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

by Roberta Kagan

  “You know that morphine is addictive, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I’ve heard. But don’t worry. I only use it when I absolutely can’t get any rest. It’s not often enough to worry.”

  “All right. Just keep quiet about this, Bridget.”

  “I will, I would never want to get you into trouble. Good night, Heidi, and thank you.”

  Bridget’s hand closed around the vials of morphine, and she felt the tears swell behind her eyes as she looked at Michal lying on the filthy cot sandwiched between two other pathetic women.

  “You came back? I am so glad to see you again. I am just a little under the weather today. Did you say you were bringing medicine? I have been so rude. I must ask how is your brother? I hope he understands that I had to leave and reunite with my husband.” Michal was smiling, her eyes glassed over, her face skeletal, a pool of blood drying in her tangled hair.

  “He’s doing just fine. I’m sure he understands,” Bridget said. Michal was lost in her madness. She’d forgotten that Otto was dead. “I brought you something to help your cough.” Bridget took the three doses of morphine out of her pocket. She had no medical background. But she was fairly certain that it was enough to end Michal’s life.

  Michal nodded. “Thank you, Bridget. You have always been such a good girl. You and my Alina are like sisters. Did you talk with her recently?”

  “Yes. I saw her earlier today.” Again, Bridget lied to comfort this poor woman who had comforted her as a child.

  “Good. How is she? I haven’t seen her today. But yesterday she came by to show me the fabric she wants me to use for her wedding gown. She is getting married you know? Such a nice boy. His name is Benny.”

  “Yes, she told me,” Bridget said, smiling. Now tears had begun running down her face

  “We’ll have a beautiful wedding. You’ll be there of course, Otto too? I hope he will come. I hope he isn’t angry with me.”

  “Yes, of course, he will. He told me he is not angry with you at all,” Bridget said. She could hardly catch her breath. Better this way than for Michal to endure the pain Dr. Treite would surely inflict upon her. God help me, Bridget thought. I wish I could just run away from here, from all of this.

  Then Michal began to cough again. When she stopped hacking, blood ran from her lips and she was gasping for breath.

  “I think you should give me the medicine. This cough is getting worse,” Michal said. And for just a flash of a second something in Michal’s eyes seemed to tell Bridget that she knew what Bridget was about to do and that she was grateful. Then, the clarity was gone as fast as it had appeared and the madness returned. It was easy for Bridget to see the change in Michal’s face. “And as you must realize, I have so much to do for the upcoming wedding. I have to get rid of this cough so that I have the strength.” Michal smiled. Her voice cracked, but she continued talking. “It’s too bad that Gilde is too old to be a flower girl. She was such a cute toddler; she would have made a lovely flower girl. But of course that might have stolen some of the attention from Alina, so it is just as well. I don’t think you ever saw Gilde as a toddler. Ahhh, she was a beautiful child.” Michal smiled, then gently Bridget took Michal’s arm and stretched it out. Again, the flash of clarity. “I’m ready. Please give me the medicine now.” Bridget was shaking. Sweat was trickling down her back under her uniform. She tore a piece of fabric from Michal’s shirt and tied it around Michal’s upper arm. Then Bridget found a strong vein in Michal’s arm, and as gently as she could she inserted the needle. Please, God, she thought, make this swift and painless. Bridget bit her lower lip so hard that she tasted blood. Once the morphine tube was empty, keeping the needle inserted she switched to the second tube. Michal’s eyes were blinking slowly as if they were weighted down. But before she closed them completely, Michal reached up with her other hand and gently squeezed Bridget’s arm. Then Michal softly smiled at Bridget and winked. Then in a whisper she said, “Thank you.”

  Bridget’s hands were trembling as she finished the last tube. “Goodbye, Michal. I couldn’t bear to think of anyone hurting you. You were like a mother to me when I was a child. God help me, I hope this was the right decision.” Bridget whispered as she caressed Michal’s cheek.

  The following morning Michal was found dead in her cot. There were three women to a bed, but if any of her bedmates saw or heard anything the night before, no one said a word.

  Chapter 50

  Taavi, Early Spring 1944

  Taavi asked Frieda every day if she had heard anything about Michal or the girls. And every day Frieda said no, nothing. Of course, she had not asked anyone. She was waiting for what she thought was a reasonable amount of time to tell Taavi that her connection had told her that Michal and his daughters were dead. Taavi was always on edge, nervous, unable to sit still. He was not at all the man she remembered. And quite frankly, Frieda was growing tired of the new Taavi. The exciting and often cruel man he’d been when they had been lovers years ago was gone. In his place was a man as jumpy as a prey animal, who was lousy in bed. And if truth be told, it was his sexual expertise that had been Frieda’s main attraction to Taavi. Back in his youth he was an awe-inspiring lover, experimental, wild and untamed. Now, he was none of those things, and Frieda had begun to dread making love with him. Often he was unable to perform, which was frustrating and embarrassing for him. But even worse, every time she saw him, she could count on his mentioning his wife or his family. He was irritating to her. Frieda was fed up. One evening she went to see Taavi. This was to be her final effort to separate him from his attachment to his family. Tonight she would tell him that she’d spoken with her Nazi officer friend, and the Nazi had told her that Michal and the girls were dead. She would be sympathetic, a shoulder to cry on if he need one. Then, perhaps, with some luck, the news would change him back to the old Taavi. Maybe this was what he needed to let go of the hold that his wife had on him. If it didn’t work, Frieda thought that she might just stop paying the blackmail to keep him safe and have him sent back to the camp. What good was he to her this way? Frieda had begun to realize that what she had once believed was love she felt for Taavi was nothing more than the fire of primal lust, and without the oxygen of great sex that fire was rapidly extinguishing.

  She walked into his rooms to find him seated on a chair reading the newspaper she’d given him the previous day. He’d begged her for a radio. But she refused. She knew Taavi wanted to listen to the BBC, and it was against the law. It was bad enough that she was harboring a Jew, and the penalty for that was death. She was tired of trying to please him.. If one of her other employees happened to come in early or stay late and hear the radio, especially the BBC, Taavi would be discovered and she would be arrested. Frieda wasn’t going to take any more risks for him. He just wasn’t proving worth the effort.

  “Did you hear anything?” he asked as soon as he saw her.

  The same boring question. She thought she might lose her mind from his obsession with his family. “Yes. And the news is not good. I’m sorry, Taavi. They are all dead.”

  Taavi stood up and the paper dropped to the floor. All of the blood drained from his face. He put his palms on his eyebrows and began to pace the room. “My God … My God.…” he repeated over and over.

  “I’m sorry.” Frieda went to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He shook her off and kept walking, repeating, “My God, my Michal. My God … my children … my girls.”

  Frieda thought it best to leave him alone, to let him digest his grief and then mourn so that he could get on with his life.

  Again she said, “I’m sorry, Taavi.” And she left.

  Chapter 51

  Frieda

  Frieda gave Taavi a couple of days to be alone before she returned to his room. In the past, she was always eager and filled with anticipation before an encounter with him, but now it seemed more like an obligation than a joy. Frieda decided that this was her last attempt at fixing her relationship with him. Every month she was paying o
ne hundred reichsmarks to that bastard Braus as protection money to keep Taavi safe. Now she was beginning to feel annoyed. It was becoming obvious to her that she was not getting anything in return for the money she was spending and the risk she had been taking. Since the club first opened, years before Hitler came to power, plenty of men walked through the doors every night. In the past, since Frieda had first met Taavi she hadn’t wanted anyone but him. None of the others excited her or kept her fascination for very long. However, Taavi had changed. He no longer excited her and so she had begun looking for another lover. With the cabaret as busy as it was, it didn’t take long, and recently Frieda had met Bernd, a student, half her age, handsome, and very physically fit. But most importantly he flattered her and made her feel young and excited about life again, the way Taavi had once made her feel.

  She had taken Bernd home to bed with her the previous two nights, and she had found him to be quite the lover. In fact Frieda was so satisfied with Bernd that she would have liked to have him move into the apartment behind the club where Taavi was living. It would be a good deal for him as he would not have to pay any rent, and for her, well, he would be available whenever she wanted him. He was not a Jew, so she wouldn’t have to constantly be watching her back and paying exorbitant amounts of money as ransom for his safety.

  She knocked on the apartment door, suddenly wishing that she could rid herself of Taavi and all of the trouble that came with him.

  “Come in,” he answered. She heard the pain in his voice. It seemed he was so needy and she was very tired of comforting him.

  “Taavi, so, how are you feeling?” Frieda said. She looked at him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hair disheveled. Even from across the room she could smell that he hadn’t bathed. Disgusting, she thought. When he’d first come to her from that camp, she’d been so filled with desire for him that she hadn’t cared how dirty he was. But now she was repulsed.

  He shrugged. “How should I be feeling? Michal and my daughters are gone … forever. I failed them all. I failed as a husband and as a father. It was my job to protect them, Frieda. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t….”

  This was the first time she didn’t want to touch him. In fact, as she looked at him, he turned her stomach. In the past she’d tried to delude herself into believing that he loved her, but he never had loved her. She had to accept it now. And as she studied him, she could no longer see any trace of the handsome, sexy young man he’d once been. His hair was thin and receded. His body was hunched, and even though he’d started eating regularly again, the skin hung on him where starvation had eaten his muscles. His eyes were shadowed and sunken in with despair. But most of all, his spirit was broken.

  “I’m truly sorry, Taavi. I’ll leave you alone. It’s probably best,” Frieda said.

  He just nodded. He didn’t protest, didn’t beg her to stay.

  Frieda gave him one more pathetic glance then turned and left. The next morning she called Braus, and told him to come and arrest Taavi.

  “If I do, I’ll have to arrest you too. You have been hiding him in your club. I don’t suggest that you stop paying the ransom if you know what is good for you,” Braus said.

  “I have a lot of friends. You know that. If I go down for this, you will go down with me. I will tell everyone about your part in all of this. They will believe me and you’ll end up a prisoner instead of a guard....”

  There was silence on the other end of the phone.

  Then Braus began to speak. “Very well. Here is what you do. Tonight, throw him out. I’ll arrest him on the street. That way you won’t be involved at all.”

  “What time?” Frieda asked.

  “Eleven tonight.”

  Chapter 52

  Taavi

  When Frieda demanded that he go, Taavi was more than willing to leave. He was glad not to have to cope with her wanting more from him than he could give anymore. He would hide in alleyways until he could get back to the forest if he could. Taavi didn’t care if he was arrested. He really had no reason to go on living.

  He left through the back door of the cabaret like a thief in the night, sliding between buildings, staying out of the streetlights. Taavi’s muscles contracted and jerked as his senses went on high alert. The loud laughter of two uniformed men walking through the street sent him careening into the side of building, where he tore his shirt and bloodied his shoulder. His heart and soul would have easily welcomed a quick end to the pain, but the God-given life force inside of him still fought against death. The blood ran down his arm, but he paid no heed. All he could think of was getting away from the city where he could be alone to grieve in peace. Somewhere in the distance, a woman giggled, breaking the silence of the early morning again. Her voice sounded like tiny bells and it made Taavi want to weep. Then he heard the bustle of working people as the city began to come alive. He moved faster. Dawn was breaking; the sun had begun to light the sky. Hurry, get out before daylight. Finally, after over two hours of ducking into the shadows, Taavi slipped out of the city. It was easy to see that he’d left the madness of Berlin behind because the greenery became more lush. Michal, he thought, whispering her name softly. He remembered the first time he saw her, so long ago, in that little settlement in Siberia. It was mid-afternoon and she was on her way to the market. He’d been on his knees in the carpentry shop working on something, he couldn’t remember what. But then an invisible nudge had made him look up from his work. There she was, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. If he recalled correctly Michal was fifteen at the time, on the brink of womanhood. Her appearance just slightly revealing the magnificent woman she was to become. But somehow, just glancing across the road when his eyes met hers, Taavi knew that he would spend the rest of his life loving her. And he had, and he would until his very last breath. Then he remembered Alina. She was so afraid of him when he and Michal had first reunited. But slowly and gently he’d won her over. What a smart girl his Alina was. She’d wanted to be a teacher. In his mind’s eye he saw Alina’s face. She had just begun to blossom when her life was stolen away from her. “Alina,” he whispered. In his mind’s eye he saw golden curls. Gilde’s curls, little Gilde, always happy, always singing. She was only ten years old. Neither of his daughters would ever be married, or know the joys of motherhood. Tears spilled down his cheeks. He would gladly have traded his own life for any one of them. Taavi was so lost in thought that he was shocked when he felt a sharp pain in his upper back, sharp enough to knock the wind out of him and throw him to the ground. At first, it all felt so unreal that he was confused. He had no idea what had happened. But then as he lay with his face in the dirt he tasted blood in his mouth and realized that a bullet had entered his body, like a searing knife cutting him in half between his shoulder blades. His body convulsed and writhed in agony on the ground. His eyes closed against the pain and the world of men, and he saw visions so real that he believed them to be true. There was Alina, his daughter, his beautiful, sweet, Alina, always so serious. She was in the living room of their old apartment reading a book. She looked up and smiled at him. Then his little Gilde came running towards him, reaching her arms to the sky for him to pick her up and put her on his shoulders. “Carry me around and show me the world, Papa,” Gilde said as she had always done every day when he got home from work. The world, my Gilde, you want to see the world? The world? he thought. A tear fell from his eye and wet the ground. What a terrible world he had brought his children into. “I’m sorry, Gilde, I’m sorry, Alina….” And, then when he felt his life slipping away as the blood of his ancestors poured from his body, he saw her, Michal … his one true love. She was so close to him that he could feel her breath on his cheek. Taavi looked into her eyes; they were so clear in his mind. He heard her voice. “Taavi … come to me,” she whispered.

  I’m here, Michal. Take me with you. Taavi said without speaking aloud. He felt her take his hand as another bullet entered his body. The hot lead burned through his aching soul and pierced his already b
roken heart, shattering it and ending his life on earth.

  Chapter 53

  Alina, Summer 1944

  Alina looked in the mirror at the purple and yellow bruise on her cheek and wondered if she should skip class today. Ugo would ask all kinds of questions about what happened to cause the bruise. And she would be forced to tell him the truth. Trevor was hitting her more and more often. His violent outbursts against Alina and Joey had become more brutal, and he no longer slapped her. Instead, he hit her with his fist, or a hairbrush or belt buckle. Alina knew that if Ugo found out, he would want to confront Trevor, and that confrontation would no doubt land Ugo in prison. But Alina had other ideas. Alone in her room every night, she’d had plenty of time to think things through. She’d acquired a fair sum of money and she knew that she wanted to open a business of her own. After what she’d been through with losing everyone she loved and then marrying a man who treated her and her child like they were less than human, Alina knew that the only way to survive in the world was to be independent. Only then could she be rid of the fear that made her grit her teeth when she heard the dreaded sound of Trevor’s footsteps on the wood floor. She had come to live in constant fear. If Joey was crying too loudly, it was only a matter of time before Trevor would fling the door to their room open wide until the door handle made a dent in the wall. He would glare at Alina, his eyes red with rage. And although she trembled in terror, every time it happened, she would stand between her child and this horrible man she called husband. She would keep him from Joey until he was so angry that he ripped her away from her son and began beating her instead of taking his anger out on Joey. Her hatred for Trevor grew a little stronger every time he had an outburst. And she dreaded the painful days of recovery following a severe beating, but she would rather he hit her than ever touch Joey. Sometimes at night, after a day of particularly sadistic behavior on Trevor’s part, she would lie in bed and think about killing him. In her mind, she would see herself taking his gun out of his desk drawer where he kept it, and shooting him until she was sure he was dead. But then she would remember the consequences. Don’t be a fool, she told herself. If you are in prison, there will be no one to take care of Joey. He will grow up alone on the streets of New York. The only way for Alina and Joey to survive, she decided, was to find a way out of that house and that marriage. She tried to find a job. But she had no employable skills. And with no skills, what kind of business could she possibly open? She realized that she could marry Ugo. He would agree to it, but that was not a solution. It was only more of the same. She would go from being dependent on one man to being dependent on another. Alina Margolis was not going to do that again.