Roses in a Forbidden Garden; a Holocaust Love Story by Elise Garibaldi

Author:Elise Garibaldi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, world war ii, history, holocaust, german, jewish
Publisher: Elise Garibaldi

Chapter Eight

Roses in a Forbidden Garden

The petals of this rose Schmuel risked his life to obtain for Inge that she has preserved to the present.

“But you are so productive,” Inge pleaded, as she placed both of Schmuel’s hands in hers, holding on to them tightly.

Unfortunately, being young and productive was no longer reason enough not to be sent out on a transport. The one on which Schmuel was informed he would be, was to carry 2,500 men between the ages of twenty and forty. Children, also, were now being sent to the east more frequently. Those still in Theresienstadt were told that it was because they had all come down with various diseases and needed to be quarantined; they were being taken elsewhere for the safety of all the others. While Inge knew for certain that neither the well-being nor the safety of the inmates were of any consequence to the Nazis, she kept such thoughts repressed. How could she keep herself going if she were to allow such thoughts to the fore?

“I know,” Schmuel answered Inge, regarding his usefulness in the bakery. “It must be because they need us to clean up all the city streets after so many bombings,” he said, wanting to allay Inge’s anxiety any way he could.

“Well, I guess if that’s the case, it must mean that the war is nearly over,” Inge rationalized, desperately trying to convince herself as much as Schmuel.

“If you find yourself going to Bremen, you must look up the Bruck family. Herr Bruck was born Jewish but converted. So perhaps he is still there. Mention my name, and I’m sure he’ll help you.”

“I definitely will,” Schmuel promised.

“And if you find yourself in Palestine after the war, look up Frau Ostro in Tel Aviv. She lives at Chissin Street #20. She’ll know how to find us, and she, too, will help you.” Inge gave him other connections. But the only good it served was possibly to calm her down a little.

“Thank you. I definitely will,” he said again and again. Inge was about to continue with her litany, but Schmuel stopped her before she could get out another word.

“Please, Inge, relax. We still have a couple days before I leave. Let’s make the most of what little time we can spend together. Let’s enjoy these last remaining hours.”

As she looked into his eyes, she knew he was right. There were no guarantees during this war time. The likelihood of her ever seeing him again was slim at best. As it was, surviving each day was struggle enough. To make plans for an entire future together under the present circumstances made no sense.

Inge realized that she had to reconcile herself to the realities of the moment. The two of them then continued with their usual walk along the route they always followed within the ghetto’s restricted quarters. As they ambled along, they spoke, as they often did, of their favorite foods and inquired about the wellbeing of their respective families. But that night, before departing for the evening, she hugged him closer and kissed him for a while longer.

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