Copper Star Part 19

"No, bambina. I need that dye right now. Before she comes in. Louisa understands. S? Comprendes?"

I nodded. I comprehended completely.

"Oh, Louisa, I come back soon to finish up." And off she hurried to Ibsen's store.

As Ramon watched her disappear, he whipped out his scissors to straighten my cut. "I'm sorry, Louisa. She means well, but I have got to get the scissors away from her."

"Maybe she'll stay home when the baby comes."

"She says she wants to bring the baby to work!" he rued.

"Ramon, have you ever thought of having her open a restaurant? Copper Springs doesn't really have a decent place to eat."

"That could be an interesting idea," he said, frowning, as he examined the back of my head.

By the time Rosita returned from the store with hair dye #10, my new hairstyle was greatly improved, and my countenance brightened considerably.

"Oh, see, I told you that it would be perfect!" she said, not realizing that her husband repaired her damage.

I jumped up when I saw her pick up a pair of scissors, eyeing my edges. "It's wonderful, Rosita! I think it's fine just the way it is." I hugged her goodbye and promised to keep in touch and that I would be back to see her new baby. Then, feeling quivery, I left before I started to cry.

Not today, I told myself. I needed to keep my feelings under control today.

I walked up to the parsonage and stopped at my Victory Garden. Even though it was too hot to grow much of anything now, it still showed signs of glory. The second year in a garden was always better than the first. I hoped Miss Gordon would try and care for it, but I doubted it. Her artistic sense was not noticeably developed. She was in the backyard unclipping the laundry she had earlier hung to dry, so I went over to help her finish.

"I see Rosita finally had her way with your hair." She eyed my new haircut with disapproval.

"Should I get William down from the tree house so he can eat his lunch? We need to be at Mrs. Morgan's before too long," I said.

"There's time enough."

As the last towel went into the basket, I said, "Miss Gordon, I want you to know how grateful I am for the hospitality you've given me for the last year and a half."

She didn't respond. We walked into the kitchen for relief from the glaring sun. She put the basket on the floor and inhaled deeply. "Answer me one thing, Louisa."

I looked at her, curious. I think it might be the first question she had ever asked me.

"Why are you so all fired sure you need to go back to Germany?"

That wasn't hard to answer. "Because I believe G.o.d wants me to return."

"Seems to me there's some other reason."

Puzzled, I tilted my head at her. "What do you mean?"

"Seems to me you feel as if you owe G.o.d something for saving your own backside and getting you out of there."

I looked down at the laundry. "Would that be so wrong? To feel an obligation to G.o.d?"

"Not if it's for the right reasons. I'm just not so sure about yours'."

"It's just that...it's just that...I do owe G.o.d something." I went to the kitchen window and looked outside. "I have to prove it to Him."

"Prove what?" asked Robert, hurrying down the stairs into the kitchen. I had noticed the Hudson parked in the driveway but a.s.sumed Robert was in his office. "Louisa, what do you have to prove to G.o.d?"

"Prove that...," I turned and looked at him. "I have to prove He didn't make a mistake."

"What mistake?" he persisted. "What kind of mistake could G.o.d have made that you feel you need to prove something to Him?"

I couldn't get the words out. From deep inside of me came a profound emotion, something I had buried long ago from the daylight and only seemed to rise up when I had a nightmare. It felt like a dam had broken and emotion poured forth. I couldn't hold it back any longer. "Saving me," I choked.

"Why should I have been allowed to survive when so many people have lost their lives? It isn't right! It isn't fair! Miss Gordon, that day in the diner, you said everyone I knew was dead or arrested! You were right! Everyone! Every family member. Every friend. Every neighbor. They're gone! Gone! Can you imagine? If the entire town of Copper Springs, all of the people you've known and cared about your entire life, if they were suddenly gone, arrested or killed by a mad man?"

I sat down at the kitchen table and put my head in my hands. "Don't you understand?" I cried out in frustration. "I never should have left Germany! I should be dead or arrested just like the others. Like Dietrich. He is the one who should be here. Not me. Don't you see? He's the one with so much to give to the world. And there are so many others just like him. I have to go back and prove to G.o.d He didn't make a mistake. I have to go back and make my life count for something!"

Then I buried my head down on my crossed arms, too deeply into crying to stop. I don't remember crying so long or so hard in my life since my father's death. The kitchen table had probably never witnessed such a torrent of unrestrained emotion before, certainly not in the Gordon household.

Miss Gordon slipped upstairs, no doubt grateful to get away from my dramatic outpouring of sentiment. Her feelings were just like the bun in her hair-tightly wrapped up and pinned into place.

Robert sat down next to me, waiting, stroking my hair a few times. Then, after I had no more tears to shed, all he said was, "G.o.d has His reasons, Louisa. There are many things we'll never understand this side of eternity."

I looked at him through a blur of tears. "That's just too simple an answer."

He went over to a kitchen cupboard and pulled out Miss Gordon's Bible, opening it to the sixteenth chapter of the book of Proverbs as he sat back down next to me. "The Lord hath made all things for himself, yea, even the wicked for the day of evil." Then, he said, "Even the day of evil, Louisa. Even that is under His control."

He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped my tear-stained face. "There's something I want you to think about. I don't even want an answer right now. Just think about it. Pray about it."

I looked up at him, wondering what he was going to say.

He cupped my face in his hands, looked me right in the eyes and asked in a voice of great tenderness, "what makes you so sure your life doesn't count right here?" Then he left the kitchen.

I stayed at the table for a while longer, completely spent. Finally, I stood up and gazed out the kitchen door window at the church. I felt a pull toward the church from deep inside. I knew the sanctuary would be empty.

I loved to be in a church-any church-when it was empty. It felt sacred, and even though I knew it didn't matter where I prayed, somehow I felt as if I had G.o.d's ear when I knelt in prayer in church. I walked over to it, opened the door, and sank into a pew.

I didn't know how much time had pa.s.sed when someone put a hand on my shoulder; I flinched in surprise. I had been so lost in my misery I hadn't heard anyone come in. It was Herr Mueller.

"May I join you, Frulein?" he asked, blocking the pew.

"I was just leaving."

"Nonsense. You just arrived."

How long had he been watching me?

"A moment of your time, bitte. I have just learned something quite interesting. There was a young woman who disappeared in Berlin a while ago. Just like that. Vanished." He snapped his fingers. "Just a few weeks before you arrived in Copper Springs."

He sat down next to me. "The German government would like to talk to this woman. It turns out she had a very influential circle of friends. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, for example. Hans von Dohnanyi, for another. You might not be aware of this unfortunate turn of events, but both of these men have been arrested under suspicion of conspiring to a.s.sa.s.sinate der Fhrer."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I felt the pounding of my portending heart. I stood up to leave. He grabbed my arm with his hand, forcing me to sit back down. He handed me a large envelope.

In it were pictures of Dietrich, Hans and I, in Berlin. One was at a street corner, another in a car, another coming out of a building. I remembered each of those meetings; they occurred during that one week when the Gestapo agent was following me. That week before I left Germany.

"Your secret is safe with me, Frulein. I believe we can find an arrangement that will satisfy everyone. No one needs to know you are not Louisa Schmetterling, and I, in turn, will be able to help your friends."

"What do you mean?" My voice was shaky; I felt as if this were a nightmare I couldn't wake from.

He moved in closer to me so that I could feel his hot sour breath on my neck. "I would like to have more private discussions with you each Wednesday night while my wife is at choir practice. Come to my house at seven o'clock sharp."

"I'm leaving today to go live in Bisbee, Herr Mueller."

"Even better! Bisbee is not so far, Fraulein. It has a wonderful hotel-the Copper Queen. We'll meet there."

I narrowed my eyes and snapped, "so you can do to me what you did to her?"

His mouth gaped like a hooked fish. Finally, he spat out, "she came to me of her own free will."

Seeing him caught off guard gave me needed courage. With my free arm, I slapped his face as hard as I could. His hand went up to his cheek, and a drip of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. He took out a handkerchief and wiped away the blood. In a tone of chilling anger he warned, "you do not want to make me an enemy, Fraulein. Your friends in Germany depend on you."

Suddenly, a door clicked open. "Louisa?" Robert's voice filled the church from the narthex.

Herr Mueller grabbed the envelope from me and slipped it inside of his coat jacket just as Robert entered the sanctuary and walked up to us, a concerned look on his face. "Mr. Mueller? What's going on?"

"Ah, good day, Reverend. The Frulein and I were just chatting." Like a chameleon, Herr Mueller's voice and countenance resumed calm. All that betrayed him was my handprint, still red, on his cheek. "Well, I must be off. Bis spter, Frulein." He got up and walked out of the church.

"What happened?" Robert asked. Impatience rose in his voice. "Louisa, what just happened?"

I remained in the pew, chin quivering, trying not to cry.

He sat down next to me. "I came to tell you it's time to take William to Mrs. Morgan's. What did Mueller say to you? You're as white as Aunt Martha's sheets." Then he leaned back against the pew. "Oh, no. Was it something about William? Did William do anything to Mueller while I was away?"

"No, no. It's nothing like that."

"Oh, Louisa, you didn't tell him about the ring."

"No! I promised you I wouldn't and I didn't. Please, it was nothing. Let's go. We need to get William to Mrs. Morgan's on-time." I stood up and started to walk past him, but he extended his arm to block me. Without looking at him, I said, "Robert, I can handle this myself."

"Why are you so determined to be the Lone Ranger?" he said with exasperation.

I gave him an equally exasperated look.

He shook his head. "Sorry. A radio program. What I meant to say is what is so wrong about asking for help?" He stood up, took my shoulders, and turned me to face him. "Louisa, I want to help. Tell me what Mueller said to upset you."

I was quiet for a moment. "He knows," I said. "He knows everything. He knows I'm an illegal immigrant. He knows all about Dietrich and Hans. He even had photographs. He wants to use that information against them. Against me. "

Robert's face revealed disbelief. "What? How? How could he have possibly found out?"

I explained what he said and the Wednesday night "arrangement" he had suggested. Robert's face changed from disbelief to anger. He clenched his jaw, and his hands tightened into fists. "I want to get the police involved," he finally said.

"And what would you tell them? That I have a false pa.s.sport? Or that an upstanding church member made a proposition to me? No, Robert. There's nothing to be gained."

"What do you suggest then? We can't let him get away with trying to blackmail you. And you're certainly not going near him."

"Let that be the least of your concerns," I said with a weak smile.

"Louisa, don't joke about this. This is serious business."

"I'm only half-joking. But I know n.a.z.is. I've seen their tactics. Herr Mueller is just using information as leverage; he has no intention to help anyone. Other than himself."

He looked as worried as I felt.

"Do you remember I told you I recognized his surname? There is a n.a.z.i in Berlin with the same name as Herr Mueller. I can almost guarantee they are related. They even look alike. And they certainly act alike."

"What are you thinking? That Mueller is a n.a.z.i sympathizer? Living here in Copper Springs? Louisa, that seems outlandish."

"Outlandish? Outlandish?!" A flash of anger surged within me. "Robert, this is why I haven't told you my doubts about Herr Mueller! You say I'm too suspicious or that I'm acting as if I'm still doing Resistance Work. From the first moment I met Herr Mueller, I felt full of doubts about him. When Glenda was harmed, it only confirmed my suspicions."

Robert crossed his arms and paced back and forth a few steps. "Look, Louisa, stay here. At least for a few more days. I'll call Mrs. Morgan and the diner and let them know not to expect you just now. I want to make sure Mueller isn't up to something."

I nodded, relieved. Herr Mueller's threat was not to be taken lightly. We were both pensive as we walked home.

After dinner that night, I tucked William into bed and then went to get a book in my room. I could hear Robert and Miss Gordon talking downstairs. I went over to the radiator, reprimanding myself for listening to their conversation as I unscrewed the cap.

"Oh, no!" I heard her say in a worried voice. "Robert, I think I told him. It was right after you had lunch at his house. He asked me where you had met Louisa, and I told him you had met a friend of hers while in seminary. He asked me all about your friend. It seemed a little odd, but I thought it was common knowledge. You've spoken of Dietrich Bonhoeffer often. You've even quoted him in your sermons. I just thought everyone knew."

Robert was silent.

I went down the stairs and walked into the kitchen. "Tante Marta, you meant no harm." I went over and hugged her. We had come a long way.

"Louisa?" asked Robert, noticing for the first time. "What in the world happened to your hair?"

Chapter Twelve.

I tried to put the conversation with Herr Mueller out of my mind, but I kept coming back to a single desperate conclusion. A feeling of nervous dread kept rising in my stomach; I knew in my heart Herr Mueller was planning something.

Robert wanted to do something, but we didn't know what to do next, or who to talk to, because we couldn't prove anything. So we ended up waiting. And waiting. For what, we didn't know. Miss Gordon called it "waiting for an axe to fall."

Just that morning, as I read from the Bible, I came across a verse in the Psalms: "Rescue me, O Lord, from evil men, protect me from men of violence, who devise evil plans in their hearts and stir up war every day."

Lord, rescue me from Herr Mueller, I prayed constantly. Wednesday night came and went, like any other night, except Robert stayed close to the house. When he didn't think I noticed, he watched me with worried eyes.

By Friday, the answer arrived in the form of a serious looking man dressed in a plain dark suit standing on our doorstep. Miss Gordon hurried to get Robert from his office.