Safe Haven (31 page)

Her anger and certainty was like a physical wall that surrounded her, like the fence that enclosed the shelter complete with its barbed wire barrier designed to keep people out. But Theo refused to be restrained. He reached for her, and when she resisted, he pulled her closer, folding his arms around her like a blanket until he felt her body shake with sobs.

No wonder she had elected to focus all of her life on her career. He imagined that she had gone through college just as dedicated to her studies. These things had become her shield.

“You are half right, Suzanne,” he said, his lips against her soft hair. “Sitting in silence without eventually finding a way to bring light to the darkness would be meaningless. But you do that in spite of yourself. You have been given the gift of telling stories that make people see what is going on whether or not they want to know. You inspire people, Suzanne. That is your purpose—to move others to action. That and the fact that you never give up. And if you’ll let me, I’d like to help.”

He set the swing to a calmer rhythm, and they stayed like that until the first rays of dawn lightened the sky.

Ilse was certain that Detlef Buch knew more than he had told her about Lucas and the fate of Marta and the children. After all, they had all left the mountains in the night presumably together. She stopped kneading the dough she was working as she realized her mistake. She and Franz had always assumed the whole family had left together, but what if they hadn’t gone to the same place? What if Lucas had sent Marta and the children elsewhere for safety?

At supper she sat with Gisele as she usually did these days. As always the actress was the center of a lively discussion, and finding a quiet moment with her was impossible. But when the meal was over, Ilse sent Liesl to practice the piano and waited for her friend to leave the mess hall.

She told Gisele her theory about her sister. “She could be alive,” she said breathlessly as she finished.

“Perhaps but, Ilse, how would you go about finding her?”

“I thought perhaps—with your connections—you might be able to help me.”

“My connections are either dead or on the run, Ilse. I cannot help you. Perhaps if I return to Paris when this is all over—certainly then …”

“But that could be months from now.”

Gisele hesitated then took Ilse’s arm. “I know you do not wish to do this, but I think you should speak with Suzanne. From everything you’ve told me, she and Theo have settled their differences, and you would not be going against Theo’s concern about Buch. Suzanne knows people in Washington—perhaps people who are in the government agencies that could help you find your sister and her children.”

“Yes, if we work together—combine our forces …” She grasped Gisele’s hands. “Thank you, dear friend.”

That afternoon Ilse obtained a pass and walked into town. First she stopped by the boardinghouse where she left a message for Suzanne. She had no idea how to get in touch with Detlef Buch but hoped Suzanne might help. Then as she headed back to the fort, she decided instead to see if he might be at the library. In fact, he was sitting on a bench in a nearby park that she passed as she climbed the hill on her way to find him. When he saw her, he stood and raised his hand in greeting almost as if he had been waiting for her.

As when they had met that time before, they conducted their conversation in German. “
Guten Tag
, Frau Schneider.”

“Herr Buch,” she replied when she reached the bench.

He indicated that she should sit and waited for her to do so, ever the gentleman who would not presume to sit down again until she had.

“I will stand,” she said.

“Then perhaps we could walk a bit?”

She considered the attention they might draw standing face-to-face against that of walking with him. She glanced around. It was midafternoon on a weekday, and most people were at work. No one else was in the park. “Very well,” she said.

He walked with his hands clasped behind his back. She walked with her handbag clutched firmly in both gloved hands in front of her. She was aware of his height and breadth—so much larger than Franz. His was the physique of a powerful and assertive man, while Franz had carried himself with meekness and deference. She shook off the comparison.

“Were you able to contact your son?” she asked.

“I was. I have had a letter from him just yesterday.”

“I am glad for you and for him. And your wife?” The words were out before she could censor them.

“My wife is for the time being safe in another country,” he said. “We are not in direct contact, but I was able to send word and presumably she knows of our son’s circumstances.”

I was able to send word
. … So he did have contacts. This was why she had come to find him.

“And these contacts through whom you were able to send her that message, might they not be able to help me in finding my sister?”

He sighed heavily, glanced up at the blue sky and then back to the flower bed they were passing. He paused and fingered the petals of a daffodil. “Have you ever considered the true power of resilience, Frau Schneider?”

She had little patience for any lectures he might offer. She was on a limited pass, and she had a great deal she wished to accomplish before returning to the fort. “I do not wish to be rude, Herr Buch, but while you may have the freedom to ruminate about the resilience of nature’s wonders, I am afraid I do not. Can you or can you not help me find my sister?”

She saw a flicker of something that she realized was respect cross his features. “I will see what I can do, but you need to understand that in spite of outward appearances of my having the kind of freedom to come and go that you do not at present enjoy, I am closely watched and certainly by this time next year I doubt that I will be walking through a park in the company of a beautiful woman. However, it was my pleasure to help you and your family in the past, and if I can …”

She stopped walking beside him and turned down a walkway that led back to the street. “Do not presume to use whatever tactics you have used in the past to win favor with me, Herr Buch. If you can help find my sister, I will be grateful, but I will never be in your debt. My family and I owe nothing to anyone who refused to stand up to wrong when they saw it before them. Good day, Herr Buch.”

Suzanne had agreed to meet Ilse and Theo in the coffee shop across from the movie theater at three. She checked her watch as she hurried across the bridge. She had been delayed by a telephone call from Gordon.

“How are things in Oswego?” he had asked as if they had been in constant contact in the weeks since they’d met for dinner at the hotel.

“Fine. How are things in DC?”

“Heating up. Looks like the war will be over in a matter of weeks—at least in Europe.”

“That’s good news.”

“It’s also why I’m calling, Suze.” He cleared his throat, and she realized that as usual he wanted something—something from her. The idea gave her a flicker of disgust.

“What can I do for you, Congressman Langford?”

He chuckled. “Sharp as ever, aren’t you? So the thing is, once the war in Europe ends, the Nazis will be sent back to face the music, and we will lose our opportunity to gather what information he has and redeem ourselves.” Before Suzanne could respond, he continued. “You would not believe what’s going on down here behind the scenes. State and Justice are adamant that the refugees go back period. Interior wants to offer a thing they’re calling ‘sponsored leave’ and let those who can go off to other places in this country and see if they can settle there. The good news is that no one seems to be interested in the Nazi.”

“And the president? Where does he stand on the refugee issue?”

“Staying out of it for now, but don’t sell Truman short. If you ask me, he’s smart enough to let the others fight it out and then he’ll step in. But that’s not why I’m calling.”

“So back to our original question: What do you want from me?”

“I hear through the grapevine that you’ve taken a factory job. Excellent move.”

Suzanne mentally ran through all of her contacts both in Oswego and in Washington, and she could not imagine how Gordon had gleaned this bit of information. “I have to pay the rent,” she said.

“And interview the Gestapo guy who apparently also works in the same factory—I get that.”

“I’ve dropped that part of my story,” she told him.

“Really? That’s too bad.”

She decided to ignore this. “I have to get to an appointment, so if we could—”

“Get to the point? Okay, get on board, dollface. The clock is ticking.”

So once again he needed her
.

“And I am going to need to know what you know,” she added as if he had not spoken.

“You’ll have what I can give you. You know that this town runs on rumor and gossip so don’t expect a lot. Gotta run. They’re calling for a vote on the floor.” The line went dead.

  CHAPTER 16  

A
t Ilse’s request Suzanne had renewed her contact with Detlef Buch. “I believe that you can be far more objective than I could ever be. I cannot discount his kindness to our family when he really did not have to help us.”

“Maybe Gisele could—”

“I really don’t want to involve her,” Ilse said. “She has her own life to rebuild.”

“Fair enough,” Suzanne said. So she had continued her work at the cannery and resumed her habit of riding the bus with Detlef. So what if her coworkers thought they must have patched up their lovers’ quarrel? In fact, that was better than them thinking that she was trying to get him to give her information that could help Ilse find Marta.

“New rules,” she had told him that first night after her meeting with Ilse. “I will continue to write your story—and find a market for it—in exchange for your help in finding Ilse’s sister.”

“And if I can deliver nothing that is of use to you or Frau Schneider?”

“You will do everything you can possibly do. I am not naive, Detlef. Ilse told me you were able to get word to your wife that Josef is safe. If you could do that …”

“I will try.”

For her part Ilse let it be known throughout the shelter that she was searching for her sister. A notice was published in the shelter’s newspaper, the
Ontario Chronicle
. Of course, Ilse was hardly the only resident of the fort seeking family and friends. But the article helped. Half a dozen people that she had never met left messages for her or sought her out at mealtime to give her information. One man had known Lucas, Marta’s husband, and another had worked with the underground in the area of the ski resort where both families had stayed after leaving Munich.