Forever Fleeting

by Bret Kissinger

  Hannah was shy by nature and was not under the spell that Wilhelm was. But she was taught to be helpful when in a guest’s home. So was Wilhelm, but he did not have the will to rise from the piece of heaven he was sitting on.

  “You best be careful, Erich, or you may end up on these walls,” Heinrich teased, standing between the elk and wild boar mounts and acting like he had been stuffed by a taxidermist.

  Hannah made sure to stay close to Lena. It was a realistic possibility she could get lost in the house. They stepped into the kitchen. Two other women were helping Ida with preparing supper and the desserts. Hannah watched and took note of how it was being prepared.

  “Do you need something, Lena?” Ida asked.

  The black kitchen island’s granite top was covered with cut vegetables and a dusting of sugar and flour. The stove top was covered with sizzling pans and boiling pots.

  “Beer for the men. Wine for us women,” Lena said.

  “There is a bottle of ’29 in the cellar. Be sure not to take your father’s beer. His guests have a select taste,” Ida said.

  “Come on, Hannah,” Lena beckoned.

  She led Hannah toward the door that led downstairs. She flipped a switch and the light powered on. As they descended the steps, there was not a single creek. The basement was expansive, but it was the three horizontal racks of wine that housed over a hundred bottles that drew Hannah’s attention. Each row was divided first by type and then by year.

  “My parents are a bit of wine fanatics,” Lena added unnecessarily.

  Lena searched through the wine and every now and then, pulled one from the rack, and stated its year and importance. There was a bottle of Merlot from 1918, which Jakob had brought home to Ida after his time fighting in the Great War had ended. There was a bottle of Chardonnay from 1919 from Ida and Jakob’s wedding, a bottle of 1896 that Jakob’s parents had bought on the day he was born, and a bottle of Pinot Noir from Paris that was bottled in 1876, which Jakob’s father had received on his sixteenth birthday.

  Hannah enjoyed a glass of wine but was by no means a wine connoisseur. But she loved the stories behind each bottle, and even though Hannah lived above her family’s shop and Lena lived in a castle, they were both family oriented.

  Lena pulled a bottle of 1929 Cabernet Sauvignon from the rack.

  “I have a bottle of Riesling from 1912 that I steal sips from when I’m having a rough day. Do you want to try it?” Lena asked.

  “I would never ask,” Hannah said.

  “You are not asking. I am asking you,” Lena reminded.

  Lena crouched down and carefully slid the bottle from the rack. Hannah grabbed the bottle of ’29 Cabernet Sauvignon to free Lena’s hands so she could uncork the ’12 Riesling.

  “I like to think of where the wine has been. And think of the year in which it was bottled,” Lena said.

  “The English ship, the Titanic, which sank in 1912,” Hannah suggested.

  “Perhaps this bottle was on the ship, and it was picked up by one of the lifeboats. Or it floated all the way to Europe,” Lena continued, pulling the cork out of the bottleneck. “Let it breathe for a moment”—no doubt she had heard the phrase a thousand times from her oenophile parents. She offered Hannah the first drink. Hannah took a sip and handed it back to Lena. It was remarkably smooth and strong and easily the best wine she had ever had. Lena took a swig before pressing the cork back into it.

  “Now we have to find the beer for our big, strong men,” Lena said, rolling her eyes.

  Hannah smiled. She had expected to be shier than she was. She had a small circle of people she trusted, and almost all were blood. But Lena had been generous, friendly, and interesting. Hannah never got the feeling that Lena was judging, and for that, she liked her immediately.

  “My father drinks this. He buys it from the brewery directly, and he serves it during his meetings,” Lena said, lifting a pack of six bottles of dark beer. She set the beer back in the crate before moving to the hard liquors. “But, secretly, my father has a week spot for American Whiskey,” Lena said. Her mouth formed an O that said, “Oh, the scandal.”

  The room was dim, and it seemed Lena had the entire inventory memorized and did not need to read a single label.

  “Those are what we serve to obnoxious men,” Lena said, pointing to a crate of bottled beer.

  Hannah lifted the crate, and they climbed up the steps and hurried through the busy kitchen and back into the living room.

  “I thought you had left,” Erich teased.

  “It is my house, you idiot,” Lena said, tossing a pillow from the couch at his face.

  Seeing Hannah struggle with the crate, Wilhelm snapped free from the spell the couch had cast and hurried to take it from her.

  “We were hoping you men had taken the hint and left,” Lena joked.

  She sat on Erich’s lap, and he wrapped his arms around her. The men finished two beers and the women, two glasses of wine before the door upstairs on the mezzanine finally opened. A veil of smoke wafted out. The chatter grew louder as the shadows inside crept out and down the steps. Each man was dressed in uniform adorned with medals and patches with the red armband of the swastika.

  “Hail, Hitler!” the officers chanted as they struck the Nazi salute.

  Lena nearly jumped off the chair, and the others too rose and repeated the words and saluted.

  The Nazi officers smoked cigarettes or cigars that were complimented with Scotch or beer, the very same Lena had pointed out earlier.

  “My daughter, Lena, is having some friends over for dinner tonight,” a handsome, cleanly-shaven man said.

  His hair was the same color as Lena’s, thick, kept short, and parted to one side. The man was Lena’s father, Jakob. The other officers nodded and smiled. Some outranked Jakob, some did not, but he was ascending more rapidly than any of them. Though Jakob liked to think of himself a lion, to Hannah, he resembled a coiled snake that could strike without warning.

  “Lena, introduce us to your friends,” Jakob said, taking a puff from his cigarette and leaning closer to the fireplace. It did not help the image of a snake Hannah had of him. The cold-blooded was trying to warm itself.

  Lena obliged, and Jakob nodded at each when Lena recited their names, the fire dancing in the reflection of his eyes.

  “I am Sturmscharführer Jakob Hauser. Welcome to my home,” he said as he threw his cigarette into the fireplace.

  Hannah had liked Lena almost immediately but had gotten a different vibe from her father. He seemed cold and calculating, and as he looked over each, it was as if he was trying to read their minds.

  “Please don’t hesitate to make yourselves comfortable. I see Lena has started you men out with beer. I’m afraid I must insist that you drink wine at dinner. A proper meal requires a fine wine,” Jakob advised.

  “Sturmscharführer Hauser, thank you for having us,” one of the higher-ranking members said.

  “It was my pleasure, Obersturmführer Lammers,” Jakob responded.

  The officers inclined their heads ever so slightly. One of the women who had been in the kitchen helping Lena’s mother now stood at the entrance.

  “Ellie, please help these men find their coats,” Jakob instructed.

  “Yes, Sturmscharführer,” Ellie said.

  The officers followed the attractive house help, stealing glances at her backside. Ellie handed them their coats and bid them a good night. She closed the door and went back into the kitchen.

  “I will go help your mother in the kitchen,” Jakob said.

  “And by help, he means sample bits of dinner while my mother isn’t looking,” Lena teased.

  “Such slander,” Erich said.

  “I’m afraid she is right, Erich,” Jakob said.

  “Then let me know if I can help,” Erich joked.

  “Remember to finish your beers. We drink wine at our table,” Jakob said before leaving for the kitchen.

  Erich, Wilhelm, and Heinrich debated over whether or
not Mr. Hauser meant to finish the opened bottles in their hands or also the three unopened ones. Wilhelm would have been fine finishing his opened beer, but Heinrich and Erich had opened one more, and he did not want Lena to run back downstairs for a single bottle.

  Helga’s third glass of wine stifled her runny nose and warmed her still-chilled body, and she finally had the courage to include herself in the conversation. As none of the three girls were largely built, the bottle of ’29 hit them like the Stock Market Crash of the year in which the wine was bottled. When Ida, now dressed in a red evening gown, came to tell them dinner was ready, all six were at various stages of inebriation.

  A case of the giggles had taken over as they sat at the table. Ida and Jakob smiled at one another. The ’29 and the strong German beer had done its job. None, apart from Lena, had expected the spread of food that stretched from end to end that included beef, pork, chicken, potatoes, yams, green beans, peas, carrots, and corn. The counter was decorated with cherry pie, apple pie, and white cake.

  “You have overdone yourself, Mrs. Hauser,” Erich said while the others chimed in their approval. The table, a thick oak, was nearly bowed and buckled at the center from the spread.

  “I wanted to make sure everyone had something they liked,” Ida said.

  Nobody wanted to ruin the food. It looked like edible art. But as soon as Ida dug the spoons into the food, it was fair game. The table seemed to be divided between carnivores and herbivores. Erich had nothing but meat on his plate, and Helga had nothing but potatoes and vegetables. Hannah had elected for a small amount of beef and a large spoonful of potatoes. The loaf of bread disappeared quickly in an attempt to soak up stomachs full of alcohol. But Wilhelm, Heinrich, and Erich kept diverting their attention to the counter and the pies and cake atop it. Even if no one else had heard it, the desserts called their names and pleaded them to take a slice.

  Jakob had insisted on choosing the wine for each person. The selection depended upon what was on each of their plates. Hannah was given a glass of Zinfandel, Helga, a glass of Viognier, and Wilhelm, a glass of Pinot Noir. Erich and Heinrich had taken such a wide array of food that they had sampled every kind of wine. Jakob’s selections did not disappoint.

  “Lena tells me you are from Schönfeld too, Wilhelm,” Jakob said, twirling his glass of Mourvèdre before taking a sip.

  “Yes, Sir,” Wilhelm answered.

  “Did your father serve during the Great War?” Jakob asked.

  “He did,” Wilhelm answered.

  “Good man. Victory would have been ours if we had the right leaders. We have that man now,” Jakob said confidently.

  “Now if we could only chase the rats out of Berlin,” Ida added.

  “Rats?” Helga asked.

  “Jews,” Jakob clarified.

  The word made him nauseous as if his wine had suddenly gone bad.

  “Rats are preferred,” Lena said.

  “The rats will be scurrying,” Jakob promised.

  Hannah finished her glass of wine, and Jakob took the liberty of refilling it. Wilhelm took note of how much of it she drank and thought of surprising her with a bottle, but when Jakob moved his hand, the year 1932 printed on the bottle was now visible and might have been the price too.

  “We are the hawks. The rats can scurry. But they cannot hide,” Jakob said.

  He was the last to set his fork down. The Hausers were accustomed to fine dining and knew to savor the flavor, and because of that, their dinners were three times as long as any Wilhelm had had with his father. Added to that was the fact the Hausers actually spoke with one another.

  Ida rose to clear the table, and the others unanimously stood to help, but Ida waved them away.

  “I am fine. Please help yourself to dessert,” Ida said, beaming with a polite smile.

  Though the dinner satisfied every taste bud they had, they had made the right decision in saving enough room for two pieces of pie or cake. The only thing desired after dessert was a nap. But as Ida, Ellie, and the second helper cleared the table and started the commendable task of washing a mountain of dishes, Lena led the others up the spiraling staircase to the billiards room. Apart from the obvious billiard table, a dartboard hung on the wall, and there was a poker table in the middle of the room surrounded by black leather wheeled chairs with padded armrests. Cigarette smoke and booze had become permanent residents of the room, and the walls blew puffs of smoke and belched beer habitually. It was the room where Jakob lured the Reich’s most influential people, coaxing them with fine wines and strong cigars to increase the favorable light cast upon him and his family.

  The next two hours involved over fifty card games. The playing cards, which had been new during the first shuffle and deal, showed signs of wear and tear by the end of the second hour. The wine continued to be poured, but Wilhelm and Hannah had to refuse. They would have to leave soon to meet Hannah’s ten-o’-clock curfew.

  Helga had sat out the last hand of Schafkopf—Sheepshead. Erich and Wilhelm had played hundreds of hands with Erich’s grandmother the summer of their thirteenth year. Hannah and Wilhelm, who had the Jack of Diamonds, therefore, making him partner, had won easily with Erich, Lena, and Heinrich not even getting schneider (30 points). They refused a rematch and rose from their seats.

  “You are leaving?” Heinrich asked.

  “Yes, I am getting tired,” Wilhelm answered.

  He would rather face the retaliation for leaving than have it placed on Hannah’s curfew.

  “Thank you so much, Lena,” Hannah said, preparing to leave.

  “Yes, thank you,” Wilhelm repeated.

  “My pleasure. It was great to meet you. Please tell me we can do this again sometime,” Lena said enthusiastically.

  Helga was slouched in her seat and fast asleep. Wilhelm knew Heinrich to be a man with a wandering eye and as someone who liked to roam. It was likely Wilhelm would never see her again. When the billiards room door opened, the silhouettes of Mr. and Mrs. Hauser cuddling together on the Chesterfield chair were cast by the fire, the cigarette in his hand flashing red when he puffed it. Hannah and Wilhelm descended the spiraling staircase.

  “Leaving?” Ida asked as she sat up.

  “We really should be going. We cannot thank you enough,” Hannah said.

  “Our pleasure. We want Lena to surround herself with good German stock,” Ida said.

  “Shall we see you again?” Jakob asked.

  “I hope so,” Wilhelm answered.

  “Are you planning on walking?” Ida asked.

  “Yes, we are not far,” Hannah said.

  If one kilometer was bending the truth, two and a half was breaking it.

  “Are you sure?” Ida asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” Hannah said.

  Wilhelm agreed with Hannah. They had eaten pounds of their food and drank hundreds of dollars’ worth of their fine wine. To ask or even accept an offered ride would have been overstepping.

  “Be careful tonight,” Jakob cautioned.

  Ida still disagreed with their choice to walk, but Jakob had grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward him.

  Wilhelm instantly regretted not taking the ride the moment the chill November air hit his face. But, at least, he was more prepared than he was on their first date, and he would get nearly half an hour more with Hannah than the five minutes of silence in the back seat of one of Mr. Hauser’s cars.

  “I did not know we were going out with your friends,” Hannah said.

  She was not mad, only surprised.

  “I am sorry. I just met Lena tonight, and she asked me to bring you,” Wilhelm said.

  Hannah only nodded.

  “Did I do something wrong?” he asked.

  “No. I had fun. I just want to know beforehand. I’m being silly.”

  “No, I should have told you.”

  Surprises were one thing, but meeting a group of strangers was something that was obviously out of Hannah’s comfort zone.

  “It is freez
ing,” Hannah said.

  Wilhelm had thought the night had gone well but, clearly, Hannah thought differently. It made it strange she refused a ride home.

  “I do not like being in people’s debt,” Hannah explained.

  “What do you mean?” Wilhelm asked.

  “Lena’s father—he is a member of the Schutzstaffel,” Hannah began but paused.

  The Schutzstaffel or SS was Hitler’s die-hard loyal soldiers. Those two letters instilled fear in many.

  Wilhelm was at a loss for words.

  “My father trusts me to be smart. I want to be able to tell him where we are going. I’m sorry,” Hannah continued, “I’m also sorry for making you walk.”

  “I do not mind walking,” Wilhelm reassured her.

  He reached for her hand and was elated when she did not pull it away. The further they walked, the more relaxed she became, and their conversation flowed. They discussed each wine they had had, the best part of the meal, the close losses in cards, and Lena and Helga. But the city buzzed more than usual that night. Three police cars sped past, their red and blue lights spinning and dancing off the side of the buildings. After a fourth sped by, it was hard to think of it as a coincidence. Something was happening.

  The Night of Broken Glass

  Hannah squeezed Wilhelm’s hand. The streets, which had been eerily empty, were now filled with people quiet as ghosts. An ominous aura clouded the streets close to her home. Windows had been smashed, and the streets were littered with shards of glass. Some of the businesses were on fire, the smoke wafting toward the full moon. It cast an unearthly glow. Owners and spectators looked on helpless, terrified, and confused.

  “I have to get home,” Hannah gasped.

  Jakob Hauser’s words “be careful” had at first sounded like the plea of a worried parent but, now, they were the words of warning from someone with dangerous information.