3 bar menu

Remembrance – 04

“Victorique?”

Kazuya lifted his eyes from the book and looked inside the dollhouse. Victorique was lying lazily on the couch, occasionally stretching like a kitten. Her puffy ruffles shifted, forming various intricate patterns.

The squirrel poked its head out of her golden hair and let out a small squeak, as though replying on her behalf.

“I’m listening,” Victorique grumbled. “I am unmistakably awake.”

“Okay, then. I’ll continue.”

“Very well.”

Kazuya straightened his posture and returned his gaze to the book.

“Life in the New World was harsh, but…”

A bird chirped and took off from the flowerbed.

The wind blew, stirring Kazuya’s jet-black hair.

---

Life in the New World was harsh, but modest and stable. There was a certain sense of satisfaction after a hard days’ work. I lived my days while keeping my faith in God.

There were a few surprises. My adopted daughter Beatrice, who went to school during the day and helped me at home in the evenings, had learned to read and write, and was surprisingly expressive and intelligent. She still couldn’t speak, but she conversed with me through writing. Life with a young, clever girl was exciting and fun. Some time later, I received a marriage proposal from a middle-aged man who had lost his wife on a sea voyage. I assumed he did not fancy me as a woman, and only wanted me to take the role of housewife and mother to his children; in other words, a laborer. It would make life easier, but only for me, and not my stepdaughter. So I turned down the proposal. Raising Beatrice was more important.

Every day I told her about her parents. I kept reminding her to live seriously, so she wouldn’t end up like her mother. Beatrice always listened quietly.

Life was easy, but as a female household, we were poor. One day Beatrice was talking to a traveling merchant in writing. When she came back she took out the small burlap sack and started digging around in the little garden.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“I’m planting flowers,” she responded in writing.

“Flowers don’t fill the stomach. But I suppose they will fill your spirit.”

“That’s not it. I think we can sell them. There’s already wealth inequality in this country, but not a lot of luxury goods. The wives and daughters of rich people living in the big cities are hungry for them. Nice dresses, perfumed oil, jewelry, and beautiful flowers from gentlemen.”

“I see. You might be right.”

Beatrice was working so hard in growing the flowers that I began helping her at night. Day after day, I watered, fertilized, and removed dead leaves. I objected to the idea of fertilizing the flowers when we were barely scraping by, but Beatrice smiled at me and said initial investment was important. The next year, when many yellow flowers covered with white hairs bloomed, a merchant came and bought them at a surprisingly high price. I was delighted, but Beatrice gave me a stern look.

“The merchant will sell it at a much higher price in the city,” she said. “We must secure an efficient distribution channel.”

The next year more flowers bloomed, and with the money she made, Beatrice bought a plot of land next door. The flower garden grew bigger and bigger. Beatrice grew up to be beautiful, but she did not care about men, only her flowers. I was worried that she would miss her chance to get married, but one day she tied the knot with someone—to turn her flower shop into a company called Beatrice’s Yellow Flower Garden. The man she married was a young merchant who came for a visit after hearing rumors about Beatrice’s flowers. I did not feel any love from Beatrice herself. Since women alone could not start a company, her husband helped her. The company grew rapidly in the blink of an eye.

By this time, I came to a realization.

The fears that had tormented me for so long were, in fact, unfounded.

Needless to say, Beatrice took after her shrewd father, not her passionate mother. At this time, she had begun to grow her hair again. Her young husband smiled, saying that it would soon grow back to be waist-long. I thought that even if her long hair regained its lustrous golden color, I wouldn’t see my sister in her ever again. Beatrice wanted a husband, not for love, but to start a company. She planted flowers, not because they were beautiful, but because they could be sold at a high price.

The next few decades flew by. They opened branches all over the New World. On this new, undeveloped land, young men who fell in love would always go to Beatrice’s flower shop to buy a bouquet of flowers for their lady. My daughter’s flower shop must have brought countless anonymous love to fruition. Beatrice Baran herself, however, was a businesswoman who never fell in love.

I was often asked: What is the secret to her success?

How did she do so well with just a few flower seeds she brought from the Old World?

Beatrice would have had a better answer. But for me, as a witness, the answer was simple.

Are you more like her father or your mother?

Which footsteps will you follow from here on?

That is the essence of this story.

---

The autumn sunlight falling on the flowerbed maze made the colorful flowers glitter. Whenever the wind blew, their petals swayed like ruffles, before slowly returning to their original stillness.

Kazuya finished reading the book and gently closed it. Victorique slowly rose from the emerald couch, brushing her golden hair back. The squirrel scrambled back onto her head.

Victorique yawned along with the squirrel. “What a passionate fellow.”

“Yeah,” Kazuya replied. “Wait, who’s passionate again?”

Victorique gave Kazuya a tired look.

“Was there a mention of someone passionate?” Kazuya asked. “Who? The author?”

“Beatrice, who else?” Victorique said tediously, holding a pipe in her mouth. “After all, she was reunited with her first love that she had left on the other side of the Atlantic. How would you describe that, if not passionate?” She yawned again.

“First love?” Kazuya muttered.

Victorique gave him a look of disbelief. “I’m talking about the florist boy who gave her the edelweiss seeds.”

“What?”

“God, you are so dense. Pumpkin-head. How can you not realize it after reading the story out loud yourself?” She held up her small index finger to Kazuya. “The boy who worked at a flower shop in Hamburg and the young merchant she met on the New World were the same person. After reuniting with each other, they started a company. Apparently, her aunt, and you, for that matter, never realized the truth.”

“How do you even know that?”

Whenever she wagged her finger, the squirrel on top of her head also swung its body, squeaking.

“The old lady had a few misconceptions about her mute daughter. The boy’s love wasn’t unrequited. They probably loved each other. Her aunt called the boy a liar, saying that he couldn’t possibly make a promise to a girl who couldn’t speak. But there are other ways to make a promise besides orally.”

“I see.” Kazuya nodded.

“The boy probably decided to follow the girl to a distant land. So he entrusted her with the edelweiss seeds. He said they would serve as a promise that they would never forget each other. The girl realized what he really meant by those words. So, in a tiny garden in a corner of the incredibly vast New World, she planted the flower seeds as a sign of their promise.”

“So she didn’t grow edelweiss to sell them?”

“I believe so. The edelweiss flower was a secret landmark that only the two of them could see. Beatrice needed to make her flower garden as big as possible. So she bought a plot of land next door, secured a distribution channel, and created a beacon made of yellow flowers. Beatrice’s yellow flower garden was, in other words, a smoke signal of love that burned in the darkness of the night. The boy became a traveling merchant and went to the vast land of the New World in search of edelweiss—that is, Beatrice. They would have both grown up by then, and their appearance would have changed. Fortunately, Beatrice’s flower garden had become famous. Eventually, the man followed the rumors and found his way to her. The edelweiss flowers reunited them, and they got married.”

“I see,” Kazuya said.

Victorique inclined her head a little. “Beatrice’s husband, whom she supposedly met as an adult, knew that she once had curly blonde hair that reached down to her waist. It’s conclusive proof that the man she married knew her from when they were still in the Old World.”

“And her strict aunt never realized it.”

“Indeed. Her aunt always wondered from whom Beatrice took after, her father or her mother. The answer is most likely her mother. She was quite the passionate person. But for the sake of her aunt’s peace of mind, who raised her with such concern, she must have kept it a secret all her life.”

Victorique blew her pipe softly.

“As though sharing sparks from Beatrice, a myriad of lovers in the New World bought and gifted edelweiss flowers, lighting up the dark night. The flame spread across the continent, and three hundred years later, it’s still illuminating lovers’ nights.”

The squirrel squeaked. It jumped off Victorique’s head, scurried across the window sill, and scrambled back up onto Kazuya’s shoulder.

The wind blew softly.

“Edelweiss signifies remembrance. A long time ago, a boy entrusted the seed of this flower to a ship bound for the New World. It goes without saying that the boy, Beatrice, and her strict aunt are long gone. Humans die, but their memories remain. Like a small flame flickering in the darkness.”

“Yeah.” Kazuya stared at the closed book for a while.

Victorique looked at him curiously. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just…”

Kazuya thought about the man who must have crossed the sea with great difficulty, arriving at an unfamiliar land too vast to search for a single girl. He couldn’t imagine the days he must have spent wandering across this continent with only the image of a single flower to guide him.

To him, she must’ve been worth all that effort.

Kazuya smiled faintly.

“Oh, no. It’s getting dark. I’ve got to get back,” Kazuya said, straightening himself.

Victorique’s eyes flickered sadly, which Kazuya noticed. He peered at her face, but she quickly turned her back to him, acting like nothing was wrong.

“Go,” she said. “Owls will peck at you if you stay there too long.”

“Owls? Why?”

“I’ve been hearing them a lot at night lately. It must be living somewhere in the garden. Though I would love to see you running around with an owl pecking your head. Now go.”

“Just when I thought I saved myself from being gnawed on by rats in prison, this time it’s an owl.” He sighed. Straightening his back, he tucked the book under his arm. “Bye, Victorique. I’ll be back some other time.”

“…Right,” Victorique replied, a little forlornly.

Putting the squirrel on his shoulder, Kazuya walked straight with a solemn look on his face. He looked over his shoulder in front of the flowerbed and saw Victorique still with her back turned. He smiled softly. Then he disappeared into the maze.

For a while Victorique stayed still. Then, she picked up one of the books on the floor, plopped down on the couch, and began to read. Her green eyes flickered as she leafed through the pages at great speed. She was so immersed in reading that she seemed to have already forgotten about Kazuya.

The flowers in the beds swayed gently in the wind.

The sun was setting, the shadows growing a little longer.

In the candy house, built deep inside a quiet maze of flowerbeds, a pretty bunch of flowers in a vase danced in the wind like a multicolored flame.