All God's Children (22 page)

“Ja,” Josef said as he took hold of Beth’s hand. “I agree. The very best.”

    CHAPTER 11    

T
he almost-magical feeling surrounding the day continued well into the evening. Perhaps it was the fact that the streets were mostly deserted and the shops closed early. Perhaps it was the fact that there were no sirens or the drone of planes overhead. Perhaps it was the calming sound of church bells calling worshippers to evening services.

Whatever the explanation, the family embraced the calm that had settled over the city as they gathered for a special Christmas Eve supper. Aunt Ilse had placed favors—inexpensive miniature toys she had purchased at the market—at each person’s place. A tiny doll dressed in Bavarian costume lay at Liesl’s place; a book not much bigger than a postage stamp with the opening of Dickens’
A Christmas Carol
waited for Uncle Franz; and Beth found a small-scale American flag by her plate.

“Wherever did you find this?” Beth asked.

“I have my sources,” Aunt Ilse replied with a smile. “Josef, there’s a favor for you as well,” she said.

Josef unwrapped the small package at his place to reveal a wooden train—each car no bigger than an inch and the engine, passenger car, and caboose all linked together with string.

“A train?” Uncle Franz said as he examined Josef’s favor.

“Every boy loves a train,” Aunt Ilse said, unable to restrain her natural defensiveness.

“I always wanted a train—as a boy,” Josef said. “My father believed in more practical gifts.”

The adults around the table fell silent. They were all a bit mystified as to why Josef had chosen to spend this special evening with them and not his own parents.

“I’m going to name my doll Lily,” Liesl announced as she pretended to walk the tiny doll across the table. “Unless,” she added with a sly look at her mother, “perhaps there might be another doll under the tree?”

“First we eat,” her mother informed her. But she was smiling, and she ruffled her daughter’s hair as she went to get the platter of sausages and cheeses that she and Beth had prepared for the meal. In addition, they enjoyed potato salad and applesauce and fat, yeasty pretzels that could be dipped into a special spicy mustard that their landlords in the bakery had sent.

“I could not eat another bite,” Franz exclaimed after they had devoured the meal. He leaned back and patted his stomach as he gazed fondly at his wife.

“Me neither,” Liesl announced, mimicking her father’s actions and making them all laugh.

“Well then I suppose that I will simply have to throw out the
Guglhupf,”
Aunt Ilse said. “I made your favorite with chocolate and nuts, and it won’t keep until tomorrow.”

“I have plenty of room,” Josef announced.

“Me too,” Beth agreed.

“And me,” Liesl shouted as she hurried to clear away the dishes and bring bowls for the dessert.

“There is always room for your Guglhupf,” Franz added.

Once they had eaten their dessert and the women had washed and dried the dishes while Josef and Franz made a fire in the sitting room, it was finally time to open the gifts that Liesl had been pinching and shaking most of the afternoon.

The small sitting room was made even smaller by the presence of a fragrant fir tree trimmed with a dozen tiny, white candles, each housed in a small brass holder that clipped to a branch of the tree. Precious glass ornaments from Aunt Ilse’s youth and the silver tinsel that she carefully saved from year to year completed the decorations. As the youngest, Liesl had the job of handing out the gifts.

“This one is for you, Josef,” she said, handing him a long, skinny package.

“Ah, my giraffe.”

Liesl giggled. “It’s not a giraffe—I told you.”

Josef tore off the brown paper that Liesl had drawn pictures on for decoration to reveal the candy cane she had brought back from their skiing trip. “I love peppermint,” Josef announced. “And all this for me? It’s very special, Liesl. Thank you.”

Liesl frowned. “You could share,” she suggested, and everyone laughed.

“Tomorrow,” Aunt Ilse said when Josef seemed about to begin breaking the stick candy into pieces. “We’ve had enough sweets for one night.”

Liesl did not protest but turned back to the small stack of wrapped packages. “Papa,” she said and handed him a gift—a pair of thick wool socks from his wife.

There followed the gifts that Liesl had chosen for her parents, a new hat for Beth from her aunt and uncle and Liesl, a package of tobacco from Beth for Uncle Franz, and a lavender shawl for Aunt Ilse. For Josef there was a fountain pen from Uncle Franz—“My father’s,” he told Josef. Aunt Ilse had made him a set of handkerchiefs with handrolled edges. And from Beth there was a beer stein painted with winter scenes.

“It will always remind me of the time you, Liesl, and I spent together this morning in the park,” he told her.

There was only one present left.

“It’s for me,” Liesl said, her eyes glowing with anticipation as she ripped off the paper from the large package to reveal a small but detailed dollhouse. “It’s Lily’s house,” she declared and ran back to the kitchen to retrieve the tiny doll.

While the family admired the dollhouse, Beth noticed that Josef had slipped away. She heard him climb the attic stairs and considered going after him, thinking that the closeness of her family had made him sad. But almost as soon as he left the room, he was back and juggling four packages—crudely wrapped in paper he must have gotten from the butcher.

“Fräulein Liesl,” he said, presenting her the first gift with a courtly bow. She tore the paper off to reveal three new books.

“Look, Beth. Oh, just look,” she cried as she slowly turned the pages of the first book.

Josef handed Aunt Ilse the next package. “It’s less than you deserve,” he told her, “but it comes from a heart filled with gratitude for your many kindnesses.”

She carefully opened the hinged box. Inside was an enameled green brooch. “Oh Josef, it is far too dear,” she murmured even as she pinned the jewelry to the front of her dress.

For Uncle Franz there was a new pipe that he filled immediately with some of the tobacco Beth had given him and lit in spite of Aunt Ilse’s protests.

“There’s one more.” Liesl pointed to a slender gift box. “And I know what it is because I helped Josef pick them out.”

Josef handed the package to Beth. She could not hide her blush as she untied the ribbon on a package that had been professionally wrapped and opened the lid. She pushed aside the tissue to reveal a pair of soft leather gloves the color of honey.

“Try them on,” Josef urged. “I had to guess at the size, but the clerk…”

“They are perfect. Just perfect.”

The whole day had been perfect, and Beth wished it would never end.

J
ANUARY
—F
EBRUARY
1943

    CHAPTER 12    

A
s the New Year came and went, Josef could not help but wonder what the next Christmas would bring. The one thing he knew for certain was that he wanted to spend whatever time he had in this life with Beth. But how to do that and make sure that she was safe and did not suffer once the war ended?

They had finally come to a compromise regarding her participation in the activities of the White Rose. Or rather he had agreed that she could continue to work within the group so long as she promised never to try to distribute the leaflets without him by her side. But he was well aware that she was always on alert for an opportunity to do more.

In early January the members of the White Rose returned to Munich with renewed determination to expand their efforts. Josef had told Willi about his discovery of the leaflets in Franz’s unattended briefcase, and everyone had insisted that Franz could help with the printing but was never to have any of the incendiary papers in his possession again.

So by mid-January they had all settled into a routine. Most evenings Josef and Beth would leave the apartment after supper, saying they were meeting friends at the Gasthaus or seeing a film at the movie house or attending a concert. This was all true. What they did not say was that they often shared these evenings with their friends from the White Rose. Less often Franz would claim some meeting he needed to attend and leave Ilse at home with Liesl. It all appeared to be working perfectly until Ilse got it into her head that she should invite Josef’s parents for Sunday dinner.

“It seems only polite,” she said one evening as they were finishing their supper. “After all Josef and Beth are…seeing a good deal of each other. Josef, will you ask them?”

“Sunday?” Josef was stalling for time. He had to think. The very idea that his father might sit at this table or perhaps share a
schnapps
with the professor in his cluttered study—who knew what might be lying around in there?

“Nothing fancy,” Ilse added. “We’re plain people after all.” Her voice shook slightly. Josef had learned that this was a sure indication that she was beginning to have second thoughts about her invitation.

“I’m sure it would be a lovely occasion,” he said. “It’s just that my father is quite busy these days, called into headquarters at all hours of the day and night to hear my mother tell it.”

“Of course. I wasn’t thinking.”

“But we should set a date anyway,” Franz announced. “And if it falls through, then we can set another. This Sunday, Josef?”

Josef glanced at Beth. They both understood what Franz was doing. Ilse had been doing so well. She had even begun to accept the relationship between Beth and Josef. If Josef made some excuse— especially a transparent one—it could be enough to undo all the progress that Ilse had made.

“I’ll call them today. And if this Sunday does not work, perhaps a week after?”

Ilse gave him a genuine smile—a rarity when it came to the way she usually interacted with him. “That would be fine, Josef. Thank you.”

Of course his mother was delighted to accept. “It’s about time we had the opportunity to meet Beth’s family,” she told him. “Call it a mother’s intuition, but I sense that you and that young lady have moved well beyond the stage of being just friends.”

“Now, Mother, it’s a simple invitation for Sunday dinner. Don’t make more of it than—”