“Exactly. It’s just about all I do anymore, other than school. We spend every weekend going to parties like this. Introductions. Names to remember. Lots of people I’ll probably never see again. Which is why it’s so nice to escape with you for a while.”
“I suppose I’m another of those new names you’ll never remember.”
“Oh, I doubt that very much, Liesl Folkerts.”
What must she have made of this soberly dressed young man who had taken such an intense and immediate interest in her? To look at him-the clipped haircut, the noncommittal face, the correct-to-the-point-of-stiff posture- Kurt Bauer certainly seemed like a very conventional boy, which was hardly her type. But perhaps she also sensed that what he longed for most, even though he never could have articulated it-not yet, anyway-was to be freewheeling and spontaneous, even a little careless.
And as she already knew firsthand, these times were not well suited for the freewheeling, and certainly not for the careless. Unless you had the right sort of patch on your sleeve, or official title to your name, doing as you pleased was almost guaranteed to land you in trouble. Or so her father always told her, every time she spoke her mind.
All that Kurt knew for sure about himself was that in addition to the usual adolescent yearnings of libido, curiosity, and optimism, more-complicated emotions were often straining to be accounted for. Perhaps this was why he reacted so viscerally to Liesl Folkerts. Not only had her looks arrested him, but she had also tuned in right away to his thwarted inner voice, so accurately that she seemed to be humming along with it, perfectly in key.
As he watched her speak, he again thought of her as a newly opened blossom. The brilliance of her beauty, like that of all flowers, would doubtless fade over time. But he decided then and there that in some ways she would never wilt. Not her. And that kind of enduring spirit was worth taking risks for.
“Oh, there’s Ludwig,” she said, breaking his concentration. Liesl nodded toward the foyer, where a resplendent young man in an officer’s dress uniform had just entered. Her expression was now somber-or was it admiring? Kurt’s heart sank.
“I really need to talk to him.”
“Please do,” he said, feeling stung as he stood aside. But she didn’t depart.
“It will keep until later. I want news from him. He’s been at the front, you know, fighting the Russians. I’m desperate to hear how things are really going, but that’s not something you just go up and ask out of the blue, with everyone listening.”
So even Liesl had her limits. But he wondered about the nature of her interest.
“Do you know someone at the front, someone close to you?”
He braced for word of a boyfriend, perhaps even a fiance.
“My older brother has been there for months. Same unit as Ludwig, and we haven’t had a letter since October.”
“My brother, Manfred, is in Russia, too. He’s down near the Caucasus.”
“It’s crazy, isn’t it? The way they’re strung out all over Europe, and all over the east. I worry we’ve bitten off more than we can chew. But look at everyone, carrying on like it’s all but decided.”
“Oh, I’m sure they worry, too. I know my father does.”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t be so judgmental. It’s just that people are so timid now. They hide behind their laughter and won’t speak their mind. So when someone finally does, it can sound like treason by comparison, which only makes everyone clam up more. Are we no longer allowed to express doubt?”
“It doesn’t seem to stop you.”
He said it with a smile, which she returned.
“That’s only because I stay in practice. If I stopped I’m not sure I’d ever be able to start again. I’d be too scared.”
“And where do you go to stay in practice? To the Tiergarten, maybe, to declaim from a park bench?”
“Actually, there is a place. Very informal and comfortable, among friends. With a minister presiding, so even your parents would approve.”
“Yes?”
He sensed an opening. Some venue to which he might invite himself along without seeming presumptuous. Better still, maybe she would invite him, even though he was mildly alarmed by the idea of a minister who sanctioned loose talk of doubt and dissent.
“Have you heard of the Reverend Bonhoeffer?”
He had, but only in passing. The associations were vaguely negative, and he couldn’t help notice that even Liesl had checked her flanks before uttering the name.
“Isn’t he pretty outspoken?”
“I know he doesn’t have the best of reputations in some circles. But he’s very devout, very gentle, and he travels abroad for the Foreign Ministry, so it’s not like he isn’t doing his part for the country.”
“I hadn’t heard that.”
“All he wants is for Germans to do things for the right reasons. Mostly what we talk about is how to appeal to people’s better nature.”
“It sounds like a good thing, then. And you do this where? In his church?”
“Oh, no. He’s not allowed to preach anymore, and they closed his seminary years ago. He has us over to his home. Nothing official. Just a small group of students, on Sunday afternoons when he’s not out of the country and has time for us. We’re getting together tomorrow, in fact.”
She hesitated, and Kurt held his breath. To his relief, she plunged forward.
“You could come, too. If you liked.”
Hardly the sort of company his father wanted him to keep, but that only made the invitation more appealing. Kurt experienced a stab of nostalgia for the sorts of gatherings he had attended around the time of his sixteenth birthday but had given up after his father diverted him onto the narrow-gauge rails of the business world. A more relaxed and Bohemian world of books and music and ideas. It had great appeal.
“Yes,” he said. “I’d like that.”
His answer came in the nick of time, because shortly afterward his father again tracked him down. The next time he looked around for Liesl, she was deep in conversation with two elderly women, and it would have been rude to interrupt.
But they did have a final exchange of sorts, just as stirring in its way. It occurred not long after Erich’s mother, a fusty and traditional sort who seemed to enjoy bossing the servants around, loudly announced the commencement of Christmas carols. Erich’s sister struck up a tune on the piano, and the crowd joined in-sparsely at first, then in full voice.
The third and final song, which drew the evening to a close-making Kurt suspect that had been Mrs. Stuckart’s true purpose-was predictable enough. It was “Stille Nacht,” or “Silent Night.” Considering the venue, it wasn’t surprising that everyone, as if by rote, concluded with a secular third verse that had grown popular during the war.
Silent Night, Holy Night
All is calm, all is bright
Adolf Hitler is Germany’s Star
Showing greatness and glory afar
Guiding our nation aright.
Guiding our nation aright.
Kurt searched out Liesl halfway through the verse and found her engaged in perhaps her boldest action of the evening.
Her lips were still. She wasn’t singing a word.
His heart leaped at this daring display, even as he feared for her. It emboldened him just enough to halt his own singing, although he did turn so his father wouldn’t see. He nodded just enough to catch her eye, and when she nodded solemnly back he felt the color rise in his cheeks, a holiday red.
When he noticed one of the Gestapo fellows glaring from across the room, it was all he could do not to join in for the final line. But he managed, barely, on the strength of a single inspiring thought:
Tomorrow he would see her again.
