The Promised Land (All My Love, Detrick Series) (All My Love Detrick Book 3)

by Roberta Kagan

  “Mama!” Katja said, alarmed, tugging hard on Zofia’s sleeve. “I think I left Ethel on the train. We have to go back and get her.”

  Oh no, Zofia thought. She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Sunshine, we can’t go back now. I wish we could, but even if we tried, the train has already left the station. We have to get in line so that we can board the ship.”

  Zofia’s heart hurt as she saw Katja’s eyes fill with tears.

  Zofia knelt down level with Katja: “How about this? I promise that when we get to Palestine, I will teach you and you can make your own doll. What do you think? That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” Zofia asked, running her hand over Katja’s hair. It was obvious to her that her daughter was tired. The trip had made her irritable, and now she’d lost her doll.

  “I wish we could get Ethel. She was looking forward to going to Palestine.”

  “I know, but we can’t. But I promise you, Ethel will be just fine in France. When we make your new doll, you can learn to make clothes for her as well.” Zofia knew how much Katja longed to learn to sew. She’d wanted to wait until Katja was a little older, but she decided that this was the only way to make Katja feel a little better.

  “You promise?” Katja said, rubbing her eyes, which had turned red with exhaustion.

  “I promise, I’ll teach you. You’ll have to be very careful of the needle. You will be careful won’t you?”

  “Yes, of course, Mama.” Katja smiled, and Zofia felt a little better.

  “Come here let me hug you.” Zofia could feel Katja was clammy and sweaty. Her dress clung to her small frame. It was July 11th, a sizzling summer day.

  Zofia hugged Katja and held her for a moment, feeling the tiny heartbeat against her own.

  “Let’s keep the line moving,” said an angry, wrinkled old man standing behind them and wearing a tattered brown suit far too big for his skeletal body.

  “Mama, I’m so warm. It’s so hot outside.” Katja’s face was flushed and her brow wet with sweat. Zofia’s eyelids felt heavy from the harsh rays of the sun and the relentless heat.

  “Do you want a drink of water?” Zofia asked Katja. There was not much water left, but she’d saved as much as she could for the child.

  Katja nodded “Yes, Mama, I’m very thirsty.”

  Zofia put the suitcase down on the ground beside her and reached into her handbag bag to search for the canteen she had packed. As her fingers navigated through the contents (her wallet, their papers, and several handkerchiefs) in an effort to find the water, Katja spotted a man walking a small black and white dog. Without warning Katja turned and ran after the man. Zofia called her name, “Katja, come back here right now!”

  When Katja continued after the man, Zofia called out frantically, “Katja come back!” Zofia knew that if she moved, she would surely lose her place in line. As it was, they had at least two hours to wait before boarding.

  “Katja,” Zofia cried. But Katja was out of sight. Zofia could not run while carrying her heavy valise, so she left her suitcase and went dashing after Katja. Pushing through crowds of people in a panic, Zofia began to feel the perspiration trickle down her brow and moisten the armpits of her dress. She looked everywhere, but she could not see Katja. Zofia cried out again, her voice hoarse with fear. So many people, anything could happen. Katja could even have fallen in the water. “No God. Please . . .” Zofia was crying, her head spinning around, looking in every direction. Finally, Zofia spotted a little girl with curls the color of daffodils on the other side of the dock. She ran as fast as she could.

  “Katja . . . don’t run away like that,” Zofia said hardly able to catch her breath. “What were you thinking?” Zofia grabbed the little girl and wrapped her in her arms.

  “Look, Mama. Look at the puppy.”

  Zofia was suddenly angry. “I see the puppy. But, you cannot leave my side. Do you understand me? What you did was so dangerous.” Zofia didn’t realize how harsh her tone of voice had become until she saw that Katja was crying. Then Zofia’s shoulders slumped, the anger dissipated, and she broke down.

  “I’m sorry, Sunshine. I know it has been a long hard day for you. But please don’t leave my side again. Someone could take you, or you could have been hurt. You must stay with me at all times. Now let’s get back in line before we lose our suitcase, if we haven’t already. I’m sure we have lost our place.” Zofia shook her head, exasperated. She took Katja’s hand and began to lead her back to the line. Then she saw a familiar face.

  “YOU!”

  “Zofia!”

  “Koppel.”

  He nodded. His expression was a mixture of fear, anger, and joy.

  “Mama, when we get to Palestine can I have a dog?”

  “We’ll see.” Zofia could not take her eyes from Koppel’s face. Her voice was a deep, menacing growl. “Do you know what happened to my friends and me after you sent us to the camp?”

  Koppel swallowed hard. His hands trembled so greatly that they looked as if they were going to detach from his arms. A thin line of drool began dripping from his mouth.

  “Fruma and Gitel, the two ladies I lived with. Remember them? I know you must. Those two ladies who were so kind to you, I’m sure you can’t have forgotten? Well, Koppel, because of what you did, they were taken to the gas chambers; sent to their deaths right away, as soon as they got off the train. Their blood is on your hands. YOUR HANDS, KOPPEL! And me? I suffered plenty, too. Plenty. Now, after all you did to the Jews, you would dare to go to Palestine? To the Jewish homeland? How could you?”

  Koppel tried to push her out of the way.

  “Don’t you touch me, you dirty pig,” Zofia said, shaking herself back.

  Koppel pushed her harder and she fell to her knees on the cement floor.

  “Mama!” Katja cried out in terror.

  Then Koppel turned to walk towards the line to board the boat. But, just as he did, a man came out of nowhere. A tall, strong, and muscular man. His fist caught Koppel in the mouth, blood shooting out like a torpedo, as Koppel fell to the ground.

  Zofia’s hand went to her throat. Could it be? Could this be true? Was it a vision? Was it possible? Dear God, am I hallucinating from the sun? “Isaac?” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Zofia, thanks be to God. You are here. I thought you were dead. I cannot believe it’s you.” His blond hair glistened in the sunlight.

  “Mama, who are these people?”

  Zofia could hardly breathe.

  Isaac helped her to her feet. His hand traced the line of her face. His eyes were deep azure pools of emotion. “My Zofia . . . you are here. This is like a dream. When I was captured, all I could think of was you. Every day that I was in the camp, I worried and prayed that somehow you would get by, somehow God would find a way and you would live. I searched and searched for you after the war. Then I went to a DP camp. When I got out, I looked again. But I couldn’t find you anywhere.” Isaac said, embracing her tightly.

  Katja pulled at Zofia’s skirt. “Mama? Mama, who are these people?” she asked.

  “Eidel?” Isaac said, nodding his head towards Katja.

  “No, Katja.”

  He looked at her puzzled. “Later,” she said “I will explain.”

  Koppel’s eyes darted around. He was getting up from the ground slowly. His nose was still bleeding, but he seemed to be trying to slip away unnoticed.

  “This man—” Zofia saw him slinking off and she pointed to Koppel. “—this man was the Judenrat that sent me and my friends to the concentration camp.”

  Koppel fell back down when Isaac’s eyes trapped him, holding him fast to the ground.

  Isaac stood like a mountain over Koppel. “Listen to me. We are going to Palestine. If you are on this boat, make sure I never see your sorry face again, because next time, if the child is not present, I might just kill you.”

  Koppel’s face was pale. His hands trembled even more than usual as he lay on the ground. Who was this giant, this Goliath of a man with the
heart of King David? Koppel was terrified of him.

  “Get out of here. I feel sick to my stomach when I look at you,” Isaac said.

  Koppel gladly got up. He grabbed his bag and ran into the crowd.

  “Mama? You still haven’t told me what’s going on here.”

  “I know, Sunshine, I will. Just give me a little time. Right now we must hurry. I left our suitcase behind when I came looking for you. I pray that no one has stolen it.” Zofia took Isaac’s hand on one side and Katja’s on the other and began to walk very quickly back toward the boarding line. Her palms were damp and itchy, worrying about her belongings. If the suitcase was gone, so were the papers with the facts about Katja’s birth in the home for the Lebensborn. That would not be so terrible, except whoever might take those papers would know that Katja was not born Jewish. In fact, she was a child engineered by Hitler to be the perfect specimen of an Aryan. Katja was a combination of a blond, full-blooded, German mother and a father who was an officer in the SS. This knowledge could cost Katja dearly in her later years.

  A shiver ran up Zofia’s spine. She should have destroyed those papers. She should have destroyed the past before it destroyed them.

  Chapter 7

  “I’m Dolf Sprecht,” said a young, blond man who resembled Manfred. Dolf extended his hand.

  Manfred nodded as he studied the man who had just become his cell mate. “Manfred Blau.” Manfred shook his hand.

  Amazing how effective ODESSA was. Sprecht could have passed for his double. Did anyone else in the prison notice that? Could the guards be that stupid? The man from ODESSA who’d come to him with the directions for his escape had told him that he doubted anyone would pay any attention at all. Manfred Blau, the ODESSA officer said, was little more than the number on his uniform. To the prison guards, he did not have a name or a face. Not like Hess.

  What had this man, this Sprecht, done to be brought to Spandau? Had he been a Nazi guard somewhere? Manfred had been warned not to ask any questions, but he longed to know. What had the spider network arranged in order to have this man placed in his cell? What had Dolf been promised? It was obvious that Dolf did not know the entire plan. He must not have been told that they planned to kill him.

  “How long is your sentence?” Sprecht asked.

  “Hmm? I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.” Manfred said. He’d been too lost in thought to listen.

  “Your sentence. How long are you serving?”

  “Oh, life, I am here on a life sentence. You?” Manfred just had to ask in spite of his directions not to ask questions.

  “I’ve served most of my time. I have only three months left.” Sprecht said. “I have heard of you. You are rather famous, you know?”

  “Me? Famous?” Manfred chuckled.

  “You are a war criminal, aren’t you?”

  “That is a term that has been used to describe me. However, I don’t see myself as a criminal at all. I am a soldier, a man who followed his heart in a quest to build a better world. We lost the war, but that doesn’t make me a criminal. I am loyal to my chosen party. To the Reich, to the building of the Aryan race, to a greater good.

  “Yes, well . . .”

  “Are you German?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “And did you not support the Fatherland, support our Führer?”

  “I did and I do, more than you know. I believed that what our Führer had been trying to accomplish was the making of a world far better than the one we live in. But I cannot see how he could have just abandoned us, leaving us to the mercy of our enemies. How could he have committed suicide when we need him more now than ever? Unless, by some miracle, he is alive. Have you ever thought about that? Have you ever considered that possibility?”

  “I have thought of it, certainly, but it is believed that he and several other high officials were found in his underground bunker, dead.”

  “Ahhh, but Hitler’s body was not found.”

  “Are you sure of this?” Manfred sat up straight, listening intently.

  “I am.” Dolf said, smiling. “And that is why, whatever sacrifice is asked of us, we must all do our part to keep the Third Reich going. That is the only way we will rise again.”

  Manfred nodded, studying his idealistic cell mate’s open smile and honest eyes. In a few days, Manfred would kill this man. That was the arrangement. He must murder this man called Dolf Sprecht. It made Manfred a little sad. He could learn to like him. The two had a lot in common. Nonetheless, this was part of the escape plan.

  Outside his cell, Manfred could hear the echo of Rudolf Hess calling for the guards, complaining of stomach pain again.

  Chapter 8

  Zofia felt as if she had been swept up in a tornado of emotions; immense joy to be reunited with Isaac, and at the same time, gripping fear that someone had come upon the suitcase with the papers tucked deep inside and taken it. People were poor, they had nothing. It was doubtful that the suitcase would still be there. She moved as quickly as she could, keeping a grip on Isaac and Katja until she got back to the line. Over the half hour she’d been gone, the line had grown in length. It took several suspenseful moments until she recognized the crusty old man who had stood behind her and Katja, complaining. Beside him rested their suitcase. If need be, Zofia knew that Isaac would defend her.

  “Mister, this is my suitcase,” Zofia said, her voice as strong and authoritative as she could muster.

  “I know that. I was watching it for you, holding your place in line. Now, get in line and keep moving,” he said, a small smile creeping over his weathered face.

  The old fellow had surprised Zofia. She thought he was ornery, but in fact, he was actually a kind person. Just weary. Weren’t they all?

  As they stood in line, Isaac held Zofia’s hand. In his other hand, he carried their suitcases. Her suitcase tucked beneath his arm, his own in his hand. The three of them actually looked like a family. Katja had blond hair like Isaac, but she had a small delicate build like Zofia. Zofia observed all of this, and breathed a sigh of relief. Once she explained everything to Isaac, the two of them would marry and Katja would carry his name. Nobody would ever know Katja’s real background. In fact, she would start calling her Kayla. At first, it would sound like an affectionate derivative of her name, but little by little, it would become her name. Then Zofia would change it legally.

  Finally, they climbed the gangplank and boarded the Exodus.

  Row upon row of bunk beds filled the deck of the boat. There was no privacy anywhere to be found. Zofia could see by the way Isaac looked at her that he too longed to be alone with her, if only for a few minutes. To hold her in his arms, to tell her all that he’d been through, and to listen as she told him everything that had happened since they were last together. She wanted to tell him everything about Katja, and then the painful events concerning Eidel. But she couldn’t. Not while anyone, especially Katja could hear. For now, she must be satisfied just holding Isaac’s hand and looking into his eyes, thanking God that he was still alive. It truly was a miracle.

  They chose two bunks. One Isaac would share with another man, and the other Katja would share with Zofia. A look passed between Zofia and Isaac, a look only the two of them understood. Their eyes met, for only a second, but each of them knew the longing to lie together, to feel their skin against one another, to listen to their hearts beat, and to share all of their thoughts, their fears, and their desires. This is what is meant by being in love, Zofia thought. She’d never wanted anyone as much. A smile of understanding crept across Isaac’s face. He felt the same. But he also knew that for the sake of the child, they must maintain a respectful distance.

  “Welcome, my Jewish brothers and sisters.” A booming male voice came over the loudspeaker. My name is Yitzhak Ike Ahronovitch, but you can call me Ike. I am the captain of this ship. If my calculations are correct, there are 4,515 of you brave souls on your way to Palestine. Like all of you, this voyage has been a dream of mine for a long time. As you can see, I ca
n’t offer you a luxury vessel for the journey.”

  There was laughter from the crowd

  “But, we do have a ship, we have hope, and we have a dream. So without wasting any more time, God willing, let’s get this vessel moving and be on our way to Palestine, our homeland.”

  The crowd applauded.

  “To the Promised Land.”

  Everyone stood and cheered. Then the boat began to rock to life. A loud horn bellowed a warning as the ship of tattered people who’d survived unspeakable horrors moved slowly away from the dock and all of the memories of Nazi-occupied Europe. A slight drizzle fell from the sky, but the sun burnt brightly from behind the clouds and Katja pointed to a rainbow.

  “Look, Mama, it’s a rainbow.”

  “Yes, Sunshine, so it is,” Zofia said, as she kissed the top of Katja’s head, and then looked at Isaac. He sat straight and tall, the large muscles in his arms flexed as he squeezed her hand. There were tears in his eyes.

  “Isaac,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “We are finally on our way home.” He swallowed hard and looked at her, his eyes glossed over with tears.

  She nodded. “Yes . . .” But she thought, God only knows what we will find when we get to Palestine.

  Chapter 9

  Dolf Sprecht snored lightly in a steady rhythm. Manfred watched him from his bunk on the other side of the cell. It was time. If all went well with Manfred’s escape, then the spiders would work on Hess’s, and if Hess were freed it would be a huge victory for the Nazi party. Manfred reached under his pillow where he hid the small bag he’d been given. Although the dark room did not allow him to see the contents, he knew that inside the fabric sack rested the tiny pill that would end Dolf’s life and, in turn, would end Manfred’s existence as Manfred Blau. For once Dolf was dead, Manfred would steal his identity. Manfred would become Dolf Sprecht. The body that would be found dead in that prison cell the following morning would be wearing the number and clothing of Manfred Blau. The guards would believe that Manfred had bitten into the cyanide capsule and committed suicide. Since Dolf had almost fully served his sentence, Manfred was about to be a free man.