It was a sunny spring day, and the two young women had both fled their mothers, who were constantly finding more chores for them. Now they sat together on a bank beside the Wiesaz River, the book open on Flora’s lap.
“Just make sure you don’t do anything dumb,” Suse added, and elbowed Flora in the ribs. “Like giving that book to your aunt out of kindness. You’ll never get it back. Come on, let’s take a look and see what flowers I could give my dear Rolf.”
“Young ladies never give flowers to young men,” Flora replied, and sighed. Suse was doing it again: Rolf this, Rolf that! She used every opportunity she got to talk about “my Rolf,” the son of a seed trader in the village, with whom she secretly met.
“Just yesterday, he told me again how very much he loves me. But can I believe him?” Suse looked doubtfully at Flora.
Flora grinned. “Let’s ask the flower oracle!”
“Would you do it . . . please? The oracle is always kind to you.”
With a sigh, Flora plucked a daisy growing beside her left foot, then began to pull out the petals, one by one. “He loves you, he loves you not, he . . .” At the end, she covertly removed two petals at once so that the outcome was good.
“He loves me,” Suse sighed contentedly. “I knew it!” She turned a few pages in Flora’s book, then looked up. “Here’s something you could give me: watercress.”
“And what would I be saying if I did?” Flora asked, giggling.
“‘Follow the call of your heart.’”
“Oh, that would really be something for you! No, the most you’ll get from me are—” Flora jumped to her feet, ran up the bank, tugged at something there, then ran back down to Suse and kneeled beside her, holding a stalk with green leaves in her hand. “Stinging nettles!” she said melodramatically.
“Nettles? What are they supposed to mean?”
“‘Take care! Don’t burn your fingers in your exuberance.’ Catch!” Flora said, and she tossed the stalk spiritedly to her friend.
Suse shrieked and ducked, and Flora burst out laughing.
When both girls had calmed down again, Suse went back to the book. “Look, it says here that the language of flowers has been known in both the Orient and the Occident since days of old,” she said. “And that the meaning attributed to a particular flower or plant originates either from its name or from its properties. Sometimes old legends or how the plants are used also play a role.” Suse looked at her friend. “Well, then, let me ask you this, O gorgeous goddess of the flowers: What do you think burdock means?”
“Oh, that’s easy. It means you stick to someone like a burr. Or like your Rolf!” Flora replied, and they burst out laughing again.
On the seventh of April, Good Friday, Helmut and Valentin finally returned from their long travels. Hannah cried tears of joy to see them safely home, and she and Helmut held on to each other as if they never wanted to let go. Gustav and Siegfried looked away in embarrassment, but Flora felt a trace of yearning. How must it feel to love someone so much?
The more spring advanced, the bigger and more varied Flora’s bouquets became. She cut blooming forsythia twigs and added pussy willow and alder. And when the first daffodils and tulips finally sprouted in dense clusters in the garden behind the house, she sighed with relief. The previous autumn, she had planted more bulbs than ever before, and her father had grumbled at the expense—she counted herself lucky now to see that the bulbs had not been eaten by mice.
For now, she had pushed aside the thought that she would not be a florist after all. She still had her flowers in the meadows and the garden. And no one could forbid her from doing what she wanted with them in her free time.
When the letter came in mid-April, Flora was as stunned as everyone else.
Chapter Six
“‘Dear Miss Kerner,’” Flora read aloud. “‘Do you remember me? Friedrich Sonnenschein from Baden-Baden? I had the honor of meeting you and your esteemed mother in January, and the proprietress at The Gilded Rose was good enough to give me your address. She sends her greetings.’”
Helmut frowned. “Is she allowed to do that? Just hand out our address to anyone who asks?”
“Helmut,” Hannah chided. “Keep reading, child.”
“‘I am yet grateful for the assistance you rendered my father on the occasion of his unfortunate fall on the steps of his shop.’”
“His writing’s as stiff as an old shoe,” said Gustav.
“Who did you push down the steps then?” Siegfried joked.
Flora glared at her younger brothers across the dinner table. Then she looked to her parents, who were watching her with pointed indifference as she read. Flora also noticed how Hannah reached for Helmut’s hand and squeezed it, as if like that she could arm herself against any adversity.
Flora took a breath and forced herself to read on at a steady pace. She knew that the letter could change her life. No, that was not correct—it had already changed her life. It was her family who did not know that yet.
“‘Unfortunately, my father’s health has not improved. Several times a day, his vitality and strength desert him, and he has to rest, which of course is less than ideal for the business. I help where I can, but now that the spa season has begun, I am needed elsewhere.’”
Flora looked around. “Friedrich works at the Trinkhalle,” she explained, but when no one said anything, she read on:
“‘You are aware of the dilemma in which I find myself, and I do not want to bore you with that any further. But I would like to assure you of one thing: in all these months, I have not forgotten our conversation. Again and again, I am forced to realize how an accident—or should I call it fate?—brought us together.’”
Flora’s brothers pushed each other around and were having trouble stopping themselves from laughing, but she decided not to berate them. And how angry her father looked! Did he perhaps think that Friedrich Sonnenschein had somehow been inappropriate? This was about something far more important. Her heart beat faster as she read on.
“‘Allow me to come to the reason for this letter, which I have finally written after much hesitation. You mentioned that your dearest wish was to learn the florist’s profession. Perhaps—’”
“A florist? Your dearest wish? What else did you discuss with him?” Hannah crossed her arms tightly over her chest, and her face wore an expression of dismay. “I’m completely at a loss.”
“It’s all very strange to me,” said Helmut. “And where were you during this conversation? You didn’t leave Flora alone with him, I hope?”
“Of course not! But I do not eavesdrop on every word of my daughter’s conversations.”
Flora continued reading to herself while her parents went back and forth. “Mother, Father! Friedrich Sonnenschein is asking if I would be interested in spending the summer in Baden-Baden, helping his father in the shop,” Flora said before her parents could get themselves caught up in an argument. “In return, his father would teach me all he knows about floristry. But Friedrich also writes that I would have to go as soon as possible, or he’ll be forced to find someone else.”
Flora’s announcement made all the others freeze.
“This is my opportunity to learn more about floristry! Food and lodging will cost nothing as I would be sharing a room with the maid, and you would not have to pay for my apprenticeship, either. Friedrich says that he hopes that his father will improve over the summer, so he does not want to take anyone on permanently. If I were to help out for the next few months, I would be doing his family a great favor, he says.”
Flora looked from one to the other. “My dearest wish would come true . . . Now say something!”
Helmut stroked his beard thoughtfully several times. “If it is really just for this summer—”