You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Book 2)

by Roberta Kagan

  “I would like that. It would help me to see how accurate I am.”

  When Fruma returned with the bread, Zofia was taking Helen’s measurements.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Zofia said, and put the tape measure down on the table.

  “It’s all right. I asked her to do it.”

  “But she isn’t ready to measure you properly.”

  “I don’t mind, even if it’s just for practice,” Helen said.

  Fruma smiled. “All right then, Zofia, you can go ahead and let’s see how you do.”

  After Zofia had finished, her boss checked her work.

  “Very good. I am happy to say, you are getting the hang of this.”

  Zofia smiled and Helen smiled too.

  Helen spent hours sifting through bolts of fabric. She finally decided upon an ivory satin with a lace overlay.

  “She is a nice girl,” Fruma said after Helen left. “I’ve known her and her mother for a very long time. Her mother is a midwife. She is a good woman, not a Jew. But she’s never shown any disdain for us either.”

  “O,.” Zofia said. She turned away. A midwife. She would need a midwife, but she was an unmarried woman. Nobody in their right mind would want to become involved in such a scandal. She was worried. How would she tell Fruma that she was pregnant? What if she lost her job? But before Zofia had a chance, Fruma decided to talk to her.

  “Here, eat. I brought some rolls and a hunk of cheese. Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, a little…” Zofia was ravenous.

  “Zofia, sit down here. I want to talk to you.” Fruma Kolowsky put the grainy bread on a plate. “I have been fitting women longer than you have been on this earth. That would come to about 35 years. I know the female body very well. And, well… I am not going to beat around the bush here… Zofia, you are with child. I can see it.”

  Zofia dropped her thin slice of cheese.

  “It’s all right. I am not going to let you go. You have a job here. I might seem harsh sometimes, but I understand more than you know. I am going to help you. That’s why I told you that Helen’s mother was a midwife. We will talk to her and perhaps she will deliver the baby here in my apartment right above the shop.”

  Zofia realized that she knew very little about her boss’s personal life. But the kindness Mrs. Kolowsky was showing her brought tears to her eyes.

  “It’s going to be fine.”

  “Will your husband be angry if I give birth in your apartment?”

  “I have no husband. I have never been married. I live with a lady friend. She is kind and understanding. You will like her. She will be fine with us using the apartment.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am sure. Gitel and I have lived on the edge of society for a very long time. So we have learned long ago not to worry too much about what people say.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know you don’t. Gitel is my husband.”

  “But you said she is a woman.”

  “Yes. Now you understand?”

  Zofia nodded.

  “Close your mouth, you’ll swallow a fly.” Fruma laughed.

  “But your title is Mrs.?”

  “Yes, I use that. Like I said, Gitel and I are married, if not in the synagogue, then in our hearts, for sure.”

  “I’ve never met anyone who…”

  “And so there is a first time for everything. By the way, you did very well with your fitting today. You are going to be a good dressmaker, Zofie. I know I have been hard on you sometimes, but that is the only to make you excel at your work. And I must say, I am very proud of you.”

  “How can I ever thank you?”

  “Ach, I don’t need thanks. I need an apprentice. I need your help. So, if you are in agreement, once the baby comes, we are going to set up a play pen here so that you can continue to work. Gitel already knows about this and she has agreed to help. Between the three of us we will care for the child.”

  Tears flowed down Zofia’s face. Fruma had known all along! “You are so good to me…”

  “Ach, stop. You make me embarrassed,” Fruma laughed. “Come on now, eat. You must eat. The baby should be healthy and strong.”

  Zofia felt unburdened. It was as if a thousand-pound weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Since the incident with Mr. Taylor, she’d borne the fear of her pregnancy alone. She could not discuss her predicament with Lena who she rarely saw these days or with her mother who was wrapped up in her own depression. But now she had a friend, an ally, who would help her get through this. And Fruma was right. She was becoming a good seamstress.

  Zofia still loved the American swing music and she sang it to herself while she worked.

  One afternoon, Gitel arrived at the tailor shop carrying a large package.

  “I’m Gitel. Fruma said she told you about me?” Gitel asked.

  “Yes. She did. I’m Zofia.”

  “Fruma asked me to bring this for the two of you; she says she is sick of your singing.” Gitel laughed and she put the box down on the counter. “Go on, open it.”

  Zofia opened the box. Inside she found a turntable with four American swing records. She gasped with delight. “Oh, my gosh, thank you. Thank you both.”

  When Zofia had returned from Donald’s apartment, she put the turntable and records into the closet. It had been unbearable to look at them. Now, she thought that she might bring some of the records into the shop.

  When it wasn’t busy and no customers were around, Zofia would get up and coax Fruma to dance with her. She taught Fruma the steps that she’d learned from Donald. And Fruma learned to appreciate American music as much as Zofia did. Sometimes they would splurge and buy a new record.

  When Zofia entered, her sixth month there was no longer any hiding her extended belly. The baby would arrive soon, and she knew she must tell her mother.

  After work on a Friday evening, Zofia picked up her usual Challah and chicken on the way home from work. It was the Sabbath, so she got off early to prepare. She arrived at home and put the chicken up to roast, and then she went into her mother’s room. As always, the room was dark. Her mother lay facing the wall, eyes open.

  “Good Sabbath, Mama,” Zofia said as she smoothed her mother’s thinning hair back from her troubled face.

  “How do you feel?”

  “Oy, not so good, Zofie.”

  “What hurts you?”

  “Everything, my whole body aches. I am so tired, but I cannot sleep. I don’t know, mine kind. I am just not well.”

  “I’m sorry mama. Can I get you anything?”

  “No, nothing. You do enough already.”

  “Mama,” Zofia hesitated. Her mother did not look at her; she continued to stare at the wall. Zofia wished she didn’t have to tell her. But soon the cries of an infant would echo through the house. She had to be made aware of what was to come.

  “I have something to tell you.”

  Her mother did not answer.

  “I am pregnant. I think the baby will be born in October.” Zofia swallowed hard.

  Her mother found a burst of angry energy. Zofia had not seen her so enraged in years.

  “A shanda (a scandal)! You will never marry a decent boy. How could you let something like this happen? Did someone force himself on you?”

  “No, mama. I am sorry.”

  “Get out of my room. I am sick when I look at you. As if we didn’t suffer enough, now you have brought shame upon us. How could you do this to me? How?” Mrs. Weiss asked.

  That night Zofia’s mother refused to eat. The next day she refused again. She would not speak to her daughter at all. Instead, she just laid staring at the wall and shaking her head. Zofia was filled with guilt, but she hoped that once her mother saw the child her heart would soften. Eventually, she would get hungry, and she had to eat.

  On Monday, Zofia went to work. When she returned that evening her mother had slit her wrist. She was dead.


  Chapter 10

  Dr Goebbels leaned back in the chair behind his desk, smiling.

  “So Manfred, since the Führer was coming to Berlin, to see me, anyway, he has agreed to come to the wedding. You are a very lucky man. He is bringing Reichsführer Himmler with him. Do you realize what an honor this is? Your bride will be overcome with excitement. However, since our leaders will be attending, we must change the venue. I am sure your bride will understand. The wedding will take place at the Nazi Headquarters. There we should be able to follow the traditions properly and that will make our Führer proud.”

  “Of course, whatever you think should be done. I am so indebted to you, Dr. Goebbels. I can never thank you enough for all you have done for me.” Manfred was a little concerned. Christa would have to make a lot of concessions.

  Goebbels smiled. His teeth large and protruding, his bone structure jutting through his delicate skin. Manfred was once again taken a back at how much he resembled the death head symbol.

  “You tell your lovely bride that we are all looking forward to her bringing us plenty of Aryan children. She and her parents must be very excited for the wedding and of course for our honored guests.”

  “Oh yes, they are, sir. Manfred thought about his future father-in-law. Somehow, he would have to find a way to win the old man over. It was essential that Dr. Henkener not cause any problems for the couple. If things continued as they were going now, Manfred would be rising in the Party. He and Christa would have a big family, plenty of money, and a life he could never have dreamed of before Hitler’s rise to power.

  Chapter 11

  It was almost five o’clock. But Thomas Henkener had waited for a special patient to arrive.

  “Hershel, come in, please,” Dr Henkener said. “How are you? How have you been? And the family?”

  “All right, they are all right, Thomas.”

  “I brought you Dr. Shulman’s chart. Do you need anything else?” Hilde, Dr. Alder’s nurse and oldest friend, entered.

  “No, thank you, Hilde,” Dr. Henkener said. “That will be all, Hilde. Thank you.”

  After the nurse closed the door, Dr. Henkener spoke in a whisper. “I called you to come here because I want to talk to you.”

  “Yes, of course, Thomas, what is it?”

  “I want to help you. You and your family.”

  “Thomas, I couldn’t let you do that. I shouldn’t even be here now. It is dangerous for both of us.”

  “You are in worse danger than I am. Have you thought about leaving Germany?”

  “I have thought about it, but I am a doctor. My patients are here. They need me,” Dr Shulman said.

  “Yes, but that demonstration on Kristallnacht a few months ago was terrifying, and I am afraid that things are only going to get worse here for Jews. Look at the laws going into effect. Things are happening around us all the time, horrifying things.”

  “I agree with you. Things are bad, but how can I leave? How can I leave all of the patients who need me? Don’t you think that this fire under Hitler will burn out? I have always had faith in the German people. They are smart, cultured, it is just a matter of time, and this whole thing will blow over. But you are a good friend to offer me your advice. I will keep it in mind.”

  “You have always been there for me and my family. I will never forget what you did for Christa. She was such a sick child, bad heart. We knew it as soon as we saw the blue lips when she was born. You helped her.”

  “Yes, well, that is what we doctors do, isn’t it, Thomas?”

  “It is]. We heal. And when we can…we save lives. I am here if you should need me, anytime at all.”

  “It is probably best that I stop coming by your office, and you stop coming by mine. It will only bring us trouble,” Dr. Shulman said.

  “I don’t care Hershel. I will not deny our friendship.”

  “Do it for my sake. For the sake of my family if you won’t do it for yourself.”

  “If you ask, I will stay away from you.”

  “Just until this is all over with the Nazis, I tell you, it’s temporary. People are frightened. But such a fanatical dictator cannot last in such a civilized country like ours. Soon everyone will have had enough. Then everything will be as it was before. I will come back to the hospital and we will work together again. You’ll see.” Dr. Shulman smiled. He patted his old friends back. Then he left the office and headed as quickly as he could out of the Gentile sector of town.

  Chapter 12

  Everything for the wedding was planned to coincide with the visit that Hitler and Himmler would make to the Minister of Propaganda’s office. Goebbels had involved the entire office to ensure every detail would be perfect. In fact, to show how much affection he felt for Manfred, Dr. Goebbels planned to preside over the wedding himself.

  It was on a morning in early May. Manfred awoke, his stomach tight with nerves and excitement. Although he’d dreamed of this day, he, an awkward, unattractive boy from a poor family, could hardly have expected a life like this to ever become a reality. But here he was, Manfred Blau, about to marry the girl of his dreams, in a ceremony attended by the highest, most revered men in the land. He was awestruck, delighted beyond his wildest dreams, but secretly he fought against a nagging fear. A part of him that whispered in the night, I am a fraud. What if they find out I am not as talented an artist as they believe me to be? What if they find out I am not as strong as they are, that I don’t really fit in? Or the worst, what if they realize that I am nothing but the poorest specimen of an Aryan and hardly worth the position I’ve been awarded? It was hard to forget how clumsy he’d been in the Hitler Jugend, how the other boys had made fun of him, how the girls had giggled behind their hands watching him as he failed. No doubt about it, Manfred was the slowest runner and he was never chosen by anyone to be on a team when they played football or any other sport. Fencing and archery took far more physical strength and agility than he possessed. However, now, because of Dr. Goebbels, he was far above all of them, those mindless athletes who stood around in groups taunting him, so sure that they were his superiors. If only he could silence that annoying voice. If only, somehow, he could believe in Manfred, in his own worth.

  Manfred took his black dress uniform out of the closet and put it on. The night before, he’d spent an hour polishing his shoes to a high shine. He combed his blond hair back from his face with a little water and hair cream. When he looked in the mirror, a handsome man stared back at him. His features were chiseled, and although he was small and slender, the uniform gave him presence.

  With Hitler attending the wedding all of the plans that Christa and Manfred had originally made as a couple had to be changed in order to create the Führer’s ideal wedding. Manfred knew by the look on her face that the changes disappointed Christa, but when he’d explained the necessity of his actions as an important career move, she’d agreed. It was hard to believe that Christa was as easygoing as she was beautiful. Fortune certainly had smiled upon him.

  The building at the Nazi Headquarters was decked out for the occasion, with Nazi flags suspended from the ceiling, life runes laid out on the altar, and pictures of Adolf Hitler hung in expensive wood frames on the walls. All of the flowers had been changed from roses to golden sunflowers, because these were the flowers Hitler had chosen to represent the Third Reich. The bride would carry a simple bouquet of sunflowers adorned with fir twigs. This gnawed at Manfred, because he knew how much Christa loved roses. But Manfred dared not disappoint Goebbels. So, he decided that he would make this up to Christa. He vowed to himself to see to it that every week of their lives together as husband and wife he would bring her roses to make up for her sacrifice. A red runner with a swastika in the center had been placed on the aisle for the couple to walk down. At the end of the aisle stood the altar and a large brass urn, burning brightly with the eternal flame.

  And so it began…

  The band played a simple German folk song.

  Manfred walked down the aisle alo
ne and stood at the front of the altar, waiting, as Dr. Henkener escorted his daughter to her new husband’s side.

  When he saw Christa, Manfred felt a pang of guilt for a moment, because under Dr. Goebbel’s insistent suggestion, he’d requested that Christa wear a traditional German folk dress instead of her mother’s gown. Again, she had made the concession. To make it up to her, Manfred had purchased the finest fabric he could find for the dressmaker to design the wedding dress. Now, as she walked towards him in her full colorful skirt, with the golden threads and puffy-sleeved blouse, she looked to him like the most stunning example of German womanhood.

  Christa came closer. Manfred stood staring at her in awe at how beautiful she truly was. Her golden hair caught the glow from the eternal fire, illuminating it until it looked like a halo of sunshine caressing her head. She smiled at him, and her tender blue eyes melted his heart like snow on the first warm spring morning.

  Dr Henkener placed his daughter’s hand in Manfred’s. Then he went to sit in the front row of the audience.

  Manfred and Christa turned to face the altar.

  Together they stood before Dr. Goebbels and swore their oaths of loyalty to each other and to the Party. Manfred had purchased gold bands with tiny swastikas engraved all around them. They exchanged the rings. There were tears in Christa’s eyes.

  “I love you.” Manfred mouthed the words that he could not speak aloud because Goebbels was handing him the bread that he would share with his bride.

  “This bread is a symbol of the earth’s fruitfulness and purity,” Goebbels said.

  Manfred broke a piece and handed it to Christa. Together they took a bite.

  Next, an officer brought a heavy oak box that was carved with runes. Goebbels opened the box and took a book from inside.

  “This is a gift to you from the Reich.” Goebbels handed Manfred a copy of Hitler’s book, “Mein Kampf.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Manfred said.

  “You’re welcome. You are now man and wife. And may you both be very fruitful and produce many Aryan children for our Fatherland.”