A View Across the Rooftops: An epic, heart-wrenching and gripping World War Two historical novel

by Suzanne Kelman

  After clearing the bomb dust from the latest raid, she looked about the houseboat, so much of the furniture she had sold during the last winter in exchange for food. It had been a desperate time, and she and her sister had gone to any extreme to get them something to eat. Things had become so desperate, and she hated hearing her sister’s children going to sleep crying with the pains of hunger.

  As Elke searched through her belongings, she found a picture of her mother. And she thought about her, then. The houseboat had belonged to her, and Elke had inherited it. An excellent painter, her mother Christina had used it as an artist’s studio, especially after her father had died following a short illness ten years before. The photo had caught her in the midst of painting, sitting in front of her easel, a paintbrush in one hand to capture the spirit of her subject. Always self-assured, she had instilled in her girls the need to seek truth and beauty and love, and always to be brave. Christina’s wry smile and intense gaze reached and assured Elke that everything was going to be all right. Acknowledging her mother’s encouraging smile, she nodded. Maybe one day she’d come back and live here when all this was over. Maybe one day she’d find the joy in this place again.

  All at once, Elke felt the ground shift beneath her, and as the houseboat swayed slightly to the right, she reflected that she’d entirely forgotten the feeling of living on the water. A larger boat had probably created a rolling wake, she surmised. But when it came a second time, Elke wondered if someone was actually on the gangplank. She was curious, as no one knew she would be there that day.

  Going back into the kitchen, she looked out of the window but couldn’t see anybody about on the towpath. It was quiet. Elke went back to the bedroom to continue her search when a sudden chill found its way down her neck and around the back of her legs, as if someone had opened the door. Turning back into the kitchen, she saw a silhouette framed in the doorway.

  Elke should have been fearful but because she had seen him so many times in her dreams, she didn’t react right away, but instead blinked, trying to clear her vision. And when the shadowy figure stepped forward into the light, the breath caught in her throat. This person really did look just like Michael, just as she had always pictured him standing there one day. This person was thinner, older, but it was an uncanny resemblance.

  Her next thoughts happened in quick succession. She first convinced herself it was a trick of the light, someone else that looked like him; that it was her imagination, lack of food, anything but the truth. Then she’d questioned her imagination, as he was older, more assured, his early boyishness gone. Why would she imagine him differently than how she’d remembered him? Elke finally settled on him being a hallucination. But all notions of that disappeared as he rushed to her and took her in his arms. Taking her breath away, he enveloped her and covered her face with frantic kisses, running his hand through her hair and muttering in half sentences.

  “I was going to be calm… give you a chance to get used to the idea that I was alive… let you tell me about the man you are in love with. But I had nowhere else to go. I have been staying… somewhere and the Nazis came. And my only thought was to get back to you. And then, when I saw you, I couldn’t stop myself. Forgive me, sweet Elke. You can slap my face if you want… but I fear I cannot stop.”

  Elke responded to his kisses in kind but was struck dumb; she was afraid to speak in case this incredible hallucination disappeared. She breathed in the scent of his skin, was enraptured by the feel of his mouth on her face, his hair brushing her cheek, his arms crushing her body. Slowly it started to sink in, and finally she pulled away to look closely at him.

  She found words. “Is it really you?”

  Michael smiled, and then she knew. It was him. Her Michael. Back from the dead and in her arms.

  She couldn’t believe it. She hugged him so tightly that her arms started to lose sensation, but she dared not let him go. She couldn’t get close enough to him, wanting their bodies to meld together, wanting to climb under his skin and stay there, for the rest of her life. For the first time in over four years, Elke felt a burning desire course through her body, and she finally felt alive, again.

  After what seemed like an eternity she released her grip. “I missed you so much,” she whispered into his neck.

  He pulled back, and she felt his body stiffen a little, the pain evident on his face.

  “I know there is someone else,” he responded, his voice cracking. “I just wanted to believe for a moment that what we’d had was real, that somewhere in your heart there was still a small space for me. And even if we can’t be together, I just wanted you to know that I never gave up and that I always loved you.”

  A chill ran through her body. “What are you talking about, Michael?”

  “I saw you in the woods,” he said flatly, the pain creating agony on his face. “I saw you kissing someone there.”

  Elke wracked her brains for what he could mean. When had she been in the woods with a man? She was always there alone. Then suddenly she remembered, and her face flushed. The time she had been with Helmut.

  “You were there in the woods that night?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh my God. Why didn’t you tell me you were there?”

  “It was a little difficult while you were kissing another man,” he responded, the smallest hint of a smile drifting across his lips. “Besides, he was taller, blonder, and more Aryan-looking than me,” he joked. In seeing how mortified she was, he then added more seriously, “I did tell you to be happy. How could I take that from you?”

  “You don’t understand,” she spluttered out. “That was a misunderstanding. Helmut and I are over. In fact, we barely began. He wanted a relationship, but I did not love him. I could not love him because I was in love with someone else. And it was unfair to him to keep the relationship going.”

  She saw the relief then, and she felt his tense body slacken in her arms.

  “Michael, I was then, and I am now, still head over heels in love with you. I was so scared that you were dead and that I would never truly feel happy again.”

  Elke led him into the bedroom then, and on her bed, they started to make love. Gone was the intense passion of their youth and the last time they had been together. This time everything was precious. And as the world around them became timeless, they took great care caressing each other. His mouth brushed her with tiny, gentle kisses that searched and covered every inch of her face and neck. Finally, he kissed her slowly and deeply on the lips, and she kept her eyes open to take in every contour of his face. As their kissing intensified, she felt the thrill of pure joy, and warm tears of ecstasy and relief ran down her face and mingled with his own, dripping from his chin and running down between her breasts.

  Slowly, they began to undress. When he nervously tried to unbutton her blouse, she replaced his shaking fingers with her own to complete the task. Once they were both naked, they touched and stroked every inch of one another, marveling at every discovery as if it were for the first time. Until, unable to hold back any longer, they made love over and over again until they were exhausted. Then, entwined tightly in each other’s arms, they fell into a deep, blissful sleep.

  A few hours later, someone hammered on the front door. Sitting bolt upright, fear coursed through Elke’s body as her mind flashed back in horror. Surely fate couldn’t be this cruel to them twice.

  “I must have been followed,” Michael stated, his voice only above a whisper.

  Terrified, she clung to him. “You’re not leaving me again,” she hissed defiantly. “I couldn’t ever be without you. Where you go, I will go, and whatever happens to us, we’ll face it together.”

  He kissed her passionately then, as if he didn’t have the strength to let her go either.

  The thumping on the door came again. They started to dress, watching one another intently, not wanting to waste a moment thinking of anything else. Whoever was on the other side of the door could not be a friend. Every Jewish person they knew
was gone, and her sister never came down to the boat. With a calm assurance, she realized that if it was the Nazis coming to take him, she was just overwhelmingly grateful for this one last time with him, and they would face whatever it was together. Slowly, hand in hand, they walked to the door, and she opened it.

  Someone stepped inside, and Elke gasped when she saw who it was.

  “So this is why you never wanted me! You had him, hiding somewhere, and by the looks of him I am guessing he is a Jew. I’m sure the authorities will be very excited to meet the very last Jew in Amsterdam.” Helmut’s face was red with fury. “I went to see you at your sister’s house. She said you were down here. I suppose she has no idea either.”

  Helmut turned to leave, and Elke strode up to him.

  “I wouldn’t tell anyone if I was you. It could be very bad for you.”

  Helmut turned and scowled at her.

  Elke continued. “I know what you have been doing through the war, giving art to the Nazis, and when this is over—and we know it will be soon—I think there will be some Allied authorities who will be most excited to meet you.”

  “You can’t prove anything,” he spat back.

  “Ah, and that is where you are wrong. The last time we hung a picture for you in your apartment, when you were in Berlin, do you remember, you gave us the key to hang it for you? Well, someone had to go with the art to supervise and while I was there I needed the bathroom and managed to find some very interesting reading in your bedroom—correspondence, receipts, addresses. I must admit to keeping a couple of interesting documents just in case I ever needed to alert the authorities when we won this war.”

  Helmut looked crestfallen. “You would have done that? To me? Why? This was just business, surely you understand that. I loved you!”

  “Helmut, you know as well as I do that those were Dutch masterpieces. They are our country’s treasures—stolen and acquired or sold at a fraction of their worth.”

  He became defensive. “Why is that my fault? Isn’t that just business?”

  Elke shook her head. “Where is your humanity, and sense of honor? And now you plan to wreck my life too? I never thought even you could stoop so low. I always intended to report you, but now I have a proposition. Help Michael and me escape to France or England and when we are safe I will write to my sister and tell her where those papers are hidden and have her burn them.”

  He eyed her nervously.

  “Sneak a Jew out, that is impossible.”

  “Surely you have made friends at the checkpoints. They know you, and what you are doing. On your next run into Germany, drop us close to Allied lines, take us hidden in your van below the pictures. And no one but God will know about your crimes.”

  Two days later, at what would be their final checkpoint, something unusual transpired. Up until that point, the van had stopped, they had heard Helmut talking in a concise and fast back-and-forth exchange, and then they had continued again. But this time, they heard Helmut open the door and get out and slam it behind him. Michael could hear the muffled conversation going on outside of the van, but had no idea what was being conveyed. Even in the darkness he could see the fear in Elke’s eyes. He reached out to her and took her hand and squeezed it, mouthing the words, “I love you.”

  She nodded, but both of them recognized that this was not a good sign. Suddenly, the rear door of the van was wrenched open. Bright sunlight streamed in and almost blinded them, but in silhouette, they could see German soldiers pointing rifles at them.

  “Get out. Get out, both of you.”

  Stunned, they scrambled out of the van and Michael looked across at Helmut, knowing at once he had never intended to take them to freedom.

  All at once, Helmut blurted out. “He’s a Jew; this one is a Jew! He threatened me and forced my girlfriend to stay with him in the back of the van; otherwise he said he would kill me.”

  Helmut’s eyes were wild with his lie, and his voice was high-pitched and shrill. Michael looked across at Elke, her own eyes wild with a mixture of fear and outrage.

  She turned on Helmut. “How dare you, Helmut? How can you be this cruel?”

  Suddenly two soldiers seized hold of Michael, and they roughhoused him toward the building at the checkpoint as another officer took hold of Elke’s arm.

  Helmut called out, “She can come with me. It is not her fault; she’s my girlfriend.” He sounded pitiful.

  Even in her terror, Elke found the words she spat out, “He is not my boyfriend. I do not know him. Obviously, I’ve never known him.”

  What took place after that, was in such quick succession that Michael wasn’t sure it was real for a moment. He had turned to glance at Elke, her rapid movement catching his attention. He saw her grappling with the officer who had hold of her arm. Evidently the guard, assuming he had the easier prisoner, had not grasped her tightly enough.

  Suddenly, she whirled around at her captor and snatched his rifle from him, and then cracked him on the skull with it, after which he slumped to the ground. The two guards who were holding Michael in front of her pivoted and for a moment, time stood still as they all stood in shock, taking in the scene.

  That was, everyone except Elke. Masterfully she pointed the gun at one of the soldiers holding Michael, and a shot rang out, followed by the scream of the man who clutched at his stomach. He sank to his knees and fell forward in pain. As the other guard reached for his weapon to fire back at Elke, for a moment he let go of Michael.

  She cried out to him, “Run, Michael, run!” As she dropped the gun and sprinted away from the checkpoint. Michael, now free of the officer’s restraint, raced behind her.

  “Elke, Elke stop! We can’t do this. They want me, not you. Please come back.”

  But Elke just kept running. It was a magnificent day, the sun was high and warm, and as she leaped through a field of tall grass, feeling like she was racing to the very edges of Holland itself, there was something about the scene that felt timeless to Michael as he chased her. His thoughts returned momentarily to their initial meeting, as they had raced through the streets of Amsterdam on her bicycle, her head thrown back as she laughed, and him pedaling at speed, the wind rushing through their hair, and for just a moment he wondered if they would make it, if the Nazis would let them go.

  Two shots rang out, and he watched her body crumple to the ground. The terror that started in his stomach ripped through his body in an animalistic scream he didn’t recognize as his own voice. When he reached where her body had fallen he dropped to his knees and looked into her eyes, that were filled with panic and pain. He pulled her into his arms. “No! Elke, no!” He held her even closer, trying to use his fingers to stop the bleeding gushing from a wound in her chest, but he knew it was futile. Her breathing was coming in fast ragged spurts, and he could see her life slipping from her.

  Somewhere in the distance, he heard someone screaming to him, yelling at him to drop her, come back, or they would shoot him, too. He didn’t care, didn’t care about anything but looking into her beautiful face.

  “I love you, Elke,” he whispered.

  She gently nodded her response, unable to speak.

  He knew that he had to be close to the border and no doubt Allied troops, maybe even a doctor. He picked her up tenderly in his arms and carried her, wading through the grass as the angry voices called out to him again.

  Another shot rang out, and the pain that seared through his body was unimaginable. He didn’t realize he could feel such pain exploding inside of him. He dropped to his knees, breathless, knowing someone had shot him too. But he didn’t let her go. Holding her tightly to him, he clung to her, they would die together. It would only last a moment, he told himself, and all the pain, and all the suffering would be gone. And he could be with Elke forever.

  He fell forward, still holding her tightly, and the last thing he remembered before he blacked out was hearing her stilted breath in his ear as she rasped, “At least we found each other again. And I would rather die
in your arms than live without you.”

  Chapter 54

  The echoing loneliness Josef had felt after losing Sarah returned to haunt him with the loss once more of Michael. Everything around him now was a painful reminder, and he felt desolate and bereft. The disappearance of Ingrid after his house was raided had added to his concern, and even though he had asked and searched for her, the Nazis acted as if she had never existed. But the loss of Michael was what haunted him most. He wandered the house, mainly at night, remembering everything they had been through together.

  The kitchen, the place where they had celebrated Hanukkah; the bathroom, where hot water had brought his friend back to life; the front room, where they had first talked and grieved together; and the attic, where they had formed the bond of the most profound friendship.

  As he wandered aimlessly from room to room, he was tortured by how empty his life felt without someone in it to care for. In the middle of the night, when he could not sleep with the weight of his insignificance, he would often find solace walking the attic boards, staring through the cracked pane, across the red rooftops often bathed in moonlight, reading Michael’s poems.

  Opening Michael’s journal, he continued to read his poem “Invincible.”

  … I am battle-worn without lifting a weapon

  And scarred without a cut to my flesh

  But still I will lift up my head. Still I will not give up the fight.