I jumped out of bed one night to run downstairs and find Robert. I had been reading information about schools for the deaf. Gallaudet University in Washington D.C., founded by Thomas Hopkins Gallaudet as a school for deaf students, had a football team.
Back in 1894, the team’s star quarterback invented the concept of the football huddle. The quarterback worried that other teams—deaf and hearing—were stealing his hand signals at the line of scrimmage. He gathered his players in a huddle to keep his sign language private. Other teams borrowed the idea; soon the huddle became as much a part of the game as helmets and pads.
Robert would love to hear this story. He enjoyed football and had taken William and me to the local high school’s games last fall, even though the Copper Springs Coyotes hadn’t won a game since he had graduated over fifteen years ago.
“It doesn’t matter if they win or lose, Louisa, we need to support our team,” he would say, loyal to the end.
I almost got down to the last step before I remembered he wasn’t home. He was still in North Carolina.
The next two weeks inched along. I kept fighting off a strange feeling of anxiety, like something terrible was coming. The last time I had that persistent dread was just before I left Germany, when I first realized that the Gestapo was watching me.
For a week, a grim looking man followed me from place to place. He didn’t try to keep himself hidden; he was purposely trying to intimidate me. As I thought back to that Gestapo agent, I realized why Herr Mueller’s presence made me so edgy. Herr Mueller had the same disconcerting manner of appearing out of nowhere, watching me, unconcerned if I noticed.
We finally received a postcard from Robert, addressed to William with a message added for Miss Gordon, but nothing written to me.
A significant omission.
I woke up one night from another bad dream, turned on my light, and picked up my Bible, opening it up to Psalm 68. “God setteth the solitary in families,” wrote the Psalmist.
That couldn’t be meant for me, Lord. I’m not lonely. I’m fine on my own. I just want to make a difference. I’ll do that if you will just get me back to Germany.
I didn’t feel the peace that I usually found in prayer. Why did God seem so distant? Why didn’t He respond like He usually did?
Reverend Hubbell had added a remark at the end of last Sunday’s sermon that kept gnawing at me. “When you’re churning,” he roared out in his pulpit voice, “God’s truth can’t find an anchor.”
The next afternoon, I drove the Hudson, quite skillfully I felt, to visit Glenda and Betty. I scarcely recognized Glenda. Her eyes had a lightness of spirit I’d never seen before in her. We sat down to have tea under the shady porch.
When Betty went inside to make another pot of tea, I unveiled my plan. “There’s a room to rent over in Bisbee in a woman’s house. Her name is Mrs. Morgan. She’s a retired schoolteacher from the Southwestern School for the Deaf, and she is tutoring William a few times a month. And Glenda, that’s not even the best part! I can help you get a job at a diner near Bisbee!”
I expected Glenda to look delighted, but she looked indifferent. I felt terribly disappointed. “What’s wrong? I thought you might like this idea.”
“Miss Louisa, I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. I really do.” She gazed at me. “But I just ain’t ready.”
“But you’re healed now! And this plan would help you get Tommy back. Don’t you want to get him back as soon as possible?”
“Yes, ma’am. Yes, I do. And I got something that’ll help me get him back.” She looked directly at me, an unusual thing for Glenda. “But not ‘til I’m ready.”
The “something” she referred to must be the ring. Did she know I had taken it? I would’ve loved to question her about it, to confess I had removed it from the sweater in her closet, to ask if Herr Mueller had been the one who hurt her and ask why she took the ring in the first place.
For a moment, I felt we were dancing around the subject. But I said nothing. I had made a promise to Robert to leave it alone. And a promise is a promise.
Glenda interrupted my thoughts. “I do thank you for your trouble, Miss Louisa, but I just ain’t ready,” she repeated.
Not ready? Not ready? What was the matter with people in this town? No one seemed to be ready for change. When I first arrived in Copper Springs, Robert didn’t want William to be taught how to communicate because he didn’t think William was ready. He was wrong. Glenda had been beaten up at the tavern where she worked but wasn’t ready to make a change. And here I had a job and a place to stay for her!
Lord, give me patience! I silently demanded.
“Miss Louisa, the thing is that Miss Betty’s been teachin’ me a lot about the Bible, and I just ain’t ready to leave it yet. I spent a life without it and got myself into a heap of trouble. It just seems as if it wouldn’t hurt me none if I took a little more time to get acquainted with it before I get on my way.”
Just then, Betty came outside with the teapot and poured us each a fresh cup.
“The truth is, Miss Louisa, I just never figured God thought much of me,” added Glenda.
“And He sure does,” reassured Betty. “One of the great mysteries of all time is that God cares about each and every last one of us. Says so in the Good Book. Am I right, Louisa?” she asked, looking to the pastor’s houseguest for official confirmation of theology.
My heart sank; it felt as heavy as a brick. ”Yes, Betty,” I said. “Yes, you’re right.” Oh Lord, what was the matter with me? What was happening to me that I thought I had the right answer for everybody? About everything?
I felt a sting as I thought of that verse Reverend Hubbell pointed out at church, when I could have sworn he looked straight at me as he spoke: “A fool’s voice is known by a multitude of words.”
Chagrined, I stood up to leave and reached over to hug Glenda. “Of course I understand, Glenda. I’m sorry if I pressured you. I just want to help. I’m much too eager. It’s one of my worst faults.”
* * * *
The following day, William and I were returning back from the library when we spotted Robert standing on the front porch, home from his trip, talking to Miss Gordon.
William galloped to greet him, and Robert scooped him up for a hug. But as soon as I reached him, I could tell things had changed. Or rather he had changed toward me. He greeted me almost like a stranger.
“How was the meeting?” I asked with interest.
“Good. It was excellent. Well worth the trip,” he answered without elaborating.
“Did they thoroughly cover dispensationalism?” I asked.
“Thorough is just the right word for it.”
“And Peter Marshall? Did you get to meet him?”
“Yes. Yes, I did.” Then he turned to his aunt. “Aunt Martha, Dr. Marshall had the thickest Scottish burr I’ve ever heard. Just like Grandfather Gordon’s.” And with that, they went into the house, as Robert continued his stories from his trip.
As I remained alone on the front porch, it struck me that just a few weeks ago, he would have wanted to share these stories with me.
The next week reminded me of when I first arrived in Copper Springs. Robert stayed away from the house, insisting he needed to catch up on work. There was probably some truth to that, but I knew there was more to it. He was avoiding me. I had hurt him, and I didn’t know how to get things back where they used to be.
One morning, as I was getting dressed for breakfast, I could hear Robert’s and Miss Gordon’s voices downstairs in the kitchen. It caught my attention because Robert didn’t like to talk at breakfast. He liked to read the morning paper in the peace and quiet of a new day, he often said.
Do not eavesdrop, Louisa. Do not eavesdrop, I told myself over and over, as I inched closer to the radiator. But then I heard someone mention my name. I carefully unscrewed the cap of the radiator and leaned my ear against it.
“Robert, put down that paper and listen to me,” I heard Miss Gordon order. “I said that Cousin Ada wrote to ask if Louisa could come and stay with her this summer. She says she’s been pining for company since her Teddy died last winter. I thought I should write her back today but I don’t know what excuse I should give her to say that Louisa can’t come. You know how insistent Ada can be when she gets something in her head.”
I heard the rustle of the newspaper as Robert put it down on the table. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea.”
“What? Why would you say that? You know how devoted William is to her.”
“Exactly because of that. William needs to realize that Louisa is not planning to stay in Copper Springs. It might be good if he sees her come and go; he’ll get used to the idea. That way, when she leaves for good, it will be less of a blow to him.”
“Are we talking about William here?” she asked. “Or you?”
Then there was silence.
I could just envision Robert’s back stiffening as it so often did when I asked him a question that was too personal, too pointed.
“I’m going to take my coffee and paper into my office,” Robert answered, his voice bristling. I heard the kitchen door close behind him.
I screwed the cap back on the radiator and sat down on my bed. After overhearing that conversation, I realized I couldn’t get things back the way they were. The connection between Robert and me had been broken.
The sad, apparent truth was that the time had come for me to leave the Gordon home. What made me sadder still was that I agreed with Robert. It would be better for William to realize that I would be leaving soon. With Mrs. Morgan available to help, it seemed like a good time to prepare him for that eventuality.
Since Glenda wasn’t ready for my wonderful plan for her new life, I thought it would be wise if someone could use it. So that someone would be me. And, I reasoned, I’d rather work as a waitress, earning money for my return ticket to Germany, than to go sit in Phoenix and play the piano for Ada’s bridge parties. I still couldn’t think of her without feeling queasy.
By remaining close by but not actually in Copper Springs, I could continue to see William as often as possible. For as attached as that little boy was to me, I felt the same attachment to him. And I couldn’t deny it would be wise to separate myself from Robert, too.
My feelings about his absence during that trip to the General Assembly Meeting caught me by surprise; I realized I was getting perilously dependent on him. I nearly slipped up, too, that last night before he left.
I knew the crucial importance of remaining detached. I was even a little ashamed of myself, but I had a renewed resolve. My back-up plan was in place. Maybe this was all a blessing in disguise, I decided. Maybe God was helping me to prepare to return to Germany, by providing a way for me to separate from those relationships in America that might make it complicated for me to leave.
That evening, after Miss Gordon went up to her room to listen to her soap opera and William was tucked into bed, I went over and knocked on Robert’s office door.
“Come in,” he said. He barely glanced up at me from his desk.
“I just wanted to tell you something.” I leaned against the door. “While you were away, we took William to Bisbee to see the tutor. During the hour William studied with Mrs. Morgan, your aunt and I went over to have coffee at the Prospector’s Diner. Do you remember that waitress, Wilma? The one who said I fell off the turnip truck? And then she offered me a job?”
He nodded, showing no expression.
“Well, she offered me a job again. She really meant it. So I’ve been thinking it over. The war should be over soon, and I really should earn some more money to return to Germany. And then I noticed that William’s tutor is renting a room out in her house. So, you see, the two opportunities presented themselves on the same day.”
He leaned back in his chair. Now I had his attention.
“I thought it was very timely. Providential, actually. I’m going to accept Wilma’s job offer and move to Bisbee. That way, I could still see William fairly often, and we could keep up with the correspondence lessons. Mrs. Morgan is an excellent tutor; I think she will be able to help you and your aunt carry on with William’s language skills. It won’t be quite the same, but at least I could continue to see him. At least until I return to Berlin.”
His facial expression didn’t change. With a level gaze, he finally said, “so you’ve worked this all out.”
“Yes. It’s all settled. I’ll leave next week when William has his session with Mrs. Morgan. Your aunt could drive us over and then I’ll just remain.”
“So that’s what you want to do.” He rubbed his chin.
“Yes. It’s all decided,” I said, looking down.
“And you’ve prayed about this?”
I glanced up at him. The nerve of that remark. How pious! How patronizing! I wanted to shout. Instead, I said as coolly as I could, “Please don’t use your pulpit voice with me.” The truth was that I hadn’t yet prayed about this decision. I’d done everything but pray.
“Just out of curiosity, does Wilma know your only job qualifications are playing the piano and spy work?”
My eyes grew wide; I felt as if he had just slapped me. I turned to leave. Then I stopped, hand on the door, and turned my head to look back at him. “I never used to think you and your aunt had any similarities, but lately, I’m seeing quite a family resemblance.” I slammed the door behind me.
Back in my room, I tried to read but had trouble concentrating.
After an hour or so I heard Robert come into the house, climb the stairs, and stop at my door. He gave a gentle knock, waited to hear my voice, then opened the door and poked his head in, a trace of apology in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll make a fine waitress.” He closed the door but then opened it again. “Just stay out of the kitchen,” he added. And then he shut the door and went to his room.
If the book I was reading wasn’t so heavy, I would have thrown it at the door behind him.
Robert must have told his aunt that I was leaving by the time I came downstairs for breakfast. Her face looked like she had eaten a persimmon. She poured my coffee wordlessly.
The four of us ate breakfast just like when I first arrived in Copper Springs. The only difference was William’s animation. He threw words out in a steady stream and kept us all distracted from other underlying issues. I had planned to wait until later in the week to tell him that I would be leaving. I dreaded that conversation.
The week reminded me of how time ground to a halt when I first arrived at the Gordon household and tried to keep out of Miss Gordon’s way. Robert and I were polite to each other, a guard against unpleasantness. Mostly, we avoided each other.
It wasn’t very hard. I stayed in my room until I heard him leave in the morning. He returned to his office right after dinner each evening. And from the sixth of June on, I had one ear glued to my Christmas radio, listening to incoming reports about D-Day.
Thousands of Allied troops had landed on beaches in Normandy, France in a surprise attack so that the march to Germany, to victory, could begin.
But no sooner had that news hit than the Germans retaliated by launching the first V-1 rocket at Britain. The 'V' came from the German word ‘Vergeltungswaffen,’ meaning weapons of reprisal. Weapons of revenge. Up to 100 V-1 rockets fell every hour, around the clock, mostly targeting London, indiscriminately injuring and killing thousands.
Listening to the news made me feel reassured that moving to Bisbee was a wise decision. As tragic as the reports about the V-1 rockets were, I knew more than most that the Nazis retaliated when they felt threatened. To me, it was another clear indication they were losing the war. Surely, the war would be over soon.
The night before I was planning to leave, I stayed up in my room and packed. It didn’t take long; I didn’t come with much nor was I leaving with much. I looked around the room to see if I’d forgotten anything. There were a few theology books I had borrowed from the downstairs bookshelves that needed to be returned. Books in arms, I went down to the darkened parlor and straight to the bookshelves, looking for the places on the shelves where they belonged.
“So that’s where my Scofield Reference Bible went,” a voice said.
I jumped; I hadn’t realized Robert was sitting by the fireplace. “Lieber Gott! Robert, I didn’t know you were there.” I looked down at the books in my arms. “Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had been looking for it.”
“All packed up?”
“Yes.” I turned back to the bookshelves and slid the books back in their place.
“Probably helps that you never really unpacked to begin with.”
I spun around on my heels. That did it. “I always told you I was planning to return to Germany. From the very first day, I have never wavered from that. It’s always been my plan to return after the war is over. Always.”
“That’s true. I can’t disagree with that. That’s been your plan,” he said with sarcasm.
“Then why do you sound as if that’s not the right thing to do? Didn’t you agree to let me live here with the understanding that I would be returning after the war?”
“Yes. Yes, I did.” He jumped to his feet. “But things change, Louisa. Circumstances change. People change. Life doesn’t always work out the way you’ve planned. And for someone who has been pushing me to accept change from the day you arrived here, you’re not even willing to consider it for yourself.”
I looked at him for a long moment. Then I went to sit on the davenport. I asked, “Is that why you’re so angry with me?”
The question seemed to hang in the air for a while. He turned toward the fireplace, lost in reflection. Finally, he spoke. “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself.”
“Whatever for?”
He walked over to the fireplace, placing one hand on the mantel. “Because I didn’t learn from my mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I was away at the meeting in North Carolina, I thought about this a great deal, Louisa. It suddenly became so clear to me. I realized I had allowed myself to get emotionally involved with the same kind of woman as Ruth.” There was cold anger in his voice.
I gasped audibly. “I am not like her,” I said, now seething. “I am nothing like her. I can not believe you said that.”
He didn’t answer me. Nor did he look at me.
“I never made a promise to you like she did. I am not abandoning you or William like she did.”
He glanced at me. “You’re both ambitious women.”
“How so? I’ve never asked you for anything.”
Now he looked straight at me. “You both want something badly enough that you’ll leave people who love you for it. She wanted a fine life: fortune and status; you’re after more noble things. You want to ride back on your gleaming white horse and save Germany, single-handedly.”
Those words cut me to the quick. I glared at him through a blur of hot tears as a maelstrom of fury welled up within me. “How dare you trivialize how I feel about Germany! You make it sound foolish and silly. You don’t have any idea what it is like to lose your country. You sit here in the desert and think you’re helping to fight a war by collecting tin cans and eating oleo on your bread. You have no idea what war is like! You have no idea how dark this evil is! Hitler’s evil. And yet you say that I am the naïve one!”
I tried to calm down before repeating, insistently, “Robert, I am nothing like her.”
A long stretch of minutes passed. He watched the fireplace while I watched him.
Then the real issue that had been avoiding so carefully spilled forth. Still looking at the fireplace, he said, “Louisa, is there something so wrong about me that you…and Ruth…couldn’t love me?”
My heart nearly melted. “Wrong? Something so wrong about you? Oh, Robert, no. Just the opposite. There’s something so right about you.”
The way he looked at me then, so unguarded, I knew I had to get upstairs fast, or I would never be able to leave tomorrow.
* * * *
The next morning, I waited until I heard Robert leave for his office before going downstairs. Miss Gordon wouldn’t even look at me. She went outside to hang wet laundry on the clothesline as soon as I walked into the kitchen. I still hadn’t told William I was moving out. My plan was to have Mrs. Morgan help me tell him this afternoon, at his tutoring session.
I ate a silent, lonely breakfast, gathering my courage to go let Rosita cut my long dark hair into the fashionable bob she was so eager for. I knew how much this meant to her; I tried not to envision myself as a lamb being led to the slaughter.
I went into Rosita’s beauty salon holding my Christmas coupon. She knew it was my last day. She led me to her chair, wrapping a big apron around me. “At last, Louisa! We are going to make you into a Hollywood movie star. No more looking like you came from the Old World.”
After she finished, I looked in the mirror and had to bite my lip to keep from weeping.
“Bonita! Sì, amiga?” she asked. Rosita had the biggest heart in town but very possibly could be the worst haircutter in the state of Arizona. One side was longer than the other side. And the bottom edge was cut in a zig-zag.
Oh, well, I thought, trying to console myself. Hair grows back.
Ramon wheeled his chair over and looked aghast at my hair. “Rosita, would you mind going to Ibsen’s store and buying some of that #10 hair dye for Mrs. Wondolowski? She has an appointment this morning.”
“But Ramon, I am just about done with Louisa’s bob. Un momento?”
“No, bambina. I need that dye right now. Before she comes in. Louisa understands. ¿Sì? ¿Comprendes?”
I nodded. I comprehended completely.
“Oh, Louisa, I come back soon to finish up.” And off she hurried to Ibsen’s store.
As Ramon watched her disappear, he whipped out his scissors to straighten my cut. “I’m sorry, Louisa. She means well, but I have got to get the scissors away from her.”
“Maybe she’ll stay home when the baby comes.”
“She says she wants to bring the baby to work!” he rued.
“Ramon, have you ever thought of having her open a restaurant? Copper Springs doesn’t really have a decent place to eat.”
“That could be an interesting idea,” he said, frowning, as he examined the back of my head.
By the time Rosita returned from the store with hair dye #10, my new hairstyle was greatly improved, and my countenance brightened considerably.
“Oh, see, I told you that it would be perfect!” she said, not realizing that her husband repaired her damage.
I jumped up when I saw her pick up a pair of scissors, eyeing my edges. “It’s wonderful, Rosita! I think it’s fine just the way it is.” I hugged her goodbye and promised to keep in touch and that I would be back to see her new baby. Then, feeling quivery, I left before I started to cry.
Not today, I told myself. I needed to keep my feelings under control today.
I walked up to the parsonage and stopped at my Victory Garden. Even though it was too hot to grow much of anything now, it still showed signs of glory. The second year in a garden was always better than the first. I hoped Miss Gordon would try and care for it, but I doubted it. Her artistic sense was not noticeably developed. She was in the backyard unclipping the laundry she had earlier hung to dry, so I went over to help her finish.
“I see Rosita finally had her way with your hair.” She eyed my new haircut with disapproval.
“Should I get William down from the tree house so he can eat his lunch? We need to be at Mrs. Morgan’s before too long,” I said.
“There’s time enough.”
As the last towel went into the basket, I said, “Miss Gordon, I want you to know how grateful I am for the hospitality you’ve given me for the last year and a half.”
She didn’t respond. We walked into the kitchen for relief from the glaring sun. She put the basket on the floor and inhaled deeply. “Answer me one thing, Louisa.”
I looked at her, curious. I think it might be the first question she had ever asked me.
“Why are you so all fired sure you need to go back to Germany?”
That wasn’t hard to answer. “Because I believe God wants me to return.”
“Seems to me there’s some other reason.”
Puzzled, I tilted my head at her. “What do you mean?”
“Seems to me you feel as if you owe God something for saving your own backside and getting you out of there.”
I looked down at the laundry. “Would that be so wrong? To feel an obligation to God?”
“Not if it’s for the right reasons. I’m just not so sure about yours’.”
“It’s just that…it’s just that…I do owe God something.” I went to the kitchen window and looked outside. “I have to prove it to Him.”
“Prove what?” asked Robert, hurrying down the stairs into the kitchen. I had noticed the Hudson parked in the driveway but assumed Robert was in his office. “Louisa, what do you have to prove to God?”
“Prove that…,” I turned and looked at him. “I have to prove He didn’t make a mistake.”
“What mistake?” he persisted. “What kind of mistake could God have made that you feel you need to prove something to Him?”
I couldn’t get the words out. From deep inside of me came a profound emotion, something I had buried long ago from the daylight and only seemed to rise up when I had a nightmare. It felt like a dam had broken and emotion poured forth. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. “Saving me,” I choked.
“Why should I have been allowed to survive when so many people have lost their lives? It isn’t right! It isn’t fair! Miss Gordon, that day in the diner, you said everyone I knew was dead or arrested! You were right! Everyone! Every family member. Every friend. Every neighbor. They’re gone! Gone! Can you imagine? If the entire town of Copper Springs, all of the people you’ve known and cared about your entire life, if they were suddenly gone, arrested or killed by a mad man?”
I sat down at the kitchen table and put my head in my hands. “Don’t you understand?” I cried out in frustration. “I never should have left Germany! I should be dead or arrested just like the others. Like Dietrich. He is the one who should be here. Not me. Don’t you see? He’s the one with so much to give to the world. And there are so many others just like him. I have to go back and prove to God He didn’t make a mistake. I have to go back and make my life count for something!”
Then I buried my head down on my crossed arms, too deeply into crying to stop. I don’t remember crying so long or so hard in my life since my father’s death. The kitchen table had probably never witnessed such a torrent of unrestrained emotion before, certainly not in the Gordon household.
Miss Gordon slipped upstairs, no doubt grateful to get away from my dramatic outpouring of sentiment. Her feelings were just like the bun in her hair—tightly wrapped up and pinned into place.
Robert sat down next to me, waiting, stroking my hair a few times. Then, after I had no more tears to shed, all he said was, “God has His reasons, Louisa. There are many things we’ll never understand this side of eternity.”
I looked at him through a blur of tears. “That’s just too simple an answer.”
He went over to a kitchen cupboard and pulled out Miss Gordon’s Bible, opening it to the sixteenth chapter of the book of Proverbs as he sat back down next to me. “The Lord hath made all things for himself, yea, even the wicked for the day of evil.” Then, he said, “Even the day of evil, Louisa. Even that is under His control.”
He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped my tear-stained face. ”There’s something I want you to think about. I don’t even want an answer right now. Just think about it. Pray about it.”
I looked up at him, wondering what he was going to say.
He cupped my face in his hands, looked me right in the eyes and asked in a voice of great tenderness, “what makes you so sure your life doesn’t count right here?” Then he left the kitchen.
I stayed at the table for a while longer, completely spent. Finally, I stood up and gazed out the kitchen door window at the church. I felt a pull toward the church from deep inside. I knew the sanctuary would be empty.
I loved to be in a church—any church—when it was empty. It felt sacred, and even though I knew it didn’t matter where I prayed, somehow I felt as if I had God’s ear when I knelt in prayer in church. I walked over to it, opened the door, and sank into a pew.
I didn’t know how much time had passed when someone put a hand on my shoulder; I flinched in surprise. I had been so lost in my misery I hadn’t heard anyone come in. It was Herr Mueller.
“May I join you, Fräulein?” he asked, blocking the pew.
“I was just leaving.”
“Nonsense. You just arrived.”
How long had he been watching me?
“A moment of your time, bitte. I have just learned something quite interesting. There was a young woman who disappeared in Berlin a while ago. Just like that. Vanished.” He snapped his fingers. “Just a few weeks before you arrived in Copper Springs.”
He sat down next to me. “The German government would like to talk to this woman. It turns out she had a very influential circle of friends. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, for example. Hans von Dohnanyi, for another. You might not be aware of this unfortunate turn of events, but both of these men have been arrested under suspicion of conspiring to assassinate der Führer.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I felt the pounding of my portending heart. I stood up to leave. He grabbed my arm with his hand, forcing me to sit back down. He handed me a large envelope.
In it were pictures of Dietrich, Hans and I, in Berlin. One was at a street corner, another in a car, another coming out of a building. I remembered each of those meetings; they occurred during that one week when the Gestapo agent was following me. That week before I left Germany.
“Your secret is safe with me, Fräulein. I believe we can find an arrangement that will satisfy everyone. No one needs to know you are not Louisa Schmetterling, and I, in turn, will be able to help your friends.”
“What do you mean?” My voice was shaky; I felt as if this were a nightmare I couldn’t wake from.
He moved in closer to me so that I could feel his hot sour breath on my neck. “I would like to have more private discussions with you each Wednesday night while my wife is at choir practice. Come to my house at seven o’clock sharp.”
“I’m leaving today to go live in Bisbee, Herr Mueller.”
“Even better! Bisbee is not so far, Fraulein. It has a wonderful hotel—the Copper Queen. We’ll meet there.”
I narrowed my eyes and snapped, “so you can do to me what you did to her?”
His mouth gaped like a hooked fish. Finally, he spat out, “she came to me of her own free will.”
Seeing him caught off guard gave me needed courage. With my free arm, I slapped his face as hard as I could. His hand went up to his cheek, and a drip of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He took out a handkerchief and wiped away the blood. In a tone of chilling anger he warned, “you do not want to make me an enemy, Fraulein. Your friends in Germany depend on you.”
Suddenly, a door clicked open. “Louisa?” Robert’s voice filled the church from the narthex.
Herr Mueller grabbed the envelope from me and slipped it inside of his coat jacket just as Robert entered the sanctuary and walked up to us, a concerned look on his face. “Mr. Mueller? What’s going on?”
“Ah, good day, Reverend. The Fräulein and I were just chatting.” Like a chameleon, Herr Mueller’s voice and countenance resumed calm. All that betrayed him was my handprint, still red, on his cheek. “Well, I must be off. Bis später, Fräulein.” He got up and walked out of the church.
“What happened?” Robert asked. Impatience rose in his voice. “Louisa, what just happened?”
I remained in the pew, chin quivering, trying not to cry.
He sat down next to me. “I came to tell you it’s time to take William to Mrs. Morgan’s. What did Mueller say to you? You’re as white as Aunt Martha’s sheets.” Then he leaned back against the pew. “Oh, no. Was it something about William? Did William do anything to Mueller while I was away?”
“No, no. It’s nothing like that.”
“Oh, Louisa, you didn’t tell him about the ring.”
“No! I promised you I wouldn’t and I didn’t. Please, it was nothing. Let’s go. We need to get William to Mrs. Morgan’s on-time.” I stood up and started to walk past him, but he extended his arm to block me. Without looking at him, I said, “Robert, I can handle this myself.”
“Why are you so determined to be the Lone Ranger?” he said with exasperation.
I gave him an equally exasperated look.
He shook his head. “Sorry. A radio program. What I meant to say is what is so wrong about asking for help?” He stood up, took my shoulders, and turned me to face him. “Louisa, I want to help. Tell me what Mueller said to upset you.”
I was quiet for a moment. “He knows,” I said. “He knows everything. He knows I’m an illegal immigrant. He knows all about Dietrich and Hans. He even had photographs. He wants to use that information against them. Against me. ”
Robert’s face revealed disbelief. “What? How? How could he have possibly found out?”
I explained what he said and the Wednesday night “arrangement” he had suggested. Robert’s face changed from disbelief to anger. He clenched his jaw, and his hands tightened into fists. “I want to get the police involved,” he finally said.
“And what would you tell them? That I have a false passport? Or that an upstanding church member made a proposition to me? No, Robert. There’s nothing to be gained.”
“What do you suggest then? We can’t let him get away with trying to blackmail you. And you’re certainly not going near him.”
“Let that be the least of your concerns,” I said with a weak smile.
“Louisa, don’t joke about this. This is serious business.”
“I’m only half-joking. But I know Nazis. I’ve seen their tactics. Herr Mueller is just using information as leverage; he has no intention to help anyone. Other than himself.”
He looked as worried as I felt.
“Do you remember I told you I recognized his surname? There is a Nazi in Berlin with the same name as Herr Mueller. I can almost guarantee they are related. They even look alike. And they certainly act alike.”
“What are you thinking? That Mueller is a Nazi sympathizer? Living here in Copper Springs? Louisa, that seems outlandish.”
“Outlandish? Outlandish?!” A flash of anger surged within me. “Robert, this is why I haven’t told you my doubts about Herr Mueller! You say I’m too suspicious or that I’m acting as if I’m still doing Resistance Work. From the first moment I met Herr Mueller, I felt full of doubts about him. When Glenda was harmed, it only confirmed my suspicions.”
Robert crossed his arms and paced back and forth a few steps. “Look, Louisa, stay here. At least for a few more days. I’ll call Mrs. Morgan and the diner and let them know not to expect you just now. I want to make sure Mueller isn’t up to something.”
I nodded, relieved. Herr Mueller’s threat was not to be taken lightly. We were both pensive as we walked home.
After dinner that night, I tucked William into bed and then went to get a book in my room. I could hear Robert and Miss Gordon talking downstairs. I went over to the radiator, reprimanding myself for listening to their conversation as I unscrewed the cap.
“Oh, no!” I heard her say in a worried voice. “Robert, I think I told him. It was right after you had lunch at his house. He asked me where you had met Louisa, and I told him you had met a friend of hers while in seminary. He asked me all about your friend. It seemed a little odd, but I thought it was common knowledge. You’ve spoken of Dietrich Bonhoeffer often. You’ve even quoted him in your sermons. I just thought everyone knew.”
Robert was silent.
I went down the stairs and walked into the kitchen. “Tante Marta, you meant no harm.” I went over and hugged her. We had come a long way.
“Louisa?” asked Robert, noticing for the first time. “What in the world happened to your hair?”