All God's Children (21 page)

“Listen carefully,” he said, his voice low and intimate, but in his eyes she saw that same fierce intensity that she had noticed that first day she met him. “Underneath that newspaper is a copy of that item we were discussing—the one in my lab? When we have finished our wine, we will leave, but the newspaper will remain here.”

He continued to stroke her cheek, leaning back only when the waiter delivered their order. Beth was speechless and glad for the interruption. Once the waiter left, she wrapped her fingers around the mug filled with the fragrant spiced liquid and murmured, “So while the others have all left for the holidays you…”

“I am helping a friend.”

“What kind of friend?”

“Your uncle.”

The idea that mild-mannered Uncle Franz might do anything so brazen as to join forces with some rebel group was so ridiculous Beth laughed. “Now you are teasing me and it is cruel to—”

His expression told her he was speaking the truth. She gasped. “What can he be thinking? Aunt Ilse…Oh Josef, we cannot allow….”

Suddenly Josef was smiling, and his eyes actually twinkled mischievously. “Drink your wine. We have shopping to do.” Now he was speaking in a hearty and normal tone as if he wanted others to hear him.

“Will you buy me a present then?” she asked, her own voice loud enough that patrons at neighboring tables glanced their way and smiled.

Josef caressed her cheek. “Presents—lots and lots of them,” he promised.

“Then we’d best get started,” she teased as she made a show of finishing her wine and stood up.

Josef followed her lead, finishing his wine and then helping her on with her coat. They linked arms and left, but the newspaper stayed where Josef had placed it. Not one of the patrons or staff seemed to notice.

“Do you think someone will find it—the leaflet?” Beth asked as soon as they were safely on their way to the market.

“We can hope so. Furthermore we can hope that whoever finds it will read it and feel inspired to take a stand—perhaps copy the words and pass them on to others. That’s the only way this will work, Beth.”

They held hands as they strolled along looking at the various wares in each booth at the market. Josef bought gifts for Franz, Ilse, and Liesl and then led the way to a nearby park where they could speak more freely.

“I understand why you might wish to get involved in all this, Josef. You love your country and you—”

“But you are wondering why I have involved you?”

She nodded.

“Two reasons. If you and I distribute these leaflets, then your uncle won’t have to.” He sighed heavily. “The professor’s inattention to small matters—the way he left his briefcase lying open in the foyer the other night as one example—is bound to catch up to him eventually.”

She could not deny that. “You said there were two reasons.”

“I believe that, politics aside, you hate this war as much as I do. What if we could help bring it to an end, Beth?”

“We are two insignificant players in this time and place, Josef. All we can do is—”

“Pray? Does God not expect His people to act on those prayers? Does He not lead us to follow His way to make a better world?”

She took her time before speaking again. Obviously her uncle had considered very carefully the action he had taken in agreeing to unite with this band of resistors and join in their work. Quakers were not political, and he would never do such a thing unless he had prayed long and hard on the matter. “Very well, I will join you in this work. But there is one thing you need to understand, Josef Buch. I am not a child that you can manipulate as you did Liesl. I can do this
and
save someone like Anja again should God see fit to bring that person to my attention.”

On the morning of Christmas Eve, Liesl was awake before dawn, her excited chatter filling the small room she shared with Beth.

“It’s snowing,” she crowed triumphantly. “I prayed that it would, and look, Beth.” She pulled back the blackout curtain, exposing the small window that overlooked the courtyard below.

Beth stood behind her cousin, wrapping her arms around the girl’s thin shoulders as together they watched fat snowflakes drift past the window and turn the scene outside to a wonderland. The radiator hissed and clanked but put out little heat.

“Let’s get dressed and go outside,” Liesl said. “We can be in the middle of it all before others can walk through and spoil it with their footprints and shovels.”

“What about
our
footprints?” Beth teased, tweaking her cousin’s nose.

Liesl paused, then began pulling her snow pants on over her pajamas. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She frowned, but she brightened at once. “But we will still be the first to leave footprints.”

Beth laughed and hurried to get dressed. “We must be very quiet,” she whispered when they stepped into the hallway. “Your parents are still sleeping.”

They tiptoed past the kitchen, and Liesl stopped. “Let’s go wake Josef,” she whispered, and before Beth could object, the girl had bounded halfway up the stairs to the attic. “Josef!” she hissed. “Josef!”

“Shhh,” Beth said as she tugged at Liesl’s sleeve. “Let him sleep. He was so late at the hospital last night.”

“Who is that making such a racket?” Josef mumbled as he leaned over the banister, his chin showing the stubble of whiskers, his eyes heavy with sleep. But he was grinning down at them, and Beth realized that she was thinking that this is the way he would look if they were married and woke up together. She ducked her head to hide her blush.

“It’s snowing,” Liesl said in her normal voice, and then she giggled and softened her tone to a whisper. “Right this minute. Come on.” And assuming that Josef would do her bidding, she hurried back down the stairs and on to the front door. “Schnell,” she urged as she squatted on the floor and pulled on her boots.

By the time she had them on and fastened, Josef had joined them. He hopped on one foot and then the other as he pulled on his military boots, hooked Liesl’s ice skates over his shoulder, and then held out his arms, inviting them to link theirs with his. “Ladies, shall we go?”

The three of them made their way down the four flights of stairs to the courtyard, giggling and whispering all the way. Liesl set the tone with her questions and guesses about what the package with her name on it from Josef might contain.

“I think I know what you got for me,” he teased.

“You’ll never guess in a million years.”

“Oh, I might. It’s long and thin….”

Liesl glanced up at Beth with a worried frown.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a giraffe,” Josef announced.

“A giraffe? Where would I get a giraffe?”

“It’s not a giraffe then?”

“No. That’s just silly.”

“Oh, you have gotten me something serious then.” Josef pretended to consider the possibilities, stroking his chin. “Could it be a book?”

“No. It’s too thin to be a book,” Liesl reminded him.

The game continued as the three made their way through the deserted streets to the park. All the while Beth kept recalling how wonderful Josef had been with Anja’s children, telling them stories, tucking them into bed the three nights they had spent in the attic. He would make such a wonderful father.

She shook off the thought. What was the matter with her? First she was thinking about them married and waking up together, and now she had advanced their future to include children. It had to be the season and the surroundings, for certainly the snow falling on deserted streets, covering the rooftops, and sparkling in the rising sun made everything seem as if they were walking through a fairyland—living in a fairy tale where happy endings were assumed.

But this was Germany in 1942 with a war that was slowly turning against Josef’s beloved fatherland if reports heard in secret from the British Broadcasting Company could be believed. This was reality.

When they reached the park, Josef helped Liesl with her skates and then swept the snow off a park bench at the edge of the rink so that he and Beth could sit and watch her. It always surprised Beth to see what an accomplished skater her cousin was. Off the ice her movements were awkward and ungainly, but on the ice she seemed to take flight, her face raised to the sky, her arm outstretched, and her lips parted in a smile.

“Look at her,” Beth said to Josef. “She’s so graceful.”

Josef nodded. “The picture of innocence,” he agreed, but there was an undertone to his words that made Beth turn to him.

“That’s good, isn’t it? I mean she’s still so very young and perhaps once the war ends…”

“Once the war ends, Beth, she will still be German, and she will pay the price for our government’s arrogance and cruelty to others the same as every other German regardless of their age for generations to come.”

“You think Germany will lose?”

He shrugged. “Even if we should be victorious, we have already lost.” He took hold of her hand. “But we will not speak of such things on this day. It is Christmas Eve.
Frohe Weihnachten,”
he said, his voice husky as he leaned in to kiss her.

His lips—chilled by the winter cold—warmed quickly, and as he held her close and lightly kissed her cheeks and eyelids and nose, she surrendered herself to the fantasy of a life with Josef. “Merry Christmas to you as well,” she whispered when he pulled away.

“I have something to ask you,” he said, his cheek resting against her temple as she sat huddled close to him, and together they watched Liesl skate. “I have thought about this a great deal—all through last night— and I don’t want you involved in the White Rose after all. Just take care of your aunt and Liesl. Just be here so we can be together. The other? It’s far too dangerous and…”

She sat up and stared at him, searching his eyes for answers. “You’re giving up?”

“That’s not what I said. It is dangerous for you—doubly so because you are American and no doubt being watched whether you know it or not. I am also going to try and persuade the professor to—”

“But you will continue to take the risks and place yourself in danger?”

He sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “I have thought this through carefully, Beth. I will have Christmas with you and your family and then move out after the New Year. By that time, Willi and the others will have returned from their holiday and the plan is—”

“No. And by the way, you said you had a question. Yet you are not
asking
me anything. You are telling me that this is what you want.”

“Be reasonable. I am doing this for you—and the professor. For Frau Schneider and for Liesl. Surely you understand that.”

“What I understand is that we are already involved—my uncle and me. What I understand is that you cannot protect us, so do not deny us the opportunity to do what we can to bring peace.”
What I understand
, she thought but could not bring herself to say aloud,
is that I love you and want to be where you are no matter the danger
.

“You Americans can be so stubborn—and so naive,” he muttered, his eyes now focused on Liesl without really seeing her.

“Do not go throwing around labels, Josef Buch. You Germans are every bit as determined to have your way or our countries would not be at war with one another.”

Liesl glided across the ice and came to a stop in front of them. “Are you going to marry my cousin?” she demanded of Josef.

“Why do you ask?” It was evident that he was still upset with Beth but trying hard not to pass his emotions on to the girl.

“You kissed her. I saw. And Mama says when people kiss they are either married or about to be.”

“Sometimes people kiss because they are good friends and happy to be together, Liesl,” Beth said. “Because they want to be together no matter what.” This last she added hoping that Josef would hear it for the remorse she felt at having quarreled with him.

Josef reached over and took her hand. “And sometimes,” he added, “it’s because the people have argued and need to make up. Like this.” He leaned over and kissed Beth’s cheek.

Liesl looked doubtful. “Before you kissed her on the mouth,” she pointed out as she plopped down on the bench to remove her skates and put on her boots.

“So I did,” Josef replied, and before Beth could stop him, he kissed her full on the lips. At the same time he gathered a handful of snow, and when he broke the kiss, he tossed it in Liesl’s direction.

She giggled, and the snow fight was on, each of them finding protection behind a tree or the park bench as they hurled snowballs at each other. Before Beth realized it, Josef joined forces with Liesl, and the two of them came toward her, taking turns pelting her with the weapons that barely held together, so light and powdery was the snow.

“I surrender,” she finally shouted, but when Josef turned to congratulate Liesl on their joint victory, Beth had her revenge. She scooped up snow and dumped it on his head. “We Americans,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes, “are not only stubborn. We are also ingenious when it comes to winning.” She took off running, knowing that Josef and Liesl would follow. After giving chase for several minutes, the three of them collapsed breathless in the snow.

“This is the best Christmas Eve I ever remember,” Liesl said with a satisfied smile. “And the very best part? It’s only just begun.”