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

by Roberta Kagan

  “It was a feat for me to obtain permission for you to attend this meeting,” Goebbels whispered as he leaned into Manfred.

  Manfred turned to thank him. But before he could speak, the entire group rose up as the Fuehrer entered the room.

  “Heil Hitler.” They raised their hands and voices in unison.

  Hitler walked through the group and stood behind his desk. He raised his hand in answer to the group.

  “Thank you for attending,” Hitler said, his voice calmer than usual when he addressed a crowd.

  “I’ve gathered you here tonight because, I am sad to say, that there is a possibility that we may be facing some rough times ahead. I deeply regret this, but the Reich may lose the war.”

  A gasp came from somewhere in the back of the room.

  “However, we must remain firm in our belief that we are the superior race, and that we will rule the world. We may just need to restructure a bit.”

  A roar of applause followed.

  “In the near future, we may be forced to flee Germany and regroup elsewhere, where we will rebuild. I’ve made agreements with several countries in South America who are willing to allow former SS officers to migrate there in order to restructure the Reich. Once the Reich is strong again, we will return and reclaim Germany.”

  There was another round of applause, less enthusiastic. The men glanced around the room meeting each other’s frightened gazes.

  “I am afraid that the world will not understand what we have done here. There is a good possibility that we may face prosecution. Therefore, I have discussed our predicament with several doctors who have proven themselves loyal to our cause, and who are able and willing to reconstruct the faces of those who will be going to South America. Your hair will be made dark brown or black. Photographs will be kept as records of your original faces with photos of your newly constructed faces so that there is no confusion as to your true identity when you arrive at your new homes. You will look like Jews, and therefore will pass easily as survivors of the camps. Only top SS officials who have been cleared for this work will have access to the original pictures and information, so your security will be safe. I have also begun having papers forged for you that will identify you as Jewish refugees. Do not be offended. This, I feel, is the best way for us to hide. We will hide in plain sight! Now, I am planning to join you. I will not be having my face reconstructed until I am sure that we cannot recover Germany at this time. Then I will do what must be done. Once you are relocated, you will receive a contact that will ask you to meet at a specific location. Remember these words for they are the pass code, letting you know that the contact is legitimate. This is the beginning of the message that you will receive in South America: “Won’t you please join my wife and me for a glass of wine to celebrate our wedding anniversary?” It will be signed, “Julio,” which is a common name among our Spanish- and Portuguese-speaking friends. This is your indication that the message has come from the Nazi organization. You will follow the instructions as to time and place. Once you arrive, you will find that we are together once again. And then we will begin to make plans to re-establish our control of our country. Is this understood?”

  “Yes, my Fuehrer,” the men answered.

  “What we do, we must do for the preservation of the Fatherland,” Hitler said

  “Yes, my Fuehrer.” The room vibrated with the echo.

  “Close your mouth,” Goebbels whispered to Manfred. “You look like your trying to catch a fly.”

  Manfred glanced sideways at Goebbels; his face could not conceal the shock at what he’d just heard.

  “You should see your expression,” Goebbels said, “It’s almost laughable.”

  “And you’re not astonished?”

  “I am, in a way, I suppose. But I’ve known for a while that we were losing the war. And I was just waiting for our brilliant Fuehrer to come up with a solution, a way for us to regain power. I think this is genius. Don’t you?”

  “Oh…yes.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “I am stunned. I mean, it’s a lot to absorb: South America, reconstructive surgery to make ourselves look like Jews… Overwhelming…”

  “Yes, I suppose so. But at least, with my insistence, you have been selected to join us.”

  “I thank you for that.” Manfred smiled. “I am grateful for all that you’ve done for me Dr. Goebbels.”

  “I know you are. I know you have always been.” Goebbels patted Manfred’s shoulder. “Now, don’t look so bleak. I am saddened too. None of us wants to see Germany fall. And of course, who would want to take on a Jewish appearance? However, we must carry on. We must make plans, just in case we should be left without any choice but to act and act quickly. I am going to set up an appointment for you with a qualified surgeon. His name is Dr. Schmidt. Then, either he or I will send you further instructions, should it become necessary to put this plan be put into action.”

  “And you, Dr. Goebbels? What will you do?” Manfred asked, genuinely concerned.

  “I am going to wait until the very last minute. Because of our close friendship, Hitler has asked me to bring my family and join him here at the bunker. I suppose he will have arranged everything. I will follow his plan from there. I don’t know for sure, but I am assuming we will be the last to be surgically altered. Then, I suppose we will meet up with the rest of you in South America.”

  “South America? Where? Do you know?”

  “I don’t know for sure. Adolf has had good reception from Argentina. Perhaps we will go there?”

  “This is a lot to absorb. I will have to tell my wife.”

  “Hmmm, I don’t know Manfred. Your wife… Her father… Can she be trusted?”

  “Yes, she has no contact with anyone other than me and the child anymore. Her mother is dead, and she has no one else.”

  Goebbels nodded his head. “Don’t tell her quite yet. I will let you know when the time is right. Wait until I contact you for further instructions.”

  “I’ll wait until I receive clearance from you to inform her of everything,” Manfred said.

  “Yes, make sure that you do that.”

  Chapter 62

  When the cold became unbearable, the entire group began sleeping packed together with all of the blankets covering them to stay warm. Isaac slept beside Zofia. She’d come to rely on the warmth of his body next to hers, although there had been no sexual advances.

  Often the entire group would lie on the frozen ground in the dark of night and reminisce about things they’d done before the Nazi takeover. Shlomie once told a story about how he’d won a science fair and traveled with a group of ten-year-old children across Germany to explain his project to other schoolchildren. Sarah described how excited she was as her mother had curled her hair for her first dance. She went on to recapture the thrill she’d felt as she put on her new lavender dress. This was the first time she would dance with a boy. Each of them told a story. One night as Sarah lay on the other side of Isaac, she cleared her throat.

  “Isaac, tell us about your mother’s bakery.”

  “Ahhh… Mama’s bakery,” Isaac said with a sigh. “The best bakery in town, by far. My mama could twist a Challah in seconds. And she baked the most wonderful Hamantaschen.”

  “I remember,” Zofia said. “I used to go to pick up bread and cakes for my mother. Your mother was a wonderful baker.”

  “She was. I miss her. I miss my father too.” Isaac said as he reached over to find Zofia’s hand. Once he found it, he took it into his own and squeezed gently. “You remember my parents.”

  “Oh yes, Isaac. How could I forget? I even remember you. You were the little blond boy with the round face, and the big smile, always eating bread with butter,” she laughed. “I remember so many people from the old neighborhood. I often wonder what has become of them.”

  “Do you think we will find anyone we knew still alive after the war?” Shlomie asked.

  “I don’t know,” Sarah sai
d. “I am praying every day for my family.”

  “We should not dwell on this stuff from the past,” Rivka said from across the room. “Talking about the bakery and family only makes us sad. Maybe we should sing.”

  “That’s an idea,” Zofia said

  First they sang familiar Yiddish folk tunes

  “Does anyone know any American music?” Zofia asked

  “I do,” Shlomie said. “I love it. I used to listen to it as often as I was able to. I loved the big bands”

  “This song is not swing; it’s American folk music. Do you happen to know the song, “You re My Sunshine?”

  “I do. I know it in English.”

  “Yes, me too. I learned it a long time ago when I was still in school.”

  Shlomie and Zofia began to sing, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray…” their voices the only sound penetrating the frozen darkness.

  They sang it through once, then again. The second time, the entire group joined in with the words they were able to recall.

  “You are my sunshine…” Zofia remembered Katja. She’d called her Sunshine and secretly sung that song to her at night when she put her to bed.

  “You make me happy when skies are gray…”

  My Eidel, my Katja, Fruma, Gitel, Dovid, Mama…

  “Please don’t take my sunshine away.”

  She heard Isaac’s deep voice struggling to remember the words. His hand still clasped Zofia’s, and she squeezed a little tighter.

  Little by little, the weather began to break. The icicles on the trees melted and tiny sprouts of green pushed their way up through the thawing ground. Even though it was still chilly, Zofia insisted on going to the stream and bathing. The water had just defrosted, and it shocked her naked body. But she took the soap Isaac had given her and scrubbed her skin and hair as quickly as she could. Then she dried herself with a blanket, dressed, and returned to the cabin.

  “You smell like springtime, itself,” Shlomie said.

  “Why, thank you. It feels wonderful to be clean.”

  “Yes, I am sure it does. I am going to the pond as soon as it gets a little warmer. Getting into the water in this weather is not for the faint of heart.” He laughed.

  “Well, I am going today,” Isaac said.

  Zofia smiled at him

  “Me too,” Sarah said, and she glanced over at Isaac.

  “Come for a walk with me, Zofia.” Isaac said.

  “I’d like that.”

  The birds had begun to return to the forest, and their songs filled the afternoon as the sun filtered, golden, through the trees.

  “Did you know that back before all this Nazi stuff began, I had a crush on you?”

  “Really, Isaac, I never knew.”

  “You never paid much attention to me. But I remember watching you and your friend walk to school and thinking how pretty you were.”

  She laughed. “How pretty I was?”

  “Yes and how pretty you still are.”

  She blushed. “It’s funny, we’ve slept beside each other for months; yet, when I look into your eyes, here and now in the light of the day, I am shy.”

  “Me too,” he said. “Me too. I cannot court you the way that I would like to. Our lives don’t permit it. If I could, I would ask you to dinner, maybe dancing as well, then to meet my family. But as it stands, I have no family left, and the dinner that we share, well, I must admit, it isn’t quite the way that I would like it to be, with wine and soft music. Instead, I am sorry to say that all I can offer you is wild game and fish, and that we share with the entire group. Still and all, I am incredibly attracted to you.”

  “Isaac… I don’t know what to say.”

  “You have never been with a man?”

  “If I told you that I would be lying. Although I would like to lie to you, to tell you that I am a virgin. I guess the truth is I was a free spirit once.”

  “I understand.”

  “There were two men that I chose to take as lovers and then there was one I did not choose.”

  “You were raped?”

  “I was forced by the Arbeitsführer when I was at Treblinka.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could kill him with my bare hands.”

  She shrugged. “I had it bad. Many others had it far worse. At least I am still alive.”

  He said nothing, but in his silence, she knew he felt helpless.

  “I have not told anyone else this since I left the Warsaw Ghetto, but I must tell you.”

  “Tell me what?”

  “Isaac,” she sighed, and turned to face him. “I have a child, a daughter. She is living with a non-Jewish family. Before the invasion began, the woman who took her for me was my friend. I had someone from the black market contact her while we were in the Ghetto. She agreed to take Eidel into her home and pretend Eidel was her child. There was so much disease in the Ghetto. I was afraid for my daughter. So I sent her away.”

  He smiled at her and touched her face smoothing the lines of pain.

  “Men want a woman who is pure. I am not pure. I met Eidel’s father when I was young and not very smart. I thought I was in love, but it turned out that I was just a fool. Then later, when I was living in the Ghetto, I met a boy. He was kind and gentle, and although I was not in love with him, I learned to care for him deeply. We were both so lonely and so afraid of what the future might hold that we grasped on to each other. I believe he was in love with me.”

  “You will search for him when the war is over?”

  “He’s dead. I was the cause of it. I will blame myself forever. ” Her voice choked in her throat.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “If you want to know.”

  “I want to know everything about you.”

  And so she told him about Koppel and Dovid, about Fruma and Gitel, and most of all, about Eidel.

  “So you see, I am not pure, not virginal, and probably not worthy of your affection.”

  “I don’t want you to be pure. I just want you, just who you are. That’s enough for me.”

  He put his arms around her. She allowed herself to fall into his embrace, to lose herself and her memories for a moment. His lips brushed hers. They were face to face their eyes locked.

  “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never made love to anyone.” Isaac said.

  She nodded.

  He took her face in his hands and gently pressed his lips to hers. Tears came to her eyes, and she felt them fall upon her cheeks.

  “I think I am in love with you, Zofia.”

  She had never felt this way before, not with Dovid, not with Don Taylor, not ever. Zofia wanted to protect Isaac like a mother, to lay with him like a lover, and to stand at his side no matter what they might face in the future.

  “I think I am in love with you, too,” She whispered.

  He took his shirt off and laid it down on the ground. Then he sat and reached for her hand, pulling her down beside him, laying her head gently on his shirt. Zofia sighed, trembling. After what she’d endured with the Arbeitsführer, she was afraid she’d lost all sensations in her body. For so long, she’d forced the death of any feeling. She was wrong. Her body tingled and sang to the music that Isaac’s body played. The warmth of skin against skin made her tremble and realize the need she’d suppressed for so long.

  When it was over, he held her tightly in his arms, kissing the top of her head. She took a deep breath and marveled. How strange things were. Zofia had feared that after the Arbeitsführer she would never be able to enjoy the touch of a man again. After all of those years putting up with his repulsive groping, all the while forcing her mind to kill any sensations her body might be required to tolerate, she was sure that somewhere along the line her ability to share love had died too. And then, a miracle happened. Zofia was blessed. She’d found true love. Every cell in her body responded, dancing with heightened ecstasy, tingling, and embracing the pleasure.

  “How ca
n I be so happy when I should be miserable?” he laughed, holding her gently in his strong arms.

  She laughed too. “I think love is like that. It makes you happy no matter what else is going on around you. You just can’t help but smile.”

  “I can’t help but smile,” he repeated. “You are everything I want in this world.”

  “And I am right here. And I will be right here.”

  “Someday I will buy you a big house and the three of us: you, and Eidel and I, will have a wonderful future.”

  “Do you think you could learn to love a child that was not your own?”

  “She is yours and you are mine. That makes her mine too. I’ll adopt her if you will allow me to. And I will love her as if she came from my loins,” Isaac said.

  She smiled, and she thought of Katja. She hated the Nazis, but she could never bring herself to blame the child. The poor child, who’d been bred by the SS to be what they thought to be ideal, had fooled them all becoming a beautiful and loving little girl in spite of their efforts. Zofia believed that Christa was responsible for Katja’s sweet nature. Although, Zofia knew nothing of Katja’s birth mother, the child had grown to be just like her adopted mother.

  “Of course I will allow you to adopt her.” Zofia smiled at Isaac. How could she have failed to notice him when they were growing up, with his golden curls and amber brown eyes?

  They lay under the umbrella of an oak tree and watched a family of ants walk in a line along the bark. It was still slightly chilly, but neither wanted to return. They embraced, shivering slightly.

  “Do you remember Lena, my friend?”

  “Of course, the two of you were always together. But you were the prettier one.”

  Zofia smiled and tickled his side until he laughed.

  “I wonder about her sometimes. I wonder how she is, if she is all right. I have so many memories. There were so many people that I think about in the old neighborhood,” she said