To Be An Israeli: The Fourth Book in the All My Love, Detrick series

by Roberta Kagan

  “Ima’s not here. Do you know where she is?” Katja asked Zofia.

  “No, she never said anything about being home late today,” Zofia said.

  Joan returned and picked up the phone. “Jen says she hasn’t seen Ima all day and doesn’t know where she is,” Joan said.

  “Thanks, Joan. I don’t know where she is. If you hear anything, please call me right away.” Kat felt her throat close as she put the receiver back on the phone.

  “Jen has no idea where Ima is. She says Ima was not in school today.”

  “Oh my God,” Zofia said.

  “Mama.” Katja turned to Zofia. “I can’t believe this. Ima is missing. She wasn’t in school today, and she’s not home or at Jennifer’s house. What is happening? Where is my baby?” Katja was shaking.

  Zofia’s face had gone pale. “We have to call the police.”

  Katja picked up the phone. She felt her lungs closing. She could hardly breathe. “Mama, I can’t talk. Would you please call for me?”

  Zofia nodded. “Give me the phone,” she said. When the dispatcher at the police station answered, Zofia said, “My granddaughter is missing. She did not show up at school today. We need help, right away.”

  “We’ll send out an officer.”

  The policewoman arrived within ten minutes. Her demeanor was calm and efficient, but it did nothing to keep Katja’s hysteria at bay. The policewoman led Katja to the living room sofa then she motioned for Kat to sit down. Katja, in a zombie-like state, did as she was told. Then, the policewoman put her hand on Katja’s shoulder. “We’ll send out squads right away, and we’ll find her.”

  “Oh my God, what could have happened to my daughter?”

  “Did you have a fight with her earlier today? Do you think there is some possibility that she might have run away?”

  Katja shook her head. “No, I didn’t fight with her at all, did you, Mom?”

  “No,” Zofia said.

  “Has she mentioned a boyfriend, perhaps, who she might be staying with?”

  “No, nobody. There is no one that I know of. I called her best friend, and she has not seen her. She said that Ima was not at school all day.”

  “Give me the names of her friends, and I’ll make sure that we get on this right away,” the policewoman said.

  CHAPTER 81

  Katja could not sit still. She paced the room. Her skin had broken out into red blotches, and she felt the sweat pooling under her arms. Zofia sat on the sofa twisting the hem of her housecoat and biting her lips. They waited with the phone on the coffee table right in front of them, wishing the police would call and fearing the news that the call might deliver.

  A half hour passed, and then the phone rang. Katja tripped on the carpet as she ran to pick it up with a trembling hand.

  “Kat, did you find Ima?” It was Joan, Jennifer’s mother.

  “No, we called the police. I don’t know what’s happened to her.” Katja was crying. “Oh my God, Joan…”

  “I’m coming over,” Joan said. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

  “Bring Jen. Maybe she knows something, anything, a boy that Ima has been dating that we don’t know about…something, Joan, something…”

  “I will.”

  Jennifer and her mother arrived. They sat on the sofa, Jennifer biting her nails, and Joan with her arm around Katja.

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Joan said. “I’m sure she just went somewhere.”

  “Where? Where could she possibly have gone? It’s dark outside. Ima wouldn’t have gone anywhere and stayed this late without calling. It’s not like her,” Katja said, shaking her head. “Jen, do you know of any boys that she might be seeing? Do you know anything, anything at all that can help? Please tell me if you do.”

  “Tell her, Jen. Whatever it is, you won’t get in trouble. I promise you. This is serious. We have to find Ima.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything at all. There was no boy that she was serious about. I mean, there were guys she liked, but she wasn’t going with anyone.”

  “Please, Jen, tell me the names of all the boys so that the police can talk to them.”

  Jen took a deep breath then looked at her mother. Joan gave her a dark stare. “I’ll give you their names. Can I have a pencil and paper? I’ll write them all down.”

  Joan had been at many meetings for Katja’s foundation that had taken place at the Zaltstein home. She knew where Katja kept pencils and paper. “Sit, Kat, please, I’ll get them for her,” Joan said and went to the cabinet.

  Jennifer left a list of boys’ names, then she and her mother went home. There was nothing more they could do to help or comfort Katja and Zofia.

  By ten o’clock, Katja was frantic. She’d called the police with the names of the boys almost two hours earlier when Jennifer had given them to her, but so far, she’d heard nothing. Zofia was quiet. She didn’t say a word, but she looked pale, and the wrinkles in her brow were deepened. Katja called the police station again. And once again, there was nothing new to tell her. They were working on it; the dispatcher had said. They had squads out looking for a missing teenager.

  Katja held her hand to her forehead. The clock ticked. She’d never noticed it before, but in the silence, she could hear the incessant ticking. Every terrible possibility ran through Katja’s mind. She excused herself and went to the bathroom just, to be alone if only for a few minutes. After closing the door and locking it, she leaned her head on the cool wood and began to cry. “Mendel,” she whispered. “Mendel, our baby is missing.” The faucet dripped. It had been dripping for several months now. She’d meant to get it fixed.

  For a moment, she considered slashing her wrists. That way, if there were terrible news, she’d never have to face it. Then she heard the front door to the house slam. Someone had arrived. Oh God, what if it’s the police? What if they have come to tell me that they found Ima, and she’s…

  CHAPTER 82

  Katja’s body trembled as if a bucket of ice water had fallen on her head and was running down her back. She whispered a prayer before she opened the bathroom door.

  Then she heard Ima’s voice.

  Katja could hardly breathe. She ran toward the living room, tripping on the carpet and losing her footing. She righted herself by holding onto the wall in the main hallway. From where she was she could hear Zofia…then, a voice. Could it be? Could it be Ima?

  “No, Grandma, I have nothing to tell you. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”

  “Ima? Ima, is that you?” Katja came running into the living room. She took Ima into her arms, but Ima was cold and stood there stick-straight and frozen. “Where were you? We were all worried sick,” Katja said. Then she looked at her daughter, and she knew something had happened, something terrible. Ima was filthy. Her shirt was torn. There were scratches on her face and arms. Her clothes were spotted with dried blood. “Ima? Ima, what happened?” Katja asked, bending down to look into her daughter’s eyes.

  “Nothing. Please, let me go…” Ima ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. Katja heard her turn the lock. She ran to the door and started knocking.

  “Ima, Ima, open the door,” Katja was yelling although she didn’t realize that her voice was raised.

  Zofia walked over to put her hand on Katja’s, and then she took Katja’s hand in her own. “Let her be for now. She needs to be alone,” Zofia said.

  Katja’s eyes locked with her mother’s, and she could see, in the depths of Zofia’s eyes, the pain her mother had endured in her life.

  “Mama…my Ima, what can I do for her?” Katja was crying, she’d fallen into Zofia’s arms. Zofia held her and smoothed her hair.

  “Let her be,” she whispered. “She will come to us when she’s ready. She needs some time to be alone.” Zofia put her arm around Katja and led her to the sofa. “Sit here. I’ll call the police and tell them to stop the search.”

  CHAPTER 83

  Katja heard Ima run the water for a bath.

>   “I’m afraid she’ll hurt herself. I am going to ask her to let me in,” Katja said. “Something terrible happened. She needs to talk to someone.”

  “Yes, I can see that. But knocking on the door will only make things worse. Give her a chance to pull herself together. She’s a strong girl. She’ll be all right. Thanks be to God that she is alive.”

  “Thanks be to God,” Katja repeated.

  They waited. Ima finally came out of the bathroom and went to her room. She did not even look at her mother or her grandmother.

  A couple of hours passed. Katja and Zofia listened, but no sound came from Ima’s room. Quietly, Zofia opened the door and looked inside. Ima was asleep, or at least she appeared to be. “Get some rest,” Zofia said to Katja. “She’s sleeping. Perhaps she will be willing to talk to us in the morning. There is nothing we can do right now. Just thank God that she is home, and she is alive. Believe it or not, everything else can be healed. I know this from personal experience.”

  Katja nodded. “Yes, Mama, thank God she’s here and she’s alive. I have no idea what happened or where she was all night. But whatever she has to face, I will be there to help her.”

  “And so will I,” Zofia said.

  “Goodnight, Mama,” Katja said, kissing Zofia’s cheek.

  “Goodnight, sunshine.” Zofia rubbed Katja’s shoulder then turned and went to her room.

  Katja heard the door to her mother’s bedroom softly close. The house was so silent. Outside an owl hooted. What was the next step? What was she to do now? But her mother was right. No matter what happened, they were blessed, and Ima was alive. Everything else would work itself out. Zofia was no stranger to suffering. Katja knew that for sure. She knew that Zofia had endured unspeakable things in the concentration camp. And with all she had endured, she’d gone on to live a life of gratitude to God.

  Katja turned off all of the lights in the house. Then she took off her clothes and put on her nightgown. She climbed into her bed, feeling alone and chilled. Her feet felt frozen under the covers even though it was not cold in the room. She wished she could climb into bed with her mother like she’d done when she had a nightmare as a child. In her mother’s arms, she might be able to escape from the dread of whatever had happened. As she lay there unable to sleep, her mind raced, imagining every possible horror that might have happened to Ima.

  Finally, the sun began to rise. Katja gave up on trying to sleep. She got out of bed and went to the kitchen where she found Zofia already awake and boiling water for coffee.

  “She’s still asleep,” Zofia said, referring to Ima.

  Katja glanced at Ima’s door and nodded. “Did you check on her?”

  “Of course. I checked to make sure she was breathing.”

  “You knew that was what I would do, didn’t you?” Katja asked.

  “Of course. I did it to you plenty. When you were sick or when you and Elan broke up, and you were so distraught.”

  “You checked to make sure I didn’t kill myself?”

  “I was worried, Katja. Of course, I checked.”

  “I never knew. I mean, I never heard you come into my room.”

  “I was quiet. I never wanted you to know…I just wanted to be sure you were okay.”

  “Oh, Mama, I’m so scared. I hope Ima will be all right. Do you think she took anything? Should we check on her again? I am worried that she could have overdosed on pills or done something else that was terrible.”

  “I just checked on her. She doesn’t have anything narcotic to take. It’s early. She’ll be awake, and she’ll come out of her room soon,” Zofia said. “Sit down and have a cup of tea or coffee. Try to relax and stay calm. I’m here with you, sunshine.”

  Ima didn’t come out of her room until the policewoman who had been working on her case arrived. She wanted to see Ima, to ask her where she was the previous night and if she was all right. Katja went to knock on Ima’s door, but Zofia shook her head. “You’re nervous and upset. Let me go and get her.”

  “Yes, Mom, you go into her room and talk to her. I think she would be more receptive to you.”

  Zofia walked into Ima’s room and quietly closed the door.

  It was several minutes, but Ima came out with Zofia behind her. She wore a black tee shirt and black jeans. Her beautiful golden curls had been cropped to less than an inch. Katja gasped when she saw her daughter. Zofia just bit her lower lip and shook her head at Katja, warning her not to mention that Ima had chopped off her hair. Ima plopped down in the corner of the sofa and wrapped her slender arms around her chest.

  “Hi, Ima.” The female police officer smiled. “You gave us quite a scare last night.”

  Ima shrugged. “I’m fine,” she said, looking down at the floor as if there were something very interesting that she’d never seen there before.

  “Yes, I can see that. Can you tell us where you were yesterday? Why you never went to school or came home on time? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. I was with some friends. That’s it; that’s all.”

  “Can you give us their names?”

  “I don’t remember. I met them yesterday. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m fine.”

  “All right. But if you need help, you can call me, and I’ll be happy to help you. We have someone on staff who you can talk to, a counselor. I mean, if you need to talk, she is a good listener…”

  Ima nodded.

  “Here is my card.”

  Ima took the card and put it down on the coffee table. The officer forced a smile at Ima then she got up and left.

  “What happened to your hair?” Katja asked. She had to ask, she couldn’t believe that her daughter had butchered her hair when she was in her room the previous night. She looked terrible, like one of the pictures Katja had seen of the women who’d been in the concentration camps.

  “I cut it. I got sick of it, sick of looking like a child.”

  Katja walked over and touched Ima’s shorn locks. What was left of her hair looked like it had been shredded with a razor blade. “I would have taken you to the beauty salon to get it cut if you wanted a haircut…”

  A deep line formed between Ima’s brows.

  “I think it looks very cute,” Zofia said. “How about maybe you should eat something?” Zofia smiled at Ima.

  “I’m not hungry. I’m not going to school today either.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Zofia said. “Let’s spend the day together. Maybe we can watch a movie on the television. Huh? We always like to watch those old romantic movies, you and me?”

  Ima shrugged.

  “How about we’ll see what’s playing? I’ll even let you pick what we’re going to watch,” Zofia said, and she got up to cut a slice of pita bread and put it into the oven, to warm. “How about a biseleh pita, or maybe a biseleh hummus? I just made this hummus yesterday, and not to brag or anything, but I think it’s pretty good.”

  “I said I’m not hungry,” Ima said.

  “I know what you said. So I’m going to eat. You can watch me.” Zofia sat down at the table and began to smooth the hummus slowly onto the pita. Then she put it to her nose and took a deep breath in. “Mmm, it really smells wonderful.”

  Ima had not eaten since the previous morning. She began to realize that she was hungry, very hungry.

  “I guess I’ll have some.”

  “Here…” Zofia handed her a large piece of the bread then moved the plate of hummus and black olives toward her granddaughter.

  Katja watched her amazing mother. Zofia always seemed to know what to do in a crisis…what wisdom, what patience. Of course, Katja knew that her mother had been to hell several times and had survived. In her life, Zofia had met the devil face-to-face in the form of a Nazi SS officer, and she’d come through stronger than ever. She’d lost the love of her life twice: once, when she’d believed that he perished during the war then again when he died after they’d shared many years of deep love. Zofia had realized her dreams of a Jewish homeland.
And though she’d endured terrible pain and loss in her life, she’d also experienced love and joy beyond words.

  And now Katja knew that, for Zofia, her grandchild was the light of her life. Zofia hid it well, but Katja was sure that it hurt her very deeply to see Ima suffering. However, because of her own past, Zofia knew how to approach Ima. Unlike Katja, Zofia knew what to say and what not to say.

  CHAPTER 84

  Two weeks passed, and Ima still had not returned to school. Katja found the tubes of lipstick and mascara that Ima had cherished before her disappearance discarded in the trash can.

  When Jennifer called, Ima would tell Katja or Zofia to tell Jen that she was asleep. Ima had completely withdrawn into herself. She hardly ate, and her already slender frame was becoming bony. With her short-cropped hair, she looked like a scarecrow. She didn’t talk much, just “yes” or “no” answers to any questions posed to her. Ima spent most of her time alone in her room. Katja was beside herself with worry.

  “What are we going to do with her, Mama? I think she needs to see a professional, a psychologist,” Katja said to Zofia late one night, neither of them able to sleep.

  “She wouldn’t go, and it wouldn’t help until she’s ready to work with the doctor. All we can do is let her know that we are here for her and that we love her. Obviously, something terrible happened. Perhaps one of the boys at school forced her to do something…”

  “But she won’t tell us who it was or what happened. She won’t tell us anything. How can we help her if we don’t know anything? What can we do?” Katja said, her hands trembling. She had dark, puffy circles under her eyes. In the past, she’d always kept her hair perfectly styled, but now it was flat and greasy from needing to be washed. She’d stopped coordinating meetings and fund drives for her organization. Instead, she stayed home all day and watched Ima, who moved through the house like a ghost. “I’m so afraid she will do something to hurt herself.”