All God's Children

by Anna Schmidt

  “It came after we had lost all contact with you.”

  “Open it,” Ailsa urged. “Perhaps it is good news.”

  Beth saw a Belgian postmark on the envelope and a return name and address. Anja began to weep as soon as she saw the return name on the envelope. “It is from the woman in the red dress,” she told Beth. “The woman at the church who took Daniel.” Her hands were trembling uncontrollably, and she sobbed. “I can’t,” she managed to say as she thrust the letter into Beth’s hands. “You read it.”

  Beth slid her thumbnail under the flap of the envelope and removed the single sheet of paper inside. “It says, ‘Your package arrived safely on the twentieth and is a wonderful addition to our garden, thriving and blossoming as you hoped.’ It’s signed simply ‘Hannah.’”

  Anja reached for the letter and scanned the contents. A smile of relief replaced her tears. “It’s Daniel,” she explained. “Hannah was taking him to Belgium to a convent outside Brussels where they run an orphanage. That’s the garden and…” She peered closely at the date stamp on the envelope, and once again her features darkened. “When was this sent? Months ago now—nearly a year. What if…”

  Olaf hugged his granddaughter until her wails of distress had settled into shuddering sobs. “We will find him,” he assured her.

  “Come,” Ailsa invited. “Let’s go inside. The midwife will be here soon, but we have invited some Friends to join us in silent worship—we have much joy in our hearts.”

  “Of course.” Beth had almost forgotten that if Anja followed the faith of the Friends, it was likely that her family did as well. And if she had needed any more evidence that she and Josef were home—at least for the moment—the invitation to sit in silence with other Quakers for the first time in months was more than sufficient.

  Josef and Beth settled into Edvard’s small cottage. They passed the time reading aloud to each other, visiting with Anja and her grandparents, and planning the future neither of them could be certain they would ever know. As their days on the island lengthened into weeks and November passed and December brought more snow, Josef was surprised to find that the daily worship meetings with the Danish Quakers brought him a sense of peace and hope unlike anything he had ever experienced in his restless life. Even as a boy he had always felt as if he was expected to manage any challenge that came his way on his own. His father had insisted that Josef address any conflict without the help of his elders. It was a policy that Josef knew his mother had often disagreed with, but his father had been adamant. “How do you expect the boy to learn?”

  The memory of that made the lengths that his father had gone to— even jeopardizing his own career—to save Josef and Beth even more remarkable. Often as Josef sat in silence with the others, his thoughts turned to his parents, and he wondered what price they must have paid when news reached Munich of the Sobibor revolt.

  One day when he had gone down to the docks to sit with Edvard and mend fishing nets, he asked the fisherman if he would be willing to do him one more favor.

  “One more. Ten more.” Edvard shrugged.

  “I would like to contact my parents and let them know that Beth and I are all right. It is too dangerous for me to write them directly, but if you…”

  “Write your letter, Josef, the way you want me to put it, and I’ll take care of it.”

  Late into the night as Josef and Beth sat beside the fireplace in Edvard’s cozy cottage, they worked on the letter. What could they say? What should they not say? How much information was enough but not so much as to cause problems?

  It was Beth who reminded him of the coded letter that Anja had received. The return address had been a general mail address that was not tied to any specific place, and the message had been brief and to the point. “Surely in his position your father is well used to reading between the lines, Josef.”

  In the end they decided to compose the piece as if it were a business exchange. The two barrels of herring you requested are in storage for the winter.

  “Should we say where?”

  “They’ll know from the stamp and return address.”

  Josef ran his hand through his hair. “We need something more specific. My father will see this and simply dismiss it as a misdirected letter or a ploy to get his business.”

  “What if…” She frowned, unable to complete the thought. But then an idea occurred to her. “Josef, there must have been a time when you were a boy that your parents had some pet name for you. What was it?”

  Josef sighed. “Can you honestly imagine my father calling me by any name other than the one he had chosen for me?”

  “Your mother, then.”

  Josef thought for a long moment, and then he smiled. “Sepp—she called me Sepp. It drove my father to distraction, and I think that may be why she continued to do it from time to time even after I left home. It was always said with such affection….” His voice trailed off as he remembered those happier times.

  “But your father would recognize it?”

  Josef shrugged. “I suppose. What are you thinking?”

  “What if the letter said, ‘The two barrels of Sepp herring you requested are in storage for the winter’? Perhaps we could put the name in quotes or italics or something to make it stand out.”

  “It’s worth a try. And we could add a line—something like ‘Please approve by return post.’ Then if we get a letter, we’ll know my father understood the message.”

  “And if we don’t?” Beth hated to ask, but it was important to know how Josef would react.

  “If there is no response, then either my father missed the reference, or he understood it and chose to ignore it.”

  Beth knew full well that in spite of Josef’s attempt to remain stoic, the very idea that his father might ignore a message from him was devastating.

  “He will respond,” she said. “Think how he risked everything for you after your arrest. And he warned Uncle Franz and arranged for us to be married and…”

  Josef cupped her cheek tenderly. “You have such faith, Beth—you always see the good in others. How do you manage that, especially after everything you’ve had to endure? Everything I’ve put you through?”

  “I chose to be with you, Josef, so whatever came after that was part of that decision. I love you, and I would rather be with you in the worst of circumstances than separated from you under the best of conditions.”

  “But did you stop to consider what being with me meant? You are the daughter-in-law of a high-ranking Gestapo official, Beth. How can you make peace with that?”

  “I did not marry your father—I married you. Besides I was raised to believe that the inner Light that guides us all dwells in every person. We have only to be still and wait, and eventually God will show us the way.”

  “Even men like my father?”

  “Oh Josef, surely you can see that he is doing the best he can manage. Imagine how torn he must have been when forced to choose between loyalty to the country he loves—the country you both love— and defending your actions. Actions that went against everything he believes. And still he found it in his heart to forgive you and to stand with you in your darkest hour.”

  Josef studied the draft of the letter they’d been working on for hours now.

  “Your father will most assuredly recognize your handwriting.”

  The idea seemed to inspire him. “We should include some mention of my mother—that will get his attention.” He bent over a clean sheet of paper and started writing. A few minutes later he handed the paper to Beth:

  Dear Herr Buch,

  Per Frau Buch’s instructions, two barrels of our finest “SEPP ” brand herring have been placed in storage for the winter. Please confirm that these arrangements meet with your approval.

  “It’s perfect,” Beth said.

  Josef nodded, but Beth did not miss the way he read the words again as if searching for some flaw.

  “And after we deliver the letter to Edvard, we will sit in worship an
d pray for God to hold your parents in the Light and lead us all to a day of reunion once this terrible war is ended.”

  The more Josef participated in the silent meetings attended by Beth, Anja and her grandparents, and a few of their neighbors, the more he found the kind of inner peace and understanding that he had sought almost from the day that Hitler had taken full power. At first his thoughts focused on regrets about the unfinished work of the White Rose. But then he considered the incredible courage it had taken to organize and execute the escape from Sobibor, and he began to see a connection. A positive connection, as if the road might be hard but it was indeed the right path.

  The realization excited him, and at one evening’s meeting for worship he found himself on his feet and ready to speak for the first time. In other meetings others had sometimes spoken aloud, their observations always followed by a respectful return to silence before anyone else spoke. Other times the group sat in silence for over an hour, and no one said a word. No one had spoken on this day, but Josef felt as if he had to say something.

  “I am a stranger here,” he began. “A stranger from another land and a stranger from another faith, yet I have never experienced such a sense of community—of friendship and caring and concern. I am so very grateful that I have come to this place. Beth has lived among Friends all her life, and it is through her that I have been brought to this Meeting.” He hesitated, looking at the small circle of friends gathered around the fireplace in the fishing cottage while outside a northern wind whistled warning of a coming storm. “I do have a concern, and it is that Beth and I were not able to be married in the traditions of her faith. Even so, I ask that you hold us in the Light as we hold each of you in the Light to face whatever the future may bring.”

  He sat down, and as was their custom, no one spoke or reacted in any way. He closed his eyes. Part of him hoped he had not embarrassed Beth or spoken out of turn. And then he felt Beth’s fingers close around his, and he knew that the instinct to speak out had come from within— and it was absolutely right.

  Following the meeting for worship, Anja and Beth set out the covered dishes of food they had prepared and received from the neighbors. They worked in contented silence in the kitchen, which was almost as small as the galley on Edvard’s fishing boat. The others remained in the sitting room, talking quietly—mostly in Danish.

  “You know you could marry properly in the faith,” Anja said as if she were continuing a conversation the two of them had been engaged in as they set out the food. “We could do it here.”

  “There is so much we have yet to consider,” Beth replied. “Why add a wedding to the list?”

  “Because it would do everyone good to be able to celebrate something normal. Think about it.”

  But when Beth mentioned Anja’s idea to Josef, he had concerns. “I would like that as well, but I fear calling undue attention to ourselves and especially to our friends here. The island is occupied after all, and if the Nazis…”

  “Josef, what are we to do? Anja is planning to leave for Belgium as soon as possible to search for Daniel. Perhaps we should go with her.”

  “And do what?”

  “There are still people in desperate need of help—we could join the underground resistance there and continue the work we began in Munich. We could…”

  Josef’s eyes widened in surprise. “You would go back to that life? To always living in danger and fear?”

  “Danger, yes, but not fear, Josef. Never fear. If we are doing God’s work, then we have nothing to fear.”

  “You amaze me.” He held her close and kissed her. “Marry me, Beth,” he whispered before kissing her again.

  “We are already married,” she reminded him.

  “But Anja is right—that wedding is not the one we want to hold in our memories to share with our children and grandchildren. Let’s let Anja plan a proper wedding for us.”

  “I thought you were worried about drawing attention to the others.”

  “If they allow us to worship in peace, then surely they will take little note of a simple ceremony.”

  Beth felt her heart swell with joy. From the moment Anja had suggested the idea, she had been unable to think of much else. What if…

  But her innate caution and concern for the community made her seek out Edvard later that day. The fisherman had delayed his visit to his sister and continued to live on his boat, leaving Josef and Beth the privacy of his cottage. Many aspects of Edvard and his character reminded her of her father, and she had found that spending time with him helped to assuage her homesickness. Also she had another reason for going to visit him that day—she wanted to get word to her parents that she was safe, knowing they must be worried sick by now.

  “I can carry a letter for you when I go over to Sweden next week. It’ll be my last run before full winter sets in.”

  It was the perfect solution. Because Sweden had maintained its neutrality, her letter had a far better chance of reaching her parents without the blacked out lines of the German censors. “I’ll write the letter tonight,” she promised.

  “And as for this other matter, you and your young doctor deserve a wedding you can remember with pleasure. A wedding bound only by the love the two of you share. Let Anja put it together for you.”

  “But we don’t want to cause trouble for anyone, and what if—”

  Edvard smiled. “The people in this village have handled a lot more than any problems a simple wedding might cause. Besides the war’s turned against Hitler and his gang. Word has it that some of those Nazis stationed here are already beginning to reconsider their futures. I expect we’ll start to see the desertions any time now.” He patted Beth’s head as if she were a little girl. “You go on and plan that wedding.”

  “Will you be there?” she asked, feeling suddenly shy with him.

  “Would not miss it for the world.”

  CHAPTER 25

  This time they took the time they needed to follow the traditions of the Quaker faith. As clerk of the meeting for business, Anja’s grandfather Olaf read aloud the letter that Josef and Beth had given him announcing their wish to be married. Beth and Josef sat quietly among the circle of Friends gathered for the monthly meeting for business.

  “He will appoint two or three Friends to form a clearness committee,” Beth explained in a whisper.

  “What’s a clearness committee?”

  “They will question us and point out potential difficulties we may encounter and then—”

  “But we’re already married,” Josef reminded her.

  “I know, but it’s part of the tradition.”

  Anja and Edvard were appointed, and with a nod from Anja, Edvard stood and addressed everyone there. “Anja and I approve the proposed union and recommend that they be allowed to marry.”

  “So much for questions and potential problems,” Josef said with a wry grin.

  “Shhh,” Beth whispered.

  Olaf turned to the next order of business. “With the approval of the meeting, I would like to appoint my wife, my granddaughter, and myself to serve as the oversight committee.”

  Nods all around.

  “Another committee? What’s this one for?” Josef whispered.

  Beth took hold of his hand hoping to calm him. “They will oversee the arrangements for the wedding—the wedding certificate, the food and place for the reception—everything.”

  “Oh.” He was obviously relieved.

  “Who will perform the ceremony?” Josef asked later as they walked back to Edvard’s cottage together.

  “We will.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Friends refer to it as being married under the care of a Quaker meeting. When the time comes, we will stand before the gathering of friends and members of this meeting and speak our vows.”

  “No minister or priest or whatever you call the clergyman?”

  “God is our clergy.”

  Josef was silent for the rest of the walk to the cottage,
and Beth knew that he must be thinking how different this all was to the faith he was raised in with its ritual and robed clergy and ceremonial trappings.

  “Would you rather not do this, Josef?” she asked as they stepped inside the cozy cottage and hung up their coats. “I mean we are already man and wife, and there’s no—”

  He laid his finger against her lips. “I want very much to do this. I like everything about it, especially the idea that it’s just you and me coming before God to speak our vows. I love you with my entire being, and when I thought I might lose you—that the infection from the bullet…”

  “Shhh. I am healed now and getting stronger every day. Why, the walk down to the docks and back up that hill every day has done wonders for me. I hardly limp at all.”

  “And I was going to carve you a walking stick for a wedding gift,” he teased. He brushed her golden curls away from her face, and his expression turned serious. “I want so much to make you happy, Beth.”

  “Then you have what you want, for I am happier and more content in this place than I could ever have imagined.”

  “You must miss your family.”

  “Of course I do. But I feel more strongly than anything that God brought us to this place. I want to stay, Josef—for now. I want to stop running and stay here.”

  “Then that is what we will do. We’ll find a cottage of our own. Maybe I can practice medicine among the locals.”

  “What will I do?”

  Josef grinned, and Beth thought he was never more handsome than when his eyes sparkled mischievously and his smile lit up his entire inner being. “You, my love, will be busy raising our children.”

  Three days before Christmas Day 1943 Josef and Beth sat side by side next to Anja and her grandparents at the meeting for worship. The members of the meeting were all present. Edvard had even trimmed his scraggly beard for the occasion. After several minutes of silence, Josef took Beth’s hand, and the two stood.