“Never say never.” Were the last words Eva heard from Rudolph, as he walked off, crestfallen and disappointed, down the path shrouded in springtime exuberance. The haughty countenance beholden to the tenderest lushness concealed very well a supreme pride. She scorned the sentence impregnated with pain, still resonant.

“You'll never measure up to me, you imbecile!” She shouted at him, adding disdainfully. “I'm too much for you... Unreachable.”

An unexpected misunderstanding for two teenagers separated by social stratification. Both, with their whole lives ahead of them, are estranged by circumstances beyond their control. Rudolph is the son of immigrants who opportunely fled the war, leaving everything behind, hoping to carve out, a better destiny. Eva is the only daughter and heiress of the most influential landowner in the region. For generations, her family had amassed fortune and influence in the destinies of hundreds of families, to which Rudolph's was now added.

"He's handsome, but... How dare he court me! To each his own. I hope he has learned his lesson.” Eva returned home, regretting the crazy idea, of having accepted Rudolph's invitation to contemplate the budding tulips. She turned to look at them, they were beautiful, lined up perfectly, in different shades of colors that resembled a canvas, almost a feminine silhouette; that was familiar to her. She admitted inwardly, as she went up the hill, the good hand of Rudolph and his family.

That spring, the beautiful crop gave much to talk about, in the region. Even reporters from the big city came to photograph it and interview the architects of that prodigy that became famous from the heights, in the overflights of the commercial airlines.

“Mr. Hill, I congratulate you. You have created a work of art that can be seen from space.”

Eva, perplexed, looked at her father, who wordlessly nodded at the praise of the nation's most famous journalist.

“Tell me. How could you recreate the image of your daughter? You love her very much, don't you?”

“Of course!” Henry III Hill came out of the woodwork.

Eva blushed as the reporters stared at her.

“Could you please introduce us to the crop growers? Well, I should say, the artists. Never seen before to date.”

Mr. Hill was astonished and fixed his blue eyes on Eva's light blue ones.

“Perhaps Eva knows more than I do. I am as surprised as you are. I wish I could go up into the stratosphere to validate with my own eyes these photographs you show me. You are not taking the little hair I still have left.”

“No way, Mr. Hill. This is attested to by the astronauts on the space station. It was they, who validated the testimonies of hundreds of passengers on the planes with their own high-resolution, powerful photographs.”

“I never thought the Holchin family, was capable of such a thing!” The large landowner paused. “I suspect that their son, Rudolph, is responsible.”

Eva blushed again. Her cheeks burned as if they were being pressed with a burning blight. She felt small and uncovered. Everyone was asking about the Holchins, especially for Rudolph.

“Daughter, please do the gentlemen the courtesy of accompanying them to the Holchins' house.”

“But papa!”

“No, but! Obey me, let's not keep them waiting! In the meantime, I'll stay, and wait for the governor, who is about to arrive.”

The twenty or so reporters and photographers followed Eva closely. “Never say never” echoed in her mind, while her heart galloped in her chest. How to face the young man she had rejected in the early spring. But what dismayed her most, was the feeling of infinity of a destroyed pride. How small she felt!

“Mr. Holchin.” Several journalists, in the vicinity of the polished wooden house shouted almost in unison.

Eva looked around for Rudolph.

“What's the matter? What are those screams!” The old patriarch replied energetically at the surprise.

“There is nothing wrong. We only want to interview you about the tulip crops.”

“Me? Talk to Mr. Hill, the boss!”

Eve was a little shaken, and looked away, on the south ridge of the mountain, at a tiny figure climbing it across a newly constructed path. She thought of the disowned one.

“How did he make the image of Eve in the Tulips?”

“What does it say? That's not my work, that's my son's work.”

“Where is him?” Asked, the most famous of the journalists, leading the restless group that photographed everything in their path.

“In his secret place. These days he has been very sad, and he escapes, all morning long, until the sun rises at the zenith. If you like, wait for him to appear, while I go and speak to Mr. Hill. My wife will attend to you.”

Tears welled up in Eva, who surreptitiously set off in pursuit of the artist. Guilt dried her throat. She thought, “Who told me to spit to the wind? How blind I was!” She hurried her pace until she found Rudolph sitting with binoculars reversed over his eyes, in the direction of the tulips. Absorbed, he sighed, stammering, “Never.”

“Never what?”

“I should never have wanted you!”

“Never say never, my dear Rudolph. Follow your heart, just as you have taught me. I'll never live up to you, but I'll try my best.”