All God's Children (18 page)

“Oh my goodness, Detlef,” Frau Buch said without a trace of embarrassment, “come down off your soapbox. It is just us—no need to crow the party line here.”

Beth was shocked at the woman’s directness and even more shocked when she saw Josef’s father smile as he took a sip of his beer.

“Frau Buch, you have such a lovely home,” Beth said, trying to come up with some topic of conversation that held little possibility of leading to further debate about her religion or politics.

Josef’s mother smiled wistfully. “When I was a girl, we were so very poor even before the war—that war,” she amended with a flicker of a glance at her husband. “It’s because of my past that we have all of this,” she added, waving her hand to encompass the fine furnishings of the room. “It’s shameful, I know, especially when there are so many people who are struggling but…”

Her voice trailed off, and for the first time all evening, she seemed less than sure of herself. Herr Buch stepped to her side and put his hand on her cheek. “You deserve beautiful things, my dear.”

But did she? Did anyone when, as Josef’s mother had pointed out, there were others suffering? Beth thought of Anja and her family, and suddenly she felt as if the expansive walls with their fine paintings were closing in around her. She gripped the high back of the nearest dining chair.

“Are you all right?” Josef asked as he relieved her of the glass that was in danger of tipping. Once again all eyes turned to her.

“We should eat,” Herr Buch announced. He had a way of speaking that left little room for discussion or debate. He did not raise his voice, and yet his words were delivered with undeniable authority.

“Of course,” his wife said and signaled the servant to clear away the plates and glasses from the appetizers. “Beth, please take this place across from Josef.”

Josef pulled the chair away from the table for Beth while his father did the same for his mother. Beth studied the array of polished sterling flatware lined up to either side of her plate. She knew enough to realize that every utensil represented a separate course for the meal. Across from her she saw that Josef was also looking at the elaborate place setting and lavish meal set out for them.

“I don’t know, Mother,” he said with a grin, “if we eat all of this, what are the chances that we’ll be able to move for hours? We don’t want to be the cause of Beth being out past curfew.”

Where Beth’s aunt would have taken the comment for criticism, Josef’s mother simply smiled. “I happen to have influence with someone who can extend the curfew for our guest if it suits him to do so,” she said and winked at her husband.

The look of pure adoration that Herr Buch gave his wife was something that Beth had never seen pass between two people other than her parents. For all of his stern demeanor, Josef’s father adored his wife. And if he was capable of such utter devotion for one human being, might he not find it in his heart to have compassion even for those he did not know?

As he did for me in getting me a new visa?

Beth’s spirits swelled with hope rather than the usual dread she felt in the presence of persons of authority in the Third Reich. She understood now why God had led her to this table with these people. She was meant to stay in Munich and continue the work she had begun when she rescued first Siggy and then Anja.

She relaxed for the first time all evening. She even engaged in the conversation led mostly by Josef’s mother as they worked their way through each course. Finally when dessert had been served and real coffee poured, Beth cleared her throat and turned to face Josef’s father.

“Herr Buch? If you agree, I would very much like to extend my stay in Munich to care for my aunt and my cousin.” She could feel Josef’s eyes on her and knew that he understood that she had made her decision. But her true reasons for wanting to stay went well beyond her desire to help her uncle and aunt. She would stay so that she could continue to seek out others in need and help them. She would stay because to return to the safety of the farm in Wisconsin knowing there were people like Siggy and Anja—terrified, hungry, destitute with no place to turn—would be unthinkable.

The silence that greeted her request was far more deafening than if Herr Buch had suddenly stood up and begun to shout at her the way Herr Hitler seemed inclined to do.

Josef’s mother glanced from her son to her husband to Beth. “You wish to remain here when you could have safe passage home to your family in America?”

“I do. And earlier today, when he extended the invitation for dinner, Herr—”

Frau Buch smiled. “Well, well, well,” she murmured softly. “Isn’t that romantic?”

“You are an American, Fräulein,” Herr Buch reminded her. “You must understand that the very fact that our country and yours are at war makes everything more difficult.”

“Freunde do not believe that war is an answer,” she said and remembered her aunt mocking her when she had made a similar comment the first night that Josef had moved into the attic.

“To be sure I am hearing you clearly, Fräulein, you wish to extend your stay because of your aunt’s health issues in spite of the risk you take for yourself?”

“That’s true.”

“Really, Detlef,” Josef’s mother murmured, “you said yourself that she’s been here long enough that she’s practically a native. Her mother
is
a native, and surely that counts for something. Besides she is little more than a child herself—surely you cannot believe she poses any sort of threat to the Reich.”

Herr Buch smiled at his wife as if she were the child. “You would be amazed at the kinds of mischief these so-called children can manage, my dear.”

“That may be, but does not the government offer protection for Jews married to one of our own? And if we would do that for those people, then surely a good German…”

Beth cringed at the way the woman spoke the words
Jew
and
those people
as if such words left a bitter taste on her tongue. On the other hand she was certainly making the case for Beth to stay on in Munich. The debate between Josef’s parents continued as Josef and Beth concentrated on eating. She realized that he was nearly as uncomfortable as she was, and that surprised her. It was the clearest evidence yet of how far his views about the war and the role of Germany in the world were from those shared by his parents.

“And what about Josef?” Frau Buch said quietly after a silence had fallen between her and her husband.

“What about Josef?” Herr Buch replied.

“I’m sitting right here.”

Beth saw Josef’s mother cast a look at her son—a look that instructed him to let her handle this. “Detlef, war or no war, these young people are attracted to one another—they may even love each other.”

Josef ducked his head, and Beth blushed.

“They have only known each other for—”

“And tell me how will they know each other better if you send her back across an entire ocean?”

“I told her earlier today that I would look into the matter once she was absolutely certain of her decision.”

“Well then, what are we debating?” Frau Buch raised her glass. “Clearly she has made her choice, and frankly this calls for a celebration.”

Everyone raised the china cups that Gustav had just filled with coffee—
real
coffee that Beth could not help but savor. “To Beth and her dedication to her Bavarian family,” Frau Buch said.

Beth focused on Josef’s father. “Danke,” she murmured, and the man acknowledged her gratitude with a slight nod.

Josef stood up. “It’s getting late, and Beth needs to get back.” He placed his napkin next to his coffee cup and bent to kiss his mother’s cheek as he came around the table. “It was a lovely meal,” he said, pulling Beth’s chair away from the table so she could rise as well.

The elder Buchs stood when she did, and once again Josef’s mother took hold of Beth’s hands. “Do come back any time.”

“I would like that,” Beth replied and realized that she meant it. She turned to Josef’s father. “I do appreciate all that you—”

“I will take care of the matter, Fräulein. In the meantime may I suggest that you prepare your Munich relatives for your departure? In case I cannot work miracles.”

“I understand.” Standing so close to Josef’s father, she could not help but notice that the eyes she had thought cold and aloof were in fact lined with weariness. She understood that in spite of his sumptuous surroundings, the access to luxuries such as coffee, and the power to determine another person’s future, this man had paid a toll for his involvement in the war. “Thank you both.”

Downstairs in the large foyer, Josef held her coat for her before putting on his overcoat and accepting the gloves the servant handed him. Gustav switched off the lamp so that when Josef opened the door there would be no light spilling from the house.

Outside Josef took hold of her hand as he ushered her down the front walk. “There’s still time, Beth, if you change your mind. It will only get more difficult for you,” he warned.

“Are you staying?”

“I live here.”

“And for the time being so do I. And I intend to make the best of that.”

    CHAPTER 9    

F
ranz Schneider stayed close to the buildings as he made his way down the blocks of shops and apartments. If he saw anyone he knew, he could always duck into a doorway until the person passed by, or if confronted he could always claim that he’d gone out on some errand. It was well known in their neighborhood that Ilse suffered from a nervous condition that sometimes required him to seek a refill of medication from the chemist when the hour was this late and her condition was severe.

He turned up his collar and clutched his briefcase more tightly as he reached the street that would lead him home. The contents of that briefcase could get him arrested and probably killed. Yet he was willing to take that risk—for his family and for his country. For on this night, Franz had cast in his lot with the members of the White Rose. His former students, Hans Scholl and Christoph Probst, as well as Josef’s friend Willi and Hans’s younger sister, Sophie, were all part of the core group responsible for writing, printing, and distributing the leaflets.

He had also learned that his colleague Professor Kurt Huber was considering joining the group. The man was a vocal and devout supporter of the Nazi Party’s platform. But perhaps he had come to understand—as others were finally beginning to—that Hitler and his men were renegades who did not feel obliged to follow the platform that had brought them to power.

At the meeting Hans and Sophie had argued in favor of expanding the operation beyond the distribution of their impassioned essays. There had been talk of joining forces with others involved in similar activities in Berlin. Some were members—those who had not yet been arrested—of a larger, more dynamic group that the Gestapo had labeled
Das Rote Kapelle
or the Red Orchestra. Hans had actually met with Falk Harnack, the brother of Arvid Harnack, one of the primary leaders of that doomed group.

News had reached those in the White Rose that Arvid and his American wife, Mildred, had both been arrested. At the meeting that Franz had just left, Hans had reported that he had learned that day of the brutal murder of Arvid Harnack. The man had been strangled and his body hung from a meat hook by the Gestapo. Further reports were that Mildred had been imprisoned.

Hearing that last news, all Franz could think about was Beth. Beth and the way she had given that young woman her exit visa without a single thought for her own safety. Beth, whose natural bent toward the American way of speaking her mind was increasingly dangerous in the current environment. Beth, who had sacrificed some of the best years of her life in order to stay in Munich and care for his wife and daughter.

That had decided him. He had to make certain that he saved her— even if he could not save his country. He owed her that much. He owed his sister that much.

“Ilse?” he called as soon as he entered the apartment. He set his briefcase on a stack of books in the foyer and hung up his overcoat and hat before changing into his slippers. From behind the closed door of the sitting room, he could hear music—a waltz. It was a good sign. If Ilse had turned on the gramophone, usually that meant that she was feeling better and perhaps even having a good evening.