All God's Children (15 page)

“I don’t know. I hope not. It’s still light and…” She felt a lump of pure fear close her throat and for one incredible moment realized that she understood how her aunt felt much of the time. “Oh Josef, what will they do? What can we do to help them now?”

He took her hand between both of his. “First things first. Go make sure they are still here. Then trust me. I have come up with a plan.”

Reluctantly she pulled her hand free of his and touched his cheek. “I am sorry I ever doubted you, Josef.”

“And I meant what I told your aunt, Beth. You are the single ray of beauty in all of this ugliness surrounding us.” He put his fingers to her lips. “You give me great hope—and courage I did not know I possessed.”

As soon as her aunt went into her bedroom and closed the door, Beth ran up to the attic while Josef went into the study.

Supper that evening was more strained than usual. Liesl was oblivious, still caught up in the excitement and anticipation of what Christmas Eve might bring. That was when they traditionally opened gifts. Ilse ate her supper with her head bent but her eyes occasionally shifting between Josef and Beth. The professor was his usual preoccupied self, leaving Beth and Josef to communicate with glances and wordless signals.

He had determined through her barely perceptible nod that the family was still on site. He had given her a signal that she took to mean eight o’clock and then said something to the professor about possibly taking Beth to Frauenkirche later for a concert—a performance of Handel’s
Messiah
. “Some friends have invited us to join them for the concert, and perhaps we would all stop at a
Gasthaus
afterward,” he added, turning his attention to Ilse.

The woman glanced at her husband. “You will be back before curfew.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Of course.”

They finished their meal with Liesl chattering on about her classmates and their plans for Christmas and her understanding that these were war times but still did her father think perhaps there might be at least one present for her to open? Josef could not help noticing that on this night it was Beth—not her aunt—who was nervous, and he thought he might explode if the child did not cease her whining.

“Are you finished, Uncle?” Beth asked, standing and beginning to clear the table.

“Ja.”

“Let me help.” Josef was immediately on his feet. He took his plate and Liesl’s and followed Beth to the sink.

“A concert with friends?” she whispered, letting the water run to cover their conversation.

“Yes, my friends Anja and Benjamin,” he explained. “The professor has a meeting he must leave for right after supper. I’ll tell your aunt I’m going to get my friends, and then you must get Liesl and your aunt occupied in another part of the apartment. That way I can get Anja and the others down from the attic and out to the courtyard. At the proper time, the three of us will call for you.”

“What about the children?”

“They’ll wait in the courtyard. We are truly going to a concert, Beth. All of us.”

“Well, I understand that, but so you get them to the courtyard—then what? It’s freezing, and they hardly have the proper clothing and—”

“It’s also nearly Christmas, and times are hard for everyone. Who would question a family going to church?” He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Trust me, Beth. It will all work out.”

“Turn off that water,” Ilse demanded, bringing them the rest of the dishes. It was evident by her frown that she had seen Josef’s tender gesture.

Josef did as Ilse asked and then grinned at her. “Lovely supper, Frau Schneider,” he said. “You seem to be able to work miracles with very little food.”

Ilse snorted, but Josef could see that the compliment pleased her.

“Did the professor leave for his meeting?” he continued.

“He did,” Ilse replied with a puzzled glance toward the front door. “He seemed in such a hurry.”

“Perhaps he’s not going to a meeting at all, Frau Schneider.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Perhaps he’s been trying to find some time to go shopping for gifts for you and Liesl.”

This time Ilse’s smile was warm with nostalgia. “We used to have the most wonderful Christmases,” she said wistfully.

“Those days will come again,” Josef assured her. “I seem to recall several boxes of Christmas decorations in the attic. Shall I bring them down for you?”

“That would be very kind of you,” Ilse replied, and it was obvious that she was warming to him. “While you and Beth are at the concert and my husband attends his meeting, Liesl and I can go through the boxes and get the apartment ready for Christmas.”

“I don’t know what I should wear,” Beth said. “Tante Ilse, would you come help me choose something?”

“Me too,” Liesl shouted as she led the way to the bedroom.

Ilse dried her hands on a dishtowel and prepared to follow the others but then turned back to Josef. “Well, Josef Buch, if you intend to take my niece to this organ concert, I suggest you bring the boxes down now so that you can collect your friends and be on time for the concert.”

“Ja
wohl,”
Josef replied, giving Ilse a crisp military salute that actually made her smile.

Josef’s plan worked brilliantly. When a stair tread creaked, Beth was sure her aunt could hear Anja and her family moving stealthily down the uncarpeted stairs. Then she was equally certain that Liesl’s keen hearing would detect the opening and closing of the front door, but the truth was that her aunt was intent on lecturing her, and Liesl was intent on listening.

“You do understand that any idea that you and the doctor might ever…could possibly…”

“We are friends, Tante Ilse. Nothing more.”

“A man who sees himself as a mere friend rarely speaks in terms of beauty and courage and such,” she huffed. “He is attracted to you, and in these times such an attraction is not wise. Not wise at all.”

“It’s harmless.” Beth could see that her aunt’s anxiety was beginning to blossom now that she was back in the reality that came with living in Munich.

“It is not harmless, Beth. Have you forgotten your circumstances? Your country is now at war with Germany. Your uncle told me you have no papers. You…”

“I have papers,” Beth said quietly. “Josef got them for me.”

“How?”

“He asked his father to get them for me.” She saw that instead of her response reassuring her aunt, it had only made matters worse.

“His father?”

“Yes. I am to leave the country by the end of the month. It’s all arranged.”

“No!” Liesl shrieked. “You can’t go. I won’t let you.”

Beth turned to the girl. “I have to go, Liesl. The government here in Germany has said I have to, and you know what your teacher told you.”

She hated the way the little girl obviously struggled between her loyalty to her country and its government and her love for Beth. “But…” she sniveled.

“There, there. No more tears. There will be time enough for our tears after Christmas.” The reminder of the coming holiday had the desired effect on Liesl. Through the slightly open window that Aunt Ilse insisted on for fresh air even on the coldest of days, Beth heard a child’s voice and knew that Josef was leading the family out into the rear courtyard. “Let’s sing a carol,” she said and launched into “Silent Night.”

Liesl folded her thin arms defiantly across her chest and pressed her lips together.

“Stille Nacht…
Come on,” Beth urged, and to her relief not only Liesl but also Aunt Ilse joined in.

Half an hour passed before a knock sounded at the front door, and then suddenly Josef, Anja, and Benjamin were standing in the kitchen.

“Frau Schneider, these are my friends August and Maria Buegner,” Josef said as calmly as if he were introducing Aunt Ilse to his own family. He turned to Beth. “You look lovely, Beth. Shall we go?”

“Yes.” Beth was having trouble finding her voice as she tried not to stare at Benjamin—his hair now blond under a military cap that topped the military jacket he wore. Beside him, Anja was dressed in the coat and scarf that Beth had given her that first night.

“Beth, you have a coat just like that one,” Liesl announced, pointing at Anja.

“I do,” Beth managed. “We must shop at the same place, M–M– Maria.” She stood between her aunt and Anja as she promised that they would not be late and then led the others into the front foyer, where she got her coat and scarf while Josef opened the front door.

“So nice to meet you, Frau Schneider,” Anja said softly, offering Aunt Ilse her hand. Benjamin echoed the gesture, and finally they were outside.

The cold night air had never felt so wonderful. Beth sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. Then she hooked arms with Anja and started down the street. “Come on, Maria. We don’t want to be late,” she said, keeping her voice loud in case her aunt might be listening—and watching—from a window above them.

They walked for three blocks before doubling back down side streets and alleys to reach the courtyard. There they found the children waiting in a shelter of evergreen branches that Josef had constructed for them. They wore warm clothes, and Josef handed Anja a cloth bag filled with food and first-aid supplies. All the while he gave her and Benjamin their instructions.

“When we reach the church, you will take seats on the far right aisle near the confessionals while Beth and I go to the opposite side. In time a woman wearing a red coat will enter the church and kneel next to the pew where you are sitting to cross herself. That’s your signal.”

“I do not understand,” Benjamin said.

“It is the signal you need to know that it’s safe to take the next step. When the woman is seated, take Daniel as if he needs to use the toilet. Someone there will give you directions. The process will be repeated, Anja, this time with a man wearing a navy-blue jacket in the Bavarian style and a red lapel pin. He will kneel next to you and then sit with the woman in red. That’s when you take little Rachel to the toilet. A woman there will give you directions.”

“And then?”

Josef shrugged. “That’s all I’ve been told. It’s too dangerous to give any one person too much information.” He glanced at Beth. “I do know this. You must say your farewells now. When we reach the church, we can’t acknowledge in any way that we are acquainted.”

Realizing that after everything they had been through this might be the last time that Beth would see her friend, she embraced Anja tightly.

“Thank you, Beth,” Anja whispered repeatedly, prolonging the hug as if she could not bear to let go.

“Take this,” Beth said, pressing an envelope in her friend’s hand. She heard Josef suck in a breath. “It’s not my visa if that’s what you’re thinking,” she assured him. “It’s a greeting card. When you are safe, drop it in a mailbox, and that way I will know to stop worrying.”

“I will,” Anja promised.

“We should go,” Josef said, his voice husky.

At the church everything happened exactly as Josef had said it would. He and Beth took places on the far left-hand side of the church where they had a view of Anja and Benjamin and the children but no contact. The concert began, and the historic church swelled with the majesty of Handel’s brilliant
Messiah
. After twenty minutes or so, Beth caught a glimpse of red and saw a woman start down the aisle near Anja, pause to cross herself and genuflect, and then move on to a seat on the aisle several rows in front of them. Shortly after that, Benjamin stood and took Daniel by the hand as they walked back up the aisle.

A short while later, the process was repeated with the man in blue, and Anja and Rachel left. When Beth would have turned to follow her friend’s departure, Josef took hold of her hand. He held onto it, their fingers intertwined until the concert came to an end.

After the concert Josef introduced her to Willi Graf and one or two other performers.

“I think we have time for a beer,” Willi suggested.

“There is always time for that,” Josef agreed, and the three of them set off for the Gasthaus.

Being with Willi and listening to him and Josef talk about their medical studies, Beth’s thoughts turned to Anja. She wondered where the family was. While she was sipping beer and laughing at something that Willi had said, where was Anja?

As they walked home, Beth placed her gloved hand in the crook of Josef’s arm and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “I don’t understand you at all,” she said sleepily.

He chuckled. “Then we finally have something in common, Beth.” He stopped under the shadow of the bakery’s doorway and pulled her into his arms. “The question I have is whether or not you might be willing to search for even more shared traits?”

“I have to leave Germany in just a few weeks,” she reminded him. “But now there’s a part of me that wishes I could stay.”

“Because of me?”

She laughed. “Yes, all right, that’s part of it.”

“And the rest?”

She tried to read his expression in the shadows surrounding them. Could she trust him? Anja and Benjamin had. Of course, what choice had they had?

“Tell me, Beth. Is it your aunt?”

She shrugged. “I worry about her—about them all. But tonight I was thinking more about Anja and Benjamin. If we truly helped them escape, Josef, perhaps there are others that we could—”