Safe Haven

by Anna Schmidt

  It was difficult, given that the parade ground was filled with children running and playing in the sunlight. A group of Quakers had volunteered to facilitate a summer camp and had organized craft classes and games for the children and teens as well as vocational classes for the adults. Theo watched the activity—it was a village not so very different from Oswego or the devastated communities the refugees had left behind.

  Suzanne was sitting in a grove of trees, surrounded by a group of teenagers. He waved and then headed for the administration building.

  “Are you running for office or not?” Sawyer demanded when he answered the call. “Cause I gotta say you don’t win votes from folks in these parts by staying out there in New York.”

  “The election is not until November. I thought I would come back in early September and—”

  “And that might work if you were running for reelection. But you aren’t. You need to decide how serious you are about this, Theo. If we need to get somebody else …”

  “Don’t threaten me, Jim.”

  Sawyer hesitated and then in a tone that had been reshaped into something approaching conciliatory he said, “Look, it’s just that everybody here thinks you are the perfect guy for the job.”

  Theo couldn’t help smiling. “Then what’s the problem? Presumably if that’s the case, I’ve got this thing sewed up.”

  “Let me rephrase,” Sawyer said tersely. “Everyone on the committee believes in you. The voters do not know you, and that’s the problem—a problem only you can fix.”

  “I have a job to do here, and trust me, the contacts I am making could prove important down the road.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but what about the weekends? Come back and attend some events here—press the flesh, kiss a few babies, ride in a Fourth of July parade.”

  “What about those letters to the editors of area newspapers that I’ve been sending?”

  “Those are great, but folks need a face to put with the name. They may agree with what you say, but they don’t vote for a pig in a poke. They want to see what you look like, how you handle yourself on your feet.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “Set up something for the July Fourth parade.”

  “And you’ll be there? No matter what?”

  “No matter what.”

  But on June 25, word came from Washington that a subcommittee of the House Committee on Immigration and Naturalization would be coming to the fort to conduct a series of hearings. The inference was that these hearings could have a positive impact on the future of the shelter’s residents, and everyone was determined to put their best foot forward. Several people were asked to testify, and Theo was surprised to learn that he was one of them. “You represent the family members who already live here in the United States,” Joseph Smart reminded him. “You can explain to the committee that many of the residents here in the shelter indeed have places to go and people ready to help them settle into homes and schools and jobs.”

  Theo thought about the promise he had made to Jim Sawyer. “I need to be back in Wisconsin over the Fourth.”

  Smart smiled. “If history is any indicator I doubt these men on the House committee plan to spend their holiday in Oswego, Theo. You’ll be able to manage both.”

  In the days before the congressmen arrived, the fort was a beehive of activity. Every building was thoroughly cleaned; the women in charge of the kitchens debated menus for hours; the theater group planned a variety show that would give their visitors a view of life in the camp; and the children used their camp time to set up exhibits of their schoolwork and arts and crafts and to practice songs they could perform for the visitors.

  Theo worked between the administration building in the fort and the office of Smart’s advocacy agency in New York, gathering data and statistics to present. Suzanne typed up summaries of the histories of several of the residents of the shelter so that Theo could use them as illustrations instead of just offering cold facts and numbers. Everyone worked from early morning until late in the evening, and the atmosphere throughout the shelter was one of purpose and hope—a far cry from the despondent and glum ambiance that had hung over the community like a thick fog for months.

  In the rush to have everything ready for the hearings, Ilse set aside her search for Marta and her children. And because they were all so busy, Theo and Suzanne had little private time for being together. Most nights they walked back to the boardinghouse together, but usually they were both too exhausted to do more than share a good-night kiss and go to their separate rooms. Yet Theo felt as if they were growing closer every day. Often as he lay awake at night he would allow himself to fantasize about both of them living and working in Washington. Of course Gordon Langford would also be there. The congressman was coming to the fort for the hearings, and judging by the number of phone messages Selma handed Suzanne, he had not given up pursuing her.

  It was his mother who came up with the idea of bringing Suzanne home with him when he came for the Fourth. “We’ll show her what life is like in the country,” she teased.

  “She was raised in a small town, Mom.”

  “I simply cannot picture that. She seems so … I don’t know … confident and sophisticated.”

  “Yeah, I can see how you might think that, but trust me. She has doubts and fears like everyone else.”

  “Well, Ilse has certainly changed her tune when it comes to Suzanne. She absolutely adores her.”

  Theo had trouble imagining his aunt ever having such a strong emotion about anyone. In spite of whatever progress she might have made in conquering the depression and anxiety of the past, Ilse was still cautious when it came to other people. “I’ll see if she can get away, but understand that money is tight for her and—”

  “Dad and I will pay her train fare, and she’ll eat and sleep here so she’ll have no expenses.”

  Theo’s antenna went on alert. “Mom, you’re matchmaking.”

  “Well, of course I am, dear. What are mothers for? Now here’s Dad.”

  Theo’s conversation with his father had nothing to do with romance or matchmaking. They talked about the war winding down in the Pacific and about what was happening at the fort. “Well, we’re looking forward to having you home, Son. That gal of yours, too.”

  That gal of yours … Theo couldn’t help grinning as he thought about how Suzanne would feel about being called his gal.

  Ilse’s hands shook as she buttoned her dress and checked her reflection in the small hand mirror. Liesl had already left the apartment to join the other children in the dining hall, where the hearings were being held and where testimony from the children was on the agenda for the morning. The Boy Scout troop that had been organized in the shelter would be the first to face the committee of men in suits from Washington. Then the children who were Liesl’s age and younger would perform a song followed by testimony from some of the teenagers—two of whom had been accepted into Harvard University for the fall term. Of course it was an honor that they could not accept unless the congressmen could change the minds of others back in Washington. Ilse could not see how these men could harden their hearts against the children, so she had permitted herself a small ray of hope. Theo had convinced her that she should not close the door on an opportunity to stay in the United States by declaring her intent to return to Germany.

  “You can always travel to Germany,” he had reminded her. “And if you are reunited with Marta and decide that Germany is where you and Liesl should be, you can make that decision then.”

  No wonder people thought her nephew would make a good representative in the Congress. He had a way of looking at a situation from all sides and making sense of it. Franz had been like that.

  “Ready?” Gisele stood at the door of Ilse’s apartment, looking as chic as always. “Shall we go and face the masters of our fate?”

  Ilse smiled. “According to Theo these men are not all powerful. Something about the need for this subcommittee to make their report and recommend
ation to the committee of the whole and for that body to make their recommendation to the House of Representatives and …” She paused. “And I forget the rest—something about the Senate and the president and …”

  “It is a first step. We knew that, Ilse. But at least it is movement.”

  “Nearly a year since we got off that ship and we are just now taking the first step?”

  Gisele laughed. “Come along, my friend.”

  As they walked together to the dining hall, Ilse could not help but think of how much she would miss Gisele once they all went their separate ways. “Whatever happens to us,” she said, “we should plan to come back here for a reunion.”

  “I think that you and I could find somewhere more interesting to get together, Ilse.”

  “I’m not just talking about the two of us. I am speaking of everyone—the entire village of Fort Ontario.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Ilse—and forgive me, but I must say that you are the last person I would ever have imagined suggesting such a thing.”

  Ilse understood that Gisele was paying her a compliment. “You have inspired me to be more adventurous.”

  “Oh Ilse, you do not want to imitate me—that will bring you nothing but trouble.” But it was evident that Gisele was pleased.

  The two women stepped inside the dining hall just in time to hear the fort’s Boy Scout troop giving the pledge to the flag. Ilse studied the faces of the congressmen. They were standing, hands over their hearts, and they were smiling. Surely this was a positive sign.

  Across the room she saw Suzanne sitting with a few other reporters. She looked up and smiled, another indication that things were going well. Theo sat just inside the door as he waited for his turn to testify, a stack of folders balanced on his knee. She scanned the room, looking for Liesl, and saw her twisting nervously from side to side, watching the skirt of her dress flare out. And in that moment Ilse realized how her daughter had grown and filled out—a very different little girl than the one she had held on the train coming to Fort Ontario.

  Theo’s advice had been exactly right. Why would Ilse upset Liesl by taking her back to Germany when it was here in America that her daughter had found confidence and joy and freedom from fear? Once they left the fort—assuming they were permitted to stay in this country—Liesl could go stay with Ellie and Paul on the farm. There was every possibility that Beth and Josef would soon make the journey from England for a reunion with her family. Liesl had been thrilled with that news.

  “But what about Josef’s family?” she had asked. “Remember that Christmas when his mother came for Sunday dinner and she had a real fur coat and she let me touch it?”

  “We’ll see, Liesl. One step at a time.” Ilse had not told Liesl about Josef’s father being a prisoner in a camp nearby, and she had insisted that neither Theo nor Suzanne let anything slip about his presence, either. Her daughter had no idea that Ilse had spoken to the man, much less made it possible for him to contact Josef.

  Gisele gripped her arm and nodded to where the children were making their entrance. They lined up before the committee, their hands clasped behind their backs, as one of the women from the Quaker group blew a note into a pitch pipe and the children imitated it. Then together they sang “God Bless America.” Looking around, Ilse was fairly certain there was not a single person who was not weeping—or at least trying very hard not to weep. Maybe this was a new beginning for them, after all. Maybe these men in their gray suits, crisp white shirts, and tightly knotted ties would go back to Washington and convince those in power to let them stay.

  Almost as soon as she and Theo boarded the train to Wisconsin, Suzanne rested her head on Theo’s shoulder and closed her eyes. She had been burning the candle at both ends for weeks now—collecting stories from the shelter during the day, working her shift at the cannery, and coming back to her room to type up her notes or write another of the essays that Edwin had requested.

  And there had been the deal she had made with Gordon. When he came as part of the committee for the hearings, he had called her, and she had agreed to see him for dinner at the hotel. This time she was the one with a request.

  “I need you to see what you can find out about this woman,” she told him, handing him a blurred photograph of Marta and her children. She gave him the facts he needed without telling him the connection to Ilse.

  “I don’t have time for—” Gordon had been scowling at the photograph, and then he had smiled. “Well, now seems to me what we have here, Suze, is a situation of I scratch your back and you scratch mine.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Sure you do. Each of us needs information the other can get. I find this woman, and you give me the info I need on the Nazi prisoner—and do not tell me you can’t because word has it you work with the guy at the local cannery. You’ve been holding out on me, dollface.”

  Suzanne stalled by stirring cream and sugar—neither of which she took—into her coffee. If Gordon could find Marta, it would mean everything to Ilse. And Suzanne had come to care for Ilse a great deal. She wanted to see the woman find some happiness after everything she’d been through.

  “Do we have a deal?” Gordon asked.

  “If you already know where this man is, why do you need me? Why not question him yourself?”

  “Because I suspect you have earned his trust and therefore he is likely to reveal information to you that he would not give me.”

  She considered her options and found she really had only two—refuse and lose the best chance for Ilse to be reunited with her sister, or agree and betray Detlef. Or perhaps there was a third. …

  “All right,” she said. “And I will provide you the information you want as soon as you get me information on this woman.” She tapped the photograph. “Information that is useful.”

  Gordon was surprised. “You’ve changed,” he said.

  “You haven’t,” she replied.

  Now as she allowed the rhythm of the train’s rocking, the sounds of metal on metal as the wheels clicked along the rails, and the feel of the hot summer wind rushing through the partially open window brushing her hair and skin to lull her into a half sleep, she thought about that deal she had made.

  That night at the cannery she had told Detlef about her deal. As she had suspected, he was anxious to do what he could to help Ilse. “My future is already determined,” he said. “But if I could help Ilse …”

  They agreed to keep the matter between the two of them. Suzanne did not want to raise false hope in Ilse or Theo by telling them about involving Gordon in the search for Marta.

  She felt Theo stir as he turned the pages of the report he had delivered to the congressmen, still looking for details he might have left out, although the hearings were over. They were on their way to Wisconsin, to his home. She turned her thoughts to more pleasant matters—a future with Theo.

  Surely an invitation to visit his family carried more meaning than a simple invitation to dinner. Theo had even warned her that his mother was a born matchmaker and that she was to simply ignore Ellie’s blatant attempts to gather information about where the relationship between them was headed.

  So, where are we headed?

  Living in the same dwelling, working on the same project, socializing with the same people, the two of them had grown close. They naturally sought each other out whenever they were wrestling with a problem, especially with their work. But the relationship had progressed beyond a workplace friendship. Over the last few weeks, they had spent every free minute together sharing childhood memories, talking about their work and their dreams for the future. They held hands, and those times when they were alone routinely ended in a good-night kiss—often more than one.

  If it was hard to say good night when only a flight of stairs separated them, what would it be like once they went their separate ways? Of course, they both hoped that Theo would win the election to Congress. But what if he didn’t win? He would go back to farming in Wisconsin. He h
ad told her that.

  “We also serve who merely stand in the field,” he had joked, but his eyes had reflected the same sadness that she knew he must be seeing in her eyes. He had pulled her into his arms and said, “Look, we are not going to try and predict the future. If the plan is for us to be together, then we will be, and it won’t have anything to do with whether or not I get elected.”

  His certainty had always amazed her, and he seemed equally surprised at her perplexity. “I believe that there is a plan in everything—you know that.”

  I used to believe that, as well, she had thought at the time, but what possible plan could there have been in what had happened to Natalie and more recently to the millions of people who had been murdered by Hitler simply because they did not conform? Because he needed a scapegoat to excuse his reign of terror?

  Her thoughts drifted to Detlef Buch as they always did whenever she thought about the senselessness of what had happened over the last four years. The German had been quieter than usual whenever they met at the library these last few weeks. He had brought her specific names and places that she could feed to Gordon. He had also given her two names to give to Gordon, stating that if these men were still around, they might have more information about Marta and her husband. “They once worked in our embassy in Washington. Of course, that was before ties between our two governments were broken.”

  “Why would you think they would be available to give information now?”

  “Because they were contacts for Frau Schneider’s brother-in-law, and more to the point, once the embassy was closed, these men stayed here in America.”

  She had given Gordon the names, and a few days later he had located one of the men—at least to the point of knowing he was still living in the United States. But the trail had ended there.

  The train slowed, rousing her. She sat up and checked her hair and smoothed the skirt of her dress. “Where are we?”

  “Chicago. The train will be here long enough for us to get out and stretch our legs a bit—maybe get something to eat.” He stood in the aisle and stretched.