caught in a whirlwind of excitement. They sent invitations to relatives on both sides. Manfred, escorted by Goebbels, went to see the proprietor of the restaurant. They were welcomed like royalty, and offered tastings of the food, until they selected the menu to be served on the special day. The band that had played the night of Manfred’s engagement agreed to play at the wedding. The hall would be decorated with Nazi flags and pictures to honor the Führer and the Fatherland. Goebbels ordered that the tablecloths Manfred designed, the ones with the embroidered swastikas, be used. Manfred agreed whole-heartedly. The silverware was plated with 14-karat gold, and the ivory dishes made of fine German china had tiny gold swastika emblems all around their perimeters. Christa quickly took her mother’s gown to the dressmaker for alterations, which took time, but Mrs. Strum had known the Henkeners for over ten years, and so she agreed to put the job in front of any others she might have in her queue. Of course, part of that decision was made when she was told that Christa’s future husband was working for the SS, directly under Goebbels. Together, Manfred and Christa visited a florist that was highly recommended by Dr. Goebbels. Goebbels made a phone call before the couple arrived, and the florist agreed to do the tables, boutonnieres, and bouquets all in pink tea roses at no charge. A gift, the florist said, for a fellow citizen who was working so hard for their cause.
You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Book 2) Page 4