“President Jimmy Carter is back in Washington after a tour of South Korea,” Bob read to himself from the teletype. “Hope it was a good trip,” he muttered to himself. “He needs all the help he can get at the polls.”
Bob glanced from the Associated Press machine when he heard his telephone ring desk. Rushing back to his desk he picked it up the receiver and smiled when he heard Jill’s voice.
“Hi, I was hoping you’d call.”
“Oh, Bob. It’s terrible. Dad just called.” She sounded as though she were about to cry.
“What happened?” He furrowed his brow.
“Grandpa’s in trouble.”
“What?”
“The immigration service. They say he was a Nazi. They want to deport him.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll meet with you and your parents tonight. I know someone who can help.”
“Grandma’s practically hysterical.”
“How about your mom?”
“She’s holding up.” Jill paused. “No drinking yet.”
“That’s good. How are you?”
“Stunned more than anything else,” she said, “except—all my life I’ve had this strange feeling as though my folks were waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“And this is the shoe.”
“Right.”
That evening Bob picked up Jill at her apartment to go to her parents’ home in a rich suburb of Knoxville. Her father Ed answered the door and led them into his living room filled with dark woods and leather furniture. He was tall and handsome with no gray in his full head of blond hair.
“Is mom still okay?” Jill said in subdued tones.
“Of course.” Her father smiled. “Why shouldn’t she?”
After they sat, Ed cleared his throat and began to explain the situation.
“Seems this woman from dad’s hometown filed this complaint. She’s been looking for him since the end of World War II. Hired an investigator to go from country to country. ”
Jill’s mother Carol entered from the kitchen with a tray of coffee cups.
“I thought we’d need plenty of caffeine to figure this one out.” She was an elegant, tall woman with beautiful dark brown hair, thick and curly. She leaned over to kiss Jill on the forehead. “Hi, honey.” She touched her cheek to Bob’s. “Thanks for helping, Bob.”
He glanced at Jill, who was sighing in relief. He had not detected any alcohol on her breath and, apparently, neither had Jill, though Carol’s obsession with coffee made Bob think she was in need of something strong to control her nerves.
“You’d think after all these years in the car business I’d know a good lawyer, but I don’t.”
“That’s because an honest man doesn’t need a lawyer,” Carol said as she set down the tray and sat close to her husband on the sofa.
“I met this lawyer last year when I was covering a murder trial,” Bob said. “Jeff Holt. I got to know him very well. He said he liked the way I reported the facts on his client.”
“Isn’t he the one who tries to prove the victim deserved to die?” Jill frowned.
“He’s very persuasive,” Bob replied.
“He sounds like someone you get when you’re guilty.” She shook her head.
“That’s just it, Jill.” Her father put his hand on Carol’s arm. “Your grandfather was a member of the Nazi party. And I think he was an officer in the Gestapo.”
“How do you know?” Jill’s eyes widened with surprise.
“He doesn’t know,” her mother said, picking up her coffee.
“Okay, I don’t know for sure.” Glancing away, Ed ducked his head. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense. It explains so much about why we came to this country and why mom and dad are the way they are.”
“What things?” Bob said, his journalistic instincts beginning to take over.
“My earliest memories were of growing up in Bavaria and then, when I was about twelve, moving a lot, first to Switzerland, then England and finally here. Life settled down, and I enjoyed working in mom and dad’s shop.” He smiled. “It was fun. I still carve for a hobby. It’s relaxing.”
“You used to love the wooden toys your father made for Christmas,” Carol said.
“But school was different.” Ed sighed.
“These mountain children clearly let him know what being blond, blue-eyed and speaking with a German accent meant in the late forties in the United States of America, the winner of the war,” Carol said in a somber tone. “It meant bloody noses and shame.”
“Well, you know how kids can be.” He waved his hand to dismiss the memory.
“Children can be cruel,” Bob said.
“People are cruel,” Carol corrected him with a hint of sadness. “Children are more obvious, that’s all.”
“When I was fifteen or so I discovered libraries,” he continued. “Libraries are wonderful places. They tell you people and places that your parents don’t want to talk about.”
“Even now he reads more than I do.” Carol took a long sip of coffee.
“Mom thought it was great I was interested in books. She wouldn’t have been so overjoyed if she’d known what I was looking for.” Ed stood and walked over to his fireplace and fingered the carving on the mantle.
“He did that too,” Carol said.
“I combined what mom told me about their past with what I read.”
“Greta’s version of the family history,” his wife interjected, “was that Heinrich was a policeman in Bavaria during World War II and that Heinrich’s father was mayor of Oberbach.”
“One of the books said all the mayors were appointed by the Nazi party.” Ed turned to look at the others. “That led me to believe grandpa was a Nazi too. Being a second son, dad didn’t get any part of his family farm so he had to become a woodcutter.”
“Heinrich carved the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever seen,” Carol said. “Before his stroke, his shop was filled with customers.”
“Cutting trees can’t be that profitable so the logical thing would be to align yourself with the people who could get you money.”
“It’s not much different today, is it?” Bob said, trying to sympathize.
“I figured out he was a Gestapo agent became mom said dad was a policeman in Munich who came back to Oberbach frequently on business. A cop on the beat wouldn’t leave town unless he had authority, and being a Gestapo agent would give him that authority. When I first put all the pieces together, I was sick to my stomach. I mean, I really hated my father.” Ed went back to the sofa and sat by Jill. “And I was ashamed. The kids from school knew we were from Germany, but they never really knew for sure about the other stuff. I did, and I hated it.”
“Oh, Dad.” Jill leaned over and hugged her father.
“You get over things like that.” Ed smiled. “Once kids start growing up, get into high school, they don’t care about things like that. I was on the football team, and that’s all the kids cared about then.” He looked at Carol and smiled. “When you have someone love you like Carol, you think better of yourself.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “And I started looking at dad differently too.”
Carol took her hand away to steady her cup as she drank the coffee.
“I mean,” he continued, “I figure now he did what he did to get ahead. And, good grief, that’s what we all do, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” Bob replied in a weak voice, putting his hands together in front of his mouth.
“Well, maybe not,” he said. Tears began to fill his eyes, and Carol put her arms around him. “I knew this was going to happen some day.”
“Don’t worry, dear,” Carol said, consoling him. “I’m sure this lawyer Bob mentioned will help.”
“We’ve got to leave,” Jill said as she stood and pulled Bob up by his shoulder.
“I’m sorry.” Ed looked up at them, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I never wanted to break down like this in front of you.”
“Dad, I understand.” She went to her father, hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“It’s the way he was raised,” Carol said, rubbing Ed’s back. “Men were taught never to show any emotion.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more or been more proud of you than right now.” Jill kissed him on the cheek and smiled.
“Thanks.” Ed returned her smile, putting his big golden-tanned hand to her face.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Smith,” Bob said. “I’ll talk to Jeff Holt tomorrow.”
“Jill,” Carol said, “I want you to know something.”
They turned to her. Bob noticed how she clutched her hands and how her fingernails were bitten into the quick.
“I know sometimes it seems I don’t get along with your grandparents,” she said slowly and then paused. “Not seems. I really don’t get along with them.”
“Mom, you don’t have to tell me this, not right now. I understand.”
“Do you understand?” Carol looked deep into Jill’s eyes. “I hope you do.” She glanced down. “If it were just them, I’d be glad to see them shipped off and never have to put up with them again. But your father loves his parents.” Her eyes narrowed in an attempt to compose herself. “As he should. Everyone should love their parents the way he loves them.”
“And you love him all the more for it.” Jill touched her mother’s hands.
“I love your father so much that I’ll do anything to make him happy, even ensure that the two people who make my life miserable stay in this country forever.”
“And that’s why I love you so much,” Jill said, kissing her mother.
The next day later Bob and Jill met with Jeff Holt, a bear of a man with a distinct mountain twang to his deep voice. They sat on the edge of their chairs in his office explaining the deportation case.
“My father is Ed Smith, the car dealer,” Jill said. “He’s agreed to pay all legal expenses.”
“Is that Big Ed, East Tennessee Chevrolet sales leader?”
She smiled and nodded.
“Then let’s get cracking,” Jeff said, grinning with confidence.
That night Bob and Jill took Jeff to the Schmidts’ home, and Ed and Carol greeted them at the door.
“So you’re Big Ed, the Chevy king?” Jeff pumped Ed’s hand.
After introductions, Ed called his mother from the shop.
“Did you have a chance to talk to your parents?” Bob asked him as they waited for Greta to appear. “They do understand Jeff’s on their side, don’t they?”
“I tried my best.” He shook her head.
“Ah, my Edward,” Greta said with her best mother’s pride as she entered the living room. She stopped short. “Oh, Carol.” She glanced at Ed. “You didn’t tell me she was coming too.”
“I thought you knew Carol always goes everywhere with me, Mom.” Ed tried to direct Greta to Jeff. “I want to introduce…”
Greta pulled away and went to Carol, her hand extended and her face covered with a false grin.
“Carol. It’s a surprise to see you. It’s been such a long time.”
“I wanted to show my support at this time of family crisis.”
“Family crisis? What family crisis? This is no crisis. It is just another of life’s little problems. You always worry too much about things. But, then, your people always fret too…”
Ed grabbed his mother by the shoulders and turned her to Jeff.
“Mom, I want you to meet Jeff Holt, the lawyer who’s going to help us with our little problem.”
“My,” Greta said, surveying Jeff’s mass, “aren’t you a healthy man.”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am. It’s mighty kind of you to notice.”
“And where do your people come from?”
“My folks have lived in the hollers of these old mountains so long they forgot where the boat came from.”
“Mom, go get dad,” Ed said, again trying to draw his mother away.
After she left the room, Ed look to Jeff and shook his head.
“I have to apologize for mom.”
“No need. I can deal with all types of folks slicker than a greased pig.”
Greta and Heinrich entered, and he headed for his favorite easy chair.
“What is this?” Heinrich said as he settled into his chair. “A party?”
“Remember, Dad.” Ed went to him and leaned over. “I told you I was bringing over a lawyer to help us with this immigration business.”
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot.”
“Jeff Holt, Mr. Schmidt.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”
“You eat too much, young man.” Heinrich ignored the gesture.
“You sure got that right, Mr. Schmidt.” Jeff smiled as he dropped his hand without ceremony. “Now if you don’t mind we’ll get settled down here and get to business so we can leave you alone as fast as we can.”
“You talk funny, too.” Heinrich had a clever little smile on his lips and a suspicious glint in his eyes.
“Nothing gets passed you, does it, Mr. Schmidt?” Jeff laughed as he sat on the sofa. “I’d pay a fancy professor to make me talk better, but I can’t afford it.”
“Jeff is a good man, Dad.” Ed sat next to Jeff and put his hand on his shoulder. “I trust him.”
“Okay, down to business.” Jeff looked Heinrich straight in the eye. “It seems this woman Eva Moeller says you were a Gestapo agent in charge of bringing the woodcutters guild in line with the Nazi party.”
“I knew Eva Moeller.” Greta leaned in between Heinrich and Jeff. “She was such a vain woman, thought she was so beautiful. Always bragging about her husband, Hans. She thought he was so handsome.”
“Mrs. Moeller says you killed her husband.” Jeff stared at Heinrich, the hillbilly act fading away. Now he had become the professional courtroom attorney and showed he would not abide with further evasion.
“These Southerners, I can’t understand how they talk.” Heinrich looked away with a smile.
“I remember when Hans Moeller died,” Greta interjected, her eyes frantic. “He was a big beer drinker, yes, he was, and he went out late one night and fell down a hillside and knocked himself out and bears, they came up and clawed him to death. They couldn’t recognize him at all.”
Joan appeared in the door to the shop.
“Mrs. Schmidt, someone was asking about–”
“Don’t you know to knock?” Greta turned to storm toward the salesclerk whose eyes widened in fear.
“I’ve never knocked before when I came to ask a question.”
“That’s a lie. I’d never allow someone into my private quarters without knocking. You know that.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that–”
“You better not be spying on me. I don’t like people spying on me.”
“Mom, Joan just has a question about business.” Ed intervened, putting his arms around his mother and smiled at the clerk. “What is it?”
“Someone asked about the large gnome carving in the corner.”
“The price tag is on it,” Greta said, her chin sticking out.
“But they’re offering a lower price.”
“We don’t bargain. That is the price.” Greta turned away.
“Thanks for checking with us on it, though, Joan.” Ed smiled again.
“Thank you, Mr. Smith,” she said and retreated to the store.
“Mr. Schmidt,” Jeff resumed, “do you remember Hans Moeller?”
“These Southerners, they need to learn to speak English good,” Heinrich said in his thick German accent.
“I remember Hans Moeller,” Greta said, her brow knitted as she searched for words. “He was a braggart. He wore the bird feathers, yes he did, and he gave them to Eva and she wore them too, yes she did.”
“Bird feathers?” Jeff looked at Ed and frowned.
“Killing birds on game preserves of rich, absentee landowners was considered quite a bravado thing to do,” Ed explained. “And to wear bird feathers in your hat showed you weren’t afraid of rich people, so to speak.”
“Yes, I wore the bird feathers.” Heinrich nodded.
“No, Heinrich,” Greta corrected him her voice rising. “You didn’t wear the bird feathers. That was bad. That was breaking the law. You didn’t break the law. Hans, he was bad, he broke the law.”
“Mrs. Schmidt, I’m not saying your husband is a bad man,” Jeff said choosing his words with care. “I’m on your side. I believe your husband is a good man.”
“No.” Greta shook her head, her eyes brimmed with tears. “My world, it’s changing too fast.”
“Mrs. Schmidt?” Bob put his hands on Greta’s shoulders and could feel her trembling. “Everything is going to be fine. Don’t worry.” Glancing at Jill, he continued, “I think Jill’s becoming too nervous about all this. Why don’t we take her into the kitchen, and you can slice a piece of that strudel you made. I can smell it all the way in here.”
“Yes, Grandma,” Jill said, taking Greta by the arm. “And a cup of coffee too.”
“I can make coffee,” Carol offered, her voice dropping in volume.
“No.” Greta shook her head with vigor. “I make special coffee. You don’t know anything about it.”
“Very well.” Carol’s eyes hardened. She glanced at Ed. “I think I’ll wait in the car.”
As Carol left, Greta looked around in amazement.
“What did I say? All I said was I had special coffee I wanted to fix for her and she runs out of the house. The least little thing sets her off. She’s so sensitive, just like all her people–”
“Grandma,” Jill interrupted. “I’d feel a lot better with a cup of your special coffee.”
“Well, if you think you need it.” Greta returned her attention to Jill, smiled and patted her hand. “There’s no need to be nervous,” Greta said, hugging Jill around the shoulders. “This nice young man here will take care of your grandfather. See? There’s nothing to be nervous about.”
Greta padded out with Jill on her arm. Jeff watched them and smiled.
“Yes, Mrs. Schmidt, we’re going to prove to the whole world your husband didn’t do any of those terrible things Mrs. Moeller claims. We will prove your husband is a good man.”
“You’re going to prove I’m a good man?” Heinrich looked at him with a mischievous smile.
“Yes, but we’re going to need help.” Jeff pulled out a pad and pen from his pocket. “The other side will have their witnesses, and we will need our witnesses.”
“Everyone from Oberbach back then is dead.”
“Surely not everyone,” Jeff said.
“How about Uncle Rudolf?” Ed asked. “And mom’s sister Helga and her husband.”
“It takes money to bring people to America.” Heinrich shook his head.
“I have money.” Ed put his hand on his father’s shoulder. “I owe it to you to do all I can.”
“If you wish.” Heinrich shrugged and assessed Jeff with a smirk. “Yes, young man, you’d be much stronger if you lost weight, worked hard with your muscles.”