Read Online All God's Children by Anna Schmidt - Free Book Online

New City Hall. In spite of dating back to the late nineteenth century, the building was called
new
because the original city hall—still standing—dated to 1310. There had been a time when such amazing historical facts had intrigued Beth, but on this night she entertained no such thoughts. Instead she focused on searching for an alternate route back to the safety of the apartment. If the soldiers stopped her…
    She had one thing in her favor. Her long golden hair worn this night in fashionable braids pulled back from her face, her sky-blue eyes, and her willowy athletic body were all in keeping with the Aryan features so prized by the regime. More than once her looks in combination with her passable command of the local dialect had gained her the tentative smile or trust of a shopkeeper or passerby. More than once she had talked her way out of showing her identification by playing the role of the empty-headed female.
    Still it had been foolhardy to take such a risk as she had taken this night. Had her aunt and uncle not gone away, she never would have agreed to join her friends. But the temptation to finally escape the pervasive undercurrent of fear that the city wore these days like a second skin had overwhelmed her good judgment.
    She glanced around for some source of shelter and saw that she was within steps of a small gated park where she sometimes brought Liesl to play—the park where she used to meet up with her friend Siggy. Knowing the soldiers would continue their rounds sooner or later, Beth sought sanctuary in the park. She made her way to a half-hidden concrete bench in a far corner, a favorite hiding place for Liesl when they came here to play.
    Determined to contain the fear and panic that threatened to overwhelm her, Beth concentrated on positive things. The bench was stone but plain enough that it reminded her of the simple wooden benches in the meetinghouse back in Wisconsin. That Wisconsin meetinghouse floor was constructed of wide wooden planks oiled and waxed to a mahogany patina. The ground here was black earth worn down by the shoes and boots of others who had sat in this same place.
    Missing, of course, was the silent support and comfort that came with the presence of other Friends in an actual meeting for worship. From the time she’d first begun attending meetings with her parents, Beth had found such solace and assurance in that spiritual family that every Quaker relied upon to help in challenging times. That circle of fellow Quakers in Munich had dwindled to a mere half-dozen souls over the last few weeks as more families had left the city. Now there was just Beth, her uncle and aunt, and one other elderly couple and their widowed daughter.
    In the darkness of the park, Beth bowed her head and willed herself to find the stillness. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the scent of the cedar tree that sheltered the bench, the hard-packed earth beneath her feet, and the surprisingly refreshing coolness on her skin of the sleet that had softened into snow. In her solitude she prayed for the Inner Light that all Friends sought to guide their thoughts and actions.
    But a rustling to her right brought her alert. Streetlights were not permitted in keeping with the blackout, and she blinked several times as she adjusted her sight to the shadows surrounding her. Huddled in the corner behind the bench like stumps of a tree was a woman clutching two small children. Her eyes having grown accustomed to the darkness, Beth realized that the woman was watching her. She also caught a glimpse of the crude yellow felt star that Jews were required to wear. Beth motioned for the woman to remain silent. Meanwhile she crept back to the gate, hoping the soldiers had decided on a different route.
    But half a block away, two cigarettes hit the street, glowed briefly, and went out as the soldiers readjusted their uniform caps and started walking in her direction. The woman was now standing next to her, and had Beth not