For the next eight months, Jo lived an idyllic life in Richmond with her husband and son. Dieter now preached at a church of his own, and Jo put her nanny skills to use in a nursery for Paul and the other little ones while he preached. During the week, she prepared meals, did laundry, cleaned house, and performed other homemaking duties while Dieter worked on sermons in his study or visited parishioners who were sick or otherwise in need.
In the summer evenings, Dieter and Jo would go for long walks in the countryside, little Paul held snug in his father's arms while his parents enjoyed the aroma of the blossoming flowers. When the weather cooled, they'd cuddle up together with their son on the sofa, listening to Landestheater Orchestra, Gurzenich Orchestra, or Freund Quartet. Sometimes Dieter played piano, while Jo held the baby and they both sang along to A Mighty Fortress Is Our God, Crown Him With Many Crowns, and I know That My Redeemer Lives.
For Jo, her life in twenty-first century Concord seemed distant and vague, like a dream she'd once had.
In October, a letter arrived from Julia bringing sad news.
Your father is deteriorating rapidly, she wrote. If you ever want to see him again, you must come right away.
Dieter, Jo, and Paul rode the train to Berlin with Werner, Sybille, and little Dieter. Agile as a monkey, little Dieter was everywhere at once - under the seat, in the aisle, and anywhere else his little legs would take him, while baby Paul's big eyes followed his every move. Watching the antics of the mischievous child proved to be an absorbing activity for the four adults.
Reaching Paul and Julia's house at last, Jo volunteered to stay with the children so the others could go to the hospital. Day became night, and still they didn't return. Jo settled the little boys down for the night and then stationed herself in a big chair beside the door to await her husband's return, eventually falling asleep.
It was a little after midnight when Dieter, Werner, and Sybille finally returned. The turning of the key in the lock awakened her. She panicked for just a second, then remembered where she was and what was going on.
Dieter looked at her with red-rimmed eyes, and she knew. She went into his arms, and he held her tight.
"When did it happen?" she asked.
"About an hour ago," he told her. "It was very peaceful, thank God. He simply closed his eyes and was gone."
"I'm so sorry!" said Jo.
"Thank you. I'm so glad he isn't suffering anymore. He's with God now - although it does seem strange that I would gain a son and lose my father in the same year."
"I'm glad we named him Paul," said Jo. "How's your mother?"
"She's been sedated. Rudi and Ulrike are taking care of her. How are the boys?"
"Fine. They've been asleep for several hours."
"I'm headed right to bed. I'm just about to fall asleep standing on my feet as it is."
He went to bed still fully clothed and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Jo joined him, settling into his arms for the night.
The funeral was several days later. Gunther, Sophie, and their sons traveled from Switzerland to attend. After the graveside service, the whole family gathered at the Baumgartner home to eat and share memories. Jo saw Oskar again and remarked on how much older he looked.
"War does that to you," he told her.
"You were fortunate to have survived," she replied.
"Barely so," he said. "I can't tell you how many times a bullet came within inches of hitting me. My best friend, Uwe, was shot in the head. I held him as he bled to death."
He wiped his eyes with his handkerchief.
"I'm so sorry!" Jo said as she gave him a hug.
"It's all right," he said. "For a long time, I hated the Russians, but after seeing how my own people in the Soviet sector are faring, I realize what an oppressive and corrupt government they live under, and I thank God I was not born a Russian."
In the back of her mind, Jo recalled history lessons about the hardships suffered by the people of the former Soviet Union and its satellites. She sighed, realizing that it would be decades before they would finally be free.
After all the guests had left, Dieter told Jo they would be remaining in Berlin rather than returning to Richmond with Werner and Sybille.
"Werner is well established in his church, and my own can easily find another pastor," he explained. "My mother is alone now and needs me to help look out for her."
"I'll miss England, but it'll be nice to be closer to my own family again," Jo replied.
"That, and my mother will enjoy watching our son grow up," said Dieter.
They traveled to Tempelhof to visit Mrs. Weber, Horst, Renate, Konrad, and little Heinz. Horst seemed to be in good spirits.
"I've joined a construction company as part of their crew." He smiled. "I've also met a very sweet girl named Sanna. She plays piano in our church. We've been seeing each other for a couple of months now."
"I'm so glad! I saw Oskar at Dieter's father's funeral. He seems to be faring well also."
"I'm happy to hear it."
Emotional scars remain long after the physical war is over, Jo thought to herself.
In January, little Paul celebrated his first birthday. Jo baked a cake and invited their friends and family over to celebrate.
In June, the Soviets blocked the railway, road, and canal access to the American, British, and French sectors of Berlin. The day after the blockade began, British and American airplanes began flying over the city, dropping food and other needed supplies.
"God has provided for our needs, as He always does," Dieter remarked.
The British and Americans have provided for our needs, you mean, Jo wanted to say, but knew she didn't dare.