All God's Children

by Anna Schmidt

  “I know we’re friends—and family, Beth. I meant our countries— Germany and the United States.” Liesl pressed her hands to the glass display cases as she admired the pastries.

  “That one,” she announced, pointing to a Christmas Stollen fat with dried fruit and frosted with a white sugary confection. Once the purchase had been made, Beth took her time climbing the stairs to their apartment. She needed every second to think through how she might manage the next several hours before her aunt and uncle went to bed and she could somehow get Anja and the others out of the house.

  Liesl ran up the stairs and down the corridor. “She’s here,” she shouted. “Beth is here.”

  Beth’s heart caught in her throat when she walked into the kitchen to leave the bag of food and saw her aunt coming down the stairs from the attic. “What on earth has that man been doing up there?” she said testily. “It smells of something horrid—some chemical—this towel reeks of it.”

  She was holding one of the blue bath towels that had hung next to the sink. It was clearly damp and stained where the peroxide had splashed and distorted the color.

  “I am sure that—”

  “I thought I had made it clear that he was not to be here while we were gone,” Aunt Ilse continued as she studied the towel more closely. “Some experiment, no doubt. Well, Herr Doktor Buch needs to understand that we can’t easily replace things like towels and clothing and such.”

  “Is Uncle Franz here?”

  “He went to the university.” Aunt Ilse reached for the bag that Beth had carried home from the market. “Das ist alles?”

  “I’m afraid so. I’ll go back tomorrow. Perhaps with Christmas coming they will have more. There’s an orange that might ripen if we save it for Liesl’s stocking,” she whispered, hoping to distract her aunt from the other contents of the bag. She might be able to manage to take at least half the bread and perhaps two of the potatoes and give them to Anja if Aunt Ilse did not unpack the food. “I’ll just put these things away,” she said, taking the bag back from her aunt. “How are Marta and the family?”

  Aunt Ilse actually laughed. “My sister was intent on making sure we returned with enough milk and cheese to last through the month. I think she must have bought one farmer’s entire supply and…”

  Barely listening to her aunt’s chatter, Beth gripped the edge of the sink and bowed her head. Everything was wrong here. It was wrong of her to keep secrets from her aunt and uncle. It was wrong of her to make such an important decision without first seeking counsel from her Quaker family. Yet to admit that she was hiding a Jewish family in the attic would surely send her aunt into a fresh cycle of the hysteria that for the time being she seemed to have overcome.

  “Beth, come up to the attic,” Liesl shouted as she started up the stairs. “I want to show you the presents I made for everyone—well, not yours, of course, but—”

  “Let’s do that in our room,” Beth hurried to suggest. “There was a spill in the attic, and it smells up there.”

  “Ja.” Liesl agreed as she reached the top step and sniffed the air. “But I want to hide the presents. Mama will never think to search up here.”

  Beth forced a laugh even as her heart pounded so furiously that she thought she might not be able to breathe. “Your mother is standing right down there in the front hall and now knows your plan,” she said. “Let me help you find a better hiding place.”

  To her relief Liesl ran down the stairs and on down the hall to their bedroom. For the next half hour, Beth admired the crudely woven pot holder that Liesl had made for her mother and the rock she had painted for her father. “It’s a paperweight,” Liesl confided.

  “It’s wonderful,” Beth assured her.

  “And this is for Dr. Buch,” the girl said as she held up a peppermint candy cane. “Aunt Marta brought it from Switzerland for me, but I’d rather give it to him. Mama doesn’t like him, but I think that he’s awfully nice—don’t you, Beth?”

  “I do, and I think he will like your present very much.”

  “Do you think he will have something for me?”

  “That’s not important, Liesl.”

  Her cousin sighed. “I know. That’s what Mama keeps saying. ‘It’s not the gift but the giving.’ But I do so love getting presents.”

  Outside their closed bedroom door, they heard the front door open and shut. “It’s Papa,” Liesl whispered. “Quick, we have to hide these.”

  Beth helped the girl find hiding spots for all three gifts and then followed her out into the hallway. Her uncle and Josef were standing in the foyer. Josef was hanging up his coat and putting on his slippers while her uncle told him some news he’d heard about new regulations at the university.

  “I have a secret,” Liesl announced in a singsong voice, and both men smiled at her. “And it’s something to do with you, Herr Doktor Buch.”

  He crouched down to her height. “Would this secret have anything to do with the coming of Christmas?”

  Liesl giggled and nodded. “You’ll never guess—not in a thousand years.”

  “Well, I have a secret as well, and it has something to do with you.” He tweaked her nose and got to his feet. He glanced toward the ceiling and then at Beth.

  She could only offer a half shrug in return. It would appear that their secret was safe, but she could not really be sure until she went to the attic to check. What if Anja and Benjamin had decided to slip away as soon as they saw her uncle’s car arrive? But she had seen the curtain move. Still, her aunt had been in the attic when she and Liesl entered the house. Could she have been the person at the window? And if so, where were Anja and Benjamin and the children?

  Beth was still trying to think of some excuse for returning to the attic when Aunt Ilse stepped into the hallway from the kitchen. She frowned when she saw Josef.

  “Herr Doktor Buch,” she said in a quiet formal tone that was not at all the way she usually addressed him.

  “Welcome home, Frau Schneider,” Josef said. “It sounds like you and the professor and Liesl enjoyed the skiing.”

  Aunt Ilse ignored his attempts at small talk. “I believe this belongs to you,” she said, handing him a small book. “I found it in our niece’s bedroom.” She wrapped her crossed arms with the skirt of her apron and waited for his explanation.

  Beth looked more closely at the volume and recognized it as a book of medical terms that Josef had brought for Benjamin to study after Anja had told him that her husband had one day hoped to attend medical school. Beth had suggested that Anja and Benjamin study in her room while she and Josef got the children settled for the night in the attic.

  “I…it…” Beth began. She did not wish to lie to her aunt, but what explanation could there be other than that Josef had been in her room and here was the proof?

  “Frau Schneider, I had intended to speak with you and the professor later this evening, but this…” He glanced at the book and then back at Ilse. The man was actually offering Beth’s aunt a sheepish smile. “You see, the fact of the matter is that I have become quite fond of your niece. I know that in many ways you and Professor Schneider still think of her as that teenager who came to live with you after Liesl was born, but to me she is….”

  He paused and allowed his gaze to rest on Beth. “To me, she is the one true beautiful reality in the midst of all that surrounds us. Her courage alone inspires me—her determination to stay here where she is needed when anyone else might have thought first of herself.”

  “It is not our way to think of ourselves before others,” Aunt Ilse murmured as she glanced from Josef to Beth and back again.

  “Are you going to marry Beth?” Liesl asked.

  Aunt Ilse startled like a horse caught unaware. “Liesl, this is an adult conversation. Go into the kitchen.” She cast about for some way to soften her reprimand when Liesl’s eyes filled with tears. “Go on. Beth brought you a surprise from the market today.”

  As soon as the child had run to the kitchen and they hea
rd her squeal of delight when she obviously discovered the orange, Aunt Ilse turned back to Josef. “You still have not answered the question of how you came to be in my niece’s room, Doktor.”

  “Your niece is a twenty-five-year-old woman, Frau Schneider—an adult. If she were living in her own apartment, would you deny her the pleasure of guests?”

  “Guests, of course, but—”

  “We were talking about the future, and I mentioned that I had thought of perhaps one day becoming a nurse,” Beth interrupted. This was the truth. “Josef brought the book after that.” Again the truth although not exactly the whole of it.

  “And you could not hold these conversations here in the study or kitchen?”

  “I think we both felt safer in the back of the apartment away from the street,” Josef said, as if the thought had just occurred to him. “We spend enough time in the cellar during the air raids, and the kitchen can be oppressive with the reminder of so little food. And you asked that we not heat the other rooms unnecessarily,” he reminded her.

  “He’s right, Ilse,” the professor said. “The radiator in the girls’ room is by far the most productive in the entire apartment.”

  “We did nothing but talk, Tante Ilse,” Beth added.

  Her aunt fixed her gaze on each of them in turn. “From this day forward any ‘talking’ will take place in any room of your choice in the front of the house,” she instructed. “Is that very clear?”

  Josef and Beth both nodded, and Aunt Ilse turned on her heel and marched back down the hall to the kitchen.

  “I warned you,” Uncle Franz said with a grin as he shook his finger at Josef. “My wife misses nothing.” He sobered and locked his gaze with Josef’s. “We will talk later on that other matter?”

  Josef nodded, and when Uncle Franz left them to return to his study, Josef moved a step closer to Beth. “Do you think they left?”

  “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 reali
ty 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.