by Anna Schmidt
Beth turned to Gustav because it was evident that Josef’s mother was on the verge of a complete breakdown. “What has happened?”
“He was arrested last night.” The servant did not have to call Josef by name.
“Where have they taken him?”
“Headquarters,” Gustav replied. “Herr Buch has gone there to see—”
“And they’ll arrest him as well,” Frau Buch moaned as she sank onto one of the carpeted steps leading up to the main floor. “What are we to do?”
Somewhere in the bowels of the house, a telephone jangled. Gustav left to answer it. Beth sat on the step next to Josef’s mother and put her arm around the woman’s shoulders. “Surely…”
Frau Buch looked at her. “Don’t you understand? He was one of them—those students arrested day before yesterday. They are to be tried today.” She edged back from Beth. “You knew. You know.”
Gustav returned, carrying Frau Buch’s coat, hat, and gloves. “That was Herr Buch’s secretary. He is sending a car for you, and I told him of Fräulein Beth’s arrival. He said that she should come as well.”
“Josef?”
“Herr Buch has retained the services of an attorney—a trusted friend of the family. Josef will not be tried with the others.” Gustav held the coat for her, and once she put it on, he handed her the hat and gloves. “But…”
Both women gave the servant their full attention.
“What?”
“He will be tried.”
They all turned at the sound of a car arriving. Gustav held the car door for them while the driver kept the engine running. “Hurry,” Frau Buch murmured when he started slowly down the drive.
“I have an idea,” Beth said in a low voice. She saw the driver watching her in the rearview mirror and cupped her hand to prevent him from seeing her lips. “Please, Frau Buch, when we arrive let me speak with your husband privately.”
“You foolish girl,” Frau Buch hissed. “We have no idea if my husband…”
“But he sent the car,” Beth reminded her.
“Did he?” The wild-eyed look Frau Buch gave her struck terror in Beth’s heart. Josef’s mother was nearly hysterical with fear.
There was little to be gained by trying to reason with her, so Beth leaned back and stared out the window as she searched her brain for some way she might save Josef. She was completely spent. This is what Germany had become—a nation of people afraid of their own neighbors, terrorized by their government, and nearly hysterical with having to face a future they could not imagine. She closed her eyes and willed herself to shut out everything and everyone for the duration of the ride.
After reading Franz’s message, Josef had been so intent on finding Beth that he’d done the one thing he should have known would be the worst thing he could possibly do. He had gone to the railway station.
The place had been relatively quiet—making it feel even more ominous than if there had been hundreds of people around. He checked the timetable for departures to Eglofs, having realized that Franz had been trying to deceive him in saying the family had gone to Lenggries. The last train for the day had already left, and there was no sign of Beth. He was about to continue his search when someone tapped his shoulder.
“Sergeant Josef Buch?”
If the SS agent had addressed him as “Herr Doktor” he might have had the wits to deny his identity, but his military training was ingrained, and so he turned expecting to see someone from his former unit.
The SS agent did not smile. “Come with us, bitte.” He nodded to a second agent, who fell into step next to Josef. A few people glanced at the trio as they passed and then immediately turned their attention to other matters. Everyone knew that the arrests of Hans, Sophie, and Christoph had set off a massive hunt for anyone else who might have been involved in the activities of the White Rose.
Outside the station the two agents led Josef to a Mercedes similar to the one his father used going to and from his office. “I would like to let my father know—”
“Your father knows,” one of the agents said as he waited for Josef to climb into the rear seat.
While Josef was trying to digest this information, the second agent got behind the wheel of the car and glanced over his shoulder. He was grinning at Josef. “Who do you think sent us to look for you?”
Surely they were joking—the kind of graveyard humor that those loyal to Hitler and his party seemed to enjoy. Josef did not return the man’s smile.
He spent that night in a cell with one other prisoner. His fellow inmate spent much of the time they were together trying to get Josef to confide in him. Josef was certain that he was either a Nazi mole disguised as a prisoner or he was actually a prisoner and had been promised a lighter sentence or more food rations or some other reward if he could get Josef to talk. Either way the man was clearly dedicated to his assignment and, along with the lights left blazing in the cell round the clock, Josef got little sleep that night.
Before daylight found its way through the slit that passed for a window high on the wall of their tiny cell, guards came and took Josef to a windowless room. He sat at a metal table on a cold metal chair and waited…and waited.
Hours passed. Finally the door behind him opened and closed with a soft but distinct click. Josef waited for his interrogator without turning to acknowledge him. The man stood by the door for several minutes, but Josef could outwait him. He folded his hands on top of the table and stared at the blank wall in front of him. Then he closed his eyes and counted the footsteps of his interrogator.
Step. Step. Pause. Step. A deep sigh and then silence.
Josef opened his eyes.
Standing in front of the blank wall was his father.
Franz and Ilse had waited on the platform next to the snorting train until it was almost too late to board. Liesl had been in a foul mood—whiney and impatient to be going but at the same time fussing about the absence of Beth. The conductor had already given the first call to board, but Franz was certain that if they just waited a little longer, not only would they make the train but also Beth would arrive in time to join them.
He wondered if the baker’s wife had managed to deliver his messages—especially the one to Beth. If not and if she located Josef and followed him instead of coming to the station as planned, she could be in serious trouble. And what if she’d been seen in his office at the university? What if she’d been arrested? What if…
“Franz, we have to go,” Ilse said, tugging at his sleeve and glancing back at the conductor, who was checking his pocket watch. “She’ll come on the next train—with Josef.”
Franz had not told his wife about his belief that Josef had to have been the one to tell his father of Franz’s activities with the White Rose. Franz had no proof of course, and he didn’t want to believe it, but who else could have betrayed him? He knew how Josef longed to find some way to prove himself to his father, to show him that he was every bit the loyal German that his father was. How many times had he and the young doctor sat in his study, talking about the matter?
“Franz, the train will leave without us,” Ilse pleaded even as the engine released a blast of steam and a long blare of its horn.
There was no choice. He helped Ilse and Liesl aboard as the train slowly moved away from the platform. The conductor offered him a hand up and then turned his attention to Liesl. “Well, Fräulein, and where are we off to today?”
“We’re visiting my aunt, but my cousin…”
“She’ll be on the next train,” Ilse hurried to say, and she smiled at the conductor as she herded Liesl down the aisle to an empty seat.
When they arrived in Eglofs, they were surprised to see Marta waiting at the station for them. She sat behind the wheel of an old model car, and her three children were in the backseat. “Get in,” she ordered tersely as soon as they approached the car.
Ilse and Liesl climbed in back with Marta’s children while Franz took the front passenger seat. The door was barely closed
before she took off.
“Where’s Lucas?” he asked.
“He’ll meet us there,” Marta replied without looking at him as she navigated through the narrow streets of the village, past the building where she lived, and on out of town.
“Tante Marta,” Liesl said, “you passed your house. Aren’t we going to your house?”
“No, darling,” Marta said, glancing in the rearview mirror and pasting on the phoniest smile that Franz had ever seen. “Surprise! We are going on holiday—to Switzerland.”
“But Beth is coming later, and she won’t know,” Liesl said, and she began to wail. “How will she ever find us?”
“Now, stop that. Remember my neighbor—the one whose children you played with that day?”
Liesl sniffed and nodded.
“She will tell Beth where we are.”
Franz knew that Marta was making up answers as she drove. She could not possibly have known that Beth would not be with them. He stared at her.
Marta continued to focus on the road, her hands clutching the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white. “We do what we must,” she said quietly, and Franz was not sure if her words were meant to reassure him—or her.
As soon as Josef’s mother and Beth arrived at headquarters, they were escorted into a room furnished with comfortable club chairs arranged around a fireplace and told to wait. An hour passed, during which Frau Buch either stood staring out the window or paced back and forth occasionally murmuring to herself. Beth sat with her eyes closed and concentrated on taking deep, steady breaths. She wished that she were in the company of others who would join her in this silent reflection and waiting, but she was alone.
She blocked out the movements and sighs of Josef’s mother, the sounds that came to them from outside the closed door and from the street. For that was what those of her faith did. “Be still and know….” She deliberately left off the rest of the verse, finding strength and solace in the instructions to sit in silence until the knowledge she needed came to her.
An idea had been forming in her mind just as the car pulled up to Gestapo headquarters and she’d been aroused from her meditation to follow Frau Buch inside. Now she tried to reclaim the germ of that idea. Thoughts of Josef filled her mind. Where was he now? Why had she not trusted her love for him and his for her? How could she have believed her uncle’s message when she had seen Josef take chances that could have gotten him shot? How could she have doubted him after listening to him speak of his deep love for his homeland and his deep fear of what Hitler and the Nazis were doing to destroy that? Always her thoughts returned to the love they shared—the bond they had found in being with one another.
Her eyes flew open. That was the answer. Of course. They were meant to be together—no matter the consequences.
She stood up and went to the door of the reception room. It was heavily carved and almost twice her height.
“They told us to stay here,” Frau Buch said, her voice quavering with the fear that had only increased during the time they had been kept waiting.
Beth opened the door, and immediately a uniformed guard blocked her way. “I wish to speak with Herr Buch,” she said and was amazed at how firm and steady her voice was. “I have information that may be of interest to him.”
The guard frowned. “Wait here,” he said.
As much to indicate her willingness to cooperate as anything else, Beth stepped back inside the room and closed the door. “Someone will come soon,” she said.
Within minutes they heard the click of leather boots on marble flooring. “So, they will come now for us, you stupid, stupid girl,” Frau Buch hissed. She drew herself up to her full height and faced the door, prepared to meet her fate.
Beth had a moment of doubt that she had done the right thing when, instead of Josef’s father standing in the doorway, she saw the guard. “This way,” he instructed.
They followed him across the lobby and down a stairway, then down another narrower stairway into a corridor lined on either side with doors. Is Josef behind one of these doors? Beth listened carefully for voices—his voice. But she heard nothing as she continued to follow the guard and Frau Buch through a maze of hallways that seemed to be leading them farther and farther into the depths of the building.
Finally the guard stopped outside a door and tapped lightly.
When the door opened, Frau Buch fell into the arms of her husband, sobbing uncontrollably. Herr Buch dismissed the guard with a nod as Beth pushed past him to reach Josef. She knelt next to his chair, taking his hands in hers. “Forgive me,” she whispered. “Please forgive me.”
He pulled his hands free of hers, and her heart sank. But then he cupped her face. “I love you, Beth.” He pulled her to him, kissing her face as he murmured again, “Never doubt that. I could not go on if…”
“Shhh,” she whispered as she stroked his hair. “We’ll get through this together.”
She was aware that Josef’s father had calmed Frau Buch and led her to the only other chair in the room. He handed his wife the glass of water that sat in front of Josef. “Take a sip,” he instructed.
She did as he asked and then released a shuddering sigh as she focused her attention on Josef. “This has all been a terrible misunderstanding,” she assured him. “Your father will….”
Josef’s father cleared his throat and held out his hand to Beth. “Fräulein. I understand that you have information that could be of help?”
Beth accepted his assistance in getting to her feet. She stood next to Josef’s chair, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. For the first time since entering the room, she was aware of a man seated at a desk in the corner of the room, a stenographer’s notebook open before him and pen poised to record whatever she might say.
“I had thought—”
“This is an official interrogation of the prisoner, Fräulein,” Herr Buch said. “You have information?”
Josef stood up. “Leave her out of this.”
“Sit down,” his father ordered.
“Detlef,” Frau Buch protested.
Her husband ignored her. “Well, Fräulein?”
Beth tightened her grip on Josef’s shoulder, hoping he would accept her signal to stay quiet. “Your son—”
“Sergeant Buch,” the father-turned-Gestapo-agent corrected her with a glance at the stenographer.
“Dr. Buch has asked me to marry him, and I have accepted.” She had no idea where those words came from. She had intended to take full responsibility for their involvement in the activities of the White Rose. “Given the current situation, we wish to marry as soon as possible.”
Buch raised a hand to stop the stenographer from writing more. He walked over to the man’s desk and picked up the pad, ripping off the most recent entry and crumpling it into a wad. “Give us a moment,” he said, and the secretary scurried from the room.
Suddenly everyone—except for Beth—was speaking at once. Josef’s mother stood up protesting and then embracing the announcement. “Of course, Detlef. This is the perfect solution. Josef marries Beth, and they are both deported, and—”
“Fräulein, I do not believe you fully appreciate the seriousness of the charges against this man.”
Josef had turned to face Beth. “Stop this now. Already you have placed yourself in serious jeopardy by coming here and—”
Beth chose to focus on the words of Josef’s father. “This man, as you have referred to him more than once, is your son, sir. He is not some unknown prisoner that you have been given to interrogate. He is your son.”
Herr Buch’s lips moved, but no sound came out. He turned his back to her.
It was Josef who spoke. “My father is only doing his job, Beth.”
“Sergeant Josef Buch has committed acts of high treason against the government,” Herr Buch reported in a monotone.
“In America his acts are known as free speech,” Beth replied, and when the elder Buch half-turned to protest, she held up her hand and ad
ded, “and if my history is correct, such acts would once have also been considered the right of a free citizen here in Germany.”
“Detlef, you must do whatever it takes to stop this madness. Our son—our only child…”
Josef’s father released a sigh of pure exhaustion and defeat. “I cannot stop it. He will be tried and sentenced later tomorrow. At best he is facing a life sentence or perhaps the opportunity to volunteer on the Russian front. At worst—”
“No!” Frau Buch grasped her husband’s arm. “He is innocent. He has done nothing wrong. He is a soldier and a loyal German. He—”
“I have confessed,” Josef said. “I distributed literature that spoke against the government.”
“And I helped him,” Beth said. “So if Josef is to be tried and sentenced, then I must be as well. We were equal in our actions.”
“You will name the others?”
“I will not,” Beth replied resolutely.
“Not even if I can arrange for your safe return to your family in America?”
“I have come to consider Germany as much my home as Wisconsin is.” She realized that this was true—that she had not returned to America when she could have because she felt some tie to the culture and people of Germany. “If Josef and I were to marry, we would surely have made our home here.”
“I do not understand you, Fräulein.”
For the first time in days, Beth felt a genuine smile cross her lips. “That is not the first time I have been told this, Herr Buch. Your son has also mentioned that I often confuse him.”
“You could face death,” he said to Josef.
“Then allow him to do so as a married man,” Beth pressed.
“It might help if they were married,” Frau Buch said, clearly clutching at any straw. “I’ll call Father Schwandt.”
“No,” Josef said softly. “Beth and I are peace-loving people, and if we cannot be married in her faith—as Freunde—then we will have a simple civil union. Father, I am asking you for one last favor—expedite the paperwork so that we can be married immediately.”