To Be An Israeli: The Fourth Book in the All My Love, Detrick series

by Roberta Kagan

  “Mom, what’s wrong with you?” Ima asked.

  Katja tried to shake off the visions she was having and tried to come back to the present moment. She cleared her throat and started down the stairs, but she was dizzy. She tripped and fell. Ido was there in an instant to lift her.

  “Are you all right, Mrs. Zaltstein?”

  “Yes…” Katja could hardly breathe. It was at that very moment, as Katja looked at her daughter, so happy, so changed by love by this strong Israeli that Katja decided she would never tell either of them the truth. She’d made that mistake long ago with Elan, and he’d walked out on her.

  If this man walked out on Ima, it might kill her daughter. Katja knew that Ima was not stable on her own. It was only through the strength of this man, who now stood beside her, that she had by some miracle returned from the living dead. No, Katja would take her secret to her grave. Katja glanced at her mother who seemed to be reading her mind. Zofia nodded as if she agreed.

  “Sorry, I can be so clumsy sometimes.” Katja tried to laugh, but her voice was several octaves higher than normal.

  “Are you all right?” Ido asked again.

  “Yes, of course. It’s so nice to meet you. Welcome to Ima’s home. I’m her mother as you’ve probably already guessed, and this is her grandmother.” Katja was usually so gracious. And she was trying to be that way now, but she was stiff and nervous.

  Zofia knew what Katja was thinking. How could she not? Zofia remembered how happy Katja was with Elan until he learned the truth. Zofia trembled slightly. She would never speak of the past. For Ima’s sake, neither Ima nor Ido must ever know who Katja’s birth parents were. It was best if they never learned that Katja was born in the home for the Lebensborn.

  Zofia could not be sure of Ido’s reaction, and Ima had been through far too much to risk Ido leaving her the way that Elan had left her mother. There was no reason for them ever to find out that Zofia was not Katja’s birth mother. The truth would remain a secret buried in Zofia’s heart forever. Right at that moment, Zofia swore a vow of silence to God and herself. But in the back of her mind, she knew from experience that the truth always had a wicked way of coming to the surface. She prayed for the sake of her daughter and her granddaughter that somehow, someway, this time the truth would remain buried in the archives of the horrors of Nazi Germany.

  ***

  Katja could not believe how much Ima had changed. Her hair was no longer chopped. She had lost all of the edge and anger that used to shoot off of her like the bullets from a machine gun. Ima smiled and laughed and even talked to Katja and Zofia the way she had before that horrible day when their lives had changed.

  It was beyond wonderful to have a man in the house again. For over a year, the water in the bathroom sink had been leaking. Katja had meant to call a plumber, but never did. In less than fifteen minutes, Ido fixed the leak. He was a true gem, adjusting closet doors that had fallen off their hinges and just doing little things that had gone undone. It was not because she couldn’t afford the repairs; she could. It was simply because the heart had gone out of her the day Ima first came back home with torn clothes and bruised face. Now her Ima was restored, and her husband was fixing her house.

  Now Katja remembered what it was like to have a man in the house. It made her miss her father and her husband, but more importantly, deep in the depths of her soul, she feared for her daughter. Katja could not help but recall how happy she’d been in the beginning with Elan before he found out the truth.

  What if, by some terrible twist of fate, Ido learned that Ima’s mother was not of Jewish blood and even worse? This tugged at the rope of Katja’s intestines, and she could not bring herself to eat. “I’m trying to lose some weight,” she said. Zofia studied her daughter. She had not mentioned dieting before now and suspected that she was trying to deal with her secret.

  Ido took them all out for dinner one night. They sat outside at an outdoor restaurant. Katja had convinced the couple to have a small ceremony to celebrate their marriage, and they were all making plans for the celebration.

  As they sat outside talking and laughing in the warm breeze, Zofia tried to join in, but she was tired. She knew something was not right. She’d been more lethargic lately. When they were leaving, Zofia stood up too fast and felt dizzy. She tripped on a stone on the sidewalk. Ido caught her before she could fall and helped her into the car. When they arrived home, he helped her out of the car and back to her room.

  After everyone left and Zofia lay in bed alone, she knew the cancer was back. She’d felt this way before. At least, Ima will be all right now, she thought. She should talk to Katja. Tell her how she felt. Zofia took a deep breath and felt a twinge of that old pain. Katja would need her if Ido found out the truth about everything and left Ima. Ima would need her, too. And she wished she could be there for them. But she could not live forever. The time would come when Katja and Ima must stand alone without her help.

  When Zofia was alone in her bed at night, she would think about Isaac. She missed him. Quietly she would whispered to him in the silence of the room and tell him how much she wished she could come home to him and once again lie safely in his arms. There was no doubt Zofia was getting old. The cancer and the treatments had weakened her, and the bones in her hips and shoulders ached. And now that Ima and Katja were okay, she was ready to leave this world and go to Isaac.

  The only reason she took those horrible treatments in the first place was that Katja and Ima needed her. Now she would let nature take its course and prepare to join her beloved husband, Isaac. She would spend her last days writing her memoirs about the Holocaust, so that future generations of Jews would never forget.

  So she whispered softly into the darkness in the empty room, “Isaac, my darling, my love, it won’t be long. Our Katja and Ima will be okay. I will come to you, and once again rest in your sweet embrace.”

  That night, Zofia dreamed of Isaac. They were young again, back in the forest in Poland, hiding from the Nazis. It was a terrible time, but it was a wonderful time, too. They were young and in love, and although she had never been so terrified, she’d never felt such joy. “Even in the darkest hour,” she heard Isaac whisper in her ear, “there is always a flicker of light…”

  CHAPTER 100

  Katja helped Ima pack her duffel bag. They were alone in Ima’s room. Ido and Zofia were in the dining room having breakfast.

  “You like him, Mom?”

  “Yes, I do,” Katja said. She was longing to tell Ima the truth. It hung on her tongue, choking her, but she dared not speak the words.

  “He makes me so happy, Mom.”

  “Do you really have to leave so soon? Stay another week,” Katja said. Maybe, just maybe, she was wrong about Ido. Perhaps, she was just projecting her fears onto him. She had no concrete reason to believe that he was anything like Elan. The only thing that she was sure that Ido and Elan shared was their confidence, their overwhelming attractiveness, and their love for Israel.

  “We can’t. We have an assignment. We’re escorting a group of American tourists who are coming to visit Israel with their synagogue. We are going to tour with the teenagers in the group. You know, show them around their homeland, but more importantly, it is our responsibility to see to it that they return to America safely. That’s why they are being accompanied by five members of the IDF. Ido and I are part of the group that is going with them.”

  “Do they have a tour guide, too?”

  “Yes, but we are not supposed to let the Americans know that we are with them as protection. We have to act as if we are just there to help show them around. It’s a fine line we’ve been instructed to walk. Because we’re close to them in age, we can be like friends instead of soldiers.

  We want to encourage more Americans to travel to Israel, so we want to be sure that nothing happens to them while they’re here. Even though we will be in uniform, we don’t want to be a constant reminder of the dangers that Israel faces every day.” Ima zipped the side o
f her duffel bag then turned to her mother and smiled. “Unless you live here in this country, you can’t possibly understand what this land means to our people and the sacrifices we Israelis are willing to make to protect it.”

  Katja nodded. She knew exactly what Ima meant. She’d lost her husband for Israel.

  “Are you ready, sweetheart?” Ido called to Ima. “We have to get moving. I want to get back a day early, so we can have time to settle in before we have to meet the group at the airport.”

  “I’m coming. I’ll be right there,” Ima said. Then she turned and kissed Katja on the cheek and hugged her hard. It had been so long since Katja had seen that much affection from her daughter.

  “I love you, Ima,” Katja said, a tear running down her cheek. “Be safe.”

  “I love you, too, Mom. We’ll be back in six months to begin putting the party together.”

  “How long will this group from the synagogue be in Israel?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Be careful, be safe. I love you…”

  “Thanks, Mom. I’m so glad that you like Ido. You think Bubbie likes him?”

  “I know she does.”

  Ima smiled.

  Katja’s heart swelled as she looked at her beautiful daughter. Ima had grown up, and somehow, she seemed to be healed of all of her previous anger. Praise God, Katja thought. I was so worried…

  The End

  I hope you’ve enjoyed this book and if you have a moment, please leave a review

  If you enjoyed “TO BE AN ISRAELI” please visit My Website for news and upcoming releases by Roberta Kagan.

  A note from the author:

  Thank you for taking the time to read my novel. I always enjoy hearing from my readers. Your feelings about my work are very important to me. If you enjoyed it, please consider telling your friends or posting a short review on Amazon. Word of mouth is an author’s best friend. Also, please feel free to contact me via Facebook or at www.RobertaKagan.com. All emails are answered personally, and I would love to hear from you.

  Many Blessings,

  Roberta Kagan

  Turn the page to view a sample of the last book in this series, “FOREVER MY HOMELAND.”

  FOREVER MY HOMELAND

  1986; Chicago’s O’Hare Airport

  February weather in Chicago is brutal. The morning that Bari Lynn Allen and her best friend Marilyn arrived at the O’Hare Airport was no exception. Although there had not been a snowfall for several days, the frigid temperatures had dropped to fifteen degrees Fahrenheit.

  The entire collection of congregants from Temple Beth Israel met at gate D12. They were buzzing with excitement. Today was the day they’d all been waiting for—;today they would board a direct flight from Chicago to Israel.

  Once they landed at their destination, the plan was that they would separate into two groups. The adults from Beth Israel would tour together, and the young adults would tour the country separately from their parents. The teenagers would hike through the mountains and climb Masada, activities that might be too strenuous for most of the older members.

  Eight months earlier, a travel agency who had worked with the synagogue in the past was called to send an agent to the temple, to meet with the rabbi, to plan the tour for the congregants.

  The person who arrived was a short elf of a girl with a smile bigger than her face, and protruding ears that popped out of the sides of her short, pixie haircut. Her petite frame was neatly attired in a navy-blue skirt and white blouse. She exuded confidence and appeared to be very organized. In her left hand, she carried a folder that contained a pile of neatly arranged papers.

  “Hi, you must be Rabbi Goodman?”

  “Yes, and you’re Shirley Douglas from the travel agency?”

  “I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  The Rabbi had many questions, which Shirley promptly answered. But most importantly, he was concerned with the safety of the members of his shul. Shirley Douglas assured the rabbi that the group would be as safe as possible.

  “Of course,” Shirley said. “Israel is a dangerous place. But you must already know that. There are sometimes bombings in the restaurants, hotels or busses. No one has control over such things. But I guarantee you that I will do my best. I can arrange with the Israeli Ministry of Tourism to have several members of the IDF tour with the teenagers and keep an eye on them. Sometimes kids stray from the group, and in Israel that can be unsafe. The adults will be fine with a tour guide.”

  “Yes, that is a very good idea. Contact the Ministry and ask for a group of IDF soldiers to watch over the teenagers. Miss Douglas, please do everything possible to ensure that our members come home safely.”

  “I promise, Rabbi Goodman. I will.”

  ***

  The mood of the passengers on the plane was charged with excitement. They were talking and laughing. Some of the older people had brought food, although there was plenty offered by the airlines. Temple Beth Israel was a Reform synagogue, so most of the members did not keep kosher. Everyone onboard was high on the idea that they were on their way to Israel, to the Jewish homeland…to the Promised Land.

  But for Bari Lynn, this trip had many objectives. It was a vacation away from her overbearing mother. It was fun and exciting to spend time with her best friend on a trip to a foreign land.

  But for Bari, this was also a mission to find her father, the father who she had spent her entire life believing was an American, who died in the Viet Nam War. Who was this man who had spawned her? Why had he abandoned her and her mother? It was hard for her to believe that her father was an Israeli.

  The news had come as quite a shock. Now that she knew her father was alive, she had to know more about him. She had to know everything. As the airliner swept away from America, its sleek body stealing through the white clouds, Bari Lynn whispered the name of her father to herself under her breath so that no one else could hear…Elan Amsel. Who are you, Elan Amsel? Elan Amsel…

  February 1986

  The runway at Ben Gurion Airport; Tel Aviv, Israel

  Marilyn, who was sitting beside Bari Lynn, squeezed Bari Lynn’s hand as the plane gently came to a stop… “As a spokesperson for the State of Israel, I would like to welcome all of you to our homeland,” the pilot said over the loud speaker.

  “The temperature outside today is a comfortable sixty-five degrees Fahrenheit. Please enjoy your stay with us.”

  “Can you believe we’re here? We’re in Israel,” Marilyn said, craning her neck to look out the window. “I’m so excited.”

  “Me too…” Bari Lynn giggled. For the first time in her life, Bari Lynn felt independent, courageous, and even pretty.

  As soon as the plane had left Chicago, and she was away from her mother’s scrutinizing gaze, Bari went into the bathroom on the plane and changed her clothes. She’d put on some things she’d borrowed from Marilyn. They were stylish, and for once she felt as if someone might even find her sexy. Bari wore a black tee shirt with the collar cut out of it so that it hung off one of her pale shoulders and tight jeans.

  The night before they left, Marilyn had used an actual clothing iron on Bari’s hair and had managed to get it perfectly straight. During the thirteen-hour flight, Marilyn had carefully glamorized Bari’s appearance with the magic tools in her cosmetic bag. With just a little eyeliner, a little mascara, and a wine-colored lipstick, suddenly Bari was transformed. Marilyn cocked her head and smiled. “You look amazing!”

  “Give me the mirror. I want to see,” Bari said.

  “Nope, not until we’re in Israel. I don’t want you to have a chance to get cold feet and wash all the makeup off.”

  Then, as soon as the pilot announced that they were landing, Marilyn handed Bari her compact with the mirror inside. Bari stared at the alluring image, and she hardly knew herself. The shy, awkward, girl that she’d always been had disappeared, leaving a very attractive, confident woman in her place.

  As they followed the line of passengers out
of the aircraft and into Ben Gurion National Airport, Bari Lynn’s heart was beating fast. She and Marilyn were best friends. Bari felt that she could share anything with her. So Marilyn was the only person she’d ever told the truth about her father. The night before they left Chicago, the two girls had gone out for French fries and cokes. They sat in a booth in a small diner not far from their homes. Bari took a few sips of her coke.

  “Mar, I have something to tell you,” Bari said. “My father is alive…”

  “What? I thought he died in Viet Nam.”

  “So did I, but, he didn’t. I found out the truth last night. My dad, I mean, Lucas, my stepdad, told me everything. My birth father’s name is Elan Amsel. Believe it or not, he lives somewhere in Israel. I don’t know if he knows about me or not… I don’t know anything about him except that I want to see him. I want to talk to him and ask him some questions.”

  Together Bari and Marilyn had devised a plan to find Bari’s father. They decided that first, they would look up his name in the phone book, and once they found his number they would sneak down to the lobby in one of the hotels and call him when everyone was asleep. Marilyn agreed that it was Bari’s right to know her birth father, even though she was afraid that facing Elan Amsel might end up hurting Bari more than helping her. But Bari begged Marilyn to do this with her, and Marilyn agreed. After all, they were best friends, and they would find him together…

  As Bari and Marilyn pulled their luggage off the revolving turnstile, they saw several of the older people who had come with the synagogue, kneeling and kissing the ground.

  “That’s weird…” Bari said.

  “Yep, I’m really glad my father couldn’t get away from work or my parents might be here doing the same thing. I’m so glad they’re at home. I’m free!!!” Marilyn shouted.

  “We’re both free!” Bari exclaimed.

  Both girls laughed and then they began to follow the rest of the group.

  They walked a few feet until they saw a group of five people, two women, and three men, all wearing IDF uniforms. The two women were holding up a sign that said, “Welcome to Israel, Congregation Beth Israel young adults.” One of the men from the IDF was playing a guitar, and all of the Israeli soldiers were singing a welcome song in Hebrew.