by Anna Schmidt
“How was your meeting?” she asked Josef as she hung his coat on a hook in the hallway.
“We made a start, but there’s still work to be done,” he replied with a nod toward his coat.
Beth saw the tip of a familiar envelope peeking out from an inside pocket and quickly arranged the coat to hide it. So Josef had not been able to distribute all of the leaflets. Her mind raced with ideas for some way they might complete their assignment before they had to board the train.
“Beth? Bring me that suitcase,” Marta called. “My sister is not the only one who has clothing she no longer needs.”
Beth glanced at Josef. They were alone in the hallway. The suitcase had been left by the front door. As if he read her mind Josef opened the case and Beth held it while he stuffed the remainder of the supply of leaflets beneath the lining. Whatever had happened to their contact, Josef had done what he could. As he snapped the latches and handed Beth the case, he stroked her cheek with his forefinger.
“We have to go soon,” he said.
“I know. Come, have your tea while Marta packs the bag, and then we can leave.”
At the rail station they struggled against the crowds to make it to their train on time. Josef led the way, carrying the picnic basket and suitcase, and Beth followed, fairly dragging a weary and cranky Liesl along with her. “We can’t be late,” she said when Liesl protested that she needed to rest.
All around them Beth was aware of soldiers—storm troopers in their brown shirts and the even more frightening Gestapo agents, members of Hitler’s elite and all-powerful secret police. Of course these men were not secret at all. They were easily recognizable. They wore another sort of uniform—trench coat and black fedora hat with the brim pulled low so that their faces—especially their eyes—were always in shadow. Yet they gave the appearance of seeing everything.
“We’re almost there, Liesl,” Beth said, her breath coming in short gasps brought on by the need to rush and her fear of being stopped.
Josef boarded the train and set down the cases, then turned to pull Liesl and then Beth aboard just as the train began to move. As she reached for Josef’s hand, Beth saw two of the agents boarding the next car.
Josef kept a watchful eye on the doors connecting their car to the one where Beth had seen the agents board. She had finally dozed off while a revived Liesl kept up a running monologue about the passing scenery that she could not possibly see because it was pitch black outside the train’s windows. Josef made what he hoped were the appropriate sounds of interest to keep the girl occupied.
They were less than half an hour from Munich when he saw the agents crossing into their car. He nudged Beth and nodded toward the door, open now and announcing the new arrivals with a rush of cold wind. Liesl’s chatter stopped as she turned to observe the new arrivals.
“Papers, bitte,” one of them said as they started up the aisle, each taking a side and moving slowly along the car, examining identification cards and travel documents, asking questions, testing passengers with little tricks like suddenly smiling and switching to English or Russian in order to entrap someone faking his or her German heritage.
Josef, Beth, and Liesl were at the very back of the car. “Just stay calm,” he said as Beth squeezed his fingers so tight he thought she might actually break the bones. “You have the proper documents. There is nothing they can do.”
She glanced up at the suitcase in the rack above their heads. “What if…”
“I’m hungry,” Liesl complained.
“Me too,” Josef agreed and he pulled out the picnic basket from under the seat across from them and opened it. “Look at this, Liesl. There’s chocolate cake.”
“Tante Marta put that in there,” Liesl confided. “She told me that it was a surprise and the cider as well. It’s for you and Beth to celebrate with. What are we celebrating, Josef? Christmas has already been, and my birthday—”
“Papers.”
Josef presented his documents as well as Beth’s to the agent. The man looked briefly at Josef’s before handing them back. “Herr Doktor,” he murmured as he turned his attention to Beth’s visa. Then he nudged his cohort and handed him the papers to examine. Both men focused their attention on Beth.
“We’re having a picnic,” Liesl announced. “I don’t know what we’re celebrating but it’s something. Do you like chocolate cake?”
The men ignored her, their eyes going to the suitcase in the rack above them. “Does this case belong to you, Fräulein?”
“It does not,” Liesl protested. “It belongs to my mother.”
“We were visiting the girl’s aunt in Eglofs, and her mother sent along some clothing that Liesl here has outgrown.” Beth took care to speak to the agents only in German.
“I’m eight. My cousins are much younger,” Liesl announced. “Except for Beth, of course. She’s much older than me.”
“And you are related to this woman?” the agent persisted, directing all of his questions to Liesl.
“This is Beth,” Liesl said with a huff of frustration. “She is also my cousin. She takes care of me and my mother, who is sometimes very sick and needs to stay in her room.” She looked at the man as if he weren’t very bright. “Can we have our cake now?”
“We would not wish to disturb your celebration,” the agent said, but he was still holding Beth’s visa, tapping it lightly against his palm. “What is the occasion?”
“I don’t know,” Liesl whispered. “Josef was just about to tell me.”
The agents and just about everyone in the railway car turned their attention to Josef. Beth sat by his side, and she was shaking so much that he thought surely the agents must see how nervous she was.
He grasped her hands between his. “Elizabeth Bridgewater, will you marry me?” he blurted. Everyone in their compartment erupted in excited commentary as the news of Josef’s proposal was shared. Soon other passengers had left their seats and crowded into the aisle for a view of the young couple.
“Yes,” Beth whispered, her gaze locked on his as if needing to be sure that she was giving him the correct answer. “Yes,” she repeated, her voice a little stronger as an uncertain smile played over her lips.
“Küssen die Fräulein, Dummkopf,” the agent closest to them ordered, but he was smiling.
Josef leaned in to kiss Beth, and the car exploded with joy. A businessman pulled down his valise and extracted a bottle of champagne. The agents only laughed when he popped the cork and took a long swallow before passing the bottle on to others around him.
“Can we have cake now?” Liesl shouted above the turmoil surrounding them.
“We can have cake,” Josef assured her, and when Beth received her precious visa along with the agents’ congratulations, he gestured toward the empty seats facing theirs, inviting the two men to join them.
“Nein, danke. Glückwünsche, Herr Doktor.”
As Josef accepted their congratulations and the agents moved on to the next car, he could only hope that the following day’s dinner with his parents and Beth’s aunt and uncle would go half as well.
CHAPTER 13
Sunday dinner with the Buchs had all the makings of a complete and utter disaster. Beth was certain that it would be weeks before her aunt’s distress over the whole event could ease enough so that the woman did not burst into tears at the mere thought of it.
The trouble began almost the moment they arrived home from the visit with Aunt Marta. Liesl began telling her parents all about the agents on the train.
“They took your papers?” Aunt Ilse asked.
“They examined them and gave them back,” Beth explained. “Everything was in order. There was nothing they could do.” She knew that wasn’t true, and so did her aunt, but neither of them said so. “Why don’t I help Liesl get ready for bed?”
“Josef and Beth are getting married,” Liesl announced as she headed for her room. “He asked her right there on the train, and everybody was so very happy.”
N
ow it was Josef’s turn to calm Aunt Ilse. “It was the only way I could think of to take their attention off the fact that Beth is American, and it worked.”
It worked?
“You didn’t mean it then?” Aunt Ilse asked, her relief evident. “Because Josef, I know you care for our niece and she for you, but a union between you in these times…”
“I know, Ilse.” He glanced up at Uncle Franz. “I had to think of something that might draw their attention away from her.”
Beth saw her uncle nod and grip Josef’s shoulder in approval. Then she hurried after Liesl and took her time getting the girl settled for the night. She gave in to every request for one more story and even stayed sitting next to her cousin’s bed long after Liesl had fallen asleep.
By the time she returned to the sitting room, she could hear Josef and her uncle talking in low tones behind the closed door of Franz’s study. Aunt Ilse was standing in the middle of the room, studying the furniture. “Perhaps we should move that chair here and place the—”
“Do you have something in the oven, Tante?”
Aunt Ilse’s hands flew to her mouth as she dashed into the kitchen and threw open the oven door. Black, acrid smoke poured into the room. “Oh, it’s ruined,” she cried as she fanned away smoke with the skirt of her apron.
Beth turned off the oven and grabbed a dishtowel to serve as protection while she reached for the pan inside. Whatever the contents had been, the food was now charred and inedible. “We can make it over again tomorrow.”
“Do you think sugar grows on trees?” Aunt Ilse snapped. “That was to be our dessert. It took me hours to adjust the ingredients so that it would be perfect. Now look at it. And that pan. I need that pan tomorrow, and it will never be clean.”
“We can soak it overnight, and by morning—”
“Ruined,” Aunt Ilse moaned and ran from the kitchen, her sobs echoing down the hall.
“What has happened?” Uncle Franz said, opening the door at the sound of his wife’s distress. “And what’s burning?”
“Go to her,” Beth said wearily. “I can manage this.”
She did not hear Josef come into the kitchen because of the water she was running and the steam rising from the burnt pan. So when he placed his hands gently on her shoulders, she jerked away from his touch.
“Let me help,” he said.
“I can do it. You should get some rest. It’s been a long day.” She could not look at him, the memory of his words still ringing in her ears. She knew that she had foolishly allowed herself to believe that his proposal had been sincere and not simply a ruse to distract the agents on the train. But the fact was that she was in love with Josef, and the next logical step for any woman in love was to imagine a life together.
“For you as well, Beth. Let me scrub the pan for you.”
“It will do no good to scrub it now. It needs to soak overnight,” she snapped. “Now please just go to bed.”
She was relieved when he said nothing and moved away. But instead of hearing his step on the attic stairs as she had expected, she heard him pull out a kitchen chair. When she turned he was seated at the table, his arms folded across his chest. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“It’s nothing. I’m tired, and Aunt Ilse is upset, and a great deal needs to be done before your parents come tomorrow and—” She couldn’t help it. She burst into tears. And you said you loved me, she wanted so much to add.
“Beth?” He came to her and wrapped his arms around her as she leaned against the sink, sobbing into the dishtowel. “You’re safe. Those men…it’s over now. Everything will be fine.”
“Will it? Will anything ever be fine again, Josef?”
When he pulled her into his embrace so that his cheek rested against her hair, she understood that he had no answers. They were caught up in a time and place that neither of them had had a hand in creating but nevertheless a time and place that was in complete control of everything they said or did.
Beth had things well in hand by the time Aunt Ilse came to the kitchen the following morning. With Liesl’s help, she had set the table using Aunt Ilse’s best linen tablecloth and napkins and her good china and crystal. She had managed to get the pan clean and had seasoned the special pork roast that Uncle Franz had secured for the meal with the last of their monthly ration coupons.
“Where’s Liesl?” Aunt Ilse asked as she put on her apron and began paring potatoes to boil.
“Josef took her out to see if they could find some evergreens for a centerpiece.”
“We have no dessert to serve.”
“Yes, we do. Marta sent you some gingerbread. She said it’s always been your favorite. If we cut the slices very thin…”
“Josef’s parents will think that we are—”
Beth sighed. “Aunt Ilse, it does not matter what they think of us. It is highly unlikely that we will see any of them again—including Josef— once this war has ended.”
“How can you say that? I thought that you and Josef…”
“We are friends, but once the war ends, how can we possibly sustain such a friendship? One of us—perhaps both of us—will have a price to pay and—”
“Do not speak of such things.”
“I’m sorry. I did not mean to upset you. Did you see the table? Is it as you would want it?”
“It is lovely,” Aunt Ilse replied as she fingered a plate. “These dishes belonged to my great-grandmother, and my mother embroidered the cloth and napkins herself.”
“You should mention that to Frau Buch. She seems to me to be someone who likes to hear such things.”
“Perhaps…” Aunt Ilse murmured. “Perhaps it will be all right after all.”
But it wasn’t.
Just half an hour before the Buchs were scheduled to arrive, Josef’s mother called to say that her husband had been called away for an important meeting and they would not be able to come. Josef had taken the phone from Franz and spoken to his mother in low tones for several minutes. In the end he had announced that he would be back—with his mother—within the hour if Ilse could please hold dinner. He would also send word that his father should join them for dessert if at all possible.
Josef had a dual purpose in going to his parents’ house to escort his mother to the professor’s for Sunday dinner. On the one hand he did not wish to see Ilse any more upset than she already was. On the other, he was curious to learn why his father was suddenly spending so much of his time in secret meetings and why he had been called into headquarters on a Sunday. Such information could be invaluable to his friends in the resistance.
Granted, the more deeply involved Josef became with the activities of the White Rose, the more paranoid he grew. He fully understood that he and his father stood on opposite sides of the political fence. But his first concern had to be for Beth and her safety. He was doing what he did for the love of his country, while she was risking everything to distribute essays that—as much as he prayed and hoped otherwise— admittedly had little chance of getting the citizens of Germany to rise up against Hitler.
He was also well aware that she continued to look for ways to do more. Her concern was for those being persecuted. People whose only crime was that they held beliefs and attitudes that the present government did not like. She did not believe in war—or politics for that matter. To her—and the professor—people were people. “We are all God’s children,” she had once said to him, and for Beth that was the crux of the matter. He was quite sure that for Beth loving someone— anyone—meant that she would move mountains for that fortunate person.
He was completely consumed with thoughts of Beth as the streetcar rolled along, its bell dinging out stops and starts for more passengers to exit or come aboard. Before he knew it, he had left the professor’s neighborhood of shops and apartment buildings crowded close together on narrow streets. Now the streetcar made its way along a snow-covered boulevard lined on either side by impressive homes set on spacious grounds. His parents’neighborho
od was only a few miles but worlds away from where Beth lived.
After exiting the streetcar, he walked the half block to the circular drive that marked the entrance to his childhood home. He stood for a long moment, looking at the heavy columns that stood sentry outside the front door, the large stone planters that his mother filled with red geraniums and trailing vines every May, the front lawn where his father had taught him the finer points of navigating a soccer field. They had been so happy then.
Josef headed up the driveway. A large black sedan was parked in front of the entrance to the house, the uniformed driver standing at the ready next to the passenger side of the car. Josef nodded to the man as he entered the house he had once called home.
“Mutti?”
His mother came down the wide staircase, her coat over her arm as she pinned her hat into place. “Your father sent his car and driver,” she said.
“So he will not be joining us?”
“I don’t know, Josef,” she said impatiently. “He was called to headquarters, and you know how these things are. It could be hours before he can get away.”
Josef held her coat for her and could not help but compare the furtrimmed garment that was obviously new to the thin wool coat that Beth wore—had apparently worn for some time given the way it had been mended around the collar and cuffs. “Nice coat,” he murmured as he watched his mother check her appearance in the gilded mirror that filled one wall of the foyer.
She smiled and stroked the fur collar and cuffs. “It was a Christmas present from your father,” she said, and then she frowned. “Do you think it’s too much—I mean for today? For this occasion? I wouldn’t wish to offend or…”
“It’s fine. Shall we go?” He opened the front door, and the driver immediately snapped to attention. “This meeting at headquarters…” Josef began once he and his mother were in the car.
“Please do not ask questions, Josef. You know I could not discuss matters of state with you even if I had any information myself.”