Free Saving Amelie by Cathy Gohlke Page B

gone. We need someone who can control these children, someone who can direct and sing—not to mention direct their after-school auxiliary practices.”
    “A tall order, all of that, requiring at least three stalwart souls.” She paused and looked away, speaking softly. “It might be time to think of calling off the Passion, though I don’t envy you the job. The entire village—we live for it every ten years.”
    “They’d hang me, and I wouldn’t blame them. Call off the play?” He moaned. “Never. Oberammergau is the Passion.”
    “Well, I’m not so sure we’ll get many patrons if Jesus and the disciples are off to war, and if Britain and France are shooting at us, never mind the tighter rations on Benzin . Folks are getting mighty nervous. It’s stirring too many memories of the last war, no matter that we’ve barely started in Poland. If we go on like this, it won’t matter that the Führer thinks our Passion is ‘the best example of anti-Jewry in Germany and should go on forever.’”
    Curate Bauer moaned again. He loved the true Passion of Christ and supported the town’s mission to present the play every ten years, but he hated the anti-Semitic slant the script conveyed, the way it demonizedJews—the very thing that had, for centuries, roused Christians to perpetrate pogroms, intent on killing off the “Christ killers.” The very apple of God’s eye, brothers and sisters Jesus had died for.
    Frau Fenstermacher shoved the music folders into the bookcase opposite the door and hefted her shopping bag. “Well, you know a thing or two about the miracle business, Curate. I’d say you’d best get to it.”
    “You border on sacrilege, Frau Fenstermacher,” he chided, but without heart.
    “Not at all, Father.” Though she crossed herself. “You yourself said that the Lord turned water into wine.”
    “Wine I can get; a children’s choir director I cannot.” He sighed. “Please, Frau Fenstermacher, just until I can find a replace—”
    “All I’m saying is that under the present circumstances you might not be able to find a good Catholic choir director to get these refugee children ready for Advent. What you need is a Gestapo agent! In lieu of that, you might try the evangelicals. Wouldn’t they just love to slip in the back door and insinuate themselves into our play! Maybe it’s time we trained them.”
    A yowl shot up from the courtyard. Curate Bauer knew he should investigate, but it would have to wait. “See here—”
    She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “All you need at this late date is someone who can read music and keep them in line—that’s all you can expect with everything gone helter-skelter, thanks to—oh, never mind. The scallywags born and bred here know their parts, if they’d just settle down. But those refugee children won’t settle for me, and my old heart won’t take another rehearsal.”
    “But—” He could barely hear himself for the howling in the corridor beyond the door.
    “My best advice, Curate, and I thank you for asking, is to take the first person through that door who knows anything about drillingchildren. Give them the job before they can say no. Don’t even ask if they can sing.”
    The distinct knock at the door and the sobbing beyond cut the wind from Curate Bauer’s sails. “What is it?” he shouted, defeated.
    The door flew open and a furious Lea Hartman stood with six-year-old Heinrich Helphman’s ear in a death grip. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Curate Bauer, but Heinrich has been snitching the baby Jesus from Friederich’s Nativity scenes again. I really must ask you to do something about . . .”
    Curate Bauer did not hear the rest of Frau Hartman’s tirade. He was too impressed with Frau Fenstermacher’s raised eyebrows and the significance of miracles.

9
    A SINGULARLY UNCOMFORTABLE AFFAIR , Rachel decided of their meal with Gerhardt and Kristine. Gerhardt, the picture of Germanic efficiency gilded in arrogance; and