All God's Children (33 page)

“Sergeant Josef Buch has committed acts of high treason against the government,” Herr Buch reported in a monotone.

“In America his acts are known as free speech,” Beth replied, and when the elder Buch half-turned to protest, she held up her hand and added, “and if my history is correct, such acts would once have also been considered the right of a free citizen here in Germany.”

“Detlef, you must do whatever it takes to stop this madness. Our son—our only child…”

Josef’s father released a sigh of pure exhaustion and defeat. “I cannot stop it. He will be tried and sentenced later tomorrow. At best he is facing a life sentence or perhaps the opportunity to
volunteer
on the Russian front. At worst—”

“No!” Frau Buch grasped her husband’s arm. “He is innocent. He has done nothing wrong. He is a soldier and a loyal German. He—”

“I have confessed,” Josef said. “I distributed literature that spoke against the government.”

“And I helped him,” Beth said. “So if Josef is to be tried and sentenced, then I must be as well. We were equal in our actions.”

“You will name the others?”

“I will not,” Beth replied resolutely.

“Not even if I can arrange for your safe return to your family in America?”

“I have come to consider Germany as much my home as Wisconsin is.” She realized that this was true—that she had not returned to America when she could have because she felt some tie to the culture and people of Germany. “If Josef and I were to marry, we would surely have made our home here.”

“I do not understand you, Fräulein.”

For the first time in days, Beth felt a genuine smile cross her lips. “That is not the first time I have been told this, Herr Buch. Your son has also mentioned that I often confuse him.”

“You could face death,” he said to Josef.

“Then allow him to do so as a married man,” Beth pressed.

“It might help if they were married,” Frau Buch said, clearly clutching at any straw. “I’ll call Father Schwandt.”

“No,” Josef said softly. “Beth and I are peace-loving people, and if we cannot be married in her faith—as Freunde—then we will have a simple civil union. Father, I am asking you for one last favor—expedite the paperwork so that we can be married immediately.”

    CHAPTER 18    

S
hortl y before Josef was to appear before the judge, his father took them to his office and introduced an older man. “Josef, you remember your grandfather’s attorney, Dr. Karl Bretholz?”

Josef stood at once. “How are you, sir?”

“I am still here,” the man replied with a wry smile.

Josef turned to Beth. “May I present my fiancée, Elizabeth Bridgewater?”

“So you are our little American troublemaker,” Herr Bretholz said, taking Beth’s hand and continuing to hold it as he looked around the room. “I suppose this will have to do, Detlef.”

“Time is of the essence,” Josef’s father replied.

“I don’t understand,” Beth said.

“Dr. Bretholz was a judge of the court under the Weimar Republic. With the change in leadership, he decided to retire. He has been advising me on various projects since then.”

“I still have the authority to perform marriages,” Bretholz said. “Now then Elizabeth, suppose you tell me a bit of how this would go were you being married in the traditions of your faith—Quaker, is it?”

“Yes sir. Simply put, we believe that the success or rightness of a marriage depends on the two people involved rather than on any external service or words. The ceremony is performed in the presence of family and friends by the couple.”

Josef saw his mother frown. “Surely there is some…process?”

“In normal times, Josef and I would have written to the clerk of my Meeting—my congregation—either here in Munich or back in Wisconsin. The clerk would read the letter in a meeting for business, and a clearness committee would then be appointed. Those Friends would consider whether or not there were external obstacles to the union—especially because Josef is not a Quaker.”

She smiled at him.

“Well then, who do we contact for you here?” his mother asked.

Josef saw Beth hesitate. “I’m afraid, Frau Buch, there is no one left of the Meeting here in Munich. Everyone—except for me—is gone.”

“Oh, this is a disaster. I am calling for Father Schwandt.”

“Now now,” the judge said, “let’s not be so hasty. Elizabeth has said that in the end the decision is between the man and the woman. You are both of legal age?”

“We are,” Josef replied.

“Then Quaker or Catholic is not the point. I perform civil ceremonies and as long as both parties are of age and there are no impediments—you aren’t hiding a wife somewhere, are you Josef?”

For the first time in days, Josef actually laughed. “No, sir.”

“Then there you have it. Shall we all gather nearer the fire?”

Josef took Beth’s hand. They stood facing the judge, the fire’s embers glowing behind him. Josef’s parents stood to his right. But there was no one to stand with Beth. “Mother?” He gestured, and his mother shifted positions so that she was standing next to Beth. “Ready when you are, sir.”

The judge smiled and from memory delivered the words of the civil ceremony. When the time came for giving Beth the ring, Josef realized that he had nothing to give her.

“It’s all right,” she murmured. “It is not our custom to have external symbols such as rings and flowers and such.”

Behind her, Josef’s mother slid a thin silver band from her finger and passed it to Josef. “It was your grandmother’s ring,” she told him. “She would be pleased.”

“I really—” Beth started to protest.

His mother laid her hand on Beth’s cheek. “Please indulge me, Beth. It is our custom to pass a special ring from one generation to the next.”

Beth nodded, and the judge continued with the ceremony. When it was evident that he was about to pronounce them man and wife, Beth interrupted. “I would like to say something to Josef.”

“By all means.”

Josef thought he had never seen Beth quite so serene as she spoke in a strong, clear voice. “In the presence of God and your parents and of friends and family absent but present in spirit, I, Elizabeth Alice Bridgewater, take thee, Josef…” She hesitated, and they both realized she did not know his full name.

“Klaus Otto,” his mother prompted.

“Josef Klaus Otto Buch, to be my husband. I promise with divine assistance to be unto thee a loving and faithful wife so long as we both shall…” Again she hesitated, and tears filled her incredible blue eyes. “Shall live.”

Outside the door they heard footsteps approach and a murmur of voices, then a knock at the door before it opened. The guard looked in and announced. “It is time.”

The judge completed the ceremony with the prescribed closing words. “You may kiss your wife, son.”

Josef cupped his hands around Beth’s face. “And I promise you, Liebchen, that when this war is ended we will have a proper Quaker ceremony with everyone we know in attendance.”

Her tears ran freely down her cheeks, and as he kissed them away, his father took hold of his arm. “We must go now.” Reluctantly Josef followed his father and the former judge who would defend him from the room.

Grateful that Josef’s father had somehow managed to keep her from being arrested in spite of all she had revealed to him, Beth watched the trial with Josef’s mother from the galley. Shortly before entering the courtroom, the news had reached Josef’s father that Hans, Sophie, and Christoph had been given the death sentence. That sentence— death by beheading—was to be carried out later that same afternoon.

The news nearly drove Frau Buch to hysterics, but Josef took hold of her shoulders and pulled her into his embrace. “I love you, Mother, with all my heart. You and Father have made me the man I am today—a man proudly standing up for the country he cherishes. Take care of Beth.”

His mother emerged dry-eyed from his arms and linked her arm with Beth’s. “Be strong, my son.”

Josef’s attorney called a string of witnesses—people whom Beth had never seen before or heard Josef mention. All testified to his character— his devotion to family and country. None mentioned his involvement with the White Rose unless the prosecutor brought that up, which he rarely did. It was almost as if both the prosecution and the sitting judge had already determined the outcome.

Beth felt as if her heart would surely explode, so frightened was she for Josef. When the judge seemed about to pronounce sentence, Beth interrupted him by standing in the galley. Her hands planted on the railing, she called out to him in flawless German. “Your honor, if it please the court…” She really hoped the language she had picked up from watching movies was appropriate.

A guard moved toward her, but the presiding judge held up his hand. “Who are you?”

“I am the wife of the accused.”

“American?”

“I am.”

The judge signaled the guard to bring Beth from the galley to the courtroom floor. Despite her fear she walked to the elaborate desk where the judge sat high above her and raised her face so that she was meeting his gaze directly.

“Well?” he demanded.

“Herr Doktor Buch has served his country with great devotion and honor—”

“He is a traitor,” the prosecutor shouted.

The judge silenced him with a look. “Continue.”

She continued to use only German to state her case—her second language rolling easily off her tongue as she listed each point. Josef was a man of medicine. Surely there was a need for his services somewhere perhaps on the front or in one of the work camps the Reich had built in Poland. She was not a trained nurse but had years of experience caring for others. “Could we not better serve the Reich by caring for the wounded and the infirm?”

“You are offering to be sentenced with your husband?”

The sly gleam that sparkled in the man’s eyes only added to her terror. “I am,” she replied. “Because whatever his crime may be in the court’s eyes, surely I am as guilty.”

“Sergeant Buch has admitted to distributing literature and taking part in other activities of the group known as the White Rose. Are you saying that you also participated in such activities?”

“Beth, no,” she heard Josef say.

“That is precisely what I am telling you, sir.”

“You are an American spy?”

“I am no spy. I am a Quaker—a believer in no man’s war. I do what I do to try and bring peace to those around me.”

Again the smile. “Sit down, please.”

Beth started back toward the steps that led up to the galley, praying with every step that she had not made matters worse for Josef.

“Not to the galley, Fräulein. Sit
there,”
the judge ordered, pointing to a chair at the defendant’s table next to Josef. “I will deliver sentence in one hour.”

An hour passed, then two and then three. A guard brought water for Beth and Josef. As the clock over the exit ticked off the minutes and the courtroom emptied, a clerk closed the blackout shades and turned on lamps on the judge’s podium and the prosecutor’s and defendant’s tables. The room filled with shadows, but Beth barely noticed as she clung to Josef’s hand.

“I only wanted to help,” she said. “I am so very sorry for…”

“Shhh. My brave girl. Whatever happens, we have each done our best.”

Beth turned to Josef’s parents—his father pacing back and forth, his mother having taken a seat just behind her son.

“Frau Buch? I believe that both Josef and I will be sentenced, and in that event, I would like for you to keep this.” She removed the ring and handed it back to her mother-in-law. “It is likely to get misplaced where we are going.”

Frau Buch accepted the ring. “I will keep it safe until you return to us.”

Josef squeezed and released Beth’s hand and then stood up and faced his father.

“I want you to know, sir, that I have always looked up to you— respected your honesty and integrity and belief in what you were doing. I only hope that in time you might come to see my side of things.”

For a moment it looked as if Herr Buch might simply turn on his heel and walk away. Beth’s heart broke for Josef. Then the elder Buch did something so unexpected that even his wife gasped in surprise.