by Anna Schmidt
“What about our footprints?” Beth teased, tweaking her cousin’s nose.
Liesl paused, then began pulling her snow pants on over her pajamas. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She frowned, but she brightened at once. “But we will still be the first to leave footprints.”
Beth laughed and hurried to get dressed. “We must be very quiet,” she whispered when they stepped into the hallway. “Your parents are still sleeping.”
They tiptoed past the kitchen, and Liesl stopped. “Let’s go wake Josef,” she whispered, and before Beth could object, the girl had bounded halfway up the stairs to the attic. “Josef!” she hissed. “Josef!”
“Shhh,” Beth said as she tugged at Liesl’s sleeve. “Let him sleep. He was so late at the hospital last night.”
“Who is that making such a racket?” Josef mumbled as he leaned over the banister, his chin showing the stubble of whiskers, his eyes heavy with sleep. But he was grinning down at them, and Beth realized that she was thinking that this is the way he would look if they were married and woke up together. She ducked her head to hide her blush.
“It’s snowing,” Liesl said in her normal voice, and then she giggled and softened her tone to a whisper. “Right this minute. Come on.” And assuming that Josef would do her bidding, she hurried back down the stairs and on to the front door. “Schnell,” she urged as she squatted on the floor and pulled on her boots.
By the time she had them on and fastened, Josef had joined them. He hopped on one foot and then the other as he pulled on his military boots, hooked Liesl’s ice skates over his shoulder, and then held out his arms, inviting them to link theirs with his. “Ladies, shall we go?”
The three of them made their way down the four flights of stairs to the courtyard, giggling and whispering all the way. Liesl set the tone with her questions and guesses about what the package with her name on it from Josef might contain.
“I think I know what you got for me,” he teased.
“You’ll never guess in a million years.”
“Oh, I might. It’s long and thin….”
Liesl glanced up at Beth with a worried frown.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a giraffe,” Josef announced.
“A giraffe? Where would I get a giraffe?”
“It’s not a giraffe then?”
“No. That’s just silly.”
“Oh, you have gotten me something serious then.” Josef pretended to consider the possibilities, stroking his chin. “Could it be a book?”
“No. It’s too thin to be a book,” Liesl reminded him.
The game continued as the three made their way through the deserted streets to the park. All the while Beth kept recalling how wonderful Josef had been with Anja’s children, telling them stories, tucking them into bed the three nights they had spent in the attic. He would make such a wonderful father.
She shook off the thought. What was the matter with her? First she was thinking about them married and waking up together, and now she had advanced their future to include children. It had to be the season and the surroundings, for certainly the snow falling on deserted streets, covering the rooftops, and sparkling in the rising sun made everything seem as if they were walking through a fairyland—living in a fairy tale where happy endings were assumed.
But this was Germany in 1942 with a war that was slowly turning against Josef’s beloved fatherland if reports heard in secret from the British Broadcasting Company could be believed. This was reality.
When they reached the park, Josef helped Liesl with her skates and then swept the snow off a park bench at the edge of the rink so that he and Beth could sit and watch her. It always surprised Beth to see what an accomplished skater her cousin was. Off the ice her movements were awkward and ungainly, but on the ice she seemed to take flight, her face raised to the sky, her arm outstretched, and her lips parted in a smile.
“Look at her,” Beth said to Josef. “She’s so graceful.”
Josef nodded. “The picture of innocence,” he agreed, but there was an undertone to his words that made Beth turn to him.
“That’s good, isn’t it? I mean she’s still so very young and perhaps once the war ends…”
“Once the war ends, Beth, she will still be German, and she will pay the price for our government’s arrogance and cruelty to others the same as every other German regardless of their age for generations to come.”
“You think Germany will lose?”
He shrugged. “Even if we should be victorious, we have already lost.” He took hold of her hand. “But we will not speak of such things on this day. It is Christmas Eve. Frohe Weihnachten,” he said, his voice husky as he leaned in to kiss her.
His lips—chilled by the winter cold—warmed quickly, and as he held her close and lightly kissed her cheeks and eyelids and nose, she surrendered herself to the fantasy of a life with Josef. “Merry Christmas to you as well,” she whispered when he pulled away.
“I have something to ask you,” he said, his cheek resting against her temple as she sat huddled close to him, and together they watched Liesl skate. “I have thought about this a great deal—all through last night— and I don’t want you involved in the White Rose after all. Just take care of your aunt and Liesl. Just be here so we can be together. The other? It’s far too dangerous and…”
She sat up and stared at him, searching his eyes for answers. “You’re giving up?”
“That’s not what I said. It is dangerous for you—doubly so because you are American and no doubt being watched whether you know it or not. I am also going to try and persuade the professor to—”
“But you will continue to take the risks and place yourself in danger?”
He sucked in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “I have thought this through carefully, Beth. I will have Christmas with you and your family and then move out after the New Year. By that time, Willi and the others will have returned from their holiday and the plan is—”
“No. And by the way, you said you had a question. Yet you are not asking me anything. You are telling me that this is what you want.”
“Be reasonable. I am doing this for you—and the professor. For Frau Schneider and for Liesl. Surely you understand that.”
“What I understand is that we are already involved—my uncle and me. What I understand is that you cannot protect us, so do not deny us the opportunity to do what we can to bring peace.” What I understand, she thought but could not bring herself to say aloud, is that I love you and want to be where you are no matter the danger.
“You Americans can be so stubborn—and so naive,” he muttered, his eyes now focused on Liesl without really seeing her.
“Do not go throwing around labels, Josef Buch. You Germans are every bit as determined to have your way or our countries would not be at war with one another.”
Liesl glided across the ice and came to a stop in front of them. “Are you going to marry my cousin?” she demanded of Josef.
“Why do you ask?” It was evident that he was still upset with Beth but trying hard not to pass his emotions on to the girl.
“You kissed her. I saw. And Mama says when people kiss they are either married or about to be.”
“Sometimes people kiss because they are good friends and happy to be together, Liesl,” Beth said. “Because they want to be together no matter what.” This last she added hoping that Josef would hear it for the remorse she felt at having quarreled with him.
Josef reached over and took her hand. “And sometimes,” he added, “it’s because the people have argued and need to make up. Like this.” He leaned over and kissed Beth’s cheek.
Liesl looked doubtful. “Before you kissed her on the mouth,” she pointed out as she plopped down on the bench to remove her skates and put on her boots.
“So I did,” Josef replied, and before Beth could stop him, he kissed her full on the lips. At the same time he gathered a handful of snow, and when he broke the kiss, he tossed it in Liesl’s directio
n.
She giggled, and the snow fight was on, each of them finding protection behind a tree or the park bench as they hurled snowballs at each other. Before Beth realized it, Josef joined forces with Liesl, and the two of them came toward her, taking turns pelting her with the weapons that barely held together, so light and powdery was the snow.
“I surrender,” she finally shouted, but when Josef turned to congratulate Liesl on their joint victory, Beth had her revenge. She scooped up snow and dumped it on his head. “We Americans,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes, “are not only stubborn. We are also ingenious when it comes to winning.” She took off running, knowing that Josef and Liesl would follow. After giving chase for several minutes, the three of them collapsed breathless in the snow.
“This is the best Christmas Eve I ever remember,” Liesl said with a satisfied smile. “And the very best part? It’s only just begun.”
“Ja,” Josef said as he took hold of Beth’s hand. “I agree. The very best.”
CHAPTER 11
The almost-magical feeling surrounding the day continued well into the evening. Perhaps it was the fact that the streets were mostly deserted and the shops closed early. Perhaps it was the fact that there were no sirens or the drone of planes overhead. Perhaps it was the calming sound of church bells calling worshippers to evening services.
Whatever the explanation, the family embraced the calm that had settled over the city as they gathered for a special Christmas Eve supper. Aunt Ilse had placed favors—inexpensive miniature toys she had purchased at the market—at each person’s place. A tiny doll dressed in Bavarian costume lay at Liesl’s place; a book not much bigger than a postage stamp with the opening of Dickens’ A Christmas Carol waited for Uncle Franz; and Beth found a small-scale American flag by her plate.
“Wherever did you find this?” Beth asked.
“I have my sources,” Aunt Ilse replied with a smile. “Josef, there’s a favor for you as well,” she said.
Josef unwrapped the small package at his place to reveal a wooden train—each car no bigger than an inch and the engine, passenger car, and caboose all linked together with string.
“A train?” Uncle Franz said as he examined Josef’s favor.
“Every boy loves a train,” Aunt Ilse said, unable to restrain her natural defensiveness.
“I always wanted a train—as a boy,” Josef said. “My father believed in more practical gifts.”
The adults around the table fell silent. They were all a bit mystified as to why Josef had chosen to spend this special evening with them and not his own parents.
“I’m going to name my doll Lily,” Liesl announced as she pretended to walk the tiny doll across the table. “Unless,” she added with a sly look at her mother, “perhaps there might be another doll under the tree?”
“First we eat,” her mother informed her. But she was smiling, and she ruffled her daughter’s hair as she went to get the platter of sausages and cheeses that she and Beth had prepared for the meal. In addition, they enjoyed potato salad and applesauce and fat, yeasty pretzels that could be dipped into a special spicy mustard that their landlords in the bakery had sent.
“I could not eat another bite,” Franz exclaimed after they had devoured the meal. He leaned back and patted his stomach as he gazed fondly at his wife.
“Me neither,” Liesl announced, mimicking her father’s actions and making them all laugh.
“Well then I suppose that I will simply have to throw out the Guglhupf,” Aunt Ilse said. “I made your favorite with chocolate and nuts, and it won’t keep until tomorrow.”
“I have plenty of room,” Josef announced.
“Me too,” Beth agreed.
“And me,” Liesl shouted as she hurried to clear away the dishes and bring bowls for the dessert.
“There is always room for your Guglhupf,” Franz added.
Once they had eaten their dessert and the women had washed and dried the dishes while Josef and Franz made a fire in the sitting room, it was finally time to open the gifts that Liesl had been pinching and shaking most of the afternoon.
The small sitting room was made even smaller by the presence of a fragrant fir tree trimmed with a dozen tiny, white candles, each housed in a small brass holder that clipped to a branch of the tree. Precious glass ornaments from Aunt Ilse’s youth and the silver tinsel that she carefully saved from year to year completed the decorations. As the youngest, Liesl had the job of handing out the gifts.
“This one is for you, Josef,” she said, handing him a long, skinny package.
“Ah, my giraffe.”
Liesl giggled. “It’s not a giraffe—I told you.”
Josef tore off the brown paper that Liesl had drawn pictures on for decoration to reveal the candy cane she had brought back from their skiing trip. “I love peppermint,” Josef announced. “And all this for me? It’s very special, Liesl. Thank you.”
Liesl frowned. “You could share,” she suggested, and everyone laughed.
“Tomorrow,” Aunt Ilse said when Josef seemed about to begin breaking the stick candy into pieces. “We’ve had enough sweets for one night.”
Liesl did not protest but turned back to the small stack of wrapped packages. “Papa,” she said and handed him a gift—a pair of thick wool socks from his wife.
There followed the gifts that Liesl had chosen for her parents, a new hat for Beth from her aunt and uncle and Liesl, a package of tobacco from Beth for Uncle Franz, and a lavender shawl for Aunt Ilse. For Josef there was a fountain pen from Uncle Franz—“My father’s,” he told Josef. Aunt Ilse had made him a set of handkerchiefs with handrolled edges. And from Beth there was a beer stein painted with winter scenes.
“It will always remind me of the time you, Liesl, and I spent together this morning in the park,” he told her.
There was only one present left.
“It’s for me,” Liesl said, her eyes glowing with anticipation as she ripped off the paper from the large package to reveal a small but detailed dollhouse. “It’s Lily’s house,” she declared and ran back to the kitchen to retrieve the tiny doll.
While the family admired the dollhouse, Beth noticed that Josef had slipped away. She heard him climb the attic stairs and considered going after him, thinking that the closeness of her family had made him sad. But almost as soon as he left the room, he was back and juggling four packages—crudely wrapped in paper he must have gotten from the butcher.
“Fräulein Liesl,” he said, presenting her the first gift with a courtly bow. She tore the paper off to reveal three new books.
“Look, Beth. Oh, just look,” she cried as she slowly turned the pages of the first book.
Josef handed Aunt Ilse the next package. “It’s less than you deserve,” he told her, “but it comes from a heart filled with gratitude for your many kindnesses.”
She carefully opened the hinged box. Inside was an enameled green brooch. “Oh Josef, it is far too dear,” she murmured even as she pinned the jewelry to the front of her dress.
For Uncle Franz there was a new pipe that he filled immediately with some of the tobacco Beth had given him and lit in spite of Aunt Ilse’s protests.
“There’s one more.” Liesl pointed to a slender gift box. “And I know what it is because I helped Josef pick them out.”
Josef handed the package to Beth. She could not hide her blush as she untied the ribbon on a package that had been professionally wrapped and opened the lid. She pushed aside the tissue to reveal a pair of soft leather gloves the color of honey.
“Try them on,” Josef urged. “I had to guess at the size, but the clerk…”
“They are perfect. Just perfect.”
The whole day had been perfect, and Beth wished it would never end.
PART 2
MUNICH
JANUARY—FEBRUARY 1943
CHAPTER 12
As the New Year came and went, Josef could not help but wonder what the next Christmas would bring. The one thing h
e knew for certain was that he wanted to spend whatever time he had in this life with Beth. But how to do that and make sure that she was safe and did not suffer once the war ended?
They had finally come to a compromise regarding her participation in the activities of the White Rose. Or rather he had agreed that she could continue to work within the group so long as she promised never to try to distribute the leaflets without him by her side. But he was well aware that she was always on alert for an opportunity to do more.
In early January the members of the White Rose returned to Munich with renewed determination to expand their efforts. Josef had told Willi about his discovery of the leaflets in Franz’s unattended briefcase, and everyone had insisted that Franz could help with the printing but was never to have any of the incendiary papers in his possession again.
So by mid-January they had all settled into a routine. Most evenings Josef and Beth would leave the apartment after supper, saying they were meeting friends at the Gasthaus or seeing a film at the movie house or attending a concert. This was all true. What they did not say was that they often shared these evenings with their friends from the White Rose. Less often Franz would claim some meeting he needed to attend and leave Ilse at home with Liesl. It all appeared to be working perfectly until Ilse got it into her head that she should invite Josef’s parents for Sunday dinner.
“It seems only polite,” she said one evening as they were finishing their supper. “After all Josef and Beth are…seeing a good deal of each other. Josef, will you ask them?”
“Sunday?” Josef was stalling for time. He had to think. The very idea that his father might sit at this table or perhaps share a schnapps with the professor in his cluttered study—who knew what might be lying around in there?
“Nothing fancy,” Ilse added. “We’re plain people after all.” Her voice shook slightly. Josef had learned that this was a sure indication that she was beginning to have second thoughts about her invitation.
