by Anna Schmidt
“And what about Josef?” Frau Buch said quietly after a silence had fallen between her and her husband.
“What about Josef?” Herr Buch replied.
“I’m sitting right here.”
Beth saw Josef’s mother cast a look at her son—a look that instructed him to let her handle this. “Detlef, war or no war, these young people are attracted to one another—they may even love each other.”
Josef ducked his head, and Beth blushed.
“They have only known each other for—”
“And tell me how will they know each other better if you send her back across an entire ocean?”
“I told her earlier today that I would look into the matter once she was absolutely certain of her decision.”
“Well then, what are we debating?” Frau Buch raised her glass. “Clearly she has made her choice, and frankly this calls for a celebration.”
Everyone raised the china cups that Gustav had just filled with coffee—real coffee that Beth could not help but savor. “To Beth and her dedication to her Bavarian family,” Frau Buch said.
Beth focused on Josef’s father. “Danke,” she murmured, and the man acknowledged her gratitude with a slight nod.
Josef stood up. “It’s getting late, and Beth needs to get back.” He placed his napkin next to his coffee cup and bent to kiss his mother’s cheek as he came around the table. “It was a lovely meal,” he said, pulling Beth’s chair away from the table so she could rise as well.
The elder Buchs stood when she did, and once again Josef’s mother took hold of Beth’s hands. “Do come back any time.”
“I would like that,” Beth replied and realized that she meant it. She turned to Josef’s father. “I do appreciate all that you—”
“I will take care of the matter, Fräulein. In the meantime may I suggest that you prepare your Munich relatives for your departure? In case I cannot work miracles.”
“I understand.” Standing so close to Josef’s father, she could not help but notice that the eyes she had thought cold and aloof were in fact lined with weariness. She understood that in spite of his sumptuous surroundings, the access to luxuries such as coffee, and the power to determine another person’s future, this man had paid a toll for his involvement in the war. “Thank you both.”
Downstairs in the large foyer, Josef held her coat for her before putting on his overcoat and accepting the gloves the servant handed him. Gustav switched off the lamp so that when Josef opened the door there would be no light spilling from the house.
Outside Josef took hold of her hand as he ushered her down the front walk. “There’s still time, Beth, if you change your mind. It will only get more difficult for you,” he warned.
“Are you staying?”
“I live here.”
“And for the time being so do I. And I intend to make the best of that.”
CHAPTER 9
Franz Schneider stayed close to the buildings as he made his way down the blocks of shops and apartments. If he saw anyone he knew, he could always duck into a doorway until the person passed by, or if confronted he could always claim that he’d gone out on some errand. It was well known in their neighborhood that Ilse suffered from a nervous condition that sometimes required him to seek a refill of medication from the chemist when the hour was this late and her condition was severe.
He turned up his collar and clutched his briefcase more tightly as he reached the street that would lead him home. The contents of that briefcase could get him arrested and probably killed. Yet he was willing to take that risk—for his family and for his country. For on this night, Franz had cast in his lot with the members of the White Rose. His former students, Hans Scholl and Christoph Probst, as well as Josef’s friend Willi and Hans’s younger sister, Sophie, were all part of the core group responsible for writing, printing, and distributing the leaflets.
He had also learned that his colleague Professor Kurt Huber was considering joining the group. The man was a vocal and devout supporter of the Nazi Party’s platform. But perhaps he had come to understand—as others were finally beginning to—that Hitler and his men were renegades who did not feel obliged to follow the platform that had brought them to power.
At the meeting Hans and Sophie had argued in favor of expanding the operation beyond the distribution of their impassioned essays. There had been talk of joining forces with others involved in similar activities in Berlin. Some were members—those who had not yet been arrested—of a larger, more dynamic group that the Gestapo had labeled Das Rote Kapelle or the Red Orchestra. Hans had actually met with Falk Harnack, the brother of Arvid Harnack, one of the primary leaders of that doomed group.
News had reached those in the White Rose that Arvid and his American wife, Mildred, had both been arrested. At the meeting that Franz had just left, Hans had reported that he had learned that day of the brutal murder of Arvid Harnack. The man had been strangled and his body hung from a meat hook by the Gestapo. Further reports were that Mildred had been imprisoned.
Hearing that last news, all Franz could think about was Beth. Beth and the way she had given that young woman her exit visa without a single thought for her own safety. Beth, whose natural bent toward the American way of speaking her mind was increasingly dangerous in the current environment. Beth, who had sacrificed some of the best years of her life in order to stay in Munich and care for his wife and daughter.
That had decided him. He had to make certain that he saved her— even if he could not save his country. He owed her that much. He owed his sister that much.
“Ilse?” he called as soon as he entered the apartment. He set his briefcase on a stack of books in the foyer and hung up his overcoat and hat before changing into his slippers. From behind the closed door of the sitting room, he could hear music—a waltz. It was a good sign. If Ilse had turned on the gramophone, usually that meant that she was feeling better and perhaps even having a good evening.
When he entered the room, the only light was a small reading lamp on the table next to his chair. Ilse was in the other chair, her eyes closed, her mouth softened into a smile as if she might be enjoying a sweet dream. In sleep the stress and strain that had aged her beyond her years disappeared, and Franz stood looking at her for several long minutes.
He thought about the draft of a leaflet that he’d started to work on in hopes that perhaps the others in the White Rose might find it worthy of distribution. He thought about the dozen copies of an earlier leaflet that he’d offered to distribute. Just having those items in the house endangered them all. He must get rid of them, throw them into the fire of the kitchen stove. He was about to retrace his steps when Ilse stirred.
“Franz?” She blinked up at him sleepily. “What time is it?”
“It’s late,” he replied, setting the gramophone arm onto its resting place and switching off the machine.
“Is Beth home?”
“I don’t know. I just came in.”
“How was your meeting?” She smiled at him, one eyebrow cocked in that funny way she had of letting him know that she did not for one minute believe that he had attended a meeting at all.
“My meeting was fine,” he reported. “Why are you so skeptical about where I was this evening?”
She shrugged. “I thought perhaps you had gone Christmas shopping in the market.”
Franz chuckled. “You know full well that I do all my shopping on the twenty-third when I go to get our tree.”
As Quakers they did not hold with many of the more secular trappings of the holiday. But Liesl’s schoolmates were not Quakers, and they were always filled with excitement about the trees they would decorate or the gifts they would receive. For this and other reasons, Franz and Ilse had adopted the tradition of a decorated tree and opening gifts on Christmas Eve.
Ilse stretched her arms high above her head and then covered a yawn. And in that simple gesture, Franz saw the girl he had married— the beauty who had captured his heart.
He turned the gramophone back on and held out his arms to her. “Waltz with me, Ilse.”
“Here? Now?”
“If not here, then where? And if not now, then when?”
With a shy smile she rose from the chair and came to him. She rested her head in the crook of his neck as they moved slowly in time to the music. Only when he felt moisture on the fabric of his shirt collar did he realize she was weeping.
As they walked back to the professor’s apartment, it seemed only natural that Josef should take Beth’s hand. She was wearing wool mittens that she had told him her mother had made for that first winter she’d spent in Munich. The mittens were of thick soft wool that was wearing thin after so many winters. He could feel the shape of her slender fingers nestled inside them.
“So you have decided to stay to care for your aunt and Liesl, have you?”
“That is one reason,” she admitted.
“There is more?”
“I believe that helping people like Anja and her family is the true reason that I was sent here. Oh, at first I’ve no doubt that God’s intention was for me to help my aunt and uncle and be a companion for Liesl. But now—I mean why would God have put me in contact with Siggy and then again with Anja and her family if it were not His plan that I should help others like them?”
“You could help them from America as well.”
“How? The need is immediate. Siggy never would have been allowed to enter the United States without my visa. And Anja and her family had no time to wait for some agency to come to their aid.”
“Sometimes you mystify me, Beth. You would risk your very life for these strangers?”
“We are all children of God, Josef.”
They walked the rest of the block in silence, but as they approached the bakery—closed and shuttered for the night like all the businesses on their street—Josef stopped walking and rested his hands on Beth’s shoulders. “My father cannot protect you, Beth. Even if he succeeds in getting you the extra time you want, you have to know that you will be under even greater scrutiny than you are now—the entire household will be.”
“I know, and that is why you must help me keep them out of it—my aunt and uncle must know nothing of what I did for Anja or what I might be called on to do going forward. Promise me, Josef. Promise me that you will help me protect these good people—good Germans loyal to their country. Please, if you care at all for my uncle, say you will do this.” She rested her gloved hand against his cheek.
Josef cradled her face in his hands and leaned in close. “I will do this not for your uncle, although I admire him a great deal. I will give you this promise, Beth, because when you asked my father to extend your visa and I realized that you had decided to stay, I thought my heart would quite literally take flight.” He grinned at her. “To use an adage of the season, I was filled with great joy.”
“Why should it matter so much to you?”
“My mother is a wise and observant woman, for I am in love with you, Beth. I have tried hard to restrain those feelings for some time now. I have told myself again and again that if I love you I should want you to be safe. But safety also meant that we would have to be an ocean apart—perhaps we would never see each other again. I admit that I am not so noble as to be willing to let that happen.”
“So earlier when you told your father that you had feelings for me…that was not a lie?”
Instead of answering her, he kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and rejoicing in the realization that she was clinging to him as well. When reluctantly he pulled away, he ran his forefinger along the features of her face. “It was not a lie,” he said and kissed her again. “Ich liebe Dich.”
“I…”
He silenced her by placing his finger against her lips. “You need time,” he told her. “We are from different worlds, you and I, and right now our countries are locked in a bitter war that will have repercussions for decades to come no matter the outcome. So do not speak in haste, Beth. It is sufficient for me to know that you trust me enough to seek my help in keeping your family here safe.”
He pulled out his key to the outer entrance to the building and was surprised when Beth giggled.
“What?”
“Well, you have now kissed me twice, but where is my handshake?”
“I forgot,” he admitted. “I got so caught up in—”
This time she was the one to stop his words with a kiss, and immediately after she held out her hand for him to shake. He opened the door, and they stepped inside the building where they kissed again and then shook hands. They smothered their giggles as they climbed the stairs, stopping at each floor to repeat the ritual until they reached the fourth floor.
Josef unlocked the door to the apartment while Beth admonished him to be quiet. “They might be sleeping,” she whispered, but she was still giggling and did not resist when he shut the apartment door and then pressed against her for one final kiss in the cluttered foyer before they went inside.
Caught off balance, Beth sent a pile of books and her uncle’s briefcase tumbling to the floor. The contents spilled out, and as they both bent to set things right again, Josef spotted the leaflets bearing the distinctive style of the White Rose. As he hurriedly gathered the loose papers and stuffed them back inside the briefcase, he realized that there were pages of writing—several versions of the same topic—a call for all Germans to take a stand and join the White Rose.
If the professor had decided to join forces with the resistance group, how on earth was Josef supposed to keep his promise to watch over Beth?
“You go on inside in case they are still awake,” he told Beth, relieving her of the papers she had retrieved before she noticed what they were. “Your aunt will worry that I am taking unfair advantage of your innocence,” he added, hoping to restore the lightness they had shared on their way up the stairs. “I’ll take care of this,” he added as he stuffed the leaflets and notes back inside the briefcase.
The problem was that between Beth’s determination to seek out more people in need of her help and the professor’s decision to join the group and carry out some of the work despite a tendency toward absentmindedness, Josef had serious doubts that he could take care of anything.
Beth heard the closing strains of a waltz coming from the sitting room and then the scratch of the needle and amazingly her aunt’s girlish laughter. She tapped at the door before opening it. “We’re back.”
Her aunt and uncle turned to her, and Aunt Ilse’s smile faded at once. She stepped away from Uncle Franz, and Beth realized that they had been dancing. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“Not at all,” Uncle Franz said as he turned off the gramophone and indicated that they should all sit down. “How was the dinner?”
“Quite…” Beth searched for the best word and finally settled on, “interesting.”
“Who was there?” Aunt Ilse asked.
“Just Josef and his parents.”
“And where is Josef?”
“I am here, Herr Professor,” Josef said quietly as he stepped into the room and handed Uncle Franz the briefcase. “I thought you might want this. You left it in the foyer.”
Suddenly there was a tension between the two men that Beth could not identify. She knew only that all trace of the light-hearted laughter she and Josef had shared had evaporated. And the romantic moment she had obviously interrupted between her aunt and uncle had disappeared as well.
Uncle Franz took the briefcase and briefly fingered the closings before setting it on the floor next to his chair. “I heard the music and discovered this lovely lady waiting for me to ask her to dance,” he said. But his smile was forced, and his gaze remained locked with Josef’s.
“Beth was just about to tell us about the evening she shared with your parents,” Aunt Ilse said.
“Your niece certainly charmed my mother,” Josef replied, turning his attention away from the professor.
“And your father?” Aunt Ilse asked.
; Beth could not have been more shocked if her aunt had asked Josef if he had in fact moved in with them to spy on them.
Josef smiled. “My father is not so easily captivated,” he admitted. “Yet I believe that it would be fair to say that he admires Beth and her devotion to you.”
“I have news,” Beth added. “It is not yet official, but I asked Josef’s father if he could help get permission for me to stay in Munich for a little longer.”
“How long?” Uncle Franz asked.
“That’s difficult to say.” Beth shrugged.
“I don’t understand. You have permission to leave—to go home to America—and you have requested…you have asked this man….” Ilse could barely find her voice much less the words to express her shock.
“Tante Ilse, I am worried about you—and Liesl. You have lost weight, and you aren’t sleeping, and—”
“Do you not see that in asking this man for a favor you have—”
Uncle Franz cleared his throat loudly, drawing Aunt Ilse’s attention to the fact that Josef was standing there.
“My father is a good German—a good and decent man, Frau Schneider,” Josef said as he opened the door that led to the front hallway. “I have another appointment, so I will wish you all a good night,” he added just before the door closed behind him and they heard him leave the apartment, the echo of his shoes on the stairs outside fading away.
The silence that followed obliterated any evidence of the rare respite from the strains of life in a war zone that they had all enjoyed earlier.
“Why are you doing this?” Aunt Ilse asked Beth.
“Because you would do the same for me.”
“Still to make such a request of Herr Buch—to do such a thing without first seeking the counsel of a clearness committee…”
