The Ragged Edge of Night(94)

The watch falls from his hands and thumps the wood floor. Elisabeth retrieves it, but Anton hardly knows what to do with the thing. He winds its chain around his hand, tighter and tighter still.

He will not let Hitler take St. Kolumban’s bells. But how he is to stop it from happening, Anton hasn’t the slightest idea.

Elisabeth can see his resolve building, breaking through weeks’ worth of surrender, and it frightens her. “Anton, you mustn’t—”

But he must. They are coming for him, anyway. It’s only a matter of time, a matter of freed schedules. His destruction is assured, his death written in stone. What can it matter now, if he rattles Hitler’s cage?

I may as well make myself a thorn in the wolf’s paw. One last time. God willing, he will succeed in this, if in nothing else.

“Anton, your hand!”

The watch chain has bitten deeply into Anton’s flesh, and his fingers are turning purple. Trembling, he unwinds the chain. Elisabeth takes his one hand between the both of hers and rubs it until feeling returns.

“Listen, Elisabeth. This is what we must do.”

“No, Anton.” She can sense what’s coming. She shakes her head, but the protest is weak. She knows already what must be done.

“Yes, my darling. Listen to me. You and the children will go to Stuttgart. You’ll live with my sister.” He hasn’t asked Anita to take them in—this desperate plan has only just occurred to him—but he knows his sister will agree. Anita would never turn away Anton’s family.

“Why?”

“It may be safer for you there.”

“Safer in Stuttgart? Anton—”

“Now that soldiers are coming and going through that damned tunnel, Unterboihingen isn’t the haven it was.”

Elisabeth shakes her head again, more adamantly now. “No place is as safe as Unterboihingen.”

“Then no place is safe at all. Elisabeth, you know it’s true.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts and his quailing heart. He says carefully, “You can’t be here when—”

“Don’t say it. Don’t think it. If we go anywhere, you’ll come with us.”

“They’ll find me.” The SS. The rifle against his chest. “They already know my name. What was that business with the stork if not some kind of threat? An attempt to silence the band, to warn me…” He sighs and works his fingers up under his lenses to press hard against his eyes. His thoughts are tumbling, impossible to sort. “M?belbauer must have told them about me—them, whomever he speaks with, his friends in the Party. He hates me—”

“If he hates you,” Elisabeth says, resolute, “it’s only because of me. I told him I would never betray our marriage. That’s why he’s bent on destroying us both. So you see, it’s my fault. If you stay here, then I will stay, too.”

He takes her hands, muted for a moment by his admiration for her. What strength, what bravery! If only he were half as courageous. He kisses her palms. “It’s not your fault—never blame yourself. But think of the children, Elisabeth. We have a duty to keep them safe.”

She doesn’t try to argue; she knows he is right. “How much longer do we have? Together?”

“I don’t know. But the sooner you leave, the better. We’ve waited too long already, and the waiting is dangerous.”

She looks away, refusing to see the sense in his words. Tears have burned her cheeks. But still, she doesn’t argue.

“Can you have the children ready to travel by tomorrow morning?”

“I suppose, if I must.”

“Good. I’ll write a letter for my sister. You must give it to her when you meet.”

Elisabeth’s eyes flash. “She doesn’t even know we’re coming? Anton—”

“Anita will take you in, and gladly… but she’ll want word from me, too. And I want to say my farewells to her, before I’m taken. She was always good to me.”



At the train station, he tells the children brightly that they are going to visit their aunt Anita—though they have never seen her before. They do not know her.

“We’ll all be back together soon,” he says. But he can feel Al’s hard stare as he says those words. The boy can tell when he is being deceived.

Anton takes Albert’s hand, as you would do with a grown man. “I’m proud of you, son. Proud of the man you’re becoming, the man you’ll be someday.”

He removes the watch from his pocket. Albert takes it, startled, and turns it over and over, tilting it so the polished casing gleams.

“My father gave this to me,” Anton says. “I want you to have it now.”

Al nods. He closes his fist around the watch. “I’ll try. I’ll try to make you proud.” The boy is struggling not to cry, fighting with all his strength to hold back his weeping.

Anton takes him by the shoulder and leans close, so only Al can hear. “Men cry, son. All the time. Never be ashamed of your feelings. Your feelings are your compass. They guide you to what’s right.”

The tears break at last, spilling down the boy’s freckled cheeks. “I won’t tell them what’s really happening,” he says. “Paul and Maria.”

“Not until they’re old enough to understand.”