You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Book 2)

by Roberta Kagan

  “Shhh, now, get some sleep and I will bake the cake. All right?” Zofia moved the pillows and helped Christa to lie down.

  “Yes, but you will not forget your promise?”

  “I will not forget.”

  “I trust you, Zofia.”

  Zofia went to the kitchen and began to measure the flour and sugar. Katja squatted, playing quietly on a blanket that Zofia had spread on the floor. Zofia watched her and thought of Eidel. Once she, too, had trusted the safety of her precious child to another woman. With God’s help, Helen was caring for Eidel the way she would care for Katja.

  “Mama?” Katja said.

  “Yes,” Zofia said

  “My dolly is going to be a Jew just like you.”

  Zofia felt the hair on her neck stand at attention. She bent down beside the little girl, hugging her and smiling.

  “Katja, you must never say that to your father, all right?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I asked you not to. Will you do that for me, please?” Zofia gently squeezed Katja and kissed her cheek.

  “All right. It will be our secret.”

  “Yes, our secret,” Zofia sighed.

  Three days prior, Zofia had been cleaning the house when Manfred and several of his coworkers were in his study having a drink. She’d over heard them talking. From their conversation, she gathered that Nazi confidence in Hitler’s ability to win the war against Allies was waning. They spoke quickly, and she was not fluent enough in German to follow everything they said. But she did gather that Berlin had been bombed, and that Hitler had made a mistake by dividing his army and fighting on two fronts at the same time. The SS officers feared that the Allies were closing in on Germany, and there was great concern that the Fatherland might lose the war.

  Quietly as she went about her tasks, Zofia prayed that it was true, that the Allies were on their way, coming to the rescue. How near were they? How soon might this nightmare end? Just the thought of such a miracle made her toes tingle with anticipation. To be free again… To find Eidel, and hold her again…. Could it be true? Dare she allow herself to believe? For so long Zofia had wiped all emotion from her heart for fear of another disappointment. But she could not help but feel joyous as she listened to the worries of the SS officers.

  Now, standing in the kitchen, her mind went back to that conversation she’d overheard. If the camps were liberated, then she must leave Katja or take her, if Christa were able to grant such a thing. It would be difficult to leave Katja behind. She loved the child. Zofia glanced at the little girl with the golden curls and marveled again at how much she looked like Christa. With the new information that Christa had just given her, it was hard to believe that Christa was not Katja’s birth mother.

  It would be a difficult decision to leave Katja, but when the time came, and she was able, God willing, she would leave this terrible place. She would run as fast as she could to find Eidel. Eidel…the child of her blood, who waited somewhere out in the world for her mother’s touch…

  That evening after Zofia had served Manfred and Katja their dinner and brought a bowl of soup to Christa in bed, she helped Christa out into the living room. Zofia placed her arms under Christa’s and helped her into the plush chair next to the sofa. Then she brought out the cake adorned with candles. Katja squealed with delight, melting Zofia’s heart. Manfred watched Zofia with an intense eye. She could not fully read his expression, only that he fixated his gaze upon her like a threat. Perhaps he worried that she might reveal the secrets of his desire for her to his wife. Perhaps he worried about breaking the Nuremberg laws by spilling his seed into her unacceptable womb. When her eyes accidently met his, his cold, heartless glares made her shiver, knowing he had the power to send her back to the barracks, or worse, to the gas chamber. A thin layer of frost covered the windows. It would be cold in the barracks, and she would be hungry again. Part of her wanting to be exiled, longing to be away from him, and yet another side of her did not want to leave Katja. And still another part of her wish for death, and yet she was afraid to die.

  “Help me, Mama,” Katja yelled, as she tried to blow out the candles.

  Zofia felt a chill run down her back. She cast a quick glance in Manfred’s direction. But before he could realize that Katja had called her Mama, Christa stepped in.

  “Katja, let Zofia help you,” Christa said, “Can you pick her up for me, please, and help her to blow out the candles?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Zofia said, lifting Katja to stand on the chair so she would be high enough to reach the cake. Zofia held the little girl’s waist, so she would not fall. Katja leaned over.

  “Now make a wish…” Christa said to Katja.

  Katja squeezed her eyes shut. “Ready!” she called out in her baby voice.

  “All right, then. Blow out the candles.” Christa smiled.

  With all of her strength, Katja blew and blew, while Zofia held her tight.

  Finally, all the candles were extinguished and tiny trickles of smoke drifted up from the cake. Katja smiled, turning to kiss Zofia on the cheek. The little girl was proud of her accomplishment.

  “Good job,” Manfred offered, sipping a snifter of brandy.

  “I love you, Mama…” Katja said, but she was looking at Zofia, not Christa.

  Zofia smiled at the child, and then her eyes darted to Manfred, hoping he would not take offense and punish her. He seemed unaware. She bit her lower lip.

  “Can you cut the cake please, Zofia?” Christa asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Zofia took the cake back into the kitchen and cut it into pieces. She delivered the servings on Christa’s china plates.

  “Mama, you have some too,” Katja said.

  “I am,” Christa answered.

  “No. You too, Mama,” Katja said, pointing at Zofia.

  “That is not your mother. That is a servant. She does not eat here in our dining room with us;” Manfred said, his tone of voice harsh.

  Katja began to cry. Zofia longed to pick her up and comfort her, but the look on Manfred’s face unnerved her.

  “Go to the basement. Your job here is done for today,” he said.

  Zofia turned and left. As she descended the stairs, she heard Katja crying, “I want my mama! I want my mama!”

  Dear God, please soften Manfred’s heart. Please don’t let him hurt the baby, or take this out on Christa or me.

  Zofia sank onto her bed. “And please, God,” she whispered aloud, “let the Allies come quickly.”

  Chapter 52

  The summer of 1943 was exceptionally hot. Fortunately for Zofia, heat rises, and the basement where she slept remained the coolest part of the house. Christa’s health seemed to be taking a turn for the better. Due to Zofia’s insistence, Christa agreed to allow Zofia to take her outside where she sat under a tree for an hour each day. Zofia brought Katja and stayed with Christa in case she should need anything. The child loved to play outside. Zofia taught her how to make necklaces out of dandelions, and although she could not quite grasp the hand coordination, Katja loved to run through the grass collecting the weeds. Then she would sit beside Zofia her face determined as she attempted to make the tiny connecting holes in the stems.

  “You’re getting better at this every day,” Zofia said.

  Katja giggled, and Christa leaned back to let the sun caress her face.

  “I’m glad you convinced me to come outside, Zofia. I needed the sunshine.”

  “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Your color is much better.”

  “I was very pale.”

  “Yes, you were, quite pale. I was worried about you.”

  “Zofia, sometimes I think you might be an angel. How can you not hate me for all that you have been through?”

  “Because I realize that you had nothing to do with it. In many ways, you are a victim too,” Zofia watched Christa lean back and lie down in the cool grass. She longed to tell her what she endured from Manfred’s physical advances, but she
could not. Not because she thought that Christa would turn on her and take her husband’s side, but because Zofia realized that Christa also endured pain at Manfred’s hand. Yet, he loved her. Every time he forced himself upon Zofia, it was Christa that he yearned for, Christa’s name he called out. Something had happened, something terrible. She wished she could ask, but felt that she might be overstepping her bounds. So, Zofia accepted her life, the bad with the good. And even with all that Manfred subjected her to, she knew she still had a better situation than those people who were at the camp.

  Sometimes she thought of Marsha, in spite of her efforts to wipe the pain of losing her friends from her mind. She hoped that Marsha was still alive and had found someone to share her burden, another friend.

  “Blow the fuzz off this one for me,” Katja said handing Zofia a grey fuzzy dandelion, and interrupting Zofia’s thoughts.

  “You would like me to do it? Or would you like me to help you to do it?”

  “You help me.” Katja handed Zofia the weed with a soft furry top.

  “All right, now, get ready.”

  “I ready!” Katja said, laughing.

  “Blow as hard as you can.”

  Katja blew and Zofia helped. Then, as the fluff floated away in the breeze, Katja crumbled into Zofia’s arms, laughing.

  She needs me, She needs me so much, Zofia thought.

  At noon, the sun had risen high in the sky, and the heat bore down upon them.

  “I’m tired,” Christa said. “Shall we go inside?”

  “If you would like… Yes, let’s go in.”

  Zofia prepared a light afternoon meal of bread and cheese.

  “It is so hot in here,” Christa said.

  Zofia increased the speed on the fan. “Does that help?” she asked, bringing Christa a wet cloth to put on her head.

  “A little,” Christa answered. “I’d love to go downstairs in the basement where it is cooler and lie down in your bed until the sun sets. But I am afraid Manfred wouldn’t care for the idea.”

  Zofia said nothing. The thought of poor Christa lying upon her bed, the very place where the awful things happened with Manfred, made her feel disgusted. She was glad that Christa had decided not to sleep in her bed.

  That night, like most others, when it got late enough for the darkness to cover the earth, Manfred came downstairs.

  “I have a special treat for you,” he said. “I brought you some chocolate. That’s very generous of me. You realize chocolate is hard to come by.”

  “Yes, thank you.” She took the candy.

  “You have become quite special to me. Like a good loyal pet.”

  Zofia did not answer. She placed the candy on the small table beside her bed.

  “Do you pity me?” he asked, looking away.

  Trick questions. Nazi’s always asked trick questions. She smelled the alcohol on his breath.

  “My wife hates me. Do you know that?”

  She did answer or dare to meet his eyes.

  “I love her. I’ve always loved her. I always will. But I want to take this moment to tell you something. I will never say this again, so you must listen closely.”

  His words slurred together assuring her he was drunk.

  “You have been a comfort to me. I know that you take good care of Christa and the baby. This means a great deal to me. I also want to say that I feel badly about what I must do to you. But sadly, I cannot seem to stop. I will try to go for several days without coming to you, but then it is almost like a drug. I must see you. We must play our game of pretend. Do you understand?”

  He took a flask from his pocket and put it to his lips.

  She didn’t answer.

  “I have some bad news for you. Your friend died today. You should be happy that you are nowhere near those barracks. We have had a nasty outbreak of typhus. Those who were infected had to be eliminated in order to stop the spread of the disease, a messy business to be sure.”

  She felt the bile rise in her throat. Marsha had died, sick, and alone, while she ate well and slept in a comfortable bed. Even though she came to the home of the Arbeitsführer as a prisoner, and not of her own choice, she still felt overwhelming guilt.

  “I am tired, too tired for our game tonight. So, I suppose you are pleased to be rid of me. Ahhh, well, tomorrow I will make up for it. Sleep well, Zofia. Sorry about the news, but your friend has surely gone to a better place.”

  She listened to his heels click on the wooden stairs as he ascended back to the main floor.

  Once she was alone, Zofia allowed herself the luxury of tears. She cried into her pillow, remembering all of the people she’d loved and lost, Marsha, Dovid, Fruma, Gitel, her parents. They were all gone now. How easy it would be to join them. All she need do was take a kitchen knife and run it across the blue vein in her arm. Then it would be over, but what about Eidel? Eidel was still alive. And for Eidel, she must continue to live. Then she thought about Katja. What would become of the child if she were to end her life? Poor, innocent baby… She had not asked to be brought into this terrible Nazi-ruled world. She had not asked to be bred to be a perfect Aryan child. Katja, although they’d bred her to have golden hair and eyes the color of the sky, and they tried to teach her to hate, even in her youth, she defied them. Instead, she grew into a child with a heart as big as a lion’s, filled with love. A child, not of the Nazis, but a child of God.

  Zofia had come this far. She would not quit now. The allies were coming. They must be coming. And Dear God, please let it be soon. I don’t have the strength to hold out much longer.

  Relieved to be left alone, Zofia fell into a fitful sleep filled with vivid, frightening dreams. At 3:45 in the morning, she heard a commotion coming from upstairs. She wasn’t sure if she was awake, or asleep and dreaming. There were running footsteps on the floor above her. Manfred bellowed orders in German, and Christa answered in a tearful voice. Another fight? At this time of night? Then Zofia heard the door slam. She smelled the thick, heavy smoke of a nearby fire. Perhaps the house was burning. If it was, she must go upstairs and get outside. But dare she risk going upstairs? What if Manfred was there? She had no idea who slammed the door, or why. Would Christa not come and tell her if there was a fire? The smoke grew thicker. Zofia felt her lungs choke up with it. She must take the risk and go upstairs.

  Gingerly she opened the door to the basement. There was no sound, but the lights in the house were all on. She tiptoed to Christa’s room. As she did, she looked in on Katja to see that the baby was still asleep. Turning the corner in the hallway, Zofia peeked her head in the doorway of Christa’s bedroom.

  “Ma’am, are you all right? I’m sorry. I heard a lot of noise, and it’s very smoky in here.”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Come sit down,” Christa said, patting the edge of her bed. “There has been an uprising in the camp. One of the buildings has been set to fire. Manfred went there to try to set things to order. However, I am terrified. I am so afraid that the prisoners will come here and set fire to the house. If they do, we won’t be able to get out. But Manfred insisted that we stay here and wait for him.”

  Zofia nodded. An uprising? A part of her heart swelled with pride. The prisoners had finally begun to fight back. If they were to die, at least they’d not gone to their deaths like lambs to the slaughter. Well, good for them! But, still, she did not want to see Katja and Christa killed in the wake of their anger… She had so many mixed emotions…

  “Ma’am, may I be so bold as to make a suggestion?” Zofia asked.

  “Of course, Zofia.”

  “Let’s go outside into the forest nearby. We can leave a note for the Arbeitsführer to let him know where we are. It is cooler in the forest, and we will be safe until things settle down. Besides, I am afraid that the smoky air is hard on Katja, and you as well.”

  “There are wild creatures in the forest. I am afraid for Katja.”

  “I know. So am I. However, if we stay here and the house is raided, who knows what will happe
n.”

  Christa took Zofia’s hand. “You will help me, please? I am weak and tired. ”

  “Yes, of course I will help you.”

  “Then, yes, you are right, Zofia. Hurry, go, and get the baby. Try not to scare her. I will write the note for Manfred,” Christa said.

  When they walked outside Zofia looked across the yard to see orange flames leaping in a fiery dance inside the camp. From where they stood, she could hear the shouts of the prisoners and the guards. The booming of loud gunfire assaulted their ears, and Katja began to cry.

  “Shhh, it’s all right…shhh…” Zofia said.

  “Up” Katja said, tears still covering her face as she raised her arms.

  Something exploded, and the sound shook the trees. Katja screamed in terror.

  Zofia lifted the little girl into her arms.

  Katja snuggled into Zofia’s chest, weeping softly as Zofia carried her. With her other hand, Zofia wrapped her arm around Christa, helping her to walk. The ground shook beneath them as the two women and the little girl headed into the dark woods.

  “I’m scared,” Katja said, her voice trembling. “Mama, I am so scared.”

  “No, don’t be afraid. This is going to be an adventure,” Zofia whispered into Katja’s ear as she hugged the baby tighter. Katja was getting heavier, and it was hard to hold her with one hand. But in spite of the pain in her shoulder, Zofia continued on, until she felt they were a safe distance from the conflict.

  It did prove to be cooler in the forest. They could smell the smoke, but it was diluted and not as hard to breathe. The three sat down. Zofia propped Christa up against a tree and then did the same for herself. Katja, usually curious about everything, sat still and quiet. She did not try to wander. Instead, she stayed close to the two women, who listened to the hooting of owls combined with the mysterious sounds of the forest at night, and the distant uproar of a rebellion.

  Katja laid her head on Zofia’s lap. Zofia patted her back as the child curled up and fell asleep. Neither of the two women slept during the dark of night. They watched the sunrise in silence. Zofia longed for freedom, not only for herself, but also for all the others who suffered in the camp. But she was conflicted; she couldn’t care less what happened to Manfred. Whatever ill befell him was well deserved. However, Katja and Christa had never hurt her or anyone else, and she couldn’t bear to think of what might happen to them should the prisoners have taken charge once the morning light came flickering through the trees.