All God's Children (4 page)

In his presence she appeared nervous, never meeting his eyes directly, maintaining her silence unless spoken to directly. No, not nervous. More cautious. From what he had observed on the battlefield, caution was something to be admired. He far preferred to be in the company of soldiers who considered their options rather than those who rushed headlong into the fray.

Earlier she had burst into the house as if the crisp autumn wind had driven her there. Her chatter had been filled with the unmistakable vibrancy common to Americans. During his time in Boston, he had never gotten accustomed to the way his American friends had of simply blurting out their thoughts and feelings without any attempt at censoring them first. But once she had seen him—or more to the point seen his uniform—she had assumed the guarded reserve that was commonplace throughout Germany these days.

“Do you live near Munich, Herr Doktor?” Beth asked, apparently as unsettled by the strained silence as everyone else.

“My parents live in Harlaching—in the southern part of the city.” He saw the professor’s wife glance at him for the first time. Harlaching was less than two kilometers from the professor’s cramped apartment.

“That’s quite a lovely area,” Beth continued. “The homes are quite… stately.”

“They are larger,” Josef admitted.

“And yet you have decided to—”

“Josef wishes to take a room with us to be nearer his work at the university,” Franz said, and the look he gave his niece was a warning for her to stop probing. “You must tell us what your mother had to say, Beth.”

Beth’s answer was surprisingly blunt. “Everyone appears to be fine.” She darted a quick glance in his direction. “Once the censors had their way with it, I’m afraid there was much in the letter left to the imagination.”

Earlier when Franz had given her the letter, Josef had been taken aback by her unadulterated joy. Clearly as she ran off to savor the contents, she was anticipating news of friends and family. In that moment he had actually envied her, for he well recalled the letters that his father had written to him while he served his first tour of duty as a medic. They were brief missives of instructions and curt reminders of the honor he could bring to the family name. He was quite sure that it had been his mother who had lobbied for his father to use his influence to get Josef back to Munich to complete his studies.

Now as he observed the professor’s American niece helping Frau Schneider serve the meal, he wondered if perhaps her news from home had been as disappointing as the letters from his father had been. Certainly when her uncle had inquired about her letter, Beth’s answer had been surprisingly curt.

“Beth, that’s too much mustard,” Liesl said testily.

“I thought you like lots of mustard,” Beth replied as she scraped off part of the condiment, added a slice of sausage, and handed the half sandwich to the girl. Josef could not help but notice that Beth attended to the child’s constant needs as if she—not her aunt—were the parent.

“It’s too much,” Liesl fumed. “Papa?” She turned to the professor for support.

“Liesl, we have company,” he said quietly.

Liesl’s face got very red, and Josef feared she might be about to cry—or worse, launch into a tantrum. From the look of Frau Schneider, Josef believed that she was anticipating the same thing.

“What did you learn in school today, Fräulein Liesl?” Josef asked, wanting to do his part to ease the situation and spare his hostess any embarrassment.

It worked. The child gave him her full attention, her voice filled with the excitement of her report. “Oh, our teacher told us all about
der
Führer
and what a great and good man he is. He came to Munich last spring, you know. He passed right by our house here.”

It was evident that the child’s comment had not eased the strained atmosphere around the table but rather worsened it. “Did you see him then?” Josef concentrated on his food even as his curiosity overruled his reason. Speaking of Hitler would certainly do little to ease Frau Schneider’s anxiety.

Liesl frowned and toyed with her food.
“Nein
. Some soldiers came that morning and made us all stay in the kitchen, and then some other people came into our house. They had little flags, and they were all dressed up and everything.”

Josef looked to the professor for an explanation, as he had never heard of such a thing. But it was Beth who provided the answer.

“Because we are Quakers, the authorities have some doubts about our enthusiasm for the Reich,” she said, obviously measuring each word. “Apparently they felt that occupying the apartment with cheering strangers for the occasion was preferable since they felt they could not rely on us to be quite so—enthusiastic.”

“Liesl, drink your milk,” Frau Schneider said. She reached for the glass of cider beside her plate, and her hand shook so badly that she nearly spilt the amber liquid. Josef noticed her send her husband a pleading look—one that clearly begged him to change the subject.

Josef cast about for a way he might help and turned his attention to Beth. “Professor Schneider tells me you came to Munich to learn our language while you helped Frau Schneider with Liesl’s care,” Josef said.

“Ja. My mother was born and raised here in Munich but moved to the United States when she and my father married. Once they moved to the United States, she insisted that only English be spoken in our home. As a girl I became fairly adept at reading and understanding the written words, but my spoken German needed work.” Her eyes met his, challenging him to question her presence in a country that was at war with hers.

“I must say that after eight years with us our Beth speaks like a native,” Professor Schneider added with a wink at his niece. “She’s even managed to pick up much of our Bavarian dialect.
Net woar
, Beth?”

“Of course, because her mother is a native,” Ilse added, “some would agree that this gives Beth the right to…to…” She looked at her husband.

“To live here as well,” he finished quietly. “And certainly after eight years…well, she’s become a treasured member of this family—like a daughter to Ilse and me and a sister for Liesl.”

Josef focused on cutting his sausage into bite-sized pieces. Perhaps it would be best if he allowed the professor to guide the conversation. Certainly his attempts to ease the strained atmosphere that surrounded the meal had failed. He glanced up and was surprised to see that Beth was smiling at him. It was a sad smile but lovely nevertheless.

“My brothers do that,” she said, nodding toward the way he held his knife and fork in a position that Americans would consider the reverse of how it should be. Her tone was soft and wistful, and Josef felt a flicker of pleasure at having given her some reminder of home.

“Your mother brought some of her ways to you and your brothers then?”

“She has. I never really thought about it, but yes.”

Josef set his knife on the edge of his plate and took a bite of the meat. “Your brothers are younger?”

“By two years. Twins, although they look nothing alike. Fred is married. He and his wife are expecting their first child in the spring. Theo is a farmer in Wisconsin like my father.”

He took a bite of his supper and then turned his attention to Frau Schneider. “This is the best meal I have had in some time,” he said. “Thank you for inviting me to dine with you and your family.”

“It is our pleasure,” she replied without meeting his gaze. “The professor tells me that you were one of his best students.”

Every word was measured before she uttered it. The woman was definitely a bundle of nerves.

“I am flattered to hear that he thought as much. Your husband had many gifted students. He was one of—”

“Herr Doktor,” Liesl said, tapping her fork against her plate to gain his attention, “do you know what else my teacher told us today?”

“What?”

The girl lowered her voice and leaned toward him as if about to share a secret. “She told us that there could be some of us whose parents might not follow all the new rules so we needed to be sure that if we saw them doing something that wasn’t right, we should tell them about the rules. And if that didn’t make them do right, then we needed to tell our teacher or the
Blockwart.”

“Liesl!” Frau Schneider hissed. “The doctor was speaking. Do not interrupt.”

The girl frowned, slouched back onto the bench, and took a bite of her sandwich. Josef glanced at Beth, who was looking down at her barely touched plate of food.

“They are in the military—your brothers?” It was an impertinent question, and Josef regretted it the moment he heard the shocked intake of Ilse Schneider’s breath.

“We are Quakers, Doctor,” Beth said, reverting to English.

Silence pervaded the room, making the scratch of forks on crockery all the more pronounced. Josef felt compelled to say something that might ease the tension. “I have always wondered why the name Quakers.”

“Members of the Religious Society of Friends—Freunde,” the professor explained, clearly relieved to have moved on to this topic. “Our faith is rooted in the tenets of silent prayer and individual inner searching rather than those of ceremony and sermon. As for being called—”

“We’re different,” Liesl announced. “My teacher says being different is not a good thing.”

Professor Schneider cleared his throat, and the child gave a shrug and drank her milk.

“But why Quaker?” Josef asked.

“In the past, some early worshippers were said to have developed a habit of being so overcome by the spirit within that they were said to ‘quake.’”

Josef had to hide a smile as he recognized the voice his mentor used when he lectured.

“For some time it was a term of contempt, as people of our faith were persecuted for their beliefs,” Franz continued. “These days…”

Ilse Schneider’s fork clattered to her plate, and Josef saw that she had suddenly gone quite pale. Her husband ducked his head and continued eating without completing his sentence.

Beth stood up and began gathering the serving dishes. “To answer your original question, Herr Doktor, my brothers are required to register for military service, but they have the option to refuse to serve for religious reasons. We do not believe that war is an answer,” she explained without looking at him. But then she paused in her clearing of the table and met his eyes defiantly. “We will not do battle either for the kingdom of God or the kingdoms of men.”

In spite of the charged atmosphere around the table, Josef could not seem to control his curiosity or his tongue. “Your government allows such a thing?” It was well known that in Germany refusal to serve on any grounds was punishable by imprisonment—or worse.

“Dessert?” Ilse Schneider’s voice was high-pitched with a warning that they should cease this dangerous discussion at once. “Why don’t you take our guest into the sitting room, Franz? We can have dessert in there.”

But Beth ignored her. “My country was founded on the very principle of religious freedom.”

“I baked an apple kuchen,” Ilse persisted, her voice every bit as shaky as her hands were.

“So that’s what smells so wonderful,” the professor said as he stood and indicated that Josef should follow him to the other room. But Josef was aware that just before closing the connecting door between the kitchen and sitting room, the professor laid his hand on his niece’s arm.

“Sorry,” she murmured, blushing at her uncle’s silent rebuke.

“Josef, I expect that you are wondering why Beth is still here,” the professor said as soon as they were seated in two overstuffed chairs positioned at either end of a worn sofa. “No doubt she should have gone home to America some time ago—certainly once Germany declared war on the United States. But she chose to stay and help us. As I mentioned earlier, after the birth of our daughter, my wife’s health deteriorated. I’m afraid that it has only worsened in the years since. Surely you observed that she is not at all well, and as you may also have noticed, our daughter can be quite challenging.”

“But in these times, Professor…I would think that your niece would wish to be with her parents. Furthermore I would have thought that the authorities…”

Franz sighed. “So far the authorities have elected to overlook her presence. Perhaps over eight years she has become so ingrained in the community that everyone thinks of her as one of our own. Nevertheless, as you may well imagine, her presence here draws attention. My wife worries about that.”

“Have you been harassed?”

Franz shrugged. “Who hasn’t these days? You’ve been away serving with your unit. On the surface things probably appear the same as before. But beneath that surface? Well, Liesl was right in saying that being different is not something the authorities encourage.” At the sound of female voices, he went to open the door for his wife and niece.

“Ah, a delectable treat to celebrate your moving in with us, Josef,” Franz said in a voice that was too loud. “Just smell that cinnamon.”

Josef could not help noticing that Franz’s smile was forced. His true expression—concern for his wife, apprehension about the state of things in his household—could be read in the sadness and strain that lined the rest of his face.

They ate the apple kuchen and sipped cups of ersatz coffee in silence interrupted only occasionally by Liesl’s whining plea for a second helping of the rich vanilla cream that topped the dessert and Ilse’s repeated refusal. Finally the child started to blubber, prompting Franz to take her on his lap and suggest that they sing a song for their guest.

To Liesl’s delight Josef joined in the singing, even going so far as to add some of the hand movements associated with a Bavarian folk dance. Before the song was finished, Beth had joined in. Even Ilse was humming and lightly clapping her hands in time to the music.

“I like you, Herr Doktor,” Liesl announced, her tears forgotten.

“Enough that we can be on a first-name basis, Fräulein?”

Liesl looked to Beth for a translation.

“He means he would call you by your first name,” she explained.

“I am Liesl, and you are…?”

“Josef,” he said, grinning at her. He stuck out his hand for her to shake. “Friends?”