“No, thank you,” Katja said. Mendel and Zofia shook their heads.
Helga took a breath and sighed. “Katja, can you ever forgive me? I know what I did was wrong, but your forgiveness would mean the world to me.” Helga’s face crinkled and she began to cry again. Kurt stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder. The once-glamorous and beautiful Helga was now an aged and weather-worn farmers' wife. Her waist was thick and deep lines, caused by years of sorrow, covered her face. Still, her sky-blue eyes were as mesmerizing as they had been when she was just a young girl. Those eyes remained as lovely as they had been that first time that Helga had met Eric, the handsome SS officer who had impregnated her with Katja and then left her without ever looking back. Helga’s hands reached out and she seemed to be imploring Katja to understand. Her eyes were glossy with tears but she caught Katja’s gaze and held it. “Please, Katja. Please, I am begging for your forgiveness.”
Katja shook her head, took a deep breath and looked away. “I forgive you,” she said, and she did. What other choice did she have? This woman who had given birth to her had been just a child at the time—just a young, foolish child.
Helga got up slowly and tried to put her arms around Katja. Katja could not return the embrace, but Katja did not push Helga away. She stood very still with her arms at her sides.
“The last time I held you, they were ripping you out of my arms. It was right after you were born. I remember screaming, screaming so loud that I can still hear the echo of my own voice, the way it sounded as they carried you away from me . . .” Helga said.
When Katja began this journey she thought she would hate this woman. She was expecting to find Helga and curse at her, hit her, take all of her anger out on her, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. However, Katja didn’t love her, either. Helga was nothing more than a stranger and all Katja could feel for her was pity—pity for a teenage girl who got wrapped up in something far too big for her to understand. Even though when Katja looked at Helga, Katja could faintly see her own features in Helga’s face, she felt no attachment to her at all.
“There are things I need to know,” Katja said.
“Go ahead. I will tell you anything that I can.”
“Are there illnesses in my family, things that I might be prone to?”
“None that I know of.”
Katja nodded. Mendel had suggested she ask that.
“I am Jewish. The man who fathered me was an SS officer. Did he kill many Jews? Did he? Tell me. I need to know the answer to that question, even though it horrifies me, and it makes me sick to think that his blood runs through my veins,” Katja said.
“I won’t lie to you. I can’t. I don’t know what he did, Katja. I hardly knew him. And I knew nothing of his actions with the Nazi party. I hate what the Nazis did to the Jews. I hate everything that the Nazis did. None of it should ever have happened. I am ashamed to be German. But please, you must know, not all Germans were Nazis. Kurt hated the Nazis and everything they stood for, and once I found out what they were doing, I hated them, too. I am ashamed of what the Nazi party and of what I did to you. And God knows I am sorry.”
“You hardly knew my father?”
“I was young. I thought I was in love. He was handsome. A good-looking man in a uniform. I was just a girl. I had never even thought that anyone could be as cruel and heartless as the Nazis turned out to be. I know that it is no excuse, Katja. There is no explanation that could justify what I did.”
“What made you decide to go to the Lebensborn?
“He left me. I was pregnant. I was alone. I couldn’t tell my parents. I couldn’t bring the shame of having a child out of wedlock down on their heads. My family doctor suggested the Lebensborn. I jumped at the opportunity. I didn’t think ahead. It all seemed so easy. But then, from the first moment when I felt you stir inside of me, I knew I’d made a terrible mistake. I wanted to keep you. I begged them. But they would not listen. Katja, Katja. All I can say is I am sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry. I met Kurt in the Lebensborn. His sister was my roommate. Kurt and I fell in love, and I realized that I wanted nothing to do with any Nazis any more. As soon as I got out of Steinhöring, I came to the farm and we got married. I’ve led a simple life since then.”
“Did you ever try to find me?” Katja asked.
“Of course. When the war was over, Kurt and I searched. We discovered that you were adopted by Manfred and Christa Blau. We heard that Manfred died in prison, which of course we now know is not true. But at the time Kurt and I believed it. Then we looked for Christa and found her obituary. There was no mention of you. We had reached a dead end. I was distraught. I thought you were dead . . .”
“There was nothing she could do, Katja. Believe me, she tried. She even looked for Eric. We thought he might have taken you. We looked all over Europe, exhausted all of our funds, but we couldn’t find him,” Kurt said.
“In my heart I am a Jew. I was raised a Jew. I don’t know how you feel about Jews, and I don’t care. You may have given birth to me, but you are not my mother,” Katja said. “This is Zofia Zuckerman; she is my mother.”
Helga nodded as the tears ran down her cheeks and her nose was running. She coughed. Kurt sat down beside her and pulled her close to him.
“I know you don’t believe me, Katja, but I’ve always loved you. I dreamed of this day for so many years. I prayed that you would come to find me. I hoped, I prayed, that you were alive, and that you would someday forgive me for what I had done. I don’t expect instant understanding but please, Katja, over time, try to understand. You probably won’t believe this either, but I have nothing against Jews. I am glad that this woman, Zofia, raised and took care of you,” Helga said. “I am grateful to her.” “I am grateful to you,” Helga said to Zofia.
“I believe you.” Katja gently touched Helga’s arm. It was a difficult gesture for Katja. She felt only pity, no ties to this strange woman at all. “I think we should go,” Katja said.
“Katja . . .” Helga said.
“Yes?”
“I know right now that your head must be spinning. You are hurt and confused, but please consider coming back to see me. I don’t expect you to love me, and I know that I am not like a mother to you, but maybe we can be friends. Maybe, please, maybe, sometime in the future,” Helga said.
Katja shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to say,” Katja answered.
“It’s all right. Just think it over, please.” Helga said.
“I will,” Katja answered, and then she turned to Mendel. “Take me back to the hotel, please.”
“Are you staying in Germany for a while?” Helga asked.
“No, I’m going home. I want to go home,” Katja said.
“Home?” Helga asked.
“I want to go home to Israel . . . to the Promised Land.”
Chapter 86
When they returned to the hotel, Katja took a long, hot shower. Then she lay on the bed. Zofia left her alone in the hotel room, giving her time to think. Katja closed her eyes in the dark room. Her journey was over; now she knew. She’d seen her birth mother, heard the reasons why Helga didn’t raise her. Katja believed Helga when she said that she had wanted to keep her child. What really constitutes a mother? Was it the woman who raised you, who held you when you cried, or the one who carried you in her body for nine months? Was it the one who pushed you into the world and breathed the breath of life into your tiny lungs? Did bloodlines really matter? So, her father had been an SS officer. Despicable. But how much of him was really inside of her? She had never felt any evidence of hatred or cruelty within herself, nothing that attached her to this man from the SS. Whoever Eric was, to Katja, he was only a stranger. Isaac was her father. It was Isaac who taught her right from wrong. His values had shaped her life. The only ties she had to this Nazi was a few minutes of pleasure that he’d taken with the woman she’d met today, another stranger, a woman she would not claim as her own mother.
Katja sat up and lean
ed back against the headboard of the bed. She put her hand over her forehead. There was no doubt that the tension of the day had caused her to have the beginning of a nasty headache. Today was the first time she’d heard of Eidel. Zofia had so many secrets. She wondered if the day would come when Eidel would come searching for Zofia, asking questions. It was all so complicated. In a way Eidel was her sister, but not by blood. Her mind felt like it was a merry-go-round going at breakneck speed; so many questions without answers. Katja decided that soon she must confront Zofia and ask to know every secret that her mother kept. It was the only way that things could be as they were before . . .
There was a knock at the door. “Katja, it’s me, Mendel.”
Katja got up and opened the door. She was wearing a fuzzy, pink bathrobe that had begun to pill with age. The room was dark except for the light shining through the slatted blinds over the window. Her hair was still wet from the shower. “Come in,” she said. Then she sat down on the bed.
“How are you doing?” Mendel asked, sitting down beside Katja and rubbing her shoulder.
“I don’t know. I’m just trying to make sense of everything.”
“I understand. But I don’t think you can make sense of it really. I think you just have to accept it and then go forward with your life.”
“You’re right. I can’t change what happened.”
“And you know what? I wouldn’t want to. Everything that has happened to you has made you who you are, and you are a wonderful girl, Kat. I have wanted to tell you this for a long time.” He lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. “I love you.”
She gazed at his face. He was so genuine.
Mendel.
He’d been her best friend, always there for her, for as long as she could remember.
Mendel.
When she was ten years old, he’d climbed a tree, almost breaking his neck, to retrieve her cat.
Mendel.
When she was sixteen and sick with whooping cough, he’d sat by her bed and read to her. Everyone else, except her parents had stayed far away. They were afraid to catch her illness, but not Mendel.
Not Mendel.
Then, a few years later, he’d gone to work in town at night so that he could buy his first car. When he brought it home, she was the first one he took for a ride. And, even though he treasured that vehicle, he let her use it as he taught her to drive. But, most importantly, when her life exploded, and all of this horrifying information came to light, Elan ran away, but not Mendel. Mendel stayed and Mendel comforted her. He’d found Leah and then Helga, because he knew that she must know the truth so that she could release it. He’d made all of the arrangements to bring her to Europe.
Mendel.
She was still looking into his eyes. Mendel . . . he was funny, gentle, sincere, and easy to talk to, warm, understanding, and intelligent. She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. Mendel, with his tussled hair, his eyes the color of a field of green grass after a sun shower, sprinkled with golden dandelions.
Katja reached up and touched his face. “Mendel” she whispered, shaking her head.
“Do you think that you could ever love me, Kat?” he said. “I would marry you in an instant. I’d make you a good husband.”
His eyes were locked on hers and glassed-over with emotion.
“I do love you, Mendel. I just don’t know if it’s in the way that you want me to love you. Maybe it is. Perhaps someday I could marry you. It is just that, right now, I am so perplexed. This has all been a great deal for me to absorb. I need time. I need time to sort out my feelings. I’m not saying no. I’m just saying please, give me time.”
He gently ran his fingers over the curve of her face. “You can have as much time as you need. I’ve always been here. I’ll always be here. And I’ll always love you . . .”
Chapter 87
Aryeh, Elan’s brother, was the only one who knew how badly Elan felt about his break-up with Katja. Elan didn’t tell Aryeh, but he knew his brother. They were close in age and they grew up as the best of friends. Aryeh knew that Elan was not one to express his feelings in words, but Aryeh could see the sadness that seemed to have overtaken Elan.
When Brenda and Aryeh got married, Elan drank to excess at the wedding, and then he got into a fistfight with another guest, busting the man’s lower lip. Then, after Aryeh had spent a half hour on his wedding day, settling his brother down; Elan had decided to leave. As he stumbled out of the reception hall, he took a turn and fell down the stairs, embarrassing his mother. Aryeh refused to allow Elan to drive, and Elan got angry, punching his brother in the stomach. Then he turned and walked out, leaving his family to worry about him until the following morning.
A year later Brenda announced that she was pregnant. Elan sent flowers to his sister-in-law, but he did not make a trip out to see the couple. Nor did he call. The last conversation that they had had was the morning after the wedding when Aryeh telephoned to be sure that Elan had made it home safely. Then, Elan and Aryeh had not spoken in over a year. Elan’s parents were still angry with Elan for his behavior at the wedding, but Aryeh recognized what Elan was going through and he forgave him.
When the time came to re-enlist in the IDF, Elan declined. Instead, he left the army and began to wander. He spent a few months backpacking through the Golan Heights, alone and lost in thought. When he returned from the wilderness he spent a couple of weeks at a kibbutz. He kept to himself and when anyone tried to befriend him, he was cold and distant.
One morning before sunrise, Elan left the kibbutz without ever saying good-bye to anyone. Then he checked into a cheap motel and lay soaking in the dead sea for several days, letting the water draw the impurities out of his body. He lay staring up at the blue sky, thinking how the color matched Katja’s eyes. At night, Elan drank far too much and then he slept until late in the afternoon. The money he’d saved while he had been in the army was dwindling fast. He had tried to leave his old life behind, tried to run away from anything that made him think about Katja. But, Elan could not overcome feeling guilty for how he had treated his brother. So finally, over a year and a half after Aryeh and Brenda’s wedding, Elan picked up the phone and called Aryeh.
“Aryeh, it’s Elan.”
“How are you? Where are you?” Aryeh’s voice went a few octaves higher than normal.
“In a motel.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m just doing a little traveling,” Elan said, trying to sound casual.
“I miss you. Mama and Papa are worried about you.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m doing fine. I just wanted to call and say hello. See how Brenda was doing.”
“She’s doing all right. We’re excited. The baby will be here before you know it, just a couple more months. You’ll be an uncle.”
“Yes, can you just imagine? I’m happy for you both,” Elan said.
“Why don’t you come and stay here with us for a while?" Aryeh said.
“I might just do that someday. Who knows? We’ll see.”
“Elan, listen to me. I don’t know where you are, and I have no idea where you’re going, but please try to keep in touch, will you? I don’t like not hearing from you for a long time. It makes me worry.”
“Oh, come on! How can you worry about me? You know I can take care of myself.”
“Yes, I know that.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“Aryeh, I’m sorry for ruining your wedding.” Elan said.
“You didn’t ruin my wedding. You’re my brother, my blood. Just having you at the wedding helped to make it perfect. So, forget it, whatever happened is the past. Come now, and stay with us, please. Brenda and I would love to have you.”
“We’ll see. I’m checked into this motel right by the Dead Sea. I’m paid up for a month. When the month is over, maybe I’ll come,” Elan said, knowing he would never go stay with his brother and his brother’s wife.
“I’m g
lad you called, Elan. Give me the number at the hotel so I can call you once in a while, just to say hello.”
Elan felt wretched. He didn’t want to give Aryeh the number. He wanted to crawl underground and rot there.
“Elan, please, just give me the number. I would like to try and stay in touch. It would mean a lot to me if I could hear your voice at least once a week. Besides, I sometimes need a friend. With Brenda pregnant she acts crazy a lot of the time. It would be good to be able to call my brother when she gets nuts. You know?”
Elan laughed. “I have heard that women get crazy when they’re pregnant.”
“It’s true. Sometimes she’s happy, the next minute she’s sad. Sometimes she’s mad at me for no reason. It all makes no sense. But I try to be as patient as possible.”
“All right, got a pen?” Elan said.
“Yes, what’s the number?”
Elan gave Aryeh the number to the hotel, then the extension number to his room. It felt good to be back on speaking terms with his brother.
After a few drinks from a bottle, that he kept beside his bed, Elan fell asleep, forgetting to eat. He was losing weight. His clothes were loose and he had begun avoiding looking in the mirror.
The days turned into weeks. Elan lost track of time. He was terribly lonely, but so tied up inside of himself that he couldn’t express his feelings to anyone. Each week, when Aryeh would call, Elan would act as if he were doing great. He’d tell Aryeh, how much he was enjoying his travels. But, Elan knew that his brother didn’t believe him.
Then, one evening at eight o’clock, the phone in his room rang. For no logical reason, Elan immediately thought of Katja. Perhaps she’d gotten the number from Aryeh. When he thought of Katja, Elan’s heart beat a little faster, even though he knew it was just a fantasy. He’d been lying in bed watching television, drinking. He put the glass of whiskey on the nightstand and turned to lift the telephone receiver.
“Hello.”
“Elan.” It was Aryeh. This call would be his second call this week.
The Promised Land (All My Love, Detrick Series) (All My Love Detrick Book 3) Page 33