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Love's Belief

By Linda Shenton Matchett

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Berlin, late February 1943
Chapter One

“I thought Frau Schmidt was going to die.” Pia Hertz blew out a deep breath. “We haven’t had a difficult birth like that in a long time, Mutti.”
“Ja, but you are a gifted midwife, Pia. I wasn’t too worried.”
Pia chuckled. “You always say that.”
Mutti linked her arm with Pia’s. “We must have confidence, otherwise fear will make us prone to mistakes. Now, let’s reward ourselves with strudel, if we can find it, hmm?”
“A wonderful idea. I’m starving. Hopefully, the baker has some, and the line won’t be too long at this early hour. Selections at most of the shops have been meager as the war has ground on.”
Leaning close to Pia’s ear, Mutti whispered, “Be careful what you say. You don’t want to be accused of sedition.”
Pia cast a glance over her shoulder. “You’re right. It doesn’t seem to take much to get arrested these days.” She sighed. “I don’t understand why God has allowed Herr Hitler to succeed. Why has He not stepped in to save His people, the Jews?”
Dust coated their shoes as they sauntered along the sidewalk, skirting the piles of rubble from the most recent RAF bombing raid.
“There are some things we will never have an answer to, Daughter, but we must trust in His plan. It is difficult. Despite being a believer since childhood, I still struggle with doubts. It’s understandable that you do, too.” She stroked Pia’s cheek. “When we get home, let’s pray together and see what He would have us do.”
Pia stifled a gasp. “What are you suggesting?”
Her lips pressed in a thin line, Mutti frowned. She jerked her head toward the SS officer standing about ten meters away, then tugged on Pia’s arm. Continuing down the sidewalk, they arrived at the bakery. Unlit windows and lack of women waiting indicated there were no more treats to be had for the day.
“Ach, we’ll have to assuage our penchant for a sweet another time.” Mutti rubbed her belly. “Let’s take a shortcut down Rosenstrasse then head for the river. It would be nice to look at something other than damaged buildings and debris.”
“Good idea. It is warmer today than yesterday, and there is a market at the end of the street. Perhaps they have some bread or cheese we can nibble on.”
A chill swept over Pia as they walked past a Vichy police officer, their eyes averted to avoid any interaction. An elderly couple tottered along in front of them, holding hands and speaking softly. Pia’s heart tugged. Would she ever find someone to spend her life with: someone to look at her like the wrinkled, gray-haired man gazed at the petite woman by his side? At twenty-eight, it seemed unlikely. Der Führer’s desire to rule the world was destroying an entire generation of young men, and she certainly had no interest in a black-coated member of the SS.
Her grip tightened on Mutti’s arm, and she frowned. Would this war never end?
The distant hum of voices wafted toward her and urged Mutti to increase her pace. Moments later, they turned the corner onto Rosenstrasse and froze. Gathered in front of one of the factories, a group of several hundred women raised their fists and chanted, “Give us our husbands back.”
Dozens of armed guards surrounded the mob. Intermittent commands of “Clear the street or we’ll shoot” peppered the air. Some of the protestors scattered, but many held their ground.
Pia’s gaze whipped toward Mutti, who froze, her face ashen and mouth agape. She turned her terror-filled eyes to Pia. “What are they doing? They will be arrested and sent away, never to be seen again. We must go. We can’t let the authorities think we are part of this.” She tugged on Pia’s hands.
“Wait. I want to find out what is happening.” She pointed to a small group of men and women huddled some distance away, arms crossed and talking among themselves. “Those people aren’t involved, but maybe they know what’s going on.”
“Please hurry, Pia. We cannot risk going to jail…or worse.” Mutti’s lips trembled. “Could this day get any worse?”
“I’m sorry, Mutti. You’re right. We should go.” She turned toward Rochstrasse.
“No, it is me who should apologize. I am a foolish old woman. Talk to those people. We need to know what’s going on. We cannot bury our heads in the rubble.”
“Are you sure?” Pia searched Mutti’s face.
“Ja. We cannot count on the incident being in the newspapers. The authorities may not want the public to know about this.”
With a curt nod, Pia edged around the throng and approached the group bunched together away from the demonstrators. “I am Pia Hertz. Do you know what is happening?”
A ginger-haired woman whose ragged clothing hung on her gaunt frame nodded. “There has been a mass arrest of Jews who are married to non-Jews.” Her lips twisted. “Apparently, the Gestapo have changed their minds about the people they want to clear out of Berlin. Yesterday, they stormed the factories and arrested every Jew inside, even those previously exempted. All over the city, men have been dragged from their homes.”
Eyes glistening with tears, a middle-aged man spat on the ground. “I saw two SS soldiers grab a girl who was wearing the star and shove her into a truck. They were very rough with her. I could hear her crying. What kind of men do that?”
Dressed in a mismatched blouse and skirt, a wizened, old woman wiped tears from her eyes. “I heard they are all being locked up in the administrative center of the Jewish community and are certain to be deported to one of the camps.”
Pia glanced back at the protestors. “Aren’t those women afraid of being arrested?”
She shrugged. “Maybe they don’t care. If my husband was taken, I would do whatever it took to get him released. Wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not married.” Pia’s face warmed. Even strangers assumed she should be married by now.
“Is your sweetheart serving in one of the armed forces?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” Pia ducked her head. “Thank you for the information. I must take my mother home.”
“Of course.” The old man gestured toward Rochstrasse and smirked. “Go that way, so you don’t have to pass by the demonstrators. I imagine Goebbels doesn’t want a publicity nightmare by killing a bunch of women, but who knows if one of these soldiers has an itchy finger. Tempers are high. It won’t take much to light the match.”
With a nod, she pulled her skirts closer to her legs and hastened to where she’d left her mother. Pia wrapped her arm around Mutti’s shoulder. “Let’s go. I’ll explain on the way.”
They pivoted away from the mob, and Pia rammed into a tall, bearded man about her own age. He dropped the box he balanced in one hand, and her fingers closed over the empty, left sleeve of his coat to steady herself. Unbalanced, she crumpled to the ground and landed on her backside with an unladylike grunt.
Face red to the roots of his close-cropped dark hair, he bent and helped her climb to her feet. Concern darkened his crystal-blue eyes. “Are you okay? My apologies for running into you.”
“Ja. I’m fine. It was my fault. I was in a hurry and didn’t see you.” She looked at their hands, still intertwined, and a nervous giggle escaped.
He snatched away his hand and jammed it into his pocket. With a slight bow, he scrutinized her face. “If you’re sure you’re not hurt—”
“I’m sure. Thank you for your assistance.” Her fingers tingled from the contact of his warm grip as she wiped gray dust from her clothes. Pia’s breath hitched, and she nibbled the inside of her lip. What was wrong with her? At the first interaction in months with a handsome man under the age of eighty she was acting like a schoolgirl. “Come, Mutti. We don’t want to be late.”
“Late? We’re not—”
“Thank you again.” Pia dipped her head at the stranger and nudged her mother forward.
“Good day.” The man stepped to the side and winked. “And watch where you are going. You don’t want to ruin that pretty outfit. New dresses are hard to come by these days.”
She glanced down at her worn, but serviceable outfit. What did he know of acquiring women’s clothing? Was he mocking her? A frown began to form, then she caught sight of the twinkle in his eyes. He bowed again, picked up his box, and headed in the direction of the demonstration.
Watching his departing figure, she heard her mother snicker. She turned and straightened her spine. “What?”
Merriment had smoothed away the stress from Mutti’s face. “It’s been a long time since I have seen you blush in the presence of a man. Perhaps we should find out who he is.”
Pia rolled her eyes. “Nonsense. I was embarrassed about my fall, nothing more. Besides, he’s disappeared into the crowd. I’ve no inclination to search for him.”
“Your mouth says one thing, but your face another.”
“We’re wasting time. Let’s be on our way.” Pia shook her head in a futile effort to rid herself of the man’s image: his firm jaw emphasized by the well-groomed goatee and sky-blue eyes that seem to change colors with his mood. What would it be like to have that gaze focused on her every day?

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