Children of the Promise

by Dean Hughes

  Mat stood up. “President Thomas, never mind,” he said. He stepped toward the door. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”

  “No, wait. I’m just trying to explain.”

  Mat set his hat on his head. For the first time he looked angry. “Explain what? That no matter how long Japanese live in this country, they’re still Japs?”

  President Thomas couldn’t think what to say. For the past two months he had never had an hour go by without wondering what was happening to his son. He had lain in bed at night and wished that American ships could somehow get to the Philippines, that they could blow those treacherous Japs off the face of the earth. But now, here was his friend Mat, who had grown up in his ward, who had turned to him in times of hardship. “Mat,” he said carefully, “no one has anything against you, personally.”

  “President Thomas, when people talk about Germans, they talk about Hitler and the Nazis—the bad people who have misled the Germans. But every day I hear that “the Japs” did this or did that. Couldn’t the leaders be at fault in Japan, too?”

  President Thomas felt the power of the argument, felt confused by all his conflicting emotions. He stood up and walked around his desk. “Look, Mat, you’re misunderstanding me. I don’t feel good about any of this. I’ll make some calls. I’ll see what I can do for Ike.”

  “All right, President. Thank you.” Mat stepped to the door. “And I’m sorry. I’m very upset right now.”

  “Maybe this is all just temporary—until the government can sort things out.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Well, let me get on the phone, and I’ll get back to you before the day is over.” He reached out, and Mat stepped back and shook his hand.

  But when the day was over and President Thomas had spent the afternoon on the phone with local officials, and then with men in offices in California, he had little hope to offer Mat. In fact, although President Thomas didn’t say it, he wondered what might happen to Mat himself—even though he was not on the coast. President Thomas was almost sick from all the times he had heard “slant-eyes” or “sneaky little nips” roll so easily off men’s tongues. But when his thoughts returned to Wally, he found it hard to deal with his own attitude. He knew he was supposed to be a man of God. He had been taught—had taught—all his life that he shouldn’t hate anyone. But Japanese soldiers were advancing into the Bataan Peninsula, could overrun American forces any day. He had read it in the paper just that morning. How was he supposed to feel about men who wanted to kill his son?

  ***

  President Meis was sitting at the kitchen table in Sister Goldfarb’s apartment. “I’m afraid I have some bad news,” he had begun. She was waiting now, gripping her hands together, her face white.

  “Your husband has been taken away. I don’t know exactly when it happened, but his shop is boarded up, and he is gone.”

  Sister Goldfarb sat for a long time, nodding, tears in her eyes, but President Meis could tell she wasn’t surprised. “How do you know this?” she finally asked.

  “I heard rumors, so I went there.”

  “Weren’t you afraid to be seen in the ghetto?”

  “Yes. I was.”

  She didn’t say anything, but her eyes were clearly asking the question.

  “I’m ashamed of myself, Sister Goldfarb. I wish I had never told him to stop coming to church.”

  “You were not wrong to be afraid. I don’t blame you for that.” Sister Goldfarb folded her arms around her slender body, as if she needed to cling to something—and had only herself.

  President Meis was always careful what he said, but there were things he needed to express. “At first, I kept telling myself that Hitler was good for Germany. But I see what’s happening. Bruder Stoltz stood up to the Gestapo, and now he’s gone. His entire family. A Gestapo agent came to my house, his face bandaged, and he demanded that I tell him where the Stoltzes were hiding. I had no idea, but he knocked me down and kicked me anyway. I don’t know whether he found the Stoltzes.”

  Sister Goldfarb nodded. “Where are they taking people?” she asked. “Where are they putting the Jews? Do you know?”

  “In concentration camps. That’s all I hear. Some, I know, are in Poland.”

  “Will the Nazis kill my husband?”

  “I wish I could tell you that they won’t, but I’m not sure. Terrible rumors are starting to spread. It doesn’t sound good.” He ran his fingers along the edge of the table, over the oilcloth cover. He couldn’t stand to look at her. “Maybe it would be better if we lost the war—quickly. Your husband might have a better chance of being set free.”

  “You are a traitor to say such a thing,” Sister Goldfarb said.

  “I know.”

  “Are others beginning to feel this way?”

  President Meis found himself whispering. “I don’t know. I’m sure that some do.”

  “You were good to come here, President.”

  “I want you to come to church. I plan to visit you and your daughter. There are things that are right. I want to do them.”

  Sister Goldfarb pulled a little handkerchief from her apron, and she wiped her eyes, but she was under control. “Yes, there are things that are right. But you must live, and so must I. And I must protect my daughter. So please don’t come again. I’m afraid the Nazis will want her next—because she’s Jewish in their minds.”

  “I plan to check on you. I won’t come often, but I will from time to time. And others in the branch will contact you. We do want to help. I’m sorry we didn’t do so sooner.”

  “It’s all right.” She patted his hand.

  ***

  When Sister Thomas opened the door, she found Lorraine Gardner standing on her porch. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s so good to see you,” Sister Thomas said, and she swung the screen door open. The day was unseasonably warm, spring really coming on now.

  “I was just wondering what you had heard about Wally,” Lorraine said, and she sounded subdued.

  “Come in, dear.” The two walked into the living room and sat next to each other on the couch. “You’re so beautiful,” Sister Thomas said. “Prettier than ever. Poor Wally would give anything to see you right now. I’m sure of that.”

  “Has he written?”

  “No. But I don’t think he can get mail out. We only know what we read in the papers—the same as everyone else.”

  Lorraine sat with her feet together, leaning forward a little, her hands in her lap. “How’s your family holding up?” she asked, a little absently, as though her mind were on other things.

  “We’re doing the best we can.”

  “Wally and Bobbi have always been so close. I’ll bet this is hard for her.”

  “It is. She told me the other night that she wants to join the navy. I hope she gets that out of her head.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

  “Oh, why, Lorraine?”

  “I don’t know. The world seems changed all of a sudden. College seems pointless when the whole planet is at war.”

  “Maybe so. But we have to keep normal things going, too. We can’t just let everything fall apart.”

  Lorraine didn’t answer. She was still leaning forward, looking down. Her silky hair covered most of her face. “What’s going to happen to Wally?” she asked. “Can’t America get any help to the men over there?”

  Sister Thomas took a breath. “I’m not going to cry,” she said, but tears were filling her eyes. “I’ve cried until there shouldn’t be a drop of water left in me.” She took another breath. “There’s no sign, so far, that we can get any troops there—or any transports to get them out.”

  “I wish—” But Lorraine’s voice broke. Sister Thomas reached out and pulled her close, and the two cried together. “The last time I saw him,” Lorraine finally said, “I wasn’t nice. I told him all his faults.”

  “Well, he certainly has plenty of those.” She leaned back, still holding Lorraine close. She looked across the room at the picture
of Wally that she had put up recently. He was in his blue air corps uniform, grinning, looking cocky. She liked to think he hadn’t lost all of that spunk.

  Lorraine saw the picture and got up and walked to it. She stood and looked at it for quite some time before she turned around. “He was so good to me, Sister Thomas,” she said. “I don’t know whether anyone else will ever love me so much.”

  “Oh, Lorraine.” Sister Thomas stood up, walked to Lorraine, and took her in her arms again. She felt the shaking in Lorraine’s thin little body. “I just have to tell myself that some things are meant to be, and if he’s supposed to live, he will.”

  “I want to see him again.”

  “Yes. I ask the Lord for that every day.”

  “Why do people think up reasons to kill each other?” But Lorraine was sobbing hard now, and so was Sister Thomas. Neither said anything for some time. They clung to each other and cried until they couldn’t cry any longer. And it did help a little. But it didn’t change anything. Sister Thomas didn’t know what was happening to Wally, and the worst was that she wasn’t going to know anything for a long time—maybe forever.

  ***

  Bombs were dropping very close. The whole earth seemed to be in upheaval, the explosions rocking the house, shaking even the stones of the cellar floor. Anna huddled next to her mother, but she didn’t scream. She shut her eyes and tried to see the scene she had rehearsed so many times in her mind. She imagined Alex opening the cellar door and climbing down the steps. “I’ve come for you, Anna,” he always said.

  And then a blast hit so close that the room filled with flaming light. The crash jolted the house, and upstairs, things fell. Anna thought she heard a window break. But everyone was still alive; the bomb hadn’t made a direct hit. Anna cringed and waited for the next one to drop. But the next one was not quite so close, and then the sound began to move away, until it was like the rumble of far-off thunder. It was then that the cellar door opened, and Anna saw light from above.

  “Are you all right?” President Hoch called out. And now Anna could see that the light was a candle. The electricity was probably knocked out.

  “Yes,” Brother Stoltz said. “How much damage was done?”

  “Some windows. A few things knocked off the walls. It’s not serious.” He took a couple of steps into the cellar and then sat on a step. He was wearing his heavy coat. Because of severe coal shortages, the house was never heated at night now. “In the morning,” he said, “there will be people about—repairing, checking on things. We must be very careful.”

  “Yes, of course,” Brother Stoltz said.

  “I don’t understand it,” President Hoch said, and for the first time ever, Anna heard anger in his voice. “Why do the British bomb civilian neighborhoods? What’s wrong with them?”

  “President Hoch, what do you mean? Look what we’ve done to London.”

  President Hoch was sitting with the candle in front of him, its light gleaming in his wide-open eyes. “What are you talking about?” he said.

  “Don’t you know? Haven’t you listened to British radio?”

  “Of course not.”

  “You should, President Hoch. We’re destroying cities all over England—just the same as they are doing to us. It’s madness. It’s like no other war, ever.”

  President Hoch was still staring, obviously in disbelief. “This is not true,” he finally said. “We only bomb military sites. The Führer has said it is so.”

  Brother Stoltz gasped with pain as he rolled onto his side, and then he slowly got to his feet, grimacing as he straightened up. “President Hoch, I’m sorry. I don’t want to say things that upset you. You have been so kind to us. But you need to know the truth. We are bombing all the large cities of England—and the British say we did it first.”

  President Hoch sat for a long time, silent, before he said, “I see the results of this war every day. I see what the British bombers do. I can’t believe Germans would do such a thing to anyone. You’re hearing only lies from England. That’s why the Führer tells us not to listen.”

  Anna saw her father’s head drop. “Ernst,” he said, “why do you think I’m so twisted and broken? Germans did this to me—not some enemy.”

  “I know this. But I don’t know why, and I don’t want to know. I’m helping you because you’re my brother.”

  “That’s good. You’re a wonderful man. But you’re letting Hitler have his way—the same as I am—and he’s destroying everything in his path. If I could get to the man somehow, I would take his life—and feel completely justified. I could save millions of lives by doing it.”

  Anna saw the shock in President Hoch’s face, something close to panic. “I can’t let you speak this way. Not in my house.”

  “I won’t. Not again.” His voice softened then, and he added, “Ernst, I’m sorry. I know we have to leave here soon. We’ve accepted too much of your generosity already.”

  “No. You are welcome to stay. But don’t talk to me about the Führer. I must be loyal to my country. It’s the only thing I understand.”

  “I know how you feel. I am also loyal to my country. But not to Hitler.”

  President Hoch sat for some time, seeming to consider. Finally, he said, “I can’t think two ways at once. But let’s not speak of this again. Sleep if you can, and then come up to the toilet very early, before the sun comes up.”

  “Yes. Thank you. I’m sorry to alarm you. I won’t cause you any trouble.”

  “It’s all right.” He climbed up the steps and shut the door.

  Anna lay in the darkness when he was gone. She could see a hint of red from the little window. Buildings were burning outside somewhere. People had died. Anna hated to think that the same thing could happen to her and her family. She was scared to think what still lay ahead for them. But she wasn’t so unhappy as she had once been. She had something now that changed everything. Somehow, Alex had gotten a letter into Germany. It had apparently come through a Mormon diplomat before the attack on Pearl Harbor had brought the United States into the war. The letter had reached President Meis, in Frankfurt, and it had stayed with him for many months, but at a meeting of Church leaders—rarely held these days—President Meis had asked whether anyone knew the whereabouts of the Stoltz family. President Hoch had waited until the meeting was over, and then he had approached President Meis. “The Stoltzes are alive and well. I think it not wise to say any more than that.”

  “I understand,” Brother Meis had told him. And then he had given President Hoch the letter and asked him to wish the Stoltzes his best.

  When Anna read the letter, she was beside herself with joy. Alex expressed his love so sweetly, and he assumed nothing. He told her that he longed to think she felt the same about him, but by now, with the passing of all this time, she may have put him out of her mind. He was willing to wait for her, however long the war lasted, but if she had found someone else—or was simply not interested—he understood. He hoped she could get a letter back to him.

  So Anna was happy to know she was still loved, but she was fearful about the future. The letter had been written the year before, and much might have changed by now. For one thing, Alex might think she had not even tried to answer. So Anna begged President Hoch to find a way to get a letter out. President Hoch told her that he had lost his main connection—the Mormon diplomat who had now gone home—but he would try to work through a Church connection he had in Denmark. He couldn’t promise anything, however. Anna had written the letter, and President Hoch had passed it on, but there was no telling whether it had gotten out. And worse, there was no way of knowing whether Alex had received the letter, or ever would, since there was now no way for him to write back. Anna had not even said where she was, or explained what had happened. She was too fearful that the letter would be intercepted and that her family would be found out.

  Still, for the first time since moving into the cellar, Anna had something to hope for. If she never saw Alex again, at least she would
have the satisfaction of knowing that he loved her, and that she had made a commitment to him—whether he knew it or not.

  ***

  It was nine-thirty in the evening, so Bobbi was surprised when someone knocked, but she was happy when she opened the door and saw Alex. “Do you want to take a walk?” he said. “It’s warm out tonight.”

  “Oh, yes. I have far too much to do, but I’d like to get out.” She gave him a little hug. “Alex, it’s so good to see you. Are you doing all right?”

  “Yes.”

  She was surprised at how happy he looked. “You have something on your mind, don’t you?” she said.

  “Come on. Grab a sweater. I’ll tell you.”

  Bobbi was intrigued, but she didn’t bother with the sweater. She thought she would be warm enough. She was wearing jeans and a big flannel shirt that had once been Wally’s. Once outside, Bobbi said, “I talked to Mom today. Is she really doing all right at the plant? She talks like she runs the place.”

  “She soon will,” Alex said, and he laughed. “She already knows the operation better than anyone else down there.”

  “Except you.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. You can’t believe how much of the paperwork she’s doing for me now.”

  The two turned east, along Fourth Avenue. They had to duck to get under a low-hanging limb, but as soon as they were past the tree, Bobbi said, “So what’s going on?”

  “Well . . . I’m engaged.”

  “What?”

  “I guess you could call it that. I got a letter from Anna today.”

  Bobbi stopped. “Are you serious? How did she get it out?”

  Alex had taken a step ahead of Bobbi, but he turned and looked back. “I don’t know how she did it. The letter was posted in Salt Lake. So someone brought it here for her. I think it must have come through Church channels somehow.”

  “But she didn’t receive your letter, did she?”