Ben found the diamond cutters to be meticulous experts in their field. And they always treated Ben with kindness. Even so he knew he was not a part of their world, and often he felt like an outsider. Time had not erased his memories. He still found his thoughts consumed with people and places he feared he would never see again. Sometimes he wondered if Moishe were alive, and what Moishe might have been like—if he’d had the chance to watch him grow up. When he allowed his mind to travel down this dark, painful path his head would ache, and sometimes he would feel so sick to his stomach that he had to vomit. He thought of his little boy, and he chastised himself for being powerless to help his son. His own weakness sent him spiraling down into fits of self-loathing followed by prayers that, by some miracle, Lila had survived and had been able to save Moishe. He thought of Zelda, poor gentle Zelda. Had she somehow survived? Before he’d left Germany, he’d searched for them all. He’d registered at every agency he could find. He'd searched all the names of people who had survived and were now looking for their loved ones. But he did not see one familiar name on that list, and no one ever contacted him. Then once he received the letter from Levi telling him that the sponsorship had gone through, and he could now come to America, Ben went back to the Red Cross agency and made sure to leave all his forwarding information. But he was doubtful that he would ever hear from any of them again.
The day that he boarded the ship to take him to America he knew he should be grateful he was alive and on his way to the land of plenty. However, that was not how he felt. Ben felt beaten and alone. He had no idea what lay across the ocean, but he knew that no matter what he found he would never forget the friends, the family, and lovers he left behind.
Two years had passed since he’d arrived at Levi’s tenement on the west side of the city. His first impression was shock. If this was the land of milk and honey, he couldn’t see how. The tenement buildings were dirty and overcrowded; the people were immigrants from many different countries. On the streets one could hear a multitude of languages: Yiddish, Italian, Polish, German. The people, their food, and their customs were all different. However, all they shared was poverty and a dream, the dream of a better life, for themselves and their loved ones. It was far from perfect in the tenement where he lived. The buildings were death traps, made of wood, prone to fire. The work was hard, and the hours were long, but compared to Auschwitz, it was heaven.
Ben liked Levi, his wife, and two teenage boys as soon as he met them. He’d told them that Caleb died in the camp. They didn’t want to know how it happened, and Ben was glad they didn’t ask any more questions. He was relieved not to have to explain his unusual friendship with Caleb.
As soon as Ben began earning money, he paid a third of his wages toward the rent. He also bought food for the family and made every effort to contribute.
On a wickedly cold day in early January, the snow trickled down from a bright silver sky, and the wind blew in chilly gusts off the frozen lake. Ben was busy taking an order from a jeweler who wanted to have a large round diamond cut into a pear shape, when a woman, wearing a brown wool coat that matched her golden-brown hair, hair the color of dark honey, came into the jewelry store. She waited for Ben to finish with the customer, then she walked up to the counter.
“Good Morning,” she said in broken English with a heavy German accent. “I am sorry, but my English is not so good. I need to sell these diamonds.” She took a wrinkled, lilac handkerchief out of her purse and unwrapped it to reveal five large stones: each of them set in gold ring settings.
Ben looked up at her. “I speak Yiddish,” he said. “It’s a lot like German. I think I will understand you if you want to speak to me in German.”
“I speak Yiddish too,” she said, smiling. She’d learned Yiddish from the prisoners at Ravensbrück. She studied Ben. He was handsome. Very handsome. His dark, wavy hair was combed away from his strong but sensitive eyes.
“I’m Ben; may I ask your name?”
She glanced down at his arm where she saw the number tattooed. “I’m Atara Herskowitz,” she said. Then she placed her hand gently on his arm and whispered, “I’m a survivor too.”
“Which camp?” he asked.
“Ravensbrück” she said.
“Auschwitz,” he answered.
She nodded. “These were my mother’s diamonds. I hid them all through the war. They are all I have. Please . . . get me the best price you can?”
“Of course,” he said. “I will speak with the boss and explain everything to him. Can you wait for a few minutes?”
“Yes, of course.”
Ben took the diamonds and walked over to speak to one of his bosses who was a heavyset Hasidic man. Chaim was a good businessman but also a kind and generous soul. He and Ben spoke in whispers for several minutes. Ben showed Chaim the diamonds and explained that the woman was a concentration-camp survivor. Chaim listened quietly, then he told Ben what he was willing to pay the woman for her gems. However, as Ben was heading back to tell the woman the price, Chaim called him back. “Rabinowitz,” he said, “before you give the lady the price, come here.”
The woman at the counter, who was really Ilsa Guhr posing as Atara Herskowitz, a Jew in America, almost fell over when she heard that the man’s name was Ben Rabinowitz. Is it possible that he is the father of the child Hilde stole from the children’s camp? He is not at all the way I pictured him to be. But there could be more than one Benjamin Rabinowitz. I must know if it’s him, but I can’t push him. I have to wait for the right time.
Ben walked back to Atara. “I have good news. First, my boss gave me one price, then he thought it over and decided to give you a little more. Probably because he understands that you need the money to start over. He’s a kind man and a fair one too. How does five thousand dollars sound to you?”
Atara’s eyes lit up. “Oh . . ." she stammered. You’re right; he is very fair,” she answered in Yiddish. “I would love to buy you a cup of coffee sometime to say thank you,” she said, curious about Ben Rabinowitz and wanting to know more about him. She was intrigued because she knew so much of what had happened to his family. But he was unaware of who she really was, and she found that she was enjoying playing a part like an actress.
Atara Herskowitz was a pretty woman; Ben couldn’t deny that. And he was lonely. It had been a long time since he’d spent time with a woman whom he might be interested in romantically. Each night he retired to his small room taking his meals alone, not wanting to become a burden to Levi and his family. And although he could hardly call a cup of coffee a date, he was excited to get to know Atara Herskowitz. “I would love to have a cup of coffee with you,” he answered.
“Tomorrow after work?”
“I get off at seven in the evening. Is that too late?”
“It’s perfect,” she said.
“And by the way, instead of coffee, why don’t you allow me to buy you dinner?” Ben offered. “I know a kosher deli just a block from here. It’s called Leon’s Deli. Do you know it?”
“I have never been there, but I have seen it.”
“Can you meet there me at seven?”
“I’ll be there.”
CHAPTER 60
Ilsa walked back to her cold-water flat with a check for five thousand dollars in her handbag. This was all the money she had left from the jewelry she and Hilde had stolen from the prisoners at Ravensbrück. When she arrived at her apartment, she removed her coat and scarf, then she ran her fingers through her hair. In the mirror she saw that she needed to touch up the color. Her natural blonde was coming through at the roots. Coloring her hair golden brown had become part of her routine since she’d arrived in America. She felt it was less conspicuous than her golden-blonde curls for a woman posing as a Jew.
Now that she had some cash, she planned to move out of this run-down apartment with its roaches, mice, and temperamental heater. In the morning, she would look for something better. Not anything extravagant because she didn’t want to go through her mone
y too quickly. After all, her English was not perfect, so she was not qualified for any type of work. Besides that, she still remembered how much trouble she’d had at the job where she’d worked at before she became a guard at Ravensbrück. But she hoped that if she was careful she could find a better place to live that was affordable.
Plopping down on the sofa, she took off her shoes and rubbed her toes. I’m glad he’s paying for dinner. Why spend any money if I don’t have to? But I must say he is certainly more handsome than I ever expected him to be when I heard his name. It was one of the last words that came out of his wife’s mouth before I killed her, Ilsa thought as she remembered back to the last moments of Lila’s life. Ilsa had taken Lila outside at gunpoint in the middle of the night. She had promised Hilde she would kill Lila, and she planned to keep her promise, but she did not pull the trigger until she heard the truth from Lila’s lips.
“Do you want to survive?” Ilsa asked Lila as Lila lay hugging the trunk of a tree. “If you are alive you can try to find your son again.”
“Yes, I want to survive.”
“Then tell me the truth. Is your son a Jew? Are you a Jew?”
“He is not,” Lila said.
Ilsa cracked Lila across the face with the plastic whip she carried.
“Tell me the truth, I said, or I’ll have the child killed. If you want me to insure his safety, I must know the truth. Now tell me. Is he a Jew?” Ilsa could see the doubt, the fear, the confusion in Lila’s eyes.
Then Lila hung her head and said, “Yes, he’s a Jew.”
“Good, very good. Now we are getting somewhere. Would you like a piece of candy?” Ilsa handed Lila a piece of chocolate. “I’m not such a bad sort.” She smiled. “When you tell me the truth, I can help you, but I don’t like liars.”
Lila ate the candy.
“Now, what is the child’s given name, and what are the given names of both of his parents?”
“Why do you need to know this?”
“I am going to help you. I am going to write down your name and the name of the boy’s father. At the end of the war I will help him find you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You stupid woman. I could kill you right now. I could kill your son too. What other reason would I have for asking you these questions?” Ilsa cracked the whip against the tree. Lila jumped. “You are trying my patience. Do you want my help or not? If not, that’s fine with me.”
Lila hung her head in defeat. The guard was right. She could kill Lila right now. She could probably kill Moishe too. Maybe she really was trying to help. Lila wasn’t convinced, but she felt she had to trust her. “I am Lila Rabinowitz. My son’s name is Moishe Rabinowitz. The boy’s father is Benjamin Rabinowitz. I don’t know if Ben is still alive.”
“And Moishe is the little blond-haired boy that the SS officer carried out of the children’s camp the other day. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Lila nodded.
Ilsa smiled and handed Lila another chocolate. “These are good, aren’t they?” Ilsa said, but before Lila had a chance to answer, Ilsa shot her point-blank in the head.
Ilsa was brought back to the present moment by the sound of a man and woman laughing in the hallway of the building. These damn walls are paper thin, she thought as she got up and went into her room to undress. This dinner tomorrow night with Benjamin Rabinowitz should be very interesting. Jews, they never cease to amuse me.
CHAPTER 61
January, Berlin 1947
Anatol, who was really Moishe Rabinowitz, lay with his head on Gretchen Schmidt’s lap while she was reading to him. She gently ran her hand over his golden hair. He is such a treasure, she thought. But I feel so bad for him. It’s been two years since he last saw Hilde and Axel, and he still asks when they are going to return. How could he know that they were Nazis and not his real parents? After all, they were the only parents he ever really knew. Some day I will have to tell him the truth, that he was a Jewish child stolen by Axel because Hilde had lost her baby. They planned to raise him as their son—as a Nazi. And when he asks about his real parents, I’ll have to tell him that I have no idea what has become of his father, but then I’ll have to explain that Hilde’s friend and coworker, that horrible woman Ilsa Guhr, killed his mother . . . Gretchen shivered at the heaviness of this responsibility.
As Gretchen stroked his head, Anatol looked up at her and asked, interrupting her thoughts, “What is going to happen to the world now that the war is over?”
“Anatole, that is a very grown-up question for a little boy.”
“I want to know, Auntie Gretchen."
“Well, Anatol, just as the Nazis were taking over Germany, I overheard my father and uncle talking. I remember my father saying that Hitler was opening a small crack in the right-thinking minds of our people here in Germany.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that people started to forget what was right and what was wrong. A foundation of right thinking that had once been firmly in place was now cracked. Then my father said that if the German people allowed that small crack to go unrepaired, it would grow until it would become a dark canyon.”
“A canyon?”
“A huge, dark hole. Hitler took power and started to do very bad things. So that crack went unrepaired, and it grew, and people forgot what was right and what was wrong. At first, only a few people followed Hitler. But by the time the war ended, many people had lost themselves in his empty promises.
“Where are my parents, Auntie Gretchen? Why did they leave me? And when are they coming back?”
“I don’t know,” she lied. How could she tell him that Hilde and Axel were arrested and would be standing trial in Nuremberg? If they were found guilty, they would face execution. How does one tell a child that the only parents he can remember might be killed? Gretchen decided he was too young to comprehend all the evil that Axel and Hilde had done. Where do I begin to tell him about the camps? And how do I explain that the people he loved, who were kind to him, were guards—cruel and horrible guards? They were Jew haters. And then if I am going to tell him the truth, should I not tell him the whole truth? Does he not deserve to know that his birth parents were Jews? I don’t know the fate of his father, so when he asks, I will have no answers. He could be dead or alive. All I know was that his name was Benjamin Rabinowitz. I know that the right thing to do would be to try and find his father, but if I do, I would have to give Moishe to Benjamin Rabinowitz. And I would hate to give the boy up. He is all I have.
“Is it a real canyon? Where is it? I can’t see it.”
Gretchen was pulled back into the present moment by Anatol’s question. “It’s not a real canyon that you can see. It’s a deep crack like a wound in the fabric of humanity.”
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Auntie Gretchen.”
“I know,” Gretchen said. “It’s very complicated.”
“Can we ever fix this big hole?”
“I believe we can,” she said.
“But how? Wouldn’t we have to fill it up? What would we fill it with?”
“Millions of pebbles.”
“It seems like it will take a very long time. I don’t know how we are ever going to do it. Do you?”
“One pebble at a time, Anatol.” She touched his hair.
There was a knock at the door. Anatol sat up straight. A look of fear and worry washed over his face. He’s been through so much. It is such a shame that a knock on the door can spark such terror in the eyes of a child so young, Gretchen thought. Then she smiled at Anatole, trying to reassure him. “It’s all right. I am going to see who is there,” she said, walking to the door. She, too, was worried about who might be at the door. After all, once the Russians had marched into Berlin, it had become very unsafe for German women. Terrible things had happened to Gretchen at the hands of those Russian soldiers. Things she would never tell Anatol. However, she’d been fortunate. After the rest of the Allies arrived and split
Berlin between them, the tiny apartment where she lived had fallen under the rule of the Americans, who were far better than the Russians.
She took a deep breath, glanced back at the child for a single moment, then she opened the door.
“Rebecca?” Gretchen said as she stood face-to-face with the pretty, blonde girl, who had been her best friend. “You’re alive. Thank God, you’re alive,” she said, almost falling to her knees.
“Gretchen,” Rebecca said, taking Gretchen into her arms. “I am so happy to see you. I’ve been so worried.”
Both women were crying and hugging each other.
“Perhaps we should go inside,” a handsome, blond man with a cane said to Rebecca.
“Yes, Jan. You’re right,” Rebecca said, then she turned to Gretchen, her eyes shining with tears. “This is my husband, Jan.”
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Jan said.
“Good things, I hope.”
“Very good. Rebecca loves you very much. She says you are like a sister to her.”
“I feel the same way. I love her too. Come, come inside. Let me introduce you to Anatole.”
Anatole eyed the couple skeptically, then he looked at Gretchen.
It’s all right,” she said and patted Anatole’s head. “This is my very dear friend, Rebecca and her husband, Jan.” Then Gretchen turned to Rebecca and said, “This is Anatol, Hilde’s son.”
Rebecca gave Gretchen a look that said she didn’t understand. But nothing more was said about Anatole until after they’d all had dinner together and the child was tucked safely into bed.
“He’s a sweet boy,” Rebecca said when Gretchen returned from checking on Anatole.
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