Roses by the Rhine River

Chapter IV: Reunion on a Rainy Night

May 7, 1945, Munich Judgment Day, Rainy Night, 23:45

Isabella's fingers hovered over the keys of the Steinway piano. The melody of "Wild Roses" condensed into frost above the keys. Outside the window, the Rhine River glowed with an iron-gray light. The ice floes floating on the river surface crashed against the stone dock of the Rose Manor, making a crisp cracking sound. This was the last morning as a bride-to-be, yet her fingertips were filled with the chill of war.

"Isabella!" Elizabeth, Isabella's mother, called from downstairs. Her silvery voice carried the elegant tremolo unique to imperial ladies. "The grapevine specimens sent by Mr. Karl need your signature for confirmation."

The young girl turned from behind the lace curtain. Her 22-year-old face was like a newly blooming white rose in the morning light. She was wearing her father's gray woolen morning robe - which was remade from the uniform of the Ministry of Finance of the Weimar Republic. Barefoot, she stepped on the Persian carpet and signed her name on the parchment on the oak desk. Before the ink was dry, suddenly there was the roar of trucks outside. Seven military jeeps painted with iron crosses rolled over the gravel driveway, and the raised dust obscured the morning dew of the rose garden.

Karl Schmidt's blue eyes sparkled in the dust. This 32-year-old winemaker was unloading boxes of Burgundy Pinot Noir cuttings from the roof of the jeep. His linen shirt was dampened by the morning mist, revealing the winding grapevine tattoo on his bronze neck - a commemoration of their first encounter at the Nuremberg Beer Festival in 1936.

"Heil Hitler!" The SS captain's riding boots crushed the irises beside the driveway. "According to the Munich Agreement, Mr. Schmidt must report to the Potsdam military base before noon."

Isabella's crystal heels made a harsh sound on the marble floor. She saw Karl's knuckles turn suddenly white, and his right hand holding the grape shears hung in mid-air, as if he wanted to cut the entire Nazi emblem to pieces. This action reminded her of three months ago, backstage at the Berlin Philharmonic Hall. Karl pinned the rose of her first night with the same strength.

"Today is our wedding." Isabella's voice was like an undercurrent under the ice of the Rhine River. "My father was once the minister of finance, and my fiancé is the recipient of an imperial medal. You can't -"

"Miss Hoffman," the captain suddenly leaned close to her ear. His leather glove brushed against the pearl necklace around her neck. "Your father's suicide certificate is still in the Gestapo archives, and Mr. Schmidt's conscription order is stamped with the personal seal of Lord Himmler."

As the first bell rang from the church in the morning mist. When Isabella counted to the seventh chime, she suddenly grabbed the captain's riding crop and pressed the silver gun handle against her own throat. "The wedding will be held at noon, and you will be the first witness."

11:30, Rose Manor Banquet Hall

The champagne tower reflected the Bible stories on the stained glass windows. Each layer was decorated with the "Pride of Germany" roses grafted by Karl himself. Isabella stood at the top of the spiral staircase. The chiffon skirt of her wedding dress hung down twenty-three steps. The Luger pistol sewn into the lining was pressed against the inside of her thigh, carrying the remaining warmth from her father's suicide.

"Isabella, your hands are shaking." Elizabeth, Isabella's mother, wiped the cold sweat on her daughter's palm with a lace handkerchief. "Think about your father. If he were still alive -"

"He would shoot himself at the wedding." Isabella interrupted her. She replaced the pearl headdress with a wreath woven of wheat ears and grapevines. "Just like on the day of the Reichstag fire in 1933."

The sound of SS boots came from downstairs. When Isabella counted to the seventh pair, she suddenly heard Karl's laughter pierce through the crowd. "Captain, do you know why Rhine Riesling needs to be aged for ten years?" Without waiting for an answer, he smashed the 1937 bottle against the stone wall. The amber liquid splashed on the Nazi flag. "Because our grapevines need time to turn the bitterness of war into eternal sweetness."

When the captain's riding crop was raised in mid-air, Isabella pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed past Karl's ear and left a scorched bullet hole on the Nazi eagle emblem. The banquet hall instantly fell silent, only the bubbles of the champagne tower were still slowly rising.

"The wedding continues." Isabella pointed the gun at her own temple. Her crystal heels crushed the broken glass. "Otherwise, the next bullet will pierce through my heart and make your Führer lose the most loyal winemaker's widow."

12:00, St. Mark's Church

The stained glass image of St. George slaying the dragon trembled amid the gunfire. When the pastor read "in war and in peace," Karl suddenly tore open his shirt, revealing the grapevine tattoo on his left chest - inside which were hidden parts of a miniature radio. Isabella saw ripples in the Rhine River in her husband's eyes and heard him tap Morse code on her palm: "Eastern Front, 1941, wait for me."

At the moment when the wedding vows were drowned out by the sound of tank engines, Isabella slipped the wedding ring onto Karl's ring finger. This action lasted for a full ten years. When the SS truck took away the groom, she buried the last "Queen of Thorns" rose in the tire tracks.

23:59, Air-Raid Shelter

The damp air was filled with the smell of gunpowder and rust. Isabella counted the distant explosions amid the labor pains. At the seventh loud explosion, her daughter Lia's cry tore through the darkness of the air-raid shelter. The midwife wrapped the baby in Karl's winemaking apron. Isabella saw the words "Nuremberg 1936" embroidered on the fabric were bleeding.

"Mom, when will Dad come back?" Lia's little hand grabbed her finger. There were grapevine debris embedded in the baby's fingernails. Isabella kissed her daughter's forehead and stuffed the blood-stained pearl necklace into the swaddle. "When all the ice on the Rhine melts and wild roses fill the entire manor."

When the first ray of morning light reddened the east, the Berlin radio station announced the German invasion of Poland. Isabella carved the seventh mark on the wall of the air-raid shelter. Next to it was the poem left by Karl last winter: "The barrel entwined with grapevines will bloom a flower more beautiful than a rose."

[Wine Tasting Notes] 1945 Riesling: The wine body presents a turbulent golden color. The bubbles are as restless as war rumors. At first taste, it is as sweet as honey, but in an instant it turns into the astringency of steel. There is a faint bloody smell of rose petals in the aftertaste - this is the taste of a torn honeymoon. When the wine liquid shatters on the tip of the tongue, you will hear the sound of crystal heels crushing glass and see the blood-red wedding ring shining in the moonlight.