Forever Fleeting

by Bret Kissinger

  Wilhelm had a terrible feeling that his once pure white tux was now peppered gray with dust. The father, son, and holy priest walked up the steps and into the church. His father’s hand acted like a broom, but not as gentle, as he swept the dust off Wilhelm’s shoulders and back. Josef and Emma were standing in the first row with their backs to them. When they heard the approaching footsteps, they turned. Wilhelm’s heart froze, and his eyes refused to blink.

  Hannah was a vision in a white strapless dress, designs intricately sewn throughout, accenting the dress. The blue rose Wilhelm had given her was in her curled hair. She flashed her mesmerizing smile—a combination of nerves and excitement. Wilhelm could only stare for moments until he returned her smile with one of his own. Hannah had always looked beautiful but, in a building of immaculate symbology and statues, none was more so than Hannah.

  Father Declan moved to the back to put on his white chasuble and stole. He emerged from the back and ushered Wilhelm forward with a smile and a wave. Petyr took his place next to Josef and Emma. Wilhelm’s legs shook the whole walk to Hannah. He stared long and hard when he was at her side. There was not a single thing about the way she looked he wanted to forget.

  “I was thinking of secrets and how they pertain in the Bible. If you are married in secret with just a few witnesses, does it count? Does it count in man’s eyes? In God’s eyes? Matthew chapter ten verses twenty-six through twenty-eight came to my head. ‘So, have no fear of them, for nothing is covered that will not be revealed or hidden that will not be known. What I tell you in the dark, say in the light, and what you hear whispered, proclaim on the housetops.’ What we say in this dark church is heard by God, the father. These are dark days we live in, Wilhelm Schreiber and Hannah Goldschmidt. You are to be the light for each other,” Father Declan began the ceremony.

  Wilhelm was lost in memories and in Hannah’s eyes. The day Wilhelm had envisioned almost two years earlier in the “Rote Blumen” had arrived. He slid her wedding ring onto her right index finger, as was Jewish custom. After the ceremony, the ring would be moved to her left hand to follow tradition. It was also a way to keep others in the dark about their marriage, as most Germans wore it on their right ring fingers.

  Both repeated the vows spoken by Father Declan. They were not only vows but also Wilhelm’s ketubah, the outlining of the three things—clothing, food, and conjugal relations—he would provide for Hannah. While Josef’s hand was fully entwined with Emma’s, Petyr’s was conversely alone. His hand, which nearly always trembled, did so at a much greater frequency, his thoughts dwelling on his late wife, Saundra, and how she would have loved to see their son get married.

  At the words, Wilhelm and Hannah leaned in and kissed. They were married under Jewish law, Catholic law, man’s law and, most importantly, God’s law. Josef and Emma stepped toward them, arms open wide. Josef set a glass bottle wrapped in cloth at Wilhelm and Hannah’s feet, and Wilhelm smashed it with a stomp of his foot.

  “Mosel Tov!” Emma and Josef screamed. They wrapped their arms around Wilhelm and Hannah while Petyr stood in the pew, trying to stifle his trembling hand by squeezing the top of the pew.

  Father Declan led Wilhelm and Hannah into the backroom. A small plate of food, mostly bread, was on the table. In Jewish culture, it was called the yichud. Father Declan left them alone. Hannah ate almost all the loaf, and it helped suppress her gurgling stomach. Hannah and Wilhelm stayed for twenty minutes, sharing a glass of wine before walking back out into the church.

  “Time for a first dance I should think,” Father Declan said.

  It was hard to care about the danger he put himself in by marrying couples against the law when the joy on the couple’s faces was as prominent as any mole or freckle or when seeing the relief wash away a parent’s worry.

  The church was quiet without music, but it had never stopped Hannah and Wilhelm before. But the keys of the piano filled the quiet church with beautiful music. Wilhelm had expected either Emma or Josef, Father Declan or even a hobo from the street to be seated at it—anyone but his father. But he was there, his trembling hands steady and true as they hit the keys. It was a beautiful bit of musical melody, both loving and sad.

  “I did not know your father could play,” Hannah whispered.

  “Nor did I,” Wilhelm said.

  What an angel Wilhelm’s mother had been. She had hoped Wilhelm learning music would bridge the divide between the two men she loved. It was a gift she had given them both but had been unwrapped only now.

  Hannah had shown Father Declan how to work her camera, and he photographed them as they danced. Hannah’s parents held her veil over Hannah and Wilhelm’s heads. When the music ended, they pulled away from each other.

  “And a gift for you, Mrs. Schreiber,” Father Declan said, holding out Hannah’s passport. She took it and opened it. Her name, address, hair, and eye color, and other information were written perfectly in the same handwriting, only Goldschmidt had been replaced with Schreiber, and the large red J was absent. Hannah gleamed at the possibility of living a life unhindered.

  “Thank you so much,” Hannah said.

  “We are all children of God. Not everyone has forgotten that,” Father Declan said, putting a hand on her shoulder and flashing a charismatic smile.

  “We will see you later,” Josef said. He kissed Hannah’s cheek, and Emma hugged both her and Wilhelm. It was another simple gesture that once again affirmed Wilhelm had gained not only a wife but also a family.

  “Petyr, you are more than welcome to stay at our home,” Emma reminded.

  She was unwaveringly kind, much like his own mother had been. Petyr nodded in thanks and tentatively stepped toward Hannah and Wilhelm.

  “I,” Petyr said, but paused, “I wish your mother was here.”

  “Me too,” Wilhelm said.

  Petyr only nodded and shook Wilhelm’s hand and squeezed his shoulder. To say anything further would cause him to surrender to his loss.

  “You look beautiful, Hannah,” Petyr said.

  He followed Josef and Emma out of the church. After allowing five minutes for the others to leave, Hannah and Wilhelm walked to the staircase and through the secret passage to the basement of the rectory. They gave their thanks to Father Declan once more and left. It was nearly one in the morning, and the city was covered in a thick eerie feeling. They strolled hand in hand to Wilhelm’s apartment. Erich was staying at Lena’s.

  Wilhelm unlocked and opened the door to his apartment and flicked the light switch on. Both knew what they needed to do to consummate the marriage, but it now had greater meaning than the countless other times.

  “Are you still hungry?” Wilhelm asked.

  A loaf of bread would have done nothing to stifle his hunger from a day of fasting.

  “No,” Hannah said.

  Her mind seemed to be elsewhere.

  “Do you regret it?” Wilhelm asked.

  “No, the thoughts in my head about you are not what is troubling me.”

  His morale, which had nosedived, now skidded and bounced on the ground.

  “Then please share what is?”

  “I am happy but selfish. I am free to live a life. But my parents cannot. I am sad that I have to leave them,” Hannah said.

  “We can visit them any time you want, Hannah. I would not stop that,” Wilhelm assured her.

  “I know you would not, but they are watching the Jews more and more. They are taking many. Forcing them to board a train to relocate. What if my parents are taken and I never find out where they are?”

  Wilhelm gently grabbed her hands and ushered her to the couch. He stared into her brilliant blue eyes. He wanted her to know the solemn vow he made would always hold true.

  “I don’t know what the future will bring, but I do know I will be there with you when it comes,” Wilhelm said.

  Hannah let her appreciation known with a slight curve of her lips. She rose from the couch and walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wat
er. Wilhelm unbuttoned his shirt on the way to his bedroom. He sat on the edge of the bed and yanked off his shoes. Hannah drank the glass of water in a daze. Wilhelm was obviously dejected, but Hannah knew it was not because she had not been in the mood for sex but because she was melancholy, and there was nothing he could do.

  But he had done something. He truly cared, and there was not a more attractive quality than that. She set the glass down on the counter and took long strides to him. He stood in his pants and a tank top. Hannah helped him with the tight tank—a nervous sweat before and during the ceremony had caused it to stick to his body like glue. Wilhelm had taken it only as a helping hand until Hannah’s fingers traced from his stomach to his chest. The shivers that spread were the likes of which no cold January night could ever bring. He looked into her eyes. She would have to advance it further. She did with a soft nod.

  Wilhelm ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her. He lifted her off the ground, holding her with one hand and running the other through her light blonde hair. She locked her legs around his waist, and they fell onto the bed. They were two people unsure about everything in their lives but each other. But in that moment, they rejected all inhibitions and succumbed to desire, lust, and love.

  The next couple of weeks greeted Hannah with a wide array of emotions. One moment, she was excited about starting her life with Wilhelm and creating a home for the two of them, but the smallest smell, sight or sound could change her mood drastically, as it brought on memories of her parents. She had seen them nearly every day, but to not live in the same house, to share meals, and share conversation was hard adjusting to. Wilhelm had found moving out easy, but he did not have the strong rapport with his father as Hannah had with her parents.

  Erich had almost exclusively been living at Lena’s, and Hannah and Wilhelm assumed he and Lena would be looking for a place of their own after their wedding, a date set for Saturday, 22 July. Hannah and Wilhelm had agreed to go but would be making an “unexpected” trip to visit Wilhelm’s father who had fallen ill days before. The feeling was nothing short of despicable. Lena and Erich talked about nothing but their big day. Hannah, on occasions, tried talking both herself and Wilhelm into going or, at the very least, Wilhelm going. But it was far too dangerous for Hannah to go, and Wilhelm knew how much she wanted to, and he wouldn’t let her face that truly awful feeling alone.

  It was a week before the wedding, and Hannah and Wilhelm had just returned to their apartment from a long walk. Hannah nearly screamed when she opened the door and saw two SS officers, dressed in black, standing with their backs to them. When they turned, she recognized both as Erich and Sturmscharführer Hauser.

  “Greetings, Hannah. Wilhelm,” Sturmscharführer Hauser said, inclining his head.

  It was hardly trespassing, as Erich lived there, but Hannah saw Jakob Hauser as nothing more than a burglar. No doubt his hawk eyes had examined every last inch of the place. Wilhelm had tried to defend Jakob, and she could not find fault in him or his logic, for Jakob and Ida Hauser had been kind, hospitable, and respectable every time she had seen them. When she thought long on it, she realized she condemned him for the patches on his uniform but was offended for being classified by the yellow Star of David she was supposed to wear.

  Erich was dressed in black with two black diamond gorget patches with one having the double horizontal lighting S on it and a single black strap on his shoulder. He held out his hands to showcase his uniform. “What do you think?” he asked. He radiated self-pride through his smile that exposed every tooth.

  “You are a soldier?” Wilhelm asked.

  “Not just a soldier, Wilhelm. A member of the SS-Schütze,” Sturmscharführer Hauser said, wearing a similar smile.

  It seemed the sort of thing two best friends would tell one another. Yet, Wilhelm could hardly hold contempt over it. He kept hidden that he and Hannah were married, and they were going to lie to miss Erich’s wedding.

  “Lena never mentioned you were joining,” Hannah said.

  “Sturmscharführer Hauser has been telling me to enlist. He says conscription is coming and to enlist ensures a better post and more room for advancement,” Erich explained.

  “In a few months, he will be an SS-Sturmmann and maybe, in less than a year, an SS-Rottenführer,” Sturmscharführer Hauser added. But he had secretly pulled strings to lessen the time of promotion. The higher the rank Erich procured, the more elite and popular his daughter’s wedding became.

  “You should consider it, Wilhelm. Germany will require you,” Sturmscharführer Hauser said.

  “I will have to think about it. I can’t have Erich looking better than me,” Wilhelm teased.

  Jakob flashed a handsome smile—the kind that no doubt had first entranced Ida.

  “Erich was showing me his place and what will need to be moved after their house is built,” Sturmscharführer Hauser mentioned.

  More news for Wilhelm.

  “Sturmscharführer Hauser…” Erich started, but Jakob put a firm hand on his chest.

  “Please, Erich, when in private, you may call me Jakob,” Sturmscharführer Hauser said.

  “Jakob got a great deal, and it is right down the road from their house,” Erich continued.

  “Congratulations, Erich!” Hannah said, rushing forward to hug him.

  “Make sure my guest room is of adequate size,” Wilhelm joked, then hugged Erich.

  “I think Lena was planning on telling you, so when she does, act surprised,” Erich said.

  “Not going to start your wedding off on a good foot, Erich. The holes we dig with women are like quicksand and not easily escapable. Remember that,” Sturmscharführer Hauser advised. He smiled and marched toward the door and paused as he opened it. “By the way, in case you were thinking of kidnapping my daughter, remember it is my job to find those who try to hide,” Sturmscharführer Hauser said.

  It was common in Germany for friends of the bride and groom to kidnap the bride and leave a series of clues for the groom to find her. But Hannah found the warning to be extremely unnerving as if he had said it only to her. But indeed, Hannah, Wilhelm, and Heinrich did have plans to kidnap the bride.

  That Friday, Hans, yet again, let Wilhelm borrow a car. Hannah and Wilhelm stopped at the Hauser house to pick up Lena and Heinrich and another of Heinrich’s mystery dates. The plan was to stay at Lena’s for less than five minutes, but they all knew and hoped Ida would have a quick supper for them. Ida did not disappoint. Heinrich had suggested a quick nap before hitting the road, but it was refuted. His new date, Susan, had been given the title “Susan the Silent” on the account that she had not said a single word the entire car ride to the cabin.

  There were at least six credible drinking establishments only ten minutes away from the cabin, and they stopped at each and promised their friend Erich would be there soon to pay the tab. Erich had been forced to take the smelly, uncomfortable bus, and each bar he stopped at, he was greeted with a tab for five drinks. Susan was too polite for the act and found it hard to be mean to Erich without ever having met him and, therefore, only ordered water. Her sacrifice was in vain, for Heinrich ordered two beers. By the time Erich arrived at the cabin, Hannah, Wilhelm, Heinrich, Lena, and Susan were drunk, and Erich was broke.

  “You bastards!” Erich shouted before the door was even fully open.

  “What is it?” Heinrich asked innocently.

  “You unhand my fiancé. I am to marry her!” Erich said with a dramatic and drunk effect.

  “I do not know what you are talking about, Erich,” Hannah said.

  “Et tu, Hannah?” Erich asked, quoting Julius Caesar. He grabbed his chest from the invisible knife wound before turning his attention to the silent stranger.

  “Sorry, don’t know you, but I am disappointed in you all the same,” Erich said, offering his hand.

  “Susan,” she said, shaking his hand and laughing.

  “Pleasure. Have you seen my fiancé? Brown hair, shoulder-length. Soft gray eyes,
” Erich asked.

  “Check one of the bedrooms,” Susan said.

  “Come on!” Heinrich shouted.

  “You quiet down and pour me a drink!” Erich commanded.

  Jakob had bought a keg of the finest beer. Rumor stated that simply breathing it in could intoxicate a person. Heinrich poured a pint to the brim and scraped off the foam and handed it to Erich. He downed it in six gulps, suppressed the urge to gag and scavenged the rooms. He turned the knob of the master bedroom, but it was locked.

  “Erich,” Hannah called.

  He turned his drunken attention to Hannah and the bronze key in her hand. He staggered toward her and held his hand out for the key. Heinrich held a glass of beer, over a pint’s worth, and Hannah dropped the key in. Like a great luxury liner, it sank to the depths of the amber beer.

  “Sorry!” Hannah whispered.

  Erich nearly whiffed on his first attempt to grab the glass. But he secured it with two hands and raised the bottom to the ceiling and chugged the delicious poison. A decent amount ran down his chin and onto the floor. He caught the key with his teeth.

  “Please don’t vomit on Lena,” Wilhelm said.

  “I make no promises,” Erich replied.

  He took a step backward for every three steps forward. He inserted the key into the lock and opened the door. Lena was on the bed with only the sheets covering her from her upper thighs to her chest.

  “You found me. Now come and claim me,” Lena said, lifting the sheet.

  Erich closed the door behind him and moved straight and true to her.