“That’s a good idea. I’ll feed her first, then I’ll walk her to the park. By then she should be ready to nap.”
The fishmonger Gitel worked for had given them a carriage for the baby. His children were all grown and the grandchildren had long since left the infant stage. So he no longer had any use for the buggy. In the afternoons sometimes, when the weather was nice, and if they had time between jobs, Fruma and Zofia took turns pushing the baby through the park. Fruma knitted two thick blankets, a hat, mittens, and a sweater for Eidel. And now that the weather was changing, they would be put to good use.
Zofia took Eidel in the back of the store and offered her the breast. Eidel was too fussy to eat. With her little fist, she kept pushing Zofia’s breast away. After several tries, Zofia decided to wait until later. Instead, she changed the baby’s diaper and dressed her for the walk outside. When they left, Fruma sighed. It was hard, but wonderful, to have a little one around. She stretched her back and shoulders. As she was getting older, the long days hunched over the sewing machine had taken their toll, and she’d begun to have aches in her upper back. It was unusual for Fruma to stop working even to eat, unless it was with Zofia, but she was tired today. The baby had been up a lot the night before. Fruma looked out the window as Zofia pushed Eidel’s carriage down the busy street. Then she set the dress she’d been working on aside to have a quiet, uninterrupted lunch.
The sky sparkled, silver blue, like a crystal. A cool, but not yet cold breeze brushed through the autumn colored leaves of the trees, like a young girl brushes her long hair. And a blindingly bright sun dominated the sky.
“Look, over there, Eidel. That’s a squirrel,” Zofia said as a squirrel scampered through the long golden grass. Eidel giggled and pointed her finger.
“Yes sweetheart. It’s a squirrel,” Zofia cooed. Eidel is such a beautiful baby, she thought. If someone had told me that, I would ever love anyone or anything as much as I love her, I would have told them that they were crazy, she said aloud, to no one but herself.
Zofia decided to walk over to the bakery and pick up a strudel for Fruma. She knew how much Fruma loved the vinegar raisin strudel that Mrs. Zuckerman, the baker on the corner, made. If she hurried, perhaps they would not be all gone, and what a delight it would be to serve it after dinner tonight.
She pushed the carriage slowly along the cobblestone walk towards the bakery. It was necessary to go slowly because the stones made the buggy rock, disturbing Eidel. As she crossed the street, she ran right into her old friend Lena. There was no avoiding the confrontation. The two women were face to face. Zofia had heard that Lena’s parents forbade their daughter from having any contact with Zofia because of Zofia’s bearing a child out of wedlock. From the way that Lena looked, her face as red as a ripe pomegranate, her eyes averted, Zofia knew it was true.
“Hello, Lena, I haven’t seen you in months.”
Zofia, pregnant and big bellied, had gone to Lena’s home twice, trying to see her, but her mother had always said that Lena was not at home.
“Yes, I know. I’m sorry, I’ve been busy.”
“I left word with your mother that I was living with the seamstress, Fruma. You could have come by anytime.”
“Yes, I knew where you were,” Lena said, biting her lower lip, her eyes darting around to see who was watching this conversation.
“You knew? But you never came by. We used to be best friends. You do remember?”
“I have to go, I’m sorry, Zofia. I can’t stay and talk. I must hurry and get home.”
“You’re ashamed to be seen talking to me, aren’t you?” Zofia’s face dropped.
“What do you want me to say, Zofia? You’ve done a terrible thing. You’ve shamed yourself. Now, you want to drag me into your embarrassment. If I’m seen keeping company with you, I’ll never find a decent husband. You’ve always been this way, doing just what you want and never thinking about the consequences. I’m sorry, but I don’t have that luxury. I want to get married and have a family. I’m not like you. I don’t want to live on the outskirts of society. I need friends. I want to be accepted. I’m sorry Zofia. Now, please, move out of my way. I have to leave.”
Lena practically ran down the street. Zofia stood watching Lena’s full skirt flutter around her legs as she left, her heart breaking. She knew that whatever friendship they’d shared was over. It had been over for a while, but she’d always hoped that somehow, when they saw each other, Lena would remember how close they’d been and would want that closeness again. But it would not be so. It would never be so. Zofia’s mouth sagged a little and she felt the tears burning at the back of her eyes. Yes, sleeping with Mr. Taylor had been a mistake, but now, she wouldn’t trade Eidel for anything. And she was not sorry that she’d given her daughter life, even if it meant that she was to be an outcast forever. Zofia looked down at Eidel’s little hand holding on to her blanket. The tiny fingers fisted on the pink knitted cover as the baby smiled up at her. It’s all worth it. God works in strange ways. I don’t care at all about the baby’s father anymore. In fact, I don’t know what I ever saw in him. So strange that I thought I was in love with him. However, he did give me Eidel, and for that, I am forever grateful. I love this child so fiercely that I would give anything I have for her, even my life.
And then…without warning…breaking through the sameness of the early afternoon, of the vendors hawking, the customers quibbling, all the sights and sounds of the city…she saw them, marching. German soldiers in uniform, totting guns, marching right through the center of town.
Zofia could not move. Her feet felt as if they weighed a thousand pounds and were glued to the sidewalk. In a few moments, the soldiers would be turning the corner right in front of where she stood. Instinctively, Eidel picked up her mother’s angst and began to cry. Normally, Zofia would lift the baby into her arms and cuddle her, but the crying was just the catalyst Zofia needed to free her from her stance. With her heart pounding to the rhythm of the marching soldiers, she began to run toward the shop. She must get off the street before the soldiers got any closer. As Mother and baby raced down the sidewalk, the carriage hit a cobblestone and almost toppled over. Zofia cringed and trembled with nervous fear. If the buggy had turned over, Eidel could have been hurt. She could have hit her head. Zofia shivered. Stop thinking and keep moving, she told herself. Get back to the safety of the shop and lock the doors.
When she arrived at the shop, Zofias mouth was so dry that she could hardly speak. Her heart pounded. As quickly as she could, she locked the door. Then she pulled the curtains tightly closed over the window.
“What’s the matter? You’re as white as a ghost,” Fruma said putting down the thick wool fabric that she was working with. She’d finished the dress for Mrs. Balinsnksi and had begun working on a coat for Mrs. Klenstien, the banker’s wife.
“The Germans are here. Right here in Warsaw,” Zofia said, and she began coughing, choking.
“Where? What are you talking about?” Fruma got up and handed her a glass of water that had been sitting beside Zofia’s sewing machine. “Drink this.”
Eidel let out loud, hysterical wails. She sensed the tension in the room. Her face had turned crimson.
“Here, look. Come, they are right outside. Get down low. We don’t want them to see us. I don’t know what is happening, but I thought Hitler had agreed to leave Poland alone. I heard that. I know he said that. Come, come, and peek out the window,” Zofia was almost hysterical, her voice was high pitched, and she was shaking. Fruma rubbed her back for a moment.
“Shhh,” she said, “It’s all right. You are upsetting the baby,” Fruma said.
Eidel’s incessant crying filled the room. Fruma took the baby into her arms. She rocked her back and forth, and Eidel began to quiet down. Next, the two women got down on their knees and parted the curtain a crack, just enough to see the street outside.
People stood watching as the soldiers marched through. Some were blank-faced, staring out of unseeing eye
s. Others cried, or covered their mouths with their hands in shock, or horror, or both.
The news of the plight of the Jews in Germany had reached Poland. There was no doubt as to the anti-Semitism of the Nazi regime. For months, many of the Polish Jews, Gitel among them, had sent word to their German relatives, inviting them to leave Germany and come across the border to safety in Poland. Fruma’s only living relatives were in Hungry, but Gitel had tried to convince her aunt, to no avail. Often at night, when everyone had gone to sleep, Gitel sat up, unable to rest. Zofia would hear her in the living room. She knew that Gitel worried that perhaps her family refused because she lived a life that they did not approve of. It saddened Zofia to think that such hatred and misunderstanding could keep people from their own best interest. Well, at least you tried, Zofia would hear Fruma tell Gitel when the discussed the matter.
German marching music came thundering in from outside.
The Third Reich had come to Poland. The terrifying Nazi flag flew at the front of the legion. A chill ran down Fruma’s back. Since she was a little girl, she’d always had a gift for seeing the future. But she’d never had control of the gift. It came whenever it chose to. Once, as a child, she’d gone to the hospital to see a friend of her mother’s. The friend had a minor surgery, and was expected to leave the hospital in a few days. However, as soon as Fruma saw her, she knew that the woman would never leave alive. That night, her mother’s friend developed an infection. By the end of the week, she was dead. Incidents like these had occurred throughout Fruma’s life. Now, Fruma stared out the window, her eyes blurring as mental pictures came to her. Horrible visions of mountains of corpses, their bones jutting from emaciated bodies. Fruma collapsed. Zofia saw that she had fainted. Carefully she put Eidel down on a thick square of fabric and took Fruma into her arms, laying her down gently on the floor.
“Fruma,” Zofia said. “Fruma…” Fruma did not answer, although her eyes were wide open.
Zofia got the glass of water she had been drinking from and brought it to Fruma’s lips, but Fruma did not drink.
“A dark day is upon us,” Fruma said her voice distant, deep, and frightening.
The tone of Fruma’s voice made Eidel begin to fuss again.
“Shhh, it will be alright,” Zofia said, her finger gently rubbing Eidel’s cheek, but even she didn’t believe her own words.
“I wish Gitel were here with us,” Fruma said.
“Yes, so do I. Shall I go over to the fishmonger and fetch her?”
“No, no, don’t leave here. Stay. Keep the drapes closed. Let them pass like the angel of death on Passover,” Fruma said. “We will see Gitel tonight.”
Once the troops passed, the streets began to clear, and everything seemed to go back to normal. The vendors haggled with customers, the old orthodox men walked, huddling together, wearing their black coats and high hats, women hurried along in fashionable dresses, but even in all the regularity, for Fruma and Zofia, everything in their world had changed.
Zofia hand-sewed the buttons on the winter coat while Fruma rocked Eidel. But instead of the usual conversation and gossip, they worked in silence, neither of them knowing how today’s events might change their lives.
Chapter 22
“Maybe nothing will change. Maybe the Germans will be too busy conquering the world to bother with us Jews,” Gitel said.
“Always the optimist, my love,” Fruma answered.
“Well, who knows? It can’t be that bad. So the goyim stop shopping in our stores. Business might be hurt a little bit and money might be tight, but we’ll survive. We always have. I’ll get a second job if need be. I am not going to let us starve,” Gitel answered.
Zofia sat quietly listening. She had heard about the Nuremburg laws, and she was concerned because Eidel was half-Jewish and half-Gentile.
“Do you think that Eidel will be in trouble? I can’t remember if I ever told you two this, but her father was not Jewish.”
“What? She’s a baby. Nobody is going to bother with a baby,” Fruma said. “Don’t be so silly.”
“I am worried. You know that it is illegal for Jews and Gentiles to have children.”
“So, who knows that her father was a goy? Only you, only us, and we certainly aren’t going to say anything. So, stop worrying.”
Eidel started fussing, and Gitel lifted her out of her playpen.”
“Come here shayna maidel, you beautiful girl,” Fruma cooed, smiling until the wrinkles around her eyes were deep crevices. “Nobody would ever hurt such a shayna maidel.”
Gitel reached for the baby and Fruma handed Eidel to her. She lifted Eidel high above her head, and Eidel giggled. Then she drooled onto Gitel’s shirt.
Zofia had a memory of how strict she’d thought Fruma was when she’d first begun working for her. How wrong she’d been. Fruma only seemed hard on the outside. Underneath, her heart was as warm as a cozy blanket.
“You deserved that,” Fruma said, laughing as Gitel wiped the drool from her. “You lift her so high up. Of course, when she drools it’s going to land on your shirt. You’re lucky it doesn’t land in your eye.”
“I guess I do lift her high up. But I love it when she laughs.”
“We all do,” Fruma said. “So, you’ll just have to cope with the drooling.”
“That I can do,” Gitel smiled. Fruma returned her smile.
“Oy, my Fruma, you’ve made my life so complete.”
“And you mine…”
Zofia prepared dinner while the two surrogate grandmothers played with Eidel. They whispered their worries to each other, not wanting to alarm Zofia, but Zofia was young and her hearing was exceptional.
“Whatever happens at least we are together,” Gitel said.
“I am so afraid.” Fruma looked at Gitel, her eyes cast dark with shadows.
“I know. I know. So am I.”
Chapter 23
Christa and Manfred were seated in a private room in her father’s office. The results from the fertility tests were back and Dr. Henkener’s nurse called them in to discuss what the doctor had found. Manfred got up to look out the window onto the street. So many things were happening so fast in his life. Hitler was moving forward in his conquest to make Germany the most powerful nation in the world. At the last rally Manfred had attended in Nuremburg, Hitler explained how he planned for the Reich to last a thousand years, for Germany to take its rightful place as ruler of the entire world. Since then things were moving at an alarming rate. Manfred tried to not think about the extermination of the Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals, and other inferior classes. He understood the necessity. It was just the actual act of murder that left him sick and speechless. How far would Hitler take all of this? It was hard to say. Could entire races of people be annihilated? And how could such things be carried out? What would they do with all of the bodies? Manfred hoped that he would be able to avoid seeing any of what was to be done. With any luck he would never leave his work at the office, never be subjected to a field trip to the camps where it was all to take place. The theories worked just fine for him, it was the acts, the blood, and the death that frightened him.
“Manfred, do you hear me?” Christa said
“I’m sorry. I was so lost in thought…”
“I know you were, I was asking if you wanted to have dinner with your mother on Sunday. She called.”
“My mother, on Sunday? Yes, if you would like to…”
“You seem distracted.”
“I’m sorry, darling. It’s work. I was thinking about some things I had left undone at the office.”
She nodded. “Well, let’s go out for a nice lunch when this appointment is over. I never see you anymore. You are always at work. This is my time.” She smiled. “So, just for a few hours, please put the office out of your mind. All right?”
“Yes, of course. And you choose the place for lunch. How does that sound?”
He thought about how neglectful he’d been lately and decided that he would bring her a d
ozen roses on his way home from work tonight. This job of his consumed him. It demanded everything: all of his time, all of his attention. He wondered if his being overworked might have something to do with their inability to conceive. Many nights he would go to bed exhausted, only to wake in a few hours unable to sleep. It would then take him half the night to fall back asleep again, and by the time he did, the alarm was sounding, telling him it was time to return to the office. Perhaps this was the way it was for all men attempting to better themselves through their careers. It seemed to be a never-ending struggle up the invisible ladder of success.
Dr. Henkener opened the door carrying a manila file. He walked over to Christa and kissed her cheek.
“Hello, Manfred.” Dr. Henkener reached out to shake his hand.
Manfred saluted him with the Heil Hitler, salute. Dr. Henkener followed with a less enthusiastic salute. Then walked behind his desk and sat down. Manfred sat beside Christa her reached over and took her hand in his.
“I have the results of your physical exams right here. From what I can see, both of you are healthy and there is no reason that you should be unable to conceive a child. I will say this: sometimes if the man is overworked and tired, he has a more difficult time. Emotions can also have an effect. What I mean is that if you are so worried about getting pregnant, sometimes that can stop it from happening for you. Or it could be that your job is so overwhelming, Manfred that it is taking a toll on you. But, I think that if the two of you both try to relax and not rush things, Christa will become pregnant in a short time.”
Manfred looked away. He did not want to meet Christa’s eyes, so he dropped her hand. His old feelings of inadequacy peeked out from under the carefully placed rug in his mind. He was sure it was him. It sounded as if Christa’s father blamed him and his job. His face flushed as he got up and walked towards the window again. You forget who I am sir. I am Sturmann Blau, a successful officer in the SS. I don’t have any problems. I am not tired or emotionally upset, Manfred thought, trying desperately to regain his self-confidence.
You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Book 2) Page 11