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

by Roberta Kagan

  Several survivors of the camps who had suffered by Manfred’s hand watched the execution. Zofia was not among them.

  Chapter 81

  Katja knew she must return to the army and serve the remainder of her time. But since she’d come upon this knowledge of her birth, everything had changed for her. Even before she had met Elan she’d enjoyed her job. Then, once Elan had come into her life, every day was filled with joy. Now, however, she counted the days, the hours, the minutes, until her tour of duty would be over and she could leave Tel Aviv and all of the memories of Elan behind. Although they lived in the same neighborhood, Katja never saw Elan; not when she was shopping for things she needed, or picking up her boss's laundry. Not ever. Mendel, however, was a constant in her life again. He went to the library and returned with stacks of journals, then he kept her company while he quietly researched her past, looking for answers. The answers she needed so desperately.

  Mendel could see that the light had gone out of Katja’s eyes. She was kind and friendly, and always made him feel welcome. But she never laughed anymore. She no longer sang while she folded laundry. He saw the overwhelming sadness in her and knew there was nothing he could do to ease her pain. Of course, he knew that she must miss Elan, although she never mentioned his name. All of the pictures that she kept beside her bed of her and Elan were gone, and Mendel never asked what she’d done with them. Yes, he’d always loved her, and he wanted her for his own, but not like this, not because she was hurt and lonely. Mendel would rather have suffered all the pain in the world than to see Katja miserable. And, he would never take advantage of her desperation. Instead, he would be the same as he was when he was just a childhood friend; ever constant in her life. He would help her get through this. And he would pray that whatever information awaited them about her birth parents was not as terrible as his speculations.

  Zofia and Isaac called every week, and she spoke to them, but she could not help but feel that they had betrayed her by keeping the important information about her adoption from her. Zofia tried to explain. She begged Katja to understand, but Katja refused to listen.

  Finally, her time in the army was done. Katja made the necessary arrangements, and she returned to the kibbutz. Mendel took a leave from school and returned with her.

  Mendel and Isaac were alone one afternoon, outside in the orchard.

  “So, what have you found out about Katja’s past?” Isaac asked.

  “I cannot find anyone by the name of Helga Haswell anywhere in Europe.”

  Isaac shrugged “I was doubtful about you finding her birth mother with everything that happened during the war. People just disappeared.”

  “I know. But I did find something. I mean, it could be nothing, but I haven’t told Kat yet. I wanted her to finish her time in the army before I told her.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Well, I found a listing for a woman in Switzerland, her name is Leah Haswell. Maybe she is Helga’s sister.”

  “Hmmm, perhaps, but Leah is a Jewish name.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s very strange.”

  “There could be no connection at all.”

  “That is possible, but for Kat’s sake, I want to go to Switzerland and see what we can find.”

  “What about Zofia? She would want to go with you. Her heart is broken over this situation with Katja. Katja has pushed her away. We call Kat every week and she is very cold to her mother. Zofia raised her as if she were her own child. Regardless of how Katja came to live with Zofia, Zofia is everything you could ever want from a mother.”

  “Where did Zofia find Katja in the first place?”

  “Well, Zofia was a prisoner in Treblinka. That Nazi who was on trial, that Manfred Blau, was an official at Treblinka. He needed a housekeeper and nanny for his daughter. He decided on Zofia. From what Zofia has told me, Blau’s wife was very kind but very ill. Zofia took care of Katja from the time she was just a baby. Then the prisoners in Treblinka staged an uprising and Blau’s wife helped Zofia escape. She escaped into the forest. That was where we met. We were in hiding. After the war was over, Manfred Blau was captured and he went to trial in Nuremberg. Zofia was living in a DP camp. A lawyer came to see her and asked her to testify. In exchange for testifying, the lawyer promised Zofia that he would help her to start her life over in London. She did. Zofia said it was very hard for her, but she knew that it must be done. When Zofia was in the courtroom, she saw Blau’s wife sitting in the audience.

  That night, the wife went to see Zofia at her hotel room. She told Zofia that she was dying, and she asked Zofia if she would take Katja and care for her and raise her. Zofia said that Blau’s wife did not trust Manfred to care for the child even if he were somehow not convicted; although it was quite apparent that he would be. Of course, Blau was convicted and sentenced to death. Zofia never knew that he had escaped. So, she tried to shelter Katja by never telling her the truth. I always told Zofia that she should tell Katja, but she couldn’t. Zofia and I love Katja as if she were our own offspring. Zofia couldn’t bear to tell her; she didn’t want to see her hurt. Zofia thought that Manfred was dead and his wife, too. She believed that the secret died with them.”

  “And I suppose Blau has never told anyone where his wife sent Katja?”

  “From what Blau has said at the trial, I have come to understand that the wife was dead by the time Blau escaped from prison. She never had a chance to tell him that she sent Katja to live with Zofia.”

  “So, Blau has no idea what happened to Katja.”

  “Exactly right. And Zofia wants to keep it that way, for Katja’s sake.”

  “I can understand, but if Katja wants to talk to Blau, we have to try to arrange for her to meet with him.”

  “I hope she doesn’t want to see him. According to Zofia, he was a depraved, sadistic son of a bitch,” Isaac said.

  “I don’t doubt that he was,” Mendel nodded. “Even though I can remember a little of what it was like in Germany during the war, I still find it hard to believe that most of the Nazis were even human.”

  Chapter 82

  Zofia made herself available to Katja, but she did not force her daughter to communicate with her. Instead, she just waited, praying that Katja would realize that Zofia had done what she believed was best for Katja. And that Katja would forgive her for not telling her the truth.

  It was several days that Katja remained in her old room without coming out. Zofia and Isaac were worried. Mendel brought Katja food and went in to sit with her, but she hardly ate. She told him that she could not forgive her mother. Many times he explained how Zofia only meant to protect Katja because she loved her. For hours, Katja lay with her head on Mendel’s lap while he stroked her hair in silence.

  Then finally, one morning, Katja got up. She splashed cold water on her red, tear-stained face, and went to find Zofia where she was working in the children’s house. She entered quietly. Zofia’s back was to the door so she did not see Katja enter. Zofia was surrounded by a circle of children to whom she was reading a story.

  Katja watched Zofia. She remembered how her mother had read to her. She remembered how Zofia had taken old worn-out socks and given them to her, along with buttons, pom-poms, paper, and paste (that she’d made from flour and water) to make puppets, so that Katja could use the puppets to act out the stories in the books Zofia read to her. Isaac had cut a hole into a large cardboard box. Then Katja and her parents had painted the box to make it into a puppet theater. Katja, Rachel and Mendel had spent many Sunday afternoons putting on puppet shows while Zofia and Isaac had watched patiently, laughing when it was appropriate, and always clapping and cheering. They were good parents. She could not have asked for better.

  No matter what had happened; no matter who had given birth to her, or who the man was that spawned her, Isaac was her father and Zofia was her mother.

  She had tears in her eyes as she heard Zofia ask one of the little girls, "So Chana, what do you think happened to the glass slipper?"<
br />
  “I don’t know Mrs. Zuckerman . . .”

  “Does anyone know?” Zofia asked.

  One of the children raised his hand, “Yes, Ari?” Zofia said.

  “Maybe it got broken, or maybe the fairy made it disappear.”

  “Perhaps,” Zofia said. “But you’ll all have to listen very closely while I finish the story if you want to find out.”

  “Will the prince marry her?” another little girl asked. “How will he ever be able to find her?”

  “Listen,” Zofia said, in an inviting whisper. “I will tell you . . .” Then she began to read.

  Katja stood there for several minutes, the tears welling up in her eyes. She covered her mouth with her hand. Zofia was still so patient. Katja took a deep breath. Then she walked over and touched Zofia’s shoulder. Zofia jumped a little because she hadn’t been expecting anyone. Then she turned and saw Katja.

  “I love you, Mama.” Katja said.

  Zofia studied Katja. For a few seconds she couldn’t move. Then she stood up and hugged her daughter, patting Katja’s back the way she did when Katja was little. “I love you, my Sunshine.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama. Can you forgive me?”

  “I’ve already forgotten anything you ever did that would need forgiving. I love you, Katja. You are my child, my heart and my life.” Tears rolled down Zofia’s cheeks.

  “If Mendel can find any information, he and I are going to go and meet Helga Haswell. I want you to be with me. Will you go?”

  “Of course. You know that I will.”

  “Yes, Mama, I knew you would.”

  The temperature was in the low sixties when Mendel asked Katja to come for a walk through the orchards. “I want to talk to you,” he said.

  “You have news about my birth mother?”

  “Take a heavy sweater,” Mendel said. “You know how cool it can get out there.”

  She nodded, grabbing a thick, navy-blue, wrap-around sweater with a thick belt. He helped her put it on. “There, now you’ll be nice and warm.”

  “Mendel, please, talk to me. Tell me what you know.”

  “I’m going to tell you everything. Let’s walk.”

  They walked for several minutes. People from the kibbutz who were working in the fields waved and Katja and Mendel waved back. Katja’s heart was beating so hard that she felt she might vomit or faint.

  “Mendel . . .” she said. “Please.” She knew he dreaded this, but it had to be done. She had to know.

  “I searched everywhere. I can’t find anyone by the name of Helga Haswell.”

  She sighed. “I thought that might happen.”

  “But I did find something strange. I found a Leah Haswell. It could be nothing. This woman may not be connected in any way.”

  “Leah? Leah is her name?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe Helga changed her name?”

  “But why? Leah is a Jewish name. If she is posing as a Jew she would have changed her surname as well.”

  “That’s right. So, I have no idea if any of this information is even related to Helga,” he said.

  “I have to know for sure. I have to meet her. Where is she?”

  “Switzerland. I figured that you would want to go there and find out whatever we can. So, I’ve already arranged a flight.”

  “But my mother wants to come with us,” Katja said.

  “I know. I talked to her. I got a plane ticket for her, too.”

  “For the three of us?” Katja asked. “And my father?”

  “We ran out of money. He said that he understood. He said that it was best that the three of us go together. He said that he will stay close to the phone in case you need him.”

  “Papa . . .”

  “You’re parents love you very much, Katja.” Mendel said.

  “It must have been expensive,” she said.

  “I had a little money saved and your father gave me what he could.”

  She nodded. “Oh Mendel, I’m so scared.”

  “I know. I’ll be right here beside you.”

  “Thank you. Oh Mendel, you have always been right beside me, throughout my entire life. What a good friend you are. I am so blessed to have you.”

  “You’d do the same for me or for Rachel.”

  “You’re right, I would.”

  “We are blood sisters and brothers, right?” He smiled and winked at her.

  She mustered a smile for him. “Yes, we are. You still remember that? When Rachel made us all cut ourselves?”

  “Of course, how could I forget? It bound us together forever . . .”

  She smiled. “I am so grateful to you, Mendel, for everything.”

  He smiled. “We leave in three days. Can you be ready?”

  “Yes, but we should tell my mother; to make sure she is ready.”

  “I’ll take care of everything,” he said. “Don’t worry about anything at all.”

  Chapter 83

  Leah Haswell had just finished giving her fourth piano lesson of the day and she was worn out. For a woman alone, it was difficult to make ends meet. However, she still loved her deceased husband and although she’d had many offers, she could not bring herself to remarry. Her son, Daniel, was staying late at school to participate in an athletic event. He was so like his father. His father had been a contender to enter the Olympics if not for Hitler.

  If Hitler had not come into power, everything would have been different. The Nazis had taken her home, her father, and the man whom she loved, the father of her son, Daniel. Leah gathered the sheet music together and placed it neatly inside the seat of the piano bench. It would be at least a few hours before Daniel returned. Since he would be home late they would have a light dinner. An omelet, perhaps.

  On the nights when Daniel was not participating in soccer or some other sport, he had recently begun working. He insisted on helping his mother with the finances, and it broke her heart that he could not put full concentration into his schooling. She’d protested his getting a job, but he would not hear her. He worked at the loading dock of a nearby factory, bringing home enough money to make things a little more comfortable.

  She filled her teapot and put it on a low flame to boil, and then she took the book she was reading down from the shelf and sat down for a few hours of escape into her novel. She had hardly begun reading when the phone rang. It was probably another piano student needing to schedule a lesson. Leah stretched and stood up to pick up the receiver. Then she took the pen and appointment book she kept by the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Is this Leah Haswell?”

  It was a man’s voice. Her heart began to beat quickly. Was it the school? Was something wrong with Daniel? “Yes, this is Mrs. Haswell.”

  “My name is Mendel Zaltstein. I am so sorry to bother you. And . . . I know that this call might seem strange. But, it is very important that I ask you this . . . do you know a Helga Haswell?”

  It had been years since anyone had mentioned Detrick’s sister’s name. Years since she’d heard of Helga. In fact, the last time was when Detrick had gone to see his sister at the farm, leaving her and her father alone in Berlin. She’d told Detrick to go and see his sister, begged him in fact. But it was while he was gone that Leah and her father, Jacob, had been taken by the Gestapo. Leah sunk down on the sofa, the cord to the phone stretching taut, as her hands trembled. The appointment book dropped to the floor and she almost dropped the receiver.

  “She is my late husband’s sister.” Leah cleared her throat. “Why do you ask? Why do you want to know?”

  “Let me explain,” Mendel said. And then he told her everything.

  Chapter 84

  A week later Zofia, Katja, and Mendel arrived at Leah’s apartment. It was the same apartment where Detrick had left Leah so many years ago when he went on his mission to rescue her father. It was a small flat, and although it was sparsely furnished, there was an air of dignity about it.

  “Please, come in and sit down,” Leah
said.

  “I’m sorry that we are intruding on you,” Zofia said, “but you were one of the only Haswells that Mendel was able to find in all of Europe.”

  “Yes, that would probably be right,” Leah said. “My husband’s parents were older and have probably passed on. And Helga, well, she got married. So, her last name would be different.”

  “Do you have any idea of her married name?” Mendel asked.

  Katja sat at the edge of the corner of the sofa.

  “I’m not sure. But if my memory serves me, she married a farmer. His name was Kurt and they lived somewhere on a farm in the outskirts of Munich. That much I do remember.”

  “Was Kurt an SS officer, or a Nazi?” Katja asked, her voice small, almost a whisper.

  “No, at least I don’t think so. My husband, Detrick, never mentioned anything like that.” Leah looked at Katja. She resembled Detrick and Daniel so much that Leah thought she might cry. The blond hair, the way it fell over her left eye. Detrick, my Detrick. This is your sister’s lost child. I can see it in everything about her.

  Katja looked around. She saw a menorah up on a shelf, and pictures of a young, blond boy who looked a great deal like her, who was wearing a yarmulke and tafillin. He stood beside a Rabbi in what appeared to be a bar mitzvah picture. “Are you Jewish?” Katja asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So Helga is Jewish? How can that be if I was born in the Lebensborn? The man who impregnated her was an SS officer. I don’t understand at all.”

  “Helga is not Jewish. My husband was not born Jewish. He converted.”

  “The picture is your son?” Katja asked.

  “Yes, it’s my Daniel. He’s my life. He looks a lot like you. You, Katja, look a lot like my husband. Detrick was a wonderful man; his heart was so good.”

  “Was Helga like him?”

  “I never met her. But she had to be somewhat like him. They were brother and sister.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Katja said, crossing her arms over her chest. “She got pregnant by an SS officer. How could she do that?”