A short while later, she had left the DP camp early in the morning while he was still asleep. She’d left forever without saying goodbye. He’d awakened as he did every morning, looking for Zofia. When he’d turned over, he saw her empty cot. The pain he felt in his heart had been so great that he could not cry. Maybe it was just that he had been through so much since the beginning of the Nazi takeover. He’d endured the loss of his family, his friends, and his home. Then he’d suffered unfathomable cruelty in the camp, only to escape and live in constant fear while hiding in the forest. Perhaps he’d forgotten how to cry.
Well, no matter, the time had come for him to put in a request to the Americans to help him find a way to Palestine. It might take a while, but then again, he had time. In fact, he had nothing but time. If he could just get out of Europe, leave the memories behind, perhaps he would find a wife to care for. And if he were fortunate, perhaps he might even find it in his empty heart to love again. And then maybe, just maybe, by some magical stroke of luck, this imaginary woman might just learn to love him, too. Yes the time had come. Shlomie must put one foot in front of the other, take one breath at a time, and slowly start living again.
Chapter 4
“Katja, come here sweetheart,” Zofia Weiss called. “You should have a little something to eat before bed; we have a long trip in the morning.” Zofia knew that Katja had been too excited to eat her supper, and she would not eat much when she awoke. Katja had no appetite in the early morning.
“We are going all the way from England to France, right?”
“Yes, Sunshine, that’s right.” Zofia got up and took Katja’s hand, leading her to the kitchen. “How does some bread with jam sound?” She knew that Katja would eat bread with jam even if she refused anything else. Over the years, Zofia had come to know this child very well.
“And once we get to France, we are going for a long boat ride all the way to the Jewish homeland, right Mama?”
“You are a very smart little girl. And that is why you are my sunshine.” Zofia said, and she kissed the golden blond locks on top of Katja’s head. God, how she loved that child.
Zofia had worked and saved every penny to make this dream of finding her way to Palestine come true. But it was with a heavy heart that she would sail toward the Promised Land, because this dream was a dream she’d shared with the only man she had ever loved, Isaac Zuckerman, and he was gone. She had lost him when she, Isaac, and their friend Shlomie had escaped from the Nazis. They had been hiding in the forest. Isaac had gone out to find food and had not returned. Zofia knew that if he had not been killed or captured, he would surely have come back. She and Shlomie had searched for Isaac for several days, but he was nowhere to be found.
How can it be that life goes on even when a part of you has died? she thought while spreading strawberry jam on the thick slice of bread.
“Mama?” Katja was tugging at her arm.
“Yes, my sweet Sunshine.”
“Look, Ethel is wearing the new dress that you made for her. She wants to look her best for the trip.” Katja held Ethel, the rag doll, up in the air. Ethel was the only toy she owned. Zofia had made the doll for Katja using buttons and yarn to create a face and hair. “When we get to Palestine will you teach me to sew? I’d like to make doll clothes,” Katja said, her bright blue eyes shining with interest.
Zofia knelt down and hugged the little girl. “You are only seven. I am not sure you are old enough to work with a needle. You could hurt yourself.” This child was all she had in the world, and although she’d not been her birth mother, Zofia felt as if she were her true mother.
“I promise to be careful. You said we would try to buy a sewing machine of our own and that maybe you would start a business as a dressmaker. Remember?”
“I do remember. And I would love to do that, but why don’t we wait and see what life is like in Palestine.”
“Mama,” Katja looked up at Zofia. Zofia could see the storm brewing behind her daughter’s gaze. “I am sad.”
“But why are you unhappy? You were so excited to go on the boat and to see Palestine.”
“I am going to miss Elizabeth, and all my other friends at school, too.”
“I know, but you will make new ones. Come sit beside me and I’ll read to you.”
Katja cuddled up to Zofia as Zofia began to read.
That night after Zofia had bathed Katja and put her to bed, she began to pack their things. There was not much, just a few dresses. Two of Katja’s and two of Zofia’s, their underclothing, and toothbrushes. Once the suitcase was filled, she locked her bedroom door. Then she unlocked the bottom drawer to her desk and took out a long fat envelope stuffed with papers. She listened at the doorway to the bedroom to assure herself that Katja was asleep. Then she opened the envelope.
The last time she’d looked at these papers had been when Christa had brought the child to her. The words that were written within these documents told the story of Katja’s beginnings. Her mother, Helga Haswell, had given birth to her at Steinhöring, the home of the Lebensborn Institute, and a year later she had been adopted by Christa and Manfred Blau. Zofia had known the Blaus very well. Manfred had been the Work Detail Führer at the camp where Zofia, a Jew, had been imprisoned. He’d chosen her to come and live with his family in order to help his wife, Christa, who was sickly, care for the child.
As Zofia had come to know Christa and Katja, she had learned to love them. However, Manfred’s tortured mind had caused him to inflict terrible acts of cruelty upon Zofia, as well as upon his own wife, who had born the scars of both the physical and mental injures in silence. The longer Zofia knew Manfred, the more she had come to despise him.
Once the war had ended and Manfred had been arrested, Christa feared that she was too ill to care for Katja alone and so had come to Zofia. Christa had seen Zofia at the trial where Zofia had testified against Manfred. That night Christa had gone to Zofia’s hotel room and had begged her to take Katja and care for her. Christa had told Zofia that she knew how much Zofia loved Katja, and if Zofia would take the child then Christa could die in peace, knowing that child would be safe in Zofia’s care. Zofia had agreed. She did love Katja and was happy to have her.
Now that several years had passed, that love had become even stronger, and she and Katja had grown inseparable.
Zofia bit her lower lip; the feeling of the envelope in her hand burned her fingers. She tucked the papers into the bottom of the suitcase. Several times, she’d considered burning them, but she couldn’t be sure whether someday Katja might need information on her medical background. But unless that happened, it was best that the papers remain hidden. The words on those documents would only scare and confuse the child. Zofia covered them with the clothing. Next, she tucked the Star of David necklace that she’d given Katja for her last birthday into the side pocket. Then Zofia closed the suitcase and lay down beside her daughter to try to sleep for a few hours before the ordeal began.
In the morning, Zofia prepared a light breakfast of bread and cheese. Then she quietly entered Katja’s room. For a moment, in the stillness of the morning, Zofia watched Katja sleep, marveling at the sweet little miracle she’d been blessed with. Katja lay on her side, her thumb in her mouth. Just a hint of shadow from her eyelashes was cast upon her cheek as the morning light began peeking through the window.
“Katja,” Zofia whispered, gently rubbing the child’s soft ivory cheek with her forefinger. “Sunshine, it’s time to get up,” Zofia said, leaning down and kissing Katja’s forehead ever so lightly.
The little girl stirred and looked up at Zofia, blinking and rubbing her eyes.
“Good Morning, Sunshine.” Zofia said. During the last six months when they had lived in Great Britain, Zofia had learned to speak the language very well, and she only spoke to Katja in English or Yiddish, never in German. Secretly, Zofia feared that hearing the Germanic language might bring back painful memories for her daughter.
Katja smiled.
�
�I have some breakfast ready for you.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I know that, Sunshine. I know you hate to eat first thing in the morning, but we have a long trip and I think you should try.”
“All right,” Katja said. Zofia smiled. Katja was such an agreeable child. As Zofia watched Katja get out of bed, her small delicate feet bare against the wood floor, Zofia’s heart hurt with the depth of the emotion she felt toward this little one.
Zofia had insisted that Katja always wash her face and brush her teeth upon rising. It had become a habit. So, before she went to the table, Katja engaged in her morning routine.
With Katja at the table picking at the bread and cheese her mother had prepared for her, Zofia finished adding the final items to their suitcase; toothbrushes, soap, and washcloths. When Katja could eat no more, Zofia wrapped what was left of the breakfast in a white towel that she placed in her handbag. She knew from experience that Katja would be famished at about ten a.m.
“All right now, go on and get dressed. I laid your clothes out on the bed for you,” Zofia said.
“Yes, Mama.”
They walked to the train station, Katja with her doll in one hand, wearing a light blue summer dress, her blond curls bouncing as she walked. Zofia, with her slim figure and long dark hair, was carrying the suitcase in one hand and holding the child’s hand with the other.
As they waited to board, Zofia thought about Isaac. He had had golden hair; he could have easily passed for Katja’s father. How she missed him. She’d shut away the dreams they had for a life together when he’d disappeared that day in the forest. All she had left of him were the wonderful dreams and the beautiful memories.
Zofia helped Katja up the steps and onto the train. They found two seats together. “Can I sit by the window, Mama?” Katja asked. “Ethel has never been on a train, and she would like to look out the window.” Katja held the doll up toward the glass.
Zofia smiled and nodded. “Of course you and Ethel can sit by the window.”
Katja sat down but got up immediately.
“It’s hot.” Katja said, and Zofia realized that the leather seat would burn Katja’s legs so she took one of her dresses out of the suitcase and laid it on the seat. Then she lifted Katja and put her on top of the fabric.
“Better?” Zofia asked.
“Yes, thank you, Mama,” Katja said. Zofia leaned down to kiss the top of Katja’s golden head, and then she sat down beside her.
An older woman with graying hair and matching skin sat across from them. “What a lovely child,” she said as she looked at Katja.
Katja eyed the woman suspiciously and leaned in closer to Zofia. She is so shy, Zofia thought. I hope she will be able to make new friends in Palestine.
“Thank you,” Zofia said turning to the woman.
Katja watched intently out the window as they passed through the English countryside, but after a while the motion of the train rocked her to sleep, her head on Zofia’s shoulder.
The ride from London to Dover took approximately two hours. Katja slept on and off, sweating, her face flushed with the heat. She complained when she woke that her legs and back hurt from sitting. Zofia felt bad for the child. She realized that such a grueling trip would be exhausting for Katja, no matter how much she slept. The heat of the summer in early July made the journey uncomfortable. However, had it been winter, the trip would have been far more perilous.
In Dover, they boarded a crowded ferry that reeked of garlic from sausages and salami. It was hard to find a seat that was not in direct sunlight. Zofia feared that the hot rays would make Katja ill, so Zofia took Katja downstairs where she laid her dress down on the cool floor and told Katja to sit on it. They were headed across the English Channel to Calais. The boat ride would take no more than two hours; if all went well, they might make it in an hour and a half.
When they finally left the boat, Katja complained of a headache. Zofia wet a cloth with the small canteen of water she’d brought and held it against her daughter’s forehead.
“We are in France now, Sunshine.” Zofia knelt so that she would be on the same level as Katja. Then she smiled at Katja and wiped her face with the towel.
Next, they would have to take a train to Marseilles. If only she’d had the money to purchase a berth, it would have been easier to make Katja comfortable. Well, she didn’t have the funds, and there was nothing she could do now. All she could do was make Katja as happy as possible. This was a lot of traveling for a child. In fact, once they arrived in Marseilles, they had to take another train for over two hours to Sète, where they would board Exodus and be on their way to Palestine.
By the time they were seated on the train in Marseilles, Katja was hungry. She ate far too quickly. The gobbling of her food and the motion of the train upset her stomach, and she began vomiting. Zofia kept her daughter close. She pulled Katja’s hair back and held a paper bag for her as she retched. Once Katja was finished, Zofia wet the cloth again and wiped Katja’s forehead.
Then Katja began to cry.
“Shhh, you’re going to be fine. You’re just not used to all of this traveling. It’s all right. Shhh. It’s going to be just fine,” Zofia cooed softly as she wrapped a trembling Katja in her arms.
“My stomach hurts, and I’m scared,” Katja said
“Don’t be afraid, my darling, my Sunshine. I will never let anything happen to you. Do you believe me?”
Katja nodded.
“Do you know how much I love you?”
“Tell me again,” Katja said, smiling slyly. This was an ongoing jest between them.
“I love you with all my heart,” Zofia said. Zofia was comforted by Katja’s smile. It told her that Katja had begun to feel better.
“Sing my song, Mama?” Katja asked.
Zofia gently squeezed Katja’s shoulder. Then she began to sing softly as the train rolled along the track.
“You are my Sunshine, my only Sunshine, you make me happy . . .”
Katja joined in. She knew this American song very well. Zofia had sung it to her for as long as she could remember.
“When skies are gray,” they sang together, mother and daughter. A heavyset woman with several ample chins in a pink flowered housedress beamed at them from across the aisle.
“You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.” As they sang “I love you,” mother and daughter, as had become their custom over the last few years, pointed at each other, and then laughed.
Chapter 5
“It has all been arranged. You will go to the dock at Sète in France, and be taken by U-boat to Argentina. Once you are there, a car will be waiting to take you to a remote village in the countryside. No one there will know you or care about your past. A small villa on the outskirts will be provided for you with everything that you will need. Once you are moved in, you will stay inside your house and make contact with no one. Then you must wait until a man comes to your door. He will tell you that the mynah bird sings one thousand songs. That phrase is the password. That is how you will know that he is your contact. This man is a trusted officer of the Third Reich. His name is Konrad Klausen. Commit this name and the phrase to memory, because you must not write it down anywhere. Do you understand everything I am telling you?” the Odessa agent asked.
Manfred nodded.
“There is no room for error.”
Again, Manfred nodded.
“What was the password?” the agent asked.
“The mynah bird sings one thousand songs,” Manfred said.
“And the man’s name?”
“Konrad Klausen.”
“Good, very good.”
“But how am I to get out of this prison?”
“Listen carefully. I will tell you what is to be done. Now, my directions must be followed exactly, do you understand?”
“Yes.” Manfred nodded.
“Good, then I shall tell you all that you need to know.”
Manfred felt a bead of sweat tickle his
chest beneath his shirt. His eyes were locked on the goat-like eyes of the slender man from Odessa.
“In a few days, Manfred Blau, you shall be joined by a cell mate. His name is Dolf Sprecht . . . That will signal the beginning of your escape.”
Chapter 6
The SS Exodus was originally a US-owned coastal passenger ship called President Warfield. Zofia looked at Exodus and her heart sank. Could this old battered vessel make it across the Mediterranean Sea with all of these people on board? She bit her lower lip and looked down at the top of Katja’s blond hair with worry. What if the ship sank? What was she thinking? How could she have taken her child on such a dangerous journey? I must not think about the risks or we will never get to Palestine. Katja and I have waited so long to be on our way to the Promised Land. This is our only chance. Zofia had worked hard to make this dream a reality; she had scrimped and saved. During the day, she took in work as a seamstress, sewing ornate gowns by hand. Then three nights a week, she cleaned factories. Her sleep suffered, but she was young and strong, and she wanted more than anything to leave Europe and find her way to a land where Jews were safe.
In order to work at night, Zofia had arranged for Katja to stay in the care of the downstairs neighbor, Joanne. Joanne had a daughter Elizabeth, who was only a year older then Katja. Zofia had paid Elizabeth’s mother to watch Katja and that was how the two little girls had become best friends. Now, Zofia wondered if she was making a mistake taking Katja away from the life she had come to know. This child had been through so much already, and Zofia’s only consolation was that she hoped that Katja didn’t remember most of her time in Germany.
The Promised Land (All My Love, Detrick Series) (All My Love Detrick Book 3) Page 4