All God's Children by Anna Schmidt

come to Munich in the summer of 1934 and seen the banners, they had been impressive—even festive. The flags had snapped and fanned almost playfully in the breeze, energizing the entire city with a fresh sense of vivacity and hope for the future. Adolf Hitler was Munich’s adopted native son, and the city was bursting with pride. But so much about her feelings toward the government had changed.
    Beth had once heard a nurse describe the sound a dying patient made when the end was near as a death rattle. Now as she stared at one banner that hung from what she had come to think of as the Palace of
In
justice and listened to the sound it made as it slapped against the building, she shuddered.
    Just a year earlier the wet street, the cold mist, the hint of red that shimmered in the puddles might have lifted her spirits. She might have seen the banners as harbingers of the coming holidays. How she loved spending time wandering through the fir-covered booths that filled the marketplace. How she savored the scent of roasting almonds and mulled wine. It was all part of what had for her become the magic of the holiday season.
    But on this night, she found herself shivering as much from the uncertainty of her future as from the cold. How long could she continue to live here before someone complained to the authorities about the possibility that she was not only American but also a spy living in their midst? It had happened to others.
    A year earlier when Germany had declared war on America, Beth had gone to her uncle’s office at the university, terrified at what might happen to her—and to them for having her in their house.
    “I must leave at once,” she had announced.
    “We will take it up with the others,” Uncle Franz had said.
    The others
meant those Friends still living in the area—at that time twelve families. At the next meeting for business—a monthly routine among Quaker groups around the world—Uncle Franz had told everyone about Beth’s concern that she needed to continue to care for Liesl and help Ilse, but that in doing so she was placing the family in danger. He had left out the part about her not having proper documents for being in the country at all or for leaving to go back to America.
    Ilse had taken Liesl to the park and not attended the business portion of the meeting. One by one Friends spoke openly of their concern for Ilse’s health and the way Beth’s presence had positively affected Liesl’s development. One woman raised the concern that a change in routine would only call more attention to the family. In the end after hours of silence and prayer, the clerk for the meeting announced his belief that they had reached consensus that Beth should stay in Munich.
    But just a day earlier as she had helped Aunt Ilse pack for their holiday, Uncle Franz had called her to his study, where an agent of the German government was waiting to question her about her intent to leave the country.
    “Now?” she had whispered. “It’s been over a year since our two countries went to war.”
    “Who can say why the authorities have chosen today but—”
    “My papers,” she had gasped.
    “We will try and reason with the officer,” Franz assured her. “We just need more time. I had intended to speak with Josef about your missing papers,” he admitted. “I thought perhaps he could help.”
    “Uncle, no,” Beth protested. “He is…his family…”
    “We have to trust someone, Beth.”
    But she did not miss the way Uncle Franz could not meet her gaze as he said this. She knew that he had to be wondering if Josef had told his father of the situation, prompting the visit from the agent. “Get dressed,” Uncle Franz said. “I will offer this man some tea.”
    Beth tried reasoning with the government representative. “My mother was born here and lived here until the age of twenty-two,” she told him, making sure to speak in flawless German as she served him the last of their ration of sugar for his