Part 1 (1/2)

Copper Star.

Suzanne Woods Fisher.

Dedication.

This story was inspired by the life and death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer (1906-1945).

”Heaven's gain was earth's loss.” ~Louisa Schmetterling.

Prologue.

On a blazing hot summer day in Copper Springs, Arizona, the four of us stood in the church cemetery, staring solemnly at a headstone, each one of us lost in our memories of the person who lay before us. I was amazed at how powerful the connection had been for each one of us, with that cold body lying beneath the freshly dug grave. Two of us connected to it with a bond of love, two of us with a sense of responsibility.

I had arrived in America only seventeen months ago, and it seemed as if the entire purpose of my coming to Copper Springs pointed to this fateful moment. As if this was why I had been sent here in the first place.

Never, though, in my wildest imagination, could I have imagined the turn of events that occurred, especially in the last few months, which turned this town upside down. Copper Springs would never be the same.

This is the story of how I ended up in a dusty copper mining town in Arizona after a thrilling but dangerous stint with the Resistance Workers in n.a.z.i Germany and how my journey took me to this gravesite.

And to the very heart of a family.

Chapter One.

I had lost track of which day it was. I glanced at a newspaper that a pa.s.senger left on the seat. Under the February 2, 1943 date, the headline proclaimed boldly: ”Germans Surrender at Stalingrad.” A good sign, it seemed, that today of all days was the first big defeat of Hitler's armies. I smiled. This war couldn't last much longer.

The conductor gracefully maneuvered down the aisles despite the jerky movement of the train. ”Next stop, Tucson, Arizona!” he bellowed. I picked up my small bag and prepared to disembark, wis.h.i.+ng I could borrow some of his confidence for what I was about to do.

I stood at the top of the platform steps, looking for a man who resembled the tattered picture I held in my hand. The picture was over ten years old, and Dietrich's descriptive skills left much to be desired. ”He's sort of tall but not really. Average build. Dark hair, I think. Don't worry. He'll find you.”

Dietrich was right. Like always. There was only one man standing at the station, and he looked similar to the man in the photograph. In the picture, though, he was laughing, young and carefree. The man standing on the platform looked serious, hat in hand, waiting to fulfill a promise he had made to his longtime friend from seminary days to sponsor me, a complete stranger, a German refugee on the lam.

I took a deep breath, whispered a silent prayer, and stepped down from the train. My long journey had just come to an abrupt end in this dry, dusty copper mining town in Arizona.

”Reverend Gordon?”

Slowly the man nodded, tilting his head, a puzzled look on his face.

”I'm Louisa. Louisa Schmetterling. I hope I didn't keep you waiting.”

We shook hands. Then came an awkward pause. ”Did you have a pleasant trip?” he asked politely, still looking a little surprised.

”Yes, it was fine,” I lied. Why did he keep looking at me as if he was expecting someone else?

Just as another train came roaring into the station, we pulled away in Reverend Gordon's 1937 Hudson Custom Eight, a big black box of a car, and headed southeast on the two-lane highway out of Tucson toward Copper Springs. We pa.s.sed a vast, harsh landscape of cactus, strange looking trees with gnarled trunks and spindly arms, and jutting spires of rusty red rocks. Everywhere were sharp angled rocks. I felt as if I landed on another planet, void of any trace of green.

Still, I should have tried to hide my disappointment. I've never been good at masking my feelings. It's one of my worst faults.

The Reverend noticed the look on my face. Quickly, he pointed out in what I would call a voice of quiet pride, ”it may not seem like much, but this state is known for copper; even our state flag has a copper star in the center. Before the turn of the century, these copper mines created boomtowns overnight. During the Depression, they almost turned into ghost towns. Now, though, the War has created a huge demand for copper, and the mines have soared back into production. Mines near here are supplying almost three million pounds of copper a day. It's a very important commodity to help win the war.”

I nodded at him enthusiastically, as if I understood. The truth was that I knew very little about this place I had just arrived in and even less about the man sitting next to me. All that I knew for certain was that Robert Gordon and Dietrich Bonhoeffer were in seminary together years ago. I tried to recall the few details Dietrich had told me: He said the Reverend had been raised here, that his father had been a minister, and he was married and had a child.

”Reverend Gordon?”

”Robert. Call me Robert.”

I smiled. ”Robert, there's something I need to discuss with you. Something Dietrich wanted you to know. I don't know how much he might have told you about our...I mean...my...situation.” I had practiced this speech for the last five-hundred miles, yet I was still stymied for words.

”No.” He glanced over at me. ”Dietrich only told me he needed a safe place for someone to wait out the war.”

”I didn't want to leave Germany, but I didn't have much choice. I had to flee. The Gestapo-a secret police force in Germany-was closing in on us...on me.” I looked over at him, noticing that now he looked a little stunned.

He cleared his throat. ”May I ask why?”

”Well, for quite a few reasons.”

He shot a sideways glance at me that silently broadcasted, ”who have I just invited to live in my home?”

Who could blame him?

Where should I begin? At the beginning, I supposed. ”First of all, my father was Jewish. The Jewish people are under great duress from Hitler. And it is getting much, much worse for them.”

He nodded, understanding. ”A few years ago, I saw Dietrich in New York. He was quite distressed about the deteriorating situation in Germany. That's when he asked me if I would ever consider sponsoring someone. I've heard some reports about what is happening to the Jews in Germany. It's a terrible thing. You don't need to explain anything else.”

Oh, but I did. I had never told another living soul what I was about to divulge, but Dietrich, a straightforward and uncompromising man, felt Robert deserved full disclosure, despite my objections. ”There is still another reason that I had to flee. We've been part of the Resistance against the n.a.z.is.”

Another furtive glance cast in my direction. ”We?” he asked. ”You said 'we'.”

”Yes, I did. My involvement has to do with Dietrich. And his brother-in-law, Hans, who is an official in the Abwehr...the German Military Intelligence Organization. They both are working in Hitler's War Offices.” I could tell this was new knowledge for him, and this was only half of what I needed to say. I felt a little sorry for him, knowing what was to come.

”Go on,” Robert said, listening intently.

”Dietrich has been part of a plot, with a few others, who are working within the German government to a.s.sa.s.sinate Hitler. Actually, more than one. And I played a role-a small one. But each plot has run aground. Hitler is the luckiest man in the world. It's as if someone orchestrates his luck.”

Someone evil.

”And the Gestapo is close to arresting those involved. Dietrich insisted I leave Germany immediately. False identification papers had been prepared for me, and, before I knew it, I was heading across the border to Switzerland.”

I paused to gauge Robert's reaction as he took in this information. ”It would be understandable if you have second thoughts about inviting me into your home.” I looked over at him, carefully watching his face, trying to squelch the anxiety churning in my stomach.

We drove along for quite a while in silence. It was obvious he had no idea that Dietrich had been involved in Resistance Work, much less so, a.s.sa.s.sination plots. To be fair, it was a shocking piece of information. A pastor, a dynamic, deeply devoted man of G.o.d, plotting to kill Hitler.

Robert furrowed his brow and bit his lower lip in thoughtful silence. An eternity later, he turned to look at me. ”Louisa, why do you think Dietrich asked me to sponsor you?”