by Roxi Harms
"Yes, my friend Willy is here," Adam replied.
The conversation faltered and they went back to silence. He couldn't think of anything he wanted to say to her that he could say well enough in English.
At the end of the song, Jean smiled up at Adam, a pretty flush in her cheeks. "That was fun, thank you. I'd like to sit down now."
"Okay, yes." Adam placed his hand on the small of Jean's back and followed her partway back to her table.
Jean stopped and turned to him before they reached the table. "Thank you," she said with a polite smile, dismissing him.
A couple of songs later, Adam glanced over to where Jean was sitting, then looked away again. He and Willy had arrived well into the dance, so he didn't have much time. Jean had danced with two other men since him, a younger man who was sitting on the other side of the hall, and one older fellow from the same table as her. The older fellow must have been a friend of her father. Now she was talking with her girlfriend and laughing. The man across from her was the one she'd been dancing with when they first arrived. That must be her father. He said something and Jean leaned in a bit to hear him, then smiled warmly at him. The fat woman beside her father said something to both of them and laughed at her own joke. Jean looked away.
When the next song started, Adam stood up and walked over.
"Pardon me, Jean. Maybe I have another dance?"
Jean looked up at him from the conversation she'd been having with her girlfriend, a surprised look on her face.
"Who is this, Jean?" her friend asked with a wide smile, not taking her eyes off Adam.
"This is Adam Baumann. Adam, this is my friend Mary."
Adam shook Mary's outstretched hand gently. "Pleased to be meeting you," he said, and then looked back at Jean and held out his hand.
"All right," said Jean, standing up.
"You dance very good," Adam said a few minutes later. He wanted to make her smile.
"Well, thank you," she said politely with a hint of a smile. "You also dance very well. Where did you learn?"
What a lovely face, Adam thought as he watched her speak.
"In Hungary and in Germany," he replied. "And I played trumpet in a band at dance halls like here and at many parties I play my harmonica."
"That sounds like fun. You must be talented," she said, and her smile widened.
Just then the song ended. They stepped apart, their arms falling to their sides. Jean turned towards her table.
"Wait, maybe one more dance?"
She turned back towards him but hesitated. There was no music playing yet. A moment later, a polka started up.
"All right," she said, smiling.
Adam grinned down at her happily and held out his hand.
As the last note faded a few minutes later, Adam blurted out what he'd been working up his courage to say. "Can I give you a ride home?"
"No, you may not," she responded somewhat indignantly. "I arrived with my father and stepmother, and I will leave with them, thank you very much. Good night." She softened her words with a smile and turned to walk back to her parents' table.
Adam stood there for a moment, searching his brain for a plan. How was he going to get to see her again? Vancouver was a big place! The next song started.
"Can I have one more dance?" Adam asked, catching up to Jean.
She turned and laughed up at him. "I suppose."
"Where do you live?" Adam asked as he twirled Jean under his arm a few minutes later.
"Lulu Island," she said breathlessly. "Richmond."
"What if I ask your father if I can drive you home? If he says yes, will you ride home with me?"
She looked surprised for a moment.
"Be my guest. But he won't agree," she said, then twirled away.
Following Jean back to the table after the song, Adam took a deep breath and thought about his words. Jean leaned down and said something to the man Adam had suspected was her father, then stepped aside.
"Hello, sir. My name is Adam Baumann," he said to the man. "I like to ask if I can drive your daughter home after the dance."
The man stood and put out his hand. He was tall and well built. "Hello, Adam. I'm John Nordstrom. I've noticed you've had quite a few dances with my daughter tonight," he said as they shook hands. Mr. Nordstrom paused for a moment, sizing Adam up. "I suppose that would be all right. You can follow Kay and me. But your headlights better stay within view in my mirror all the way there."
Adam beamed. "Yes, sir."
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHT
In the Nordstrom's driveway, Adam jumped out of the pickup truck and rushed around to the passenger's side to open Jean's door before she could escape.
"Okay, here we are," he said, offering his hand to help her down.
"Why don't you boys come in for a cup of coffee before you drive all the way back home?" Jean's stepmother called from the front step. Willy and Mary had ridden in the car with Jean's parents.
"Yes, okay," Adam responded immediately.
"What do you do for work, Adam?" Jean's father asked a few minutes later as he filled three beer glasses from unlabelled bottles. Kay had gone into the kitchen to make coffee. Mary and Willy sat on the sofa chatting, their heads close together, while Jean perched on the edge of a chair near where Adam stood chatting with her father.
"I am superintendent for Pipe Construction. We build many projects. We built a big church in Vancouver and a pumping station by Clearwater. Now we are building an aircraft hangar on Vancouver Island for the Canadian Air Force. On Monday mornings I go to the ferry and drive to Comox, and each Friday I drive back to Vancouver because I live in a boarding house on West Georgia with my brother. "
"Well, that is a good job for such a young man," said Mr. Nordstrom, smiling warmly. Adam liked Jean's father.
"Thank you, sir. I am a Class One Journeyman Bricklayer," Adam said proudly. Mary and Willy were talking quietly. Every so often Mary giggled.
"Adam is also a musician, he tells me," Jean interjected as Kay squeezed through the kitchen door carrying a tray of coffee and cake.
"Speaking of music, why don't I put some on?" her dad said, setting down his glass to thumb through the records on the shelf under the record player.
Conversation flowed easily and the time passed quickly.
"It is late. I think we will go home now," Adam said an hour later. He didn't want to wear out his welcome on his first visit. "Thank you for the beer and the music, Mr. Nordstrom." He stood and shook John's hand.
"Adam," said Kay, "why don't you come for dinner on Sunday, around five o'clock?"
Adam glanced at Jean, who was staring at Kay with a surprised look on her face.
"I would love this," he said, walking over to the door and bending to pull on his boots. "Thank you, Mrs. Nordstrom. It is a pleasure to meet everyone." He tipped his hat towards Jean and her dad. "See you on Sunday. Good night, Jean." He caught Jean's eye for a moment and then turned and let himself out the door behind Willy.
Sunday dinner was a success. Jean's father listened with interest as Adam explained how he had immigrated from Germany and worked in the north that first winter. Her stepmother doted on him, laughing gaily at his jokes. After dinner Adam pulled his harmonica from his pocket and blew the opening notes of a song he'd played often at dances in Germany. Soon Jean's dad was guiding his wife around the living room.
Adam had been thinking about the best way to ask Jean on a date. She was smart. He wanted to invite her out to do something interesting. There was a documentary on the John Phillips Sousa Band playing at the Granville Street Theatre. Sousa was his favourite type of music and learning about the life of John Sousa sounded interesting. As Jean walked him to the door at the end of the evening, he blurted out the invitation. She accepted with a pretty smile. Driving home that night, Adam whistled happily.
As they sat in a corner booth of a nearby diner after the movie the following weekend, Adam and Jean talked non-stop. Adam told Jean about learning the h
armonica up in the cherry tree and about playing in the Youth Brass Band. Jean told Adam of her plans to travel the world when she'd saved enough money. The conversation continued as they drove back to Richmond, and before they reached Jean's house, Jean had agreed to see him again.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINE
1954
January was a cold, rainy month in Vancouver, but Adam was enjoying it regardless. Christmas had been wonderful. Jean had loved the little music box he'd given her. She'd surprised him with a gift too, a hairbrush with a beautiful wooden handle. He smiled every time he saw it lying on the little table in his room. He was seeing Jean regularly, and every Monday as he caught the ferry and drove north along the coast of Vancouver Island to the job site, he thought about what they could do the following weekend.
It was Friday, and he was planning to take Jean out for dinner at the Johann Strauss Building on Hornby Street. Dave said they served good German food and played dance music after dinner. Willy was going to ask Mary and the four of them would have dinner together. George hadn't been interested when Adam mentioned the fancy restaurant. He and his girlfriend would probably just eat something back at the room and go for a walk.
Adam was thinking about holding Jean close on the dance floor after dinner when he pulled up in front of the office where she worked. She normally came out, but this week he had to go in. Her boss, Mr. Elder, was putting on an "after Christmas" party, and had asked Jean to invite him.
"Well, hello. You must be Adam," Jean's boss said as he stuck his hand out to Adam a few minutes later. "Can I pour you a scotch?"
As Mr. Elder poured the drinks, Jean introduced the other men who had gathered around them.
"Jean tells us you're German," one of them commented.
"I lived in Germany for a few years, but I grew up in Hungary," responded Adam.
"And what brings you to Canada?" asked someone else.
"Canada was looking for tradesmen and I thought it would be an interesting place." Adam could feel the men looking at him intently.
"Are you planning to settle here in Vancouver for good?" asked Jean's boss, as he handed Adam a glass. Adam looked at him without speaking, and then looked around at the other guys. What was this about?
"I'm sorry," Mr. Elder continued. "We've been looking forward to meeting you. We're very fond of Jean around here."
Adam felt his face get hot. Were they implying he wasn't good enough for Jean? He looked over at her. She shrugged ever so slightly as if to say she didn't know what was going on either. "Well, let me tell you a bit about myself then. Maybe we sit down?"
Over the next 15 minutes, Adam proceeded to tell Jean's boss and co-workers about being raised in Hungary and deported to Germany after the war. He explained what it was like to live in Laudenbach, about bringing Theresa back from the Russian Zone, trading on the black market to get enough food for all his relatives, and challenging the Journeyman Bricklayer's exam. Then he suggested that he and Jean get going in order to be in time for their dinner reservation.
"It was good to meet you, Adam," said Mr. Elder, giving Adam's hand a hearty shake. "You kids have a good time tonight. You can usually find us in here on a Friday after work. Come in for a drink anytime."
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TEN
Between the Swedish Hall, the Hungarian Hall, and the various other dance halls that dotted downtown Vancouver, there was always a good band playing somewhere, and rarely a weekend passed without a night of dancing, for Adam and Jean both loved to dance. Willy and Mary, and George and his girlfriend often came along, and the six young people laughed gaily as they swirled around the dance floor to polkas and foxtrots, and moved close together when a waltz was played. When Adam wasn't guiding Jean around the dance floor, they went out to movies and spent quiet evenings away from everyone, talking late into the night. Sunday afternoons were spent at Jean's home in Richmond, as Sunday dinner with Jean's parents had become a weekly event.
Adam's birthday was approaching. On February 11, a Thursday that year, he would be 25. He'd saved his Christmas bonus, and planned a special date with Jean.
The evening had been perfect so far. They'd been to a new restaurant on Hastings Street. Afterwards, Adam had driven them to a viewpoint that looked out over the city.
As they sat gazing at the twinkling sea of lights, he cleared his throat. "Jean, there is something I want to ask you," he said, turning towards her on the seat. "I am so happy that I met you." He'd reached in his pocket while he was talking and pulled out a box. Jean gasped. He opened the box and held it out towards her. Jean looked at it and back up at Adam. Her eyes were big. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Jean Nordstrom. Will you marry me?"
Jean just stared at him. Then she shook her head. "Adam, I'm sorry if I've led you on. I can't marry you."
"Why not?" he asked, a confused look on his face.
Jean glanced at the ring and then looked into Adam's face. "I just don't want to get married."
Adam swallowed, and looked out over the city lights for a moment, then tried again. "I know it's not much of a ring. Think of it as a down payment. When I make my fortune, you will have a big diamond."
Jean laughed her beautiful laugh. "It's not that. It's a lovely ring. But we hardly know each other. We only met two months ago."
"I know enough and I love you. You are the woman for me."
She was silent again, looking down at her hands in her lap. Adam waited. Finally, she looked at him.
"Adam, I have no plans to get married any time soon. I've been working for almost two years now. I told you, I've been saving up to travel. Mary and I are going to see the world before we settle down."
Adam thought for a moment. "I can be your travel guide. I already speak three languages. I'm sure you want to see Europe. Well, I'm from Europe. I can show you around. I want to see the world too. Let's see it together."
She'd been watching him intently while he spoke. Now she looked out at the city lights, deep in thought.
A few minutes later, she laughed quietly, still looking out the windshield of the truck towards the city. "My boss called me into his office on the Monday morning after they interrogated you that night. He said you have rough edges and you'll need a lot of smoothing out. He said I was just the person to do it, and that we would be a very good match."
"You see?" Adam put his finger on Jean's chin and gently turned her face towards him. "Even Mr. Elder knows we should be together. Let me put this ring on your finger."
Adam held his breath. She wasn't saying no.
"You're crazy," she said finally, holding out her left hand.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED ELEVEN
Adam whistled as he climbed the front steps of the Nordstroms' house on Sunday afternoon. He hadn't seen Jean's father yet since Jean had accepted his proposal three nights earlier, and he was looking forward to it.
"Come on in, Adam," Jean's father said as he opened the door, smiling weakly.
"Hello, John," said Adam, shaking the offered hand, looking from Jean's dad to Kay and back again expectantly.
"I hear congratulations are in order," said Kay from where she was sitting in her favourite easy chair.
"Yes, thank you," Adam responded hesitantly, glancing back at Jean's father.
"Sit down," said John. "Jean is in the kitchen finishing up dinner." There was an awkward pause. John seemed distracted. Something wasn't right.
"It's wet outside today," Adam said finally. "It will be another wet week at work."
"Yes, likely," replied John.
Adam was relieved when Jean appeared in the kitchen doorway a few moments later.
"Hello, Adam," she said, flashing him her bright smile. "Dinner is served, everyone."
"Hello, Jean," he said as he got up and gave her a little kiss. "You look beautiful."
"Thank you," she said, looking up at him, then turned to her dad and Kay. "Come on, before it gets cold."
"This is delicious, Jean," said Adam, smiling at hi
s fiancée as he helped himself to another slice of meatloaf. They'd been talking about what was new at Adam's job site and John seemed a bit more relaxed.
"When are you two thinking about getting married?" asked Kay. John stopped chewing.
"Oh, not until next year I expect," said Jean. She was watching her father as she spoke.
Adam swallowed his food and took a drink of water. "Well, we haven't discussed it. I was thinking it might be nice to get married in June on Jean's birthday, since we got engaged on mine."
No one spoke for a moment.
"What's the rush?" John asked.
"It's not a rush," Adam replied hesitantly. "Jean and I will have to talk about it and decide on the right date."
"What was that all about?" Adam asked Jean in the truck after dinner. He'd invited her to come for a drive so they could talk.
"I'm sorry, Adam," she said. "Dad was so happy when I told him Friday morning. He went to the Swedish Hall last night to tell his friends and celebrate. And one of the men, a guy who's been a friend of the family since before I was born, apparently said to him, ‘You're going to let your only daughter marry a Nazi?'"
Adam pulled over to the curb and shut off the engine.
"What?" he said finally.
"It's made him a bit unsure. And I couldn't answer his questions. We've never really talked about the war, Adam."
Adam sighed and slumped back in his seat for a minute, then turned in his seat to face Jean. "Okay, I'll tell you about the war. And then we'll go back to the house and I'll tell your father about it."
Jean listened quietly as Adam explained how the German propaganda had glorified the war and the SS, and how he'd run away from home to get away from his dad and have an adventure. He told her about being a 15-year-old boy freezing in a foxhole, and about going for days without food or sleep. Then he told her about being held captive, first by the French and then the Russians. And finally, about being loaded into a cattle car with his family and neighbours and transported to Germany as a refugee.