Watch Over My Child: Book Three in the Michal's Destiny Series

by Roberta Kagan

  “I love you, Shaul,” she said in his fantasy. He felt his body respond, as his penis grew hard.

  He was suddenly ashamed. What if old man Brighton came outside? What would he think if he saw Shaul with a bulge in his pants as Shaul was lining up the milk bottles.Think of something else, Shaul thought as he tried to shake the feeling. It was difficult. He wanted this dream to be true so badly that he couldn’t get the girl out of his mind. He filled the sink with just enough water to wash the glass bottles and began carefully loading them in.

  A deafening boom broke into Shaul’s dream life, then the ground beneath him began to rumble. Shaul was thrown back and fell upon the ground. In the distance he saw a fire spring up with angry red arms reaching to the sky. Black smoke began to emerge from the flames. Then there was another explosion louder and closer than the first. A roar came from above him.Shaul raised his head and through the openings in the wood panels of the barn he saw a formation of planes rumbling by, all of them bearing the Swastika—the Nazi insignia. He trembled, lying on the ground, unable to move. Get up, he thought. Get up and get into the truck and get out of here. This wasn’t the first time London had been bombed, but this was the first time it had happened so close to Shaul. He forced himself to run towards the truck, but just as he was opening the door another bomb hit the ground and the truck rolled on top of him. He felt the enormous weight crush his insides. As he took his final breath, Shaul realized that this was an all-out attack. London was under siege.

  CHAPTER 18

  1940 London Gilde

  Gilde could feel the earth trembling even deep underground in the basement where the man had taken her. She looked around her and saw a family. A woman, possibly the mother of the rest of the brood. She was heavyset with frizzy light brown hair in a single knot on top of her head. An attractive boy with honest eyes in his late teens and an attractive athletic girl a few years older than Gilde. The man who’d rescued her looked older than the mother, like he might be in his mid to late fifties. Gilde assumed he was the father, or perhaps the father was at war and he was the grandfather. She couldn’t be sure.

  “Don’t you recognize me, Gilde?” the young girl said. “I’m Sharon Lawrence. I was in Jane’s history class. We’ve met before.”

  Gilde shook her head.

  “I met you with Jane at the library once. It was a long time ago. But when the bombing started, my father pulled us all down here. But just as we were going into the shop to come downstairs I saw you outside and I recognized you. I told my father that I knew you and that he had to bring you down here with us so you would be safe. So he went back out and got you. These are my parents, that’s my brother,” the girl named Sharon said.

  Gilde looked at the girl in disbelief. It was hard to understand why her father would take such a risk. “Thank you,” Gilde stammered.

  Sharon’s father smiled. “I’m glad I could help,” he said.

  “Don’t be afraid,” the mother said to Gilde. “You’re safe here with us. It looks to me like you’ve been hurt pretty badly. Let me get you a towel. Your head is bleeding, your arms and knees too. Let’s clean you up so we can see how deep those cuts are. My son William has medical training, so if you need stitches, he can probably help.”

  Sharon’s mother pulled up a chair and got a towel from a shelf. While she was cleaning the back of Gilde’s head, Gilde noticed that the men both wore yarmulkes. This was a Jewish home. It had been so long since she’d been around a family with traditions like her own. When the father had pulled her into the shop she had been too stunned by everything happening around her to notice what kind of business they were in. The store was upstairs. Most of the shops on this street were two-story buildings with basements. The shop owners and their families lived upstairs.

  “My name is Gilde Margolis,” Gilde said to the rest of the family. “Thank you, Sharon, for remembering me and asking your father to help me, and it’s nice to meet all of you.”

  Sharon smiled.

  Mrs. Lawrence blotted the blood from Gilde’s head, her arm and her face. The hair on the back of Gilde’s head was crusted with dried blood. Gently the older woman parted Gilde’s golden locks. “Well, you were lucky. None of these wounds are very deep.”

  William walked over. “Let me have a quick look, Mother.” First he looked at the back of Gilde’s head. “I’m sure it hurts like the devil but it doesn’t need stitches,” he said. Then he took her arm in his and looked for glass inside the cuts. “It’s dark in here, but I don’t think that you have any glass in these.” Next William knelt and they were eye to eye. He smiled at her. Tenderly he touched the cut on her cheek. Gilde winced. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts.”

  “Will I have a scar on my face?” she asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. You can rest assured that your pretty face will be just as lovely as always in a couple of days when that heals.”

  “I really can’t thank you enough for helping me,” Gilde said. Her head hurt.

  “You have an accent. Where are you from?” The mother’s eyes turned to slits as she looked at Gilde skeptically. “It sounds like a German accent? Are you a German?”

  “I’m from Germany, but I am not a German. I mean I was born in Germany. But Hitler has decided that because I’m a Jew I am not a German.”

  “Judaism is a religion not a nationality,” Sharon said. “If you’re from Germany, you’re a German. I hope you aren’t a spy, are you?”

  “A spy? No. I am certainly not a spy. I am lucky to have escaped from Germany with my life. Judaism is not just a religion, it’s also a nationality, at least it is in Germany since Hitler took over. In Germany, if you are Jewish you have no rights as a German citizen. You are a Jew, not a German. You have no country. My parents were arrested one night when all of the Jewish businesses were vandalized by the Nazis for no reason at all. First, my father was arrested for trying to defend my sister’s fiancé who was murdered on the street. Then my mother went to the police station to try to help my father and she never came back. Being a Jew is a crime under Hitler,” Gilde said.

  “How is that possible?” Sharon’s father asked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, they don’t like Jews much here either. But it’s not as bad as that.”

  “I don’t know how it is possible that they are arresting innocent people, but it’s very bad for Jews in Germany, very bad,” Gilde said.

  “We have plenty of anti-Semitism, Sam,” the mother said to the father. “Don’t be such an idealist. We’re Jews. You know that no matter where we live, because of our religion we are never really safe.”

  “I know I am young and have not seen a lot of the world. But from what my parents told me, there has always been anti-Semitism. But I am telling you, what is going on in Germany is beyond anything I could ever have imagined. Even now as I am sitting here in Britain, I don’t know if my parents are alive or dead. The last letter I received from my sister said that the mail was being censored. She said she wasn’t going to be able to write to me anymore. Still I tried to stay in contact. I wrote to her again, but she never answered. I can’t say whether she ever got my letter. You see, I was sent here with a group of Jewish orphans by a charitable organization that made arrangements with families who were willing to take us in. The program was called the Kindertransport. It was only because my sister and a close friend of our family worked at the orphanage that I was accepted in the program. But only young people were allowed to go. My sister would have gone with me but she was too old. If I had not been brought here to your country, who knows what might have happened to me.”

  The woman had kind eyes, the color of a light gray dove. “We are the Lawrences. I am Lenore, this is my husband Sam, my daughter Sharon you already know, and my son William. You’re in the basement of our jewelry store. We live in an apartment right upstairs. My husband fixes watches and cuts stones and diamonds.”

  Gilde smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you so much, Mr. Lawrence, for bringing me here. I gue
ss I just froze from fear.”

  The explosion of a bomb outside shattered the conversation and everyone in the basement jumped.

  “It’s hard to believe that we are at war. William wants to join the navy, but I am hoping that he will reconsider. He’s a brilliant boy. He would be of better use to the world as a doctor than a soldier,” Mrs. Lawrence said.

  Gilde could see that Lenore Lawrence was terrified for her son to enlist and she couldn’t blame her.

  “I understand how you must feel,” Gilde said. “Hitler has ruined so many lives. I cannot understand how all of these terrible things can happen. I feel as if my world in Germany was turned upside down and now Hitler has followed me here to Britain.”

  “I don’t even know why we have put ourselves into this war. If Hitler attacks Poland why do France and Britain have to be a part of all of it?” Mr. Lawrence said.

  “Because if we allow the Nazis to take Poland, next it will be France and before long it will be us,” William said. “That’s why I have to fight. Do you understand that at all, Father?”

  Mr. Lawrence sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

  Gilde watched the family and felt her heart break for them. It was strange to speak to Jews who spoke English with an English accent the way the non-Jews spoke. She wondered if they spoke Yiddish too. But somehow, she didn’t feel that this was the time to ask them. Every time a bomb fell outside the building, Mr. Lawrence whispered a Hebrew prayer of thanks that they had been spared. Gilde’s father had not been one to say prayers, but she’d heard Lev say them, especially on the Jewish holidays, and the memory brought tears to her eyes. Lev and Lotti. They were such good friends of the family. Lotti was not Jewish, but she respected Lev’s religion and he in turn respected hers. How she longed to be in the warm safe blanket of her home, of her family and friends. She had to keep believing that they were all still alive, because the thought that they might be gone forever was too painful to accept.

  A young couple came rushing down the stairs into the Lawrences’ basement. The man was tall and thin, the woman tall and thin as well but shorter than the man.

  “Lenore, it’s sheer madness outside. People are looting the stores. Is all of your inventory upstairs in the store?”

  “No, not the diamonds, the watches, or the gold. Only the gemstones and a few silver chains,” Mrs. Lawrence said.

  “Maybe I should go up and try to salvage what I can,” Sam Lawrence said.

  “Don’t be a fool. It’s too dangerous. If the gemstones and the silver get stolen, at least we still have the diamonds, gold, and watches.”

  “Our building was hit. We can’t get into the basement. I am afraid to try. Can we stay here with you?” the neighbor lady asked.

  “Of course,” Lenore said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Then she turned to Gilde. “Gilde, these are our neighbors. They own the butcher shop next door. Jeffrey and Marge Weiss.”

  “A pleasure to meet you,” Gilde said, noticing that the man had the black hat, long black coat, white shirt, and black trousers that she’d seen Orthodox Jews wear in Germany.

  The woman smiled and touched Gilde’s arm. Her head was covered and she wore a long skirt and a blouse with long sleeves and a high neck. The man did not meet Gilde’s eyes nor did he get close to her.

  “They’re Orthodox Jews,” William said.

  “Son, that’s very rude.” Mr. Lawrence stared at William.

  “Well, it’s true. I just wanted Gilde to understand why Mr. Weiss was acting so strangely towards her.”

  “William, please,” Lenore said as she shook her head. “The way my son behaves you’d think he was still a child instead of a man.”

  Gilde smiled at William. He returned her smile. She thought he was incredibly attractive. His eyes were the color of the ocean like his father’s and his hair was the color of a copper medallion she’d once seen in the window of a jewelry store.

  At ten minutes after six, an all-clear signal was sounded.

  “I don’t think we should go out there yet,” Sam said.

  This was not the first time London had been bombed, but it was the first time London had been bombed so relentlessly.

  And Sam was right. They could hear the chaos outside. Then at eight o’clock the bombing began again.

  The bombs rained over London through the night. Gilde knew she should somehow try to get home. The Kendalls would be worried. But she dared not venture out into the darkness with all that was transpiring that night. Everyone sat listening to the thunder of the outside world and each of them feared that the next explosion would fall upon their heads and the building above them would collapse, leaving them to die of suffocation.

  CHAPTER 19

  The bombs had stopped during the night, and the following morning it seemed to be quiet enough for Gilde to go outside and try to make her way back to the Kendalls. The Weiss’s had left an hour earlier.

  “I should get home,” Gilde said. “The family I am staying with will be worried about me.”

  “Before you go, let me go upstairs and get some water so I can help you clean up those cuts properly,” Mrs. Lawrence said.

  William followed Gilde and his mother upstairs. “I might as well clean them off for you and take a better look in the light of day, just to make sure that there isn’t glass in your skin,” he said.

  “Very well, Wil. You can take care of it for her if you’d like.” Mrs. Lawrence said, “Would you like some tea or something to eat before you go?”

  Gilde was hungry, very hungry, but she didn’t feel comfortable taking the Lawrences’ rations so she declined the offer and thanked the family. As she made her way out to the street, Gilde saw that all of the glass display cases in the shop were shattered. Gilde felt so bad for the kind family who had helped her through the night. They’d lost so much in the bombing. There had been no time for Mr. Lawrence to empty the cases. Gilde assumed that looters had taken most of what was in the shop because only a few pieces of jewelry were scattered throughout the broken glass. The door to the building had been blown off its hinges and lay in the street. Gilde’s heart broke for the Lawrences. Her father had been a business owner. She remembered how much pride and work he put into keeping his shop before the Nazis stole it from him and gave it to an Aryan carpenter. Gilde wished she could stay and help clean up, but she had to get back. So, she walked through the opening and began to make her way home. London was almost unrecognizable in its destruction. Buildings that had once stood tall and strong now lay in piles of debris. Dead and dying were everywhere. The smell of fire and the dust from the ruined buildings sent Gilde into a choking fit of coughing, her eyes burning as she kept walking towards home. A couple of children wobbled aimlessly through the streets in search of their parents. A little girl stared at Gilde, looking lost and dumbfounded.

  “Where are your parents?” Gilde asked. The child could not be more than five years old. She didn’t answer. Gilde bent down so she would be the same height as the little girl. She could see that the child was scared and she didn’t want to be intimidating. “Are you all alone?”

  The child stared at Gilde blankly, but her eyes were as wide as a full moon. Still, she did not speak.

  “Let me help you…” Gilde said and began to walk over to the girl. As she got closer, the child panicked and began to run through piles of rubble. Gilde thought about chasing her, but she had to get home. She was worried about Jane and the family. The child disappeared into the remains of a broken building, then Gilde caught a glimpse of the little girl’s blue coat as she ran all the way through the building and into another.

  Gilde said a silent prayer for the little girl, then she began running towards home. At any time the planes could come back, dashing over her head, and another bomb could land anywhere, even right on top of her. Twice she slipped on the rocks and crumbled stone that had once been buildings, scraping her knees and elbows, but she got up and continued running. Her adrenaline was too pumped up for her to fee
l any pain. Sometime during the night’s bombing, a big red bus had fallen straight into a hole in the street. The crevice was so deep that Gilde felt a chill as she looked at it. From where she stood she could see a pile of bodies on top of each other inside the train car. She ran faster.

  Finally she arrived at the street where she lived with the Kendalls. It too was in shambles. She’d been worried about the Kendalls. But somehow in the back of her mind, she’d expected their house to be spared. How could she have been so foolish? She thought she would return and the house where she lived would be just as she’d left it. But it wasn’t. In fact, it was leveled to the ground. Her heart raced. She bit her lower lip so hard that she tasted the salty taste of blood. Gilde was afraid to look through the piles of wood and brick. She was afraid of what she might find. Her head was spinning and she was dizzy.She gagged but didn’t vomit. It had been too long since the last time she’d eaten and her stomach was empty. Still she felt the bitter bile rise, burning her throat. Bending over at the waist, she forced herself to breathe deeply several times between fits of coughing. The dust from the rubble made it hard to breathe. Even if she cried out for help, there was no one around to hear her. So, alone and horrified, Gilde began to search for the remains of the surrogate family who had taken her in.

  She found them, but not all of them.

  The bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Kendall were brutally deformed, bloody, missing limbs, their faces distorted in pain. But, strangely, she could not find Jane. Jane had already begun her nurses training, but she was still returning home at night. So, Gilde had expected to find her. But, unbeknownst to Gilde, Jane was not at home when the bombs fell. Gilde looked at the destruction all around her then she sat down on a pile of bricks that had once been a part of the neighbor’s home and began to cry. Her hands were filthy from the search, but she didn’t notice. She covered her face with her hands and wept.