The Copper Series

by Suzanne Woods Fisher

  And so it seemed. The movers moved it into the pulpit area, near the choir. “You could give lessons here, Louisa,” Robert offered. “I wouldn’t mind. I can close the study door.“

  Oh, how Aunt Martha would love that arrangement! She wouldn’t have to listen to Arthur Hobbs any longer. Just last week she said his playing grated on her like splintered oak.

  Robert signed for the piano and walked the delivery men to their truck. He came back into the church with a look of awe on his face. “The driver told me that Baldwin hasn’t been making pianos since ‘42, when the War Production Board ordered all piano building stopped due to the war effort. So this is one of the first off of the new production lines. They just started making pianos again, this year.”

  He walked up to the piano and lifted the lid. He waved to William to join him. “He also told me Baldwin had such woodworking expertise because of their piano business, that they manufactured wings and fuselage parts and center sections for training and cargo planes.” He crouched down to William’s level. “They even manufactured parts for fighters, bombers and gliders. Think of that, William. A piano company!”

  William’s eyes grew wide. He had his father’s aptitude and interest in mechanical things.

  Robert’s face grew animated as he described the inner workings of this piano. “So the lessons they learned in the construction of the multiple-ply aircraft wings became the basis for this very piano. It uses forty-one ply maple pinblock. Apparently, it has exceptional tuning stability and strength.” He glanced over at me. “Amazing, isn’t it? How one invention leads to another?” He pulled out the piano bench for me to sit down. “But the proof is in the pudding.”

  “What?” I asked him as I adjusted the bench. “What does pudding have to do with it?”

  He tried to stifle a grin but didn’t quite make it. “I meant, let’s see what it sounds like.”

  I sat down and played a melody, impressed by the rich tone that poured out. How could I ever go back to Mrs. Drummond’s piano with the sticky key?

  The phone rang in Robert’s study, interrupting us. Robert answered cheerfully, but grew quieter and quieter as he listened. He came back into the church with a grim look on his face. “That was the principal from the grammar school. She wants us to come in for a meeting immediately.”

  Our lighthearted mood skidded to a halt.

  “What do you think she’s done now?” Robert wondered aloud, as we walked up to the school.

  In the principal’s office was Elisabeth, sitting in a chair, wearing her usual aggressive frown. Next to her was Tanya, looking as if she might be ill. In the other chair was a very sour looking Mrs. Bauer with her daughter Trudy. It was clear that the cause of the general unhappiness in the room had its source in Elisabeth.

  “Reverend and Mrs. Gordon, apparently there is a misunderstanding about Trudy’s coat,” began Mrs. Olasky.

  “There’s no misunderstanding, Mrs Olasky. That child stole my daughter’s coat!” hotly contested Mrs. Bauer.

  “I didn’t steal noting,” growled Elisabeth.

  “I didn’t know she took it, Mrs. Olasky. I really didn’t,” said Tanya, big brown eyes filling with tears.

  Mrs. Olasky held a hand up to ward off emotion. “Let’s just consider the facts for now. We’ve determined that Elisabeth did take Trudy’s coat.”

  “Is that the coat?” I asked, looking at a blue jacket on Tanya’s lap.

  “Yes,” answered Mrs. Bauer. “And now it’s ruined.”

  “I did not steal it,” said Elisabeth, furrowing her brow.

  I looked at her. “Elisabeth, if you didn’t steal the coat, why did you take it?”

  “I vas organizing.“

  My shoulders fell. I shot a knowing glance at Robert.

  Using his pulpit’s voice, which added a nice touch, Robert said, “We need to explain to you what Elisabeth means by the term organizing.” He described her habit carefully, though he avoided any mention of the camp. Elisabeth kept her eyes focused on the ground and kicked the floor. “My guess is Elisabeth realized that Tanya was cold this winter and knew that Trudy had a number of coats to keep her warm. So, in her logic, she organized it. Not unlike a modern day Robin Hood.” He gave Elisabeth an encouraging look. “Does that sound about right, Elisabeth?”

  Chin to her chest, she gave a brief nod of acknowledgment.

  “Nonetheless, Reverend Gordon, it still isn’t right,” said Mrs. Olasky.

  “No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “Even if the intentions were right, the means were wrong. Elisabeth is learning all about that lesson this year. Tanya, if you don’t mind, would you please return the coat to Trudy?”

  “No!” gasped Mrs. Bauer, casting a sharp glance at Tanya.

  Her look unveiled why she had said the coat was ruined. My temper flared. “Then we’ll pay for the coat, Mrs. Bauer, and let Tanya wear it.” So Trudy can have another new one, I thought. Even Mitzi, her prize poodle, whom Dog had taken an inexplicable fondness for, wore a coat.

  “Fine,” she sniffed. “It cost $10.”

  Robert took the money out of his wallet and handed it to Mrs. Bauer, who accepted it without a thank you.

  Dramatically, Mrs. Bauer took Trudy’s hand to march out of the principal’s office. As Trudy dragged behind her mother, she leaned over and whispered to Elisabeth, “Vonderful wiolin.”

  Pain shot across Elisabeth’s face.

  Robert turned back to the principal to ask, “Anything else?”

  “No,” she said, looking as defeated as I felt. “Not today, anyway.”

  The four of us left the principal’s office and walked out to the front of the school. Tanya took the coat off and handed it to me. “Ma’am, I don’t need that coat.”

  I smiled. “Tanya, please wear the coat all winter and enjoy it. Consider it a gift from your friends.” Her face broke into a smile. “Tanya, would you be able to come to dinner one evening?”

  “I’ll have to ask my mother,” she answered shyly.

  After Tanya turned off on her street, the three of us walked home in silence. Just as we passed the church, I said, “Please, Elisabeth, no more organizing.”

  She scowled at me. “Dat rich girl has too many coats. She left dat coat on da playground three days ago and forgot all about it until today. She should share.”

  “Well, what would you think if we just did a better job of organizing?” Robert asked.

  Elisabeth and I looked at him curiously.

  “Wanting to help people is a good thing. I don’t want you to stop. But there’s a right way to do it and a wrong way.” He stopped on the sidewalk and faced her. “What if we put a list of needs and blessings in our church bulletin each week? So if someone needs a blanket, then another person, who might have an extra blanket, could be the one to share it? What do you think of that idea?”

  It’s a wonderful idea! An inspired idea! A way to show Elisabeth how to help others and to teach the congregation how to care for each other. Why, it was just like the early church of Acts! I smiled appreciatively at Robert.

  Elisabeth was looking at Robert with serious eyes. “Den I need someting,” she said.

  “What?” asked Robert.

  “I need new shoes,” she announced. “Da ones I have are ugly.”

  * * * *

  The Needs and Blessings List was so readily accepted in the church that families became motivated to clean out their attics and garages, listing the unused items in the blessings page. Mr and Mrs.Hobbs offered an old sofa, which happened to have just the right fabric to suit Betty Drummond’s home. Tom Bunker dropped by the parsonage one night with a used crib. “My missus thought you could use this, Mrs. Gordon. She said she’s plumb worn out havin’ babies and to git that crib outta here.”

  She was, too. Barb Bunker had eight children.

  “Thank you, Tom. I hadn’t even thought about a crib yet. I could really use this.” I didn’t have much set aside for the baby yet. I put my hand along the side of the c
rib. A little sanding and new paint and it would be as good as new.

  But despite the success of the Needs and Blessings List, more things continued to disappear in Copper Springs. Strange things. The blankets in the back of the milk man’s truck were stolen before dawn one day. Laundry went missing off of Barb Bunker’s clothesline. I studied Elisabeth’s face suspiciously as she ate her cereal and read the comics page of the newspaper, but she looked completely dispassionate.

  That wasn’t particularly revealing; she often looked dispassionate.

  I’d even noticed that it seemed as if someone was thinning out my garden during the night. Tomatoes were gone, carrots pulled up, onions yanked from the earth. When I complained to Robert, he said it was most likely a raccoon. “I was worried about that compost pile attracting animals,” he said.

  He was probably right. I did hear Dog bark in the night every so often, as if he heard something. But I kept a closer eye on Elisabeth, just in case there was no raccoon in my garden. Just in case Elisabeth couldn’t give up her organizing habit.

  Robert was equally concerned about the things gone missing in town, too. He found me in the garden one morning and sat down on the ground, leaning on his elbows. “Someone has been getting into the church kitchen and taking food. Someone who knows his or her way around the church.”

  I sat back on my heels. “What makes you say that?”

  “I’ve always locked up the kitchen at night, but a lot of people know where the key is.” He had something more to say but hesitated. “The Ladies Altar Guild paid me a visit this morning. Last night, Mrs. Bauer had put a tray of sandwiches in the icebox for their meeting, but today, the icebox is empty.” He frowned. “Mrs. Bauer stirred up the ladies, telling them the culprit is probably Elisabeth.”

  “What?! It couldn’t be her!” I’d like to give that Mrs. Bauer a lecture on Christian charity. “Besides, when Elisabeth organizes things, it usually means that someone else finds the things they need. Well, like the Chinese ladies. Remember how they said they needed a new hose for their garden and Elisabeth stole one from the Dunbars’ and put it on the Chinese ladies’ front porch?

  “I remember,” he moaned, thinking of how expensive it was to replace the Dunbars’ garden hose.

  “And when she overheard Flora O’Dean talk about needing new glasses, she took Ernest’s extra pair and left them in Flora’s mailbox.”

  He nodded, a troubled look growing on his face. He rubbed his chin. “I’ve thought about locking up the church at night.”

  I hated to consider that option. I could tell Robert hated the thought, too. A church should always be open to people. I thought back to how often, seeking solace, I had slipped into my church in Berlin.

  I kept an even closer eye on Elisabeth after that and searched her room for any evidence of organizing. But there was nothing. Nothing suspicious in her behavior, no contraband in her room. I wanted to believe in her, I really did. But no one else seemed to. I could feel the suspicion in people’s faces when Elisabeth was around. One day we were in the grocery store and Mr. Ibsen stayed right alongside of us the entire time, as if he anticipated shoplifting. Another time, Elisabeth and I were in the hardware store, and I overheard old Mrs. Koops mutter to her husband, “Batten down the hatches. Here comes Miss Sticky Fingers.”

  Thankfully, Elisabeth didn’t have any idea what she meant. But I did. We turned and left. I would wait to purchase new batteries for my radio for a trip to Bisbee. Maybe it was my pregnancy, maybe it was Elisabeth’s organizing, but I was starting to lose patience with certain people in this town. Robert pointed out that I never had much patience to start with, but, lately, I had even less.

  On Saturday night, I went into Robert’s office while he was polishing his sermon. I looked at the books for a while, then out the window, then back at Robert, then at the books.

  Finally, he put his pencil down and said, “What? What’s on your mind?”

  I went over and sat on his desk. “I did something terrible today. Something I can’t believe I did. I’m deeply ashamed of myself.”

  He looked at me with concern. “Tell me what happened.”

  “At the Peterson wedding today—”

  He looked puzzled. “Something happened at the wedding? I thought it went well.”

  “It did. It was a wonderful wedding. It was later, in Fellowship Hall, during the reception—”

  He eyed me suspiciously. “What happened at the reception?”

  I took a deep breath. “At the reception, Arthur Hobbs and his twin brothers were ahead of me in line, looking over the food that everyone brought.”

  “And?”

  “And they were complaining about all of the choices. They sounded like spoiled children, Robert.”

  “And?” he said, looking at me as if I was to blame.

  “So Arthur finally decided on bread to create a sandwich and he saw a large bowl of mayonnaise and spread a lot of it on his sandwiches. Quite a lot. The size of a baseball.”

  “What’s so bad about that?”

  “It wasn’t mayonnaise.”

  “What was it?”

  A fresh wave of remorse flooded over me again. “It was horseradish.”

  Robert’s eyes grew wide. Then he started laughing so hard that tears started to stream down his cheeks. Between gasps he choked out, “And you didn’t stop him?”

  “No. That’s what I felt so badly about. I should have! I know better. Goodness, I’m a grown woman. But I just couldn’t resist. He’s such an incorrigible boy. Last lesson, he left his bubble gum inside of my metronome!”

  That only made Robert laugh all the harder.

  “Robert, you’re no help at all. You shouldn’t laugh at someone giving confession. It isn’t right.”

  Now he was doubled over. I started to smile. Watching Arthur Hobbs’s face turn bright red with a mouth filled with spicy horseradish gave me a deliciously satisfied feeling. Even now, just thinking about it.

  After Robert finally stopped laughing and caught his breath, he said that as long as I was there, he needed to ask me more about Dietrich’s time in prison.

  Over the last few months, we had discussed Dietrich’s work in the Resistance, but one topic we hadn’t covered was Dietrich’s arrest. I think we both dreaded it. I sat down on the chair across from him, and rolled up my sweater to support my back. I was starting to have a lot of back aches.

  “Comfortable?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “Okay, then. What more can you tell me about Dietrich’s arrest?”

  I had left Germany just a few months prior to Dietrich’s arrest, back in 1943, so the bits and pieces I knew of his arrest came through letters from his sister, most of which Robert knew. “You knew that the Central Bureau for Security of Reich was collecting evidence about him. It had suspicions about Dietrich’s involvement in plots to assassinate Hitler. But he was arrested because money was traced back to him for smuggling Jews out through Switzerland.” My lighthearted mood quickly evaporated. “Just like he did with me.”

  “He was held in Berlin for a while, wasn’t he?” Robert prompted.

  “Yes, in Tegel, a Berlin prison, for nearly two years. The charges were vague. At least the guards were friendly; they helped to get Dietrich’s papers to family and friends outside. But in September of 1944, the Zossen papers were discovered.”

  “What were the Zossen papers?” asked Robert, scribbling down everything I said.

  “Documents and diaries that incriminated Hans, Oster, and Canaris.”

  “Slow down a minute, Louisa. Who were those men?”

  “Hans von Dohnanyi was Dietrich’s brother-in-law. Admiral Wilhelm Canaris was in charge of the Abwehr, the German Military Intelligence. He appointed Major General Hans Oster as his second-in-command.”

  Robert had an incredulous look on his face. “Louisa, these are the people you worked with in the Resistance? Why haven’t you ever mentioned them before?”

  “I suppose becaus
e you never asked. You have only asked me about Dietrich.”

  “I never realized…it never occurred to me that you were working with men at such a high level of government. Almost like double agents.”

  “No.” I shook my head adamantly. “They weren’t double agents. They were trying very hard to protect Germany from Hitler’s insanity. Yet if their plans were too obvious, they would lose their ability to influence events.”

  “So were they arrested along with Dietrich? When those papers were discovered?”

  “Dietrich was doomed from that point. In October, he was transferred to Gestapo prisons. First Buchenwald, then Schönberg, then Flossenbürg. All contacts with the outside world were severed.”

  I paused for a moment. This was so hard. “And the conditions at those camps were atrocious.” Probably as bad as Dachau. I slipped my hands under my thighs. “Even though Hitler knew that his Reich was collapsing, he drew up a list of prisoners who must be executed. Dietrich’s name was on the list.”

  I couldn’t say another word; I didn’t need to. Robert knew the rest of this story. On April 9th, just after leading a worship service for the prisoners, Dietrich was led out into a courtyard, naked, to a scaffolding and hanged. His body was instantly cremated. His ashes mingled with the seventy-three thousand other bodies who died at Flossenbürg. He was only thirty-nine-years old. There was no grave.

  Chapter Ten

  The week after Thanksgiving, Elisabeth stopped coming home directly after school. She told me she was working on a school project at Tanya’s house. She returned in time for dinner every night. A good sign, I hoped. I was feeling somewhat encouraged about Elisabeth.

  Well, until the end of the week, anyway.

  That feeling vanished the moment I bumped into Tanya’s mother at the grocery store. “Thank you for having Elisabeth over so often,” I called out, waving to her over a stack of pears.

  Tanya’s mother gave me a blank look.

  “In the afternoons,” I prompted. “Elisabeth said that she and Tanya were studying together.”

  Clearly, she had no idea what I was talking about. My heart sank.