A Family Shattered: Book Two in the Michal's Destiny Series

by Roberta Kagan

  “You’ll be all right,” Johan whispered to Alina, never taking his eyes from the fighters. He knew that a good many of the passengers had been drinking. And from the way the man with the red beard was swaying, Johan had a feeling that the man was drunk.

  The red-haired man with the knife ran at his opponent, but the rat-like fellow was too quick.

  “Stop this right now!” A woman with a thick waist and blond wavy hair bounded up to the flame-haired man. I have had it with you. Stop this before someone gets hurt.”

  “Shut up, and keep out of the way. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “I am your wife. And as long as you are my husband, it does concern me.” The woman grabbed on to his sleeve. He flung her off of him just as the ship hit a wave, and she fell, sliding across the ship floor into the crowd of passengers. When she hit them, several people fell down like bowling pins.

  Now in the chaos, someone had handed the rat-faced man a knife to even up the odds, and the rat was slithering in a macabre dance as the steel of the blade glittered in the small overhead light.

  Again the big man rushed his opponent, and again the other escaped just as the heavyset man thrust his knife forward. The boat hit another heaving wave that sent the mountain man falling backward. Johan was standing right behind him. It was too late to get out of the way. Besides, there were people on all sides of Johan. But at least Alina was behind him. As the big, bearded fighter tried to regain his balance, his knife sliced Johan’s arm. It was just deep enough to cut through Johan’s shirt and break the skin of his upper arm. The blood seeped through slowly. But nobody noticed, because as soon as the large man lost his balance the rat was upon him, thrusting his knife into the big man’s neck. Blood spurted from the red-haired man’s wound. Women screamed. The man’s wife raced to his side. Blood was oozing from his lips. Alina felt like she might faint so she looked away. The big, bearded man was on the floor, his life pouring out all around him. Alina touched Johan’s arm, and it was then that she realized he was bleeding.

  “You’re hurt,” she said. She’d been so absorbed in the terror of the fight that she hadn’t realized what had happened to Johan.

  “I’m all right,” he said. “It’s just a small cut.”

  “Roll up your sleeve and let me take a look at it.”

  Johan did as Alina asked. It was not a deep cut; it didn’t need to be stitched. But Alina needed help. There were far more men on the boat than women, and until now, Alina had tried to keep a low profile. She was young and pretty and she knew that the less attention she attracted to herself, the better. But right now, she ignored her own safety and walked over to one of the men who was sitting at the table in the corner, not paying much attention to the commotion. He was drinking something from a bottle in a brown paper bag. Alina assumed it was alcohol.

  “Where are you going? What are you doing?” Johan said, shocked, but Alina didn’t turn around. Instead she pulled all of her inner strength and walked over to the man.

  “Excuse me,” she said with as much courage as she could muster. “Excuse me, but my husband has been hurt. Please.” She cleared her throat. “Please, is that alcohol?”

  “Certainly is. It’s whisky.”

  “Can I have just enough to wet this piece of cloth?” Alina said, taking the sleeve of her blouse between her teeth and ripping it. She handed him the fabric. “Please?”

  A smile crept over his face. “You are a pretty one all right,” he said. “I suppose I could do that for you,” he added, wetting the white piece of cotton from Alina’s shirt.

  Alina smelled the alcohol as she took the torn piece of her sleeve. “Thank you so much,” she said.

  He smiled and nodded and then winked. Alina ignored the wink. She tried to pretend she didn’t see the brazen act of flirtation. Instead, she just turned and walked back to Johan.

  “You shouldn’t talk to strange men, Alina. I thought I told you that before we got on board,” Johan said.

  “Yes, I know, but for right now, just let me clean this wound,” she said gently, wiping the blood that was still oozing from the cut.

  “Ahh ... that burns,” he said, grimacing.

  She gently blew on the open wound.

  He smiled at her. “You know, you’re not like any woman I’ve ever known. Sometimes I am so surprised at how strong you are. And … I love you.”

  She smiled back at him. Then she ripped the sleeve on the other side of her blouse and wrapped it around his cut, making a bandage.

  “You amaze me. Do you know that?” Johan asked.

  “I amaze myself.” Alina laughed. “I’ve always been squeamish at the sight of blood. Even when I worked for a doctor years ago, I’d feel a little light headed when I saw a lot of blood”

  “Thank you,” he said, and touched her face. Then he gently kissed her.

  Chapter 18

  Taavi

  “Get in here, Margolis.” Braus pushed Taavi in the back with his gun. Taavi would have liked to have turned around and taken that gun away from Braus. Taavi had no doubt that he was strong enough to overpower the small guard who was nothing without his gun. It would be easy to take the weapon away and turn it on him. How much would Taavi enjoy the look on the Nazi idiot’s face right before he shot him? But he couldn’t, for two reasons. One, he knew that if a shot was fired, more guards with guns would arrive and he would eventually be overpowered. But the second was even more important. Braus’s greed could very well be his ticket out of this miserable place. Taavi gritted his teeth to control his anger. Then he walked quickly as Braus continued to nudge him with the gun into his small office.

  Braus closed the door, still keeping his eyes and his weapon fixed on Taavi. When Taavi looked closely at Braus, he thought he detected just a hint of fear in the Nazi’s eyes. And Taavi decided that Braus was well aware that at any moment Taavi could kill him. That was why Braus never kept his finger far from the trigger of his firearm. Now the blockführer sat down and placed the gun in front of him on the desk. He still had it pointed at Taavi. With a wicked smile he leaned back in his chair, his finger playing with the trigger of the gun. Taavi felt a bead of sweat form at his brow, and he hoped Braus didn’t see it. The bastard had something to tell him. But what? This meeting could go well or it could be a catastrophe. Either way Taavi was fairly sure there was news about Frieda. If she refused to help him, Braus, the sadistic bastard, was probably toying with him and would kill him when he got tired of the game. Taavi studied Braus’s eyes, waiting for him to speak. But Braus was enjoying watching Taavi squirm. Taavi wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He held his head up and his eyes straight forward, looking directly at Braus until the guard had to turn away. Taavi began to think that maybe this wasn’t about Frieda. It could be about Fredrick. Poor Fredrick. The harder that poor man fought back, the more pleasure the guards found in torturing him. And Braus knew that Fredrick was Taavi’s friend. It would be just like this son of a bitch to get him out of his bed just to tell him that they’d done something terrible to Fredrick. Braus would have gotten such pleasure from seeing the agony it caused Taavi to see his friend hurt. If Fredrick was dead, it would come as no surprise. Taavi knew that they would eventually kill Fredrick, but for now they were having fun looking for new ways to make every hour of Fredrick’s life a living Hell. Still the silence continued. Somewhere outside, the leaves on a tree rustled, but Braus did not speak. It was all Taavi could do not to attack him and tear him to pieces. The waiting was pure agony.

  Taavi tried to read Braus’s face. Dare he even allow himself to believe that after the way he’d left Frieda high and dry, she would still find enough compassion in her heart to help him? Braus’s face told him that Braus was happy with what he was about to say. The blockführer lit a cigarette and cleared his throat. Then he hesitated, smiling, his jowls jiggling as pulled a long puff of smoke deep into his lungs. It was obvious that he was enjoying the power he held over Taavi. Taavi tried to stay disconnected and in control of him
self, but his hands were trembling and his legs began shaking as well. The words that this guard spoke within the next half hour could very well determine whether he would see his beloved wife and children again.

  Several minutes that felt like hours passed before Braus finally opened his mouth and spoke.

  “You were right, Margolis. I can extort money from your friend, Frieda Altendorf. She still owns a thriving nightclub. I sent someone to talk to her, to tell her where you are. And believe it or not she is foolish enough to be willing to pay for your freedom. Why? Who knows, women are such fools, so easily manipulated. But, I must say I was surprised that such a successful woman would be willing to help a Jew. Now this is a stupid woman. But, it makes no difference to me. In fact, I must admit, I am quite pleased with the outcome of the meeting with this Altendorf woman. She was willing to pay a hefty price to keep you safe, Margolis. It looks like you’re worth more to me alive than dead. Who would have thought anyone would care about the life of one Jew? Anyway, so, I told her that I would deliver you to her. She was quite pleased. She knows she will have to keep paying me monthly to keep me from coming back and arresting you again. And, if she is unhappy with you for some reason and she stops paying, you can be sure you will find yourself right back here. Maybe if that happens I will make sure that things will even be worse for you. So, you’d better behave for this woman, like the dog that you are. Once this Frieda Altendorf gets your ass out of here, she owns you.”

  Taavi couldn’t believe his good luck. Frieda, God bless Frieda. As difficult and hard as she was, her underbelly was soft and there was a kindness in her that he would repay. He would be grateful to her for the rest of his life.

  “Go back to your bunk. Tomorrow night, I will come and take you out of here with my auto. Get out now, you’re stinking up my office. Why are you Jews so damned filthy? You all stink!”

  Taavi walked to the door. He turned to see that Braus was standing in the doorway of his office building watching him, the gun pointed at Taavi. Did that stupid guard think that Taavi would run now? Now that freedom was so close? Did Braus really think Taavi would risk death to escape?

  Taavi lay down on his bunk. Soon he would hold his wife in his arms. If he closed his eyes he could feel the softness of her skin, smell the freshness of her hair. Michal. It would be a matter of days before he would hear the joy in Gilde’s laughter that he’d missed so much, or look into Alina’s eyes and hear her soft voice telling him all about her day at work. Taavi thought about having a drink with his dear old friend and business partner, Lev. It had probably been hard on Lev running the business all alone for over a year. Well, he would make that right. As soon as he got back he would give Lev some time off to spend with his wife, Lotti, just relaxing. Yes, he would do that. And Frieda? What could he do for Frieda? He knew that she loved him. He was sorry that he’d hurt her when he left; he was even sorrier now. Taavi had never wanted to hurt Frieda; things had just happened that way. How was he going to make them right? Taavi took a deep breath. He would figure it out once he was free of the confines of this prison. For now, he preferred to bask in thinking about the joy that awaited him just outside the barbed wire.

  Finally exhaustion overcame him and even in his excitement Taavi fell asleep. The morning roll call sounded and he rushed outside. He must lay low, do nothing that might alter his good fortune. All day he worked at the brickworks, worked even harder than usual so as not to attract the attention of any of the guards. In the back of his mind, a nagging voice kept saying Be careful, don’t let yourself hope too much. You know how the Nazis love to give the prisoners hope and then take it away. It’s more painful that way. Try to keep a level head. But as much as he reminded himself of the possibility that all of this was just another hoax, that Braus was only toying with him, he couldn’t help but feel almost giddy. If he dared to believe that this miracle could actually be true. If Frieda really had agreed to pay for his freedom, this nightmare was almost over. He knew he had one more difficult hurdle to jump- he had to explain everything to Frieda. The pride of his youth was no longer an issue. To make Frieda understand his gratitude, he would get down on his knees and thank her. If only she would accept that and that alone. But he was afraid that she would not. In exchange for his freedom, she might want things back the way they were when she was his lover. And he wasn’t sure how he was going to make her understand. Once he was given over to Frieda, she held his life in her hands. He longed to believe that she loved him enough to let him go home to his family. But, did she? Did she really?Dear God, help me), Taavi thought. (I am so close, so close to the time when I can finally return home and hold Michal in my arms. He knew better than to dream. Dreams were dangerous in a concentration camp. But he couldn’t help himself. What if Frieda had done this out of pure kindness? What if by some miracle she decided to just let him go? Just like that? What if he could make her understand? She had a big heart sometimes. He remembered how she gave food to the homeless. Taavi would never forget this kindness, and somehow he would find a way to pay back all the money it cost her. These things he promised to God as he prayed for his freedom. Dear God, please, please, send me back to my wife and children, Taavi whispered in his mind over and over that entire day. How good it would feel to be home. And this small glimmer of hope was enough to make the bricks at the brickworks lighter, to make the hunger in his belly subside, to transform him from a walking dead man into a man who thanked God every few minutes for the wonderful blessing of life.

  Chapter 19

  Frieda was sitting at the bar in the empty cabaret smoking a cigarette when Taavi was brought in to her by a Nazi in uniform. It was past closing and all of the customers and employees had gone for the evening. She’d kept the room dark. The only light was from the moon, the streetlights outside, and the tip of her cigarette. This was the agreement she had made with Braus. Night was more private than day. Taavi was to be delivered in the dark of night. In the past, when Taavi had worked at her club, she was known to have a style. She always wore men’s suits in the Marlene Dietrich fashion, but today she wore a long black gown. It had been years since she’d last seen Taavi, but her feelings for him, a mixture of love and hate, were still as strong. And she wanted to look stunning when he saw her again. There was no doubt in her mind that Taavi had managed her club better than anyone she’d ever hired before or since, and possibly even better than she herself had. But more than that, he’d kept her intrigued. In fact, she’d never stopped wanting him. Even as he had walked out on her all those years ago, she’d longed to run after him and throw herself into his arms. But when that stubborn Jew made up his mind, there was no talking to him. Taavi. He was a jerk, a cad, an ingrate, and sadly, he was desperately in love with his wife. But he was the most intense, incredible lover Frieda had ever had, and there had been many, both men and women.

  “Here he is.” The guard pushed Taavi with the butt of his rifle towards Frieda. She nodded and handed the Nazi an envelope filled with money as she agreed upon with Braus.

  Then the Nazi left and Frieda and Taavi were alone. For a few minutes, there was an awkward silence.

  “You look terrible,” she said. “So skinny and dirty, and I do hate to say it, but you smell.”

  “Yes, I know. And you know I was in a prison camp.”

  “So I hear. And … you had your guard … what was his name, Blockführer Braus? Wasn’t that his name? You had him get in contact with me, didn’t you?”

  Taavi nodded, wishing he had never been forced to take this action. He could see that Frieda was gloating. How could he blame her? He didn’t care that she was happy to have gotten the upper hand. But he just hoped that somehow he could convince her to let him go home. Quite honestly, he’d treated her badly and he was willing to admit to it, to beg for forgiveness, if only she’d release him. She’d trusted him, given him a job, good pay, a nice place to live, but as soon as Michal had come to him wanting him to come home, he’d left Frieda behind without a thought. Now, he needed
her, and she knew it.

  “Yes, Frieda. I had him contact you. You were the only person I knew with enough money and influence to help me.”

  “You were right. I have plenty of money and friends too. The club has built quite a large clientele who are influential in the party. They like me. I buy them drinks.” She put her cigarette out in a crystal ashtray. Then smiled at him. “Why don’t you sit down? You look as if you might fall over.”

  He sat. “Thank you. Thank you for everything, Frieda,” he said and then cleared his throat. “I want you to know that I am sorry. I am sorry for everything I did. I should have at least given you some notice that I was leaving.” He wished that they could go into the back where he’d had an apartment when he worked for Frieda. Being in the front of the club he was afraid. Someone might look through the window and see him. He was so close to being free. But he dare not suggest it, or she might think he wanted to make love to her. She might misunderstand.

  “At least, Taavi. At least some notice would have been nice. Besides treating me like shit, you had no respect for my business either.”

  He sat down. His shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, so sorry, Frieda,” he said. What else could he say? Still, he didn’t want to get back into the decadent life he’d once shared with Frieda. All he wanted was to go home to his wife and daughters. But how could he tell her that? How, after all she’d done for him. The words would not come. Taavi looked into Frieda’s eyes, and he was certain that she wanted him back. He could no longer work for her as an employee because he was a Jew and would have to remain hidden, but he knew she wanted him to be her lover.

  “I am trying to have papers drawn up for you that declare you to be a non-Jew. That way you can work for me here at the club again,” she said. It was as if she’d read his mind. “However, it could take time. It’s very dangerous and very expensive,” she said. He was right. She wanted everything back the way it was.