What I Miss About You

Dancing Again - Natalie

I had to admit, I found Dr. Heinrich for the most part to be extremely charming despite the obvious tension between him and Ben. Thus far, I was impressed with Ben's restraint in spite of the coolness between the two men.

Dr. Heinrich showed us all over the house, including the odd curiosity here and there he collected over the years. He had an impressive library which moved even then to ask him where he had gotten some of his first editions of histories and political commentaries. the novels were what fascinated me, some of them have never even been published in America and many of them in their original native language of German or French. The room was lined floor to ceiling with such volumes and I could have happily spent the entire week in it.

But Dr. Heinrich's home had even more surprises enclosed within its walls. He led us into a beautifully furnished salon decorated in tones of silver and blue, the oyster gray silk brocade drapes held back to reveal a beautiful full moon outside. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the center of the ceiling in the oval shaped room and the dark wood floor boasted a parquet rosette pattern in the very center. it was all extremely romantic and artistic and I wondered, not for the first time, how such a man or home in the middle of nowhere came to be.

Despite the opulence of the house and the rarity of things Dr. Heinrich showed us, I could since Ben's frustration over not having obtained one thing to use in the article. In spite of his gracious personality and obvious eagerness to show us his home, Dr. Heinrich remained tight-lipped about himself and especially his youth.

That is until we reached the room with the parquet floor. He looked around the room fondly as if he wasn't really there with us but somewhere else miles and perhaps even decades away. His piercing blue eyes took on a wistful quality as a class just hands behind his back and stood looking all around the room.

"This room, more than any other in my home, brings back memories of my youth. We used to have the grandest balls back in Munich. Military balls, coming out dances, The Viennese waltzes, the beautiful young ladies with their dance cards, the carefree innocence...such glittering, glamorous affairs."

I could see Ben was on the alert now. "Officer's parties," he said abruptly. "The Third Reich enjoyed the finer things in life, I understand."

Dr. Heinrich looked at him with a sharp eye. "Did they, Mr. Collins?" he said vaguely. "In any case it is a bygone era. Never to return again."

"We hope," Ben said cryptically, his dark eyes trained keenly on the doctor.

I cleared my throat quietly and leaned forward. "You sound like you were quite the gallant," I commented, trying to velvet the blow of Ben's iron hammer. "How is it that you never married? The ladies must have been crazy over you." I had hoped to flatter him.

Dr. Heinrich's face grew grave and his eyes seemed to bore into mine. "I was only ever in love once in my life, Fraulein." He stared at me intently. "But it was impossible for us."

"Impossible?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. "Why?"

Dr. Heinrich did not answer my question, at least not directly. Instead he turned from me and went over to a gramophone in the corner of the room. He seemed to be looking through some records, carefully choosing one. Soon, the graceful and plaintiff strains of a Polish waltz...Nice i Dnie to be exact, were echoing through the cavernous room. I knew it. I danced it with a partner many years ago. Before I had met Ben.

He turned to look at me. "Do you know the Viennese waltz, my dear?"

My eyes widened and I smiled eagerly. "Of course! I could dance it in my sleep."

Dr. Heinrich held out his hands where he stood. I was startled for a moment, but then as the lush sounds of the waltz intensified around us, I understood what he was requesting of me. Never having danced anywhere outside the studio or in a social setting, I felt awkward, especially with Ben sitting there watching me with his keen eyes. I swallowed hard and slowly crossed the floor, my feet already taking on a dancer's lightness, and placed my hands in the doctor's. The clasp of his hands around mine was firm and very warm. His eyes never left mine as he led me to the outer edged of the parquet rosette in the middle of the floor.