Free All God's Children by Anna Schmidt Page B

checked to be sure the blackout curtain was properly in place. Then she switched on the light—a single wall sconce that did a better job of casting shadows than lighting the way.
    The boy sneezed.
    “Oh, Frau Steinberg, we really must get him and the baby some dry clothes. If you’ll come upstairs with me—just for a little while, we can at least hang their coats by the kitchen stove and…” Beth told herself that what she was offering was simply a part of what God had already led her to do in rescuing this woman and the children.
    To her relief, Anja nodded, but it was not a gesture of acceptance. Rather it was an act of surrender. The woman looked utterly defeated.
    “Good,” Beth said with forced cheerfulness.
    The trip from the back entrance to her uncle’s fourth-floor apartment was blessedly uneventful. The younger child was asleep in her mother’s arms, and the boy followed Beth’s whispered instructions to be “as quiet as a mouse” with a sigh of resignation that told her this was not the first time he’d had to play this adult version of the game of hide-and-seek.
    Once they were inside the apartment, Beth led the way to the kitchen. “You get those wet outer clothes off them and your own coat as well. I’ll start some water to warm. We can mix powdered milk for the children and some tea for you and me.”
    Within minutes the air was permeated with the scent of damp wool. Beth placed half a loaf of bread and a carving knife on the table, then grated cheese and stirred up the last of the powdered eggs. “I have an extra coat you can have,” she said, thinking aloud. “Forgive me for saying so, but you are fair enough to pass for Aryan. Perhaps if we—”
    “I am Aryan,” Anja replied as she carved a paper-thin slice of the loaf of bread and handed it to her son.
    “Then why…?” Beth could not stop herself from glancing toward the yellow star sewn to Anja’s coat.
    “My husband is Jewish. I was raised in the faith of the Freunde.”
    “Me too,” Beth said. “American. Society of Friends.” The teakettle whistled, and Beth reached for it after pouring the egg mixture into the hot skillet. “Wait a minute. Your husband and the children would be protected by your status as Aryan.”
    Anja gave Beth a wry smile. “That protection was removed when I stood with my husband in a protest against the government.”
    “Where is your husband now?” Beth asked and noticed the boy’s eyes fix on his mother’s face with interest.
    “This afternoon he was taken for questioning.”
    “But not you?”
    “I was returning home with the children when we saw the—saw him leave.” Her eyes begged Beth not to ask more.
    “Here we are,” Beth said with a heartiness she didn’t feel as she placed a plate of eggs and a mug of thin, watery milk in front of the boy. “And because you have been so very brave and good, I have a special treat for you.”
    As Beth had intended, the boy’s focus immediately turned from the fate of his father to her. She went to the cupboard and brought back a single small square of chocolate. The boy’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he glanced at his mother, and she nodded her approval.
    “Thank you,” he whispered in German.
    “I am Elizabeth, but friends call me Beth.” She extended her hand to the boy.
    “I am Daniel. My friends are all moved away.” He placed the piece of chocolate on a side of his plate as if it were the most precious of possessions and slowly ate his eggs, savoring each bite.
    Beth prepared a second plate and set it before Anja. “The baby’s name is?”
    “Rachel. She’s eleven months, but small,” Anja said as she held a cup of the warm milk to her daughter’s lips.
    The child was more than small. Beth would have thought her to be perhaps six months old. “Stay here while I get the coat,” Beth said and hurried down the hall to the bedrooms. She was well aware of the risk she was taking and just hoped that this would not be a