Manfred smiled at Goebbels and then at Christa. He took her hand and kissed it. Then he led her through a crowd of saluting SS men, his heart pounding with joy. These were his people. Here he was loved and accepted. Here he was at home.
Chapter 13
Once the ceremony was over, the wedding party and their guests were escorted into a large banquet hall. Overhead, crystal chandeliers twinkled casting a soft glow over the embossed china and crystal. In the center of the tables were large arrangements of dazzling yellow sunflowers, their heads dipping over their sparkling vases.
The entire party was seated, including Manfred and Christa, before Dr. Goebbels and Himmler entered. The two stood behind their chairs as the band played a marching song and Adolf Hitler entered the room. He wore a smile and greeted the guests as he walked by, shaking their hands and patting their children’s cheeks. When he arrived at his seat, he turned to the crowd and raised his hand in a salute. Everyone stood, returning the salute and calling out, “Heil Hitler.”
Everyone except Dr. Henkener.
Once everyone was seated, Himmler gave Christa a strange look.
“You’re father did not salute?”
“No, he has been having trouble with his leg. It was very difficult for him to walk me down the aisle. He must be in pain again,” she lied.
“I see,” Himmler said, a smile twinkling across his face.
Manfred and Christa sat at a long head table with Dr. Goebbels, Hitler, and Himmler. They were surrounded by Hitler’s personal bodyguards, who stood behind them quiet and unobtrusive. At the first table to the left of the couple, Manfred’s mother sat, accompanied by Dr. and Mrs. Henkener.
Once the excitement of Hitler’s arrival began to die down, a group of white-gloved waiters carrying trays of food paraded through the door. They offered overflowing platters of roasted meats and fresh vegetables, cheesy potatoes, and fresh breads. Girls with their hair in braids, wearing traditional German costumes, similar to the bride’s, but not as exquisite, carried pitchers of dark German beer.
After everyone had eaten, Hitler stood. A roar of applause followed. He smiled and gave a short speech honoring the couple. Reiterating his constant message to Germany, that it must be the responsibility of all good German citizens to marry and have lots of Aryan babies. These children, he said, would be the future of the Reich. Everyone cheered when he finished, and their hands went up in the Nazi salute. Hitler smiled like a benevolent father. Then Hitler, followed by Himmler, Goebbels and the bodyguards left the celebration. But as he left, Heinrich Himmler took a longer than usual glance at Christa’s father.
Then a band began to play traditional German folk music, and everyone danced the polka. Manfred led his new wife out on to the dance floor. Pride swelled in his heart as he took her hand and together they danced their first dance as man and wife.
“I will spend every day of my life doing everything in my power to make you happy,” he said. “I know how much you wanted roses at the wedding and so every week from this day forward you shall have roses in our home.”
“Oh Manfred, I am happy. I am so happy,” she said as they whirled across the dance floor under the large Nazi flag and the picture of Adolph Hitler.
That night the couple stayed in a hotel in downtown Berlin. Even though Manfred was a virgin and had no idea what to do, Christa was not, and so she helped him to learn. Because he loved her so much, his lack of experience made little difference. The depth of his feelings came through every time he touched her and she responded to his tenderness. When they finally began to drift off to sleep in each other’s arms, Manfred felt sure that every day of his life from this day forward would be joyous. I am blessed.
Chapter 14
In the morning, the couple took the train out of the city to Munich. They sat together, holding hands and watching the countryside roll by out the window, until they arrived in Munich, a fairytale wonderland, with storybook cobblestone streets. Around every corner lay another enchanted castle. The Reich had arranged for them to stay on the outskirts of town in a small chalet overlooking the Alps. Manfred had never been out of Berlin. His family had been too poor to even think of travel. Now here he was, with his beautiful young wife, walking the streets in the quaint Bavarian city of Munich. They walked for over an hour, stopping only for a few moments to buy a sausage from a street vendor. Neither of them wanted to miss a thing that this magnificent city had to offer. He took a deep breath and sighed. Then he reached for Christa’s hand and brought it to his lips. She smiled at him and he kissed her hand again. The clouds gathered overhead and it began to rain.
The shower quickly turned into a downpour, like the tears of all of the angels in heaven combined. Manfred and Christa stood under the awning of a tall building and held hands. They’d both gotten wet, but it didn’t matter, they were young and in love and together. Soon the car would arrive that Goebbels had arranged to take them to the little chalet where they were staying on the outskirts of the city.
As planned, the driver arrived. The automobile edged through traffic navigating its way out of the city and towards the mountains. Manfred stared out the window, mesmerized by the beauty of Munich. He’d fallen instantly in love with the old buildings, the massive towering clock in the center of town, the museums, the restaurants, and even the opera house. As they left the congestion of town and began to enter the rural area near the mountains, the rolling landscape turned every imaginable shade of green, from forest to emerald, and shimmered in the drying rain.
Christa laid her head on Manfred’s chest, his arm protectively around her, as they gazed out the window at the farms. Sprawling green hills, with cows and horses grazing, scattered across the countryside. This was the real Germany… Beautiful, untouched…
After the driver let them off in front of a small chalet that looked like it had been in a Han’s Christian Anderson novel, the two were eager to be alone.
Christa ran inside the cottage and sat down upon the bed. She bounced up and down reveling in its soft pillow-[like quality. Manfred joined her, and they both bounced on the bed. Then Christa got a pillow and swung it across Manfred’s body. He returned with a pillow of his own and they began pillow fighting, like two children, until they fell into each other’s arms, laughing.
After they made love on the feather bed, they lay together, gazing out the large picture window at a breathtaking view of the mighty Alps. The icebox had been filled with food, so there was no need to leave the chalet that day. Instead, they ate and made love again. It was enough just to be together.
That night they slept holding hands, and in the morning, they awoke, eyes glossed over with love.
“Let’s take a hike through the mountains today,” Christa said.
“I’ve never been much for hiking,” Manfred admitted.
“Please? We won’t go far...”
He smiled. “For you…I would walk all the way to France, and back.”
She laughed.
They hiked up into the mountains, under a sun so bright it looked silver.
“Look, a waterfall! Oh, Manfred, how beautiful!”
“It is, very, but not as lovely as you.”
She began to remove her clothes.
“What are you doing?”
“There’s no one around. Come and swim with me.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You could.” She giggled and before he could protest any more she was naked and running towards the water.
He took off his clothes, feeling pale and clumsy in the light of day.
“Come on. The water is nice.”
He followed. “It’s freezing.”
She laughed. “I knew if I told you that, you’d never come in.”
They embraced. Christa took Manfred’s hand and led him under the waterfall. He held her tightly as the spray from the falls drifted into their young faces.
“I love you so much.”
“And I love you too, my wonderful, kind husband. I am so
happy to have found you.”
They kissed their lips warm on each others.’
“Look, Manfred… A rainbow…”
“Yes, darling. I see it.”
Over the next two weeks, Manfred and Christa explored the quaint Bavarian town of Munich, at the same time as they reveled in exploring each other.
They went into town and had breakfast at small outdoor cafes, laughing and talking for hours. They held hands, eating ice cream cones as they walked along the lake in a park so green it could have been a painting. An entire afternoon was spent admiring the treasures in the art museum, followed by an evening at the opera house, enjoying the music and elaborate costumes of an opera by Wagner. In what Manfred referred to as his former life, what he meant was his life before he’d sworn allegiance to the Nazi Party and Adolf Hitler, he would never have dreamed of attending an opera. In fact, he could only imagine a life like this, a life that the Reich had made possible for a poor, lonely boy like him.
Everywhere they went, Manfred wore his uniform and because of this he was shown the utmost respect by everyone, from wait staff in restaurants, who insisted on serving the couple free drinks, to shop owners, who were happy to present gifts to Christa at no charge. All of this was astonishing, but when he saw the pride in his wife’s eyes, Manfred began to feel like a very successful man indeed.
Long lazy afternoons drinking dark beer and making love made Manfred wish that he could stay in Munich forever. But he knew better. Soon he must return and when he did, he must prove himself worthy of all that the Party had given him.
Chapter 15
Without her mother, Zofia was alone, and even worse, she blamed herself for her mother’s suicide. She still made it a point to come to work each day and do a good job, but she’d stopped singing and had grown quiet.
“You might as well move in with Gitel and me. There is no sense in you staying in that big house by yourself. And being pregnant, well, it will be good to have someone around in case you need help,” Fruma said in her matter-of-fact way.
Zofia nodded. Are you sure you would want that?”
“Yes, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have suggested it, now would I?” Fruma smiled. “Besides, Gitel likes you too. It will be good for us to have some young people around. We’re becoming like two old boring ladies.”
Zofia liked Gitel, who had come by the shop whenever she had time off from her job at the fishmonger.
The funeral for Zofia’s mother had taken a toll on her. She now wore a black mourning dress with a piece of fabric torn at the lapel. When she looked in the mirror, the darkness of the dress against her face added to the somberness she felt. It was true that since the loss of her father, her mother had been little more than a shell, but she was still a presence, sometimes a burden, often an extra job, but always a presence. For a very long time, her mother’s depression had affected Zofia’s entire life. But still, she was there, giving Zofia a purpose, if not in mind, at least in body. Now Zofia was an orphan. She had no one.
“I understand if you are ashamed. People will talk because of how Gitel and I are together. They talk anyway, but the talk will now include you,” Fruma said, folding a square of lace.
“People should mind their own business. I am not ashamed of you and Gitel. You are entitled to live your life any way that you choose. Besides, how about me? I am pregnant without the benefit of marriage. What are people going to say about that?”
Fruma smiled. “Yes, it looks like we are the perfect band of misfits: two old lesbian lovers and a young, unmarried woman, with a baby on the way.”
Fruma laughed. Zofia laughed.
Living with Fruma and Gitel was fun, more fun that Zofia could remember having in a long time. Gitel loved to sing, and she strolled through the house, filling it with song, her voice a deep resonant alto. Most days the three prepared meals together while Gitel sang. Zofia continued to work with Fruma at the dressmaking shop, but as she grew larger, she became more tired. The older woman saw the difficulty Zofia was having with her heavy belly and the sewing machine and so she constantly insisted that Zofia lay down on the old sofa in the back of the store. Once Zofia’s belly became too big for her to sit at the machine, Fruma insisted that she relax on the sofa. Zofia did as she was told, but she began to take on all of the embroidery work. It was tedious, but Zofia had a natural talent for the tiny stitches, and so the demand for her embroidery grew quickly. In exchange for Maria, Helen’s mother’s midwife services, Zofia hand sewed over a hundred tiny pearls onto Helen’s wedding dress. She also embroidered cabbage rose bouquets into the white satin. Even Fruma, as particular as she was, had to admit it was stunning.
At least twice a week, Helen and her mother came by the shop to see the how the dress was coming along. Sometimes they brought kolaczkis, and Fruma and Zofia would take a break to share the apricot-filled cookies with their clients.
Often Helen stayed to chat with Zofia while she worked. Maria didn’t look down of Zofia for being pregnant and not married. In fact, she was surprisingly supportive of her daughter’s newfound friend.
Although Zofia did what she could to hide her feelings, it was painful for her to listen to all of the wedding plans while she herself planned for a life raising a child alone. All she’d ever wanted was to find love, get married, and have children. Stupid girl, she chastised herself constantly, but secretly, over her mistake. She’d actually believed that Don Taylor would be the man to fulfill her dreams. Well, be damned if she’d ever let anyone into her heart like that again. But, even though she envied Helen, she was happy for her too. It was hard not to be caught up in the excitement, and it was fun to watch the pretty blonde dance around the room in her wedding gown while Fruma yelled, “Stay still! I can’t pin this right with you moving all over the place.”
Zofia and Helen would look at each other and burst into fits of laughter.
In just a month, Helen would marry the boy she had been in love with since she was only fourteen. They were childhood friends and neighbors who had grown into sweethearts. Once, Helen’s fiancé had picked her up for dinner after a fitting. When Zofia saw them together, their affection for each other made her feel empty. It seemed to Zofia that, unlike her own, their lives would be wrapped up in a perfect package, but Zofia was young and how was she to know that sometimes what appears to be perfect can be destroyed in a second?
The first time Zofia felt the baby move, she and Fruma were at the market shopping for food for the Sabbath dinner. As Fruma smelled an apple for ripeness, she noticed that Zofia had stopped moving and stood still, with her hand clutching her belly and a strange expression on her face.
“Are you all right?” Fruma asked, her voice betraying alarm.
“Feel this,” Zofia whispered. She took Fruma’s hand and placed it on her swollen abdomen.
As the baby twirled about, the two women looked at each other in awe.
One night the three sat together after dinner drinking cups of dark, bitter coffee. The sun had just begun to set and it looked like a large red ball in the western sky.
“Zofia, you have brought lots of joy to our home,” Gitel said. “We’ve always been a happy couple, but we used to talk and say how much we both missed having a child of our own. You are like our daughter.”
“Thank you. It warms my heart to know that I am not a burden to you.”
“You have never been a burden to us. Not even when you first started working at the dress shop and you made so many mistakes,” Fruma said and she laughed. “It was still a delight to have you there.”
Zofia smiled.
“Zofia, can I be so bold as to ask you a question?”
“Yes, of course, Fruma.”
“The baby’s father? He knows that a child is coming?”
“No, he has no idea.”
“You think about him?”
“Not any more. He was a mistake. I did a foolish thing and I never want to speak to him again.”
“But if he knew about the baby
, maybe he would help you. It is his responsibility too, and maybe he would give you some money.”
“I don’t want anything from him. I never want to see him again.”
“Do you ever worry about passing him on the street?”
“No, not here. He is not Jewish. He would never be in this part of town.”
Fruma nodded. “Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Either of you?”
“No,” both Gitel and Zofia said.
“Zofia, it is your choice. If you don’t want the father involved, then that is the way it will be, and I think I can speak for both Fruma and me. We will stand behind you no matter what happens. Together the three of us will find the money to raise the baby. Isn’t that right Fruma?”
“Of course it is.”
On a lazy sun-kissed afternoon late in the autumn, as the smell of burning leaves filled the city streets, Zofia’s water broke. It happened as she stood in the kitchen helping to clean up after supper. There was no pain, just a stream of warm water that ran down her legs.
Fruma saw it first. She knew a little about babies, so she was very concerned when she saw that the water was green. But she didn’t want to alarm Zofia or Gitel. The best thing was to get the midwife, as quickly as possible. She would know what to do.
“Gitel, hurry up and go get Maria. The baby is coming. I’ll stay with Zofia,” Fruma said.
“Yes, all right. You stay here with Zofia. I’ll go.”
The two fumbled like two nervous mothers.
“Here, come on now, you should get right into bed and wait for Maria.” Fruma took Zofia under the arm and practically carried her to her small bedroom.
Fruma grabbed a pile of folded towels and put them under Zofia’s buttocks to catch the flow of water.
Gitel dressed quickly and ran all the way into the non-Jewish sector to Maria’s house.
As soon as Gitel and Maria returned, Maria examined Zofia.
You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Book 2) Page 8