All God's Children (24 page)

“Josef will be here later. He had some business he needed to attend to. I’m not sure how long it will take,” Beth added apologetically.

Marta shrugged. “All the more time for us to catch up.
Kinder,”
she shouted as she clapped her hands together to gain the attention of the children. “Could you manage to keep things down to a proper roar before the neighbors assume that we are under attack?” The woman even found humor in the fact that she was living in the middle of a war.

They prepared lunch for the children and themselves, with Marta keeping up a one-sided conversation about her husband—a chemist in the village—her children, and her sister. Beth did a lot of nodding and smiling, allowing Marta to carry the burden of the conversation. Every few minutes, she checked the clock that hung on a wall behind the kitchen table.
Where was Josef now?

The afternoon wore on as the clock clicked off the seconds, and the children were persuaded to settle down for the quieter pastimes of playing a card game and drawing pictures for Liesl to take home with her. The neighbor came to fetch her children and was persuaded to stay and share a cup of ersatz coffee with Beth and Marta.

“Remember real cream?” Marta said with a sigh as she sipped her coffee and made a face.

The neighbor laughed. “Remember real coffee?”

The talk turned more serious when Marta asked if there had been any news from the front and the woman had to admit that she had heard nothing for weeks. “Since before Christmas,” she said, her voice breaking. “Nearly two months now.”

“We will hold him in the Light and pray for his safe return,” Marta told her.

“We could pray now,” Beth suggested, suddenly knowing that taking time to put aside all of her fears for Josef and for this woman’s husband was exactly what was called for.

“I am not of your faith,” the neighbor said. “I don’t know—”

“Just close your eyes and empty your mind of all worries and thoughts,” Marta instructed. “You are waiting on God, just waiting, not asking for anything or questioning anything—like why on earth we are involved in this horrible war in the first place. Just close your eyes, and let clarity come to you.”

“May I pray my rosary?” the neighbor asked.

“If that’s what works for you,” Marta agreed.

The street noises faded, and the room went absolutely still except for the rhythmic clicking of the woman’s fingers moving over the beads of her rosary. Beth was also aware of the children quietly talking as they worked on their drawings. She focused all of her thoughts on Josef— willing him to be safe, to come back to her.

When Marta touched her arm, Beth opened her eyes and immediately glanced at the clock—this one standing on the mantel above the fireplace. Half an hour had passed. Marta was grinning as she drew Beth’s attention to the children. They were sitting in a circle, their hands resting on their knees and their eyes closed—the perfect picture of a Quaker meeting for worship.

Beth’s eyes welled with tears, and she saw that she was not alone. Both Marta and her neighbor were dabbing at their eyes as they gently prodded the children back into action. “Time to go,” the neighbor said softly, and without protest her three children presented Liesl with their drawings and followed their mother to the door.

When they opened it, Josef was just coming up the stairs, and Beth thought she might fall into his arms with relief. He looked utterly exhausted, but he smiled when he saw her.

Introductions were made, and Marta ushered him into the small apartment, insisting on making him a cup of tea. “You look all done in,” she said. “Children, put away your games,” she instructed, and to Beth’s surprise, even Liesl did as she was asked without question or protest.

“How was your meeting?” she asked Josef as she hung his coat on a hook in the hallway.

“We made a start, but there’s still work to be done,” he replied with a nod toward his coat.

Beth saw the tip of a familiar envelope peeking out from an inside pocket and quickly arranged the coat to hide it. So Josef had not been able to distribute all of the leaflets. Her mind raced with ideas for some way they might complete their assignment before they had to board the train.

“Beth? Bring me that suitcase,” Marta called. “My sister is not the only one who has clothing she no longer needs.”

Beth glanced at Josef. They were alone in the hallway. The suitcase had been left by the front door. As if he read her mind Josef opened the case and Beth held it while he stuffed the remainder of the supply of leaflets beneath the lining. Whatever had happened to their contact, Josef had done what he could. As he snapped the latches and handed Beth the case, he stroked her cheek with his forefinger.

“We have to go soon,” he said.

“I know. Come, have your tea while Marta packs the bag, and then we can leave.”

At the rail station they struggled against the crowds to make it to their train on time. Josef led the way, carrying the picnic basket and suitcase, and Beth followed, fairly dragging a weary and cranky Liesl along with her. “We can’t be late,” she said when Liesl protested that she needed to rest.

All around them Beth was aware of soldiers—storm troopers in their brown shirts and the even more frightening Gestapo agents, members of Hitler’s elite and all-powerful secret police. Of course these men were not secret at all. They were easily recognizable. They wore another sort of uniform—trench coat and black fedora hat with the brim pulled low so that their faces—especially their eyes—were always in shadow. Yet they gave the appearance of seeing everything.

“We’re almost there, Liesl,” Beth said, her breath coming in short gasps brought on by the need to rush and her fear of being stopped.

Josef boarded the train and set down the cases, then turned to pull Liesl and then Beth aboard just as the train began to move. As she reached for Josef’s hand, Beth saw two of the agents boarding the next car.

Josef kept a watchful eye on the doors connecting their car to the one where Beth had seen the agents board. She had finally dozed off while a revived Liesl kept up a running monologue about the passing scenery that she could not possibly see because it was pitch black outside the train’s windows. Josef made what he hoped were the appropriate sounds of interest to keep the girl occupied.

They were less than half an hour from Munich when he saw the agents crossing into their car. He nudged Beth and nodded toward the door, open now and announcing the new arrivals with a rush of cold wind. Liesl’s chatter stopped as she turned to observe the new arrivals.

“Papers, bitte,” one of them said as they started up the aisle, each taking a side and moving slowly along the car, examining identification cards and travel documents, asking questions, testing passengers with little tricks like suddenly smiling and switching to English or Russian in order to entrap someone faking his or her German heritage.

Josef, Beth, and Liesl were at the very back of the car. “Just stay calm,” he said as Beth squeezed his fingers so tight he thought she might actually break the bones. “You have the proper documents. There is nothing they can do.”

She glanced up at the suitcase in the rack above their heads. “What if…”

“I’m hungry,” Liesl complained.

“Me too,” Josef agreed and he pulled out the picnic basket from under the seat across from them and opened it. “Look at this, Liesl. There’s chocolate cake.”

“Tante Marta put that in there,” Liesl confided. “She told me that it was a surprise and the cider as well. It’s for you and Beth to celebrate with. What are we celebrating, Josef? Christmas has already been, and my birthday—”

“Papers.”

Josef presented his documents as well as Beth’s to the agent. The man looked briefly at Josef’s before handing them back. “Herr Doktor,” he murmured as he turned his attention to Beth’s visa. Then he nudged his cohort and handed him the papers to examine. Both men focused their attention on Beth.

“We’re having a picnic,” Liesl announced. “I don’t know what we’re celebrating but it’s something. Do you like chocolate cake?”

The men ignored her, their eyes going to the suitcase in the rack above them. “Does this case belong to you, Fräulein?”

“It does not,” Liesl protested. “It belongs to my mother.”

“We were visiting the girl’s aunt in Eglofs, and her mother sent along some clothing that Liesl here has outgrown.” Beth took care to speak to the agents only in German.

“I’m eight. My cousins are much younger,” Liesl announced. “Except for Beth, of course. She’s much older than me.”

“And you are related to this woman?” the agent persisted, directing all of his questions to Liesl.

“This is Beth,” Liesl said with a huff of frustration. “She is also my cousin. She takes care of me and my mother, who is sometimes very sick and needs to stay in her room.” She looked at the man as if he weren’t very bright. “Can we have our cake now?”

“We would not wish to disturb your celebration,” the agent said, but he was still holding Beth’s visa, tapping it lightly against his palm. “What is the occasion?”

“I don’t know,” Liesl whispered. “Josef was just about to tell me.”

The agents and just about everyone in the railway car turned their attention to Josef. Beth sat by his side, and she was shaking so much that he thought surely the agents must see how nervous she was.

He grasped her hands between his. “Elizabeth Bridgewater, will you marry me?” he blurted. Everyone in their compartment erupted in excited commentary as the news of Josef’s proposal was shared. Soon other passengers had left their seats and crowded into the aisle for a view of the young couple.

“Yes,” Beth whispered, her gaze locked on his as if needing to be sure that she was giving him the correct answer. “Yes,” she repeated, her voice a little stronger as an uncertain smile played over her lips.

“Küssen
die
Fräulein,
Dummkopf,”
the agent closest to them ordered, but he was smiling.

Josef leaned in to kiss Beth, and the car exploded with joy. A businessman pulled down his valise and extracted a bottle of champagne. The agents only laughed when he popped the cork and took a long swallow before passing the bottle on to others around him.

“Can we have cake now?” Liesl shouted above the turmoil surrounding them.

“We can have cake,” Josef assured her, and when Beth received her precious visa along with the agents’ congratulations, he gestured toward the empty seats facing theirs, inviting the two men to join them.

“Nein, danke.
Glückwünsche
, Herr
Doktor.”

As Josef accepted their congratulations and the agents moved on to the next car, he could only hope that the following day’s dinner with his parents and Beth’s aunt and uncle would go half as well.

    CHAPTER 13    

S
unday dinner with the Buchs had all the makings of a complete and utter disaster. Beth was certain that it would be weeks before her aunt’s distress over the whole event could ease enough so that the woman did not burst into tears at the mere thought of it.

The trouble began almost the moment they arrived home from the visit with Aunt Marta. Liesl began telling her parents all about the agents on the train.

“They took your papers?” Aunt Ilse asked.

“They examined them and gave them back,” Beth explained. “Everything was in order. There was nothing they could do.” She knew that wasn’t true, and so did her aunt, but neither of them said so. “Why don’t I help Liesl get ready for bed?”

“Josef and Beth are getting married,” Liesl announced as she headed for her room. “He asked her right there on the train, and everybody was so very happy.”

Now it was Josef’s turn to calm Aunt Ilse. “It was the only way I could think of to take their attention off the fact that Beth is American, and it worked.”

It worked?

“You didn’t mean it then?” Aunt Ilse asked, her relief evident. “Because Josef, I know you care for our niece and she for you, but a union between you in these times…”

“I know, Ilse.” He glanced up at Uncle Franz. “I had to think of something that might draw their attention away from her.”

Beth saw her uncle nod and grip Josef’s shoulder in approval. Then she hurried after Liesl and took her time getting the girl settled for the night. She gave in to every request for one more story and even stayed sitting next to her cousin’s bed long after Liesl had fallen asleep.