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

by Roberta Kagan

  Christa had begun to nod off as dawn broke, but Zofia stayed wide-awake. She considered running away. This was her chance; she could be free of this nightmare at last. But it came with a high price: the possible sacrifice of an innocent, child whom she had come to cherish, and who called her Mama. Her limbs ached to run. They trembled with the desire to stretch and go dashing off deeper into the over grown trees. She was sure that even if Christa awoke, she would not give her away. In fact, although Christa needed Zofia, Zofia knew she would turn a blind eye, let her get away, and then pray for her safety.

  And that was why Zofia never left.

  Sometime late that afternoon, stillness settled over the camp. Both Christa and Katja were awake now. Katja was hungry and continually asking for food.

  “We have to go back,” Christa said. “Do you think it’s safe yet?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mama, I’m hungry,” Katja said again tugging at the hem of Zofia’s uniform.

  “I know, my Sunshine, I know. You will have something to eat very soon.” Zofia had taken to calling Katja Little Sunshine.

  This would quiet Katja for a few minutes and then she would remind Zofia of her hunger again.

  “We have to take our chances and go back,” Christa said. “Do you agree?”

  “Yes. We have no food,” Zofia said. She stood up, brushed the branches and dirt off her clothes. Then she helped Christa to her feet, gathered Katja into her arms, and the three headed back to the house.

  Everything was just as they’d left it. Manfred had not returned since the previous night. Zofia secretly hoped he might have been killed in the uprising. She hoped that all of the Nazis had been murdered during the night. That would make everything easier, if only the prisoners never raided the house. She would care for Christa and Katja. They would stay in the house. And as soon as it was safe, Zofia would find Eidel and bring her back to live with the other two. Zofia would explain to Christa, she was sure Christa would understand.

  But that was a daydream. The door opened and Manfred entered. His eyes were bloodshot, and wild with fear and exhaustion. His clothing reeked of smoke, and his hair stood on end, disheveled.

  “The prisoners went mad. They destroyed the entire camp. It’s in shambles. They were wild and dangerous. It’s been a terrible night. I’m waiting for orders from my superior officers.”

  “Are you all right?” Christa’s skin was pale and her eyes puffy from lack of sleep. “Is it safe for us to stay here?”

  “For now, I think so. I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” He took a flask out of his pocket and took a swig.

  Christa looked over at Zofia with worried eyes.

  “Hungry,” Katja said.

  “May I give her something to eat?”

  “Of course, and please have something yourself. I have to lie down. I am feeling terribly weak,” Christa said.

  Chapter 53

  On August 18 and 19, 1943, in a bold attempt to resist the treatment they’d endured, the prisoners at Treblinka, emaciated, disease ridden and weak, staged an uprising. Following this most unexpected display of force, most of the inmates who had not escaped were transferred to Sobibor (a death camp), where they were executed. Approximately twenty to thirty brave souls remained at Treblinka. They too were murdered. Then in October of 1943, the Nazis shut Treblinka down forever.

  Chapter 54

  In the weeks that followed, Zofia sensed the tension in the house. Manfred did not come to her in the night, and she was glad that he didn’t, but also afraid she might be sent back to the barracks. At night, while she was in the basement, she could hear raised voices coming from upstairs. Although she could not make out what they were saying, Zofia knew that frequent arguments broke out between Christa and Manfred, where she heard her name mentioned, but she could not hear the entire conversations. It unnerved her. What were they planning? She wanted to ask Christa, but she was afraid to overstep her bounds. Christa had been kind to her, but she must never forget that she was little more than a slave, and at any time could be returned to the camp or worse.

  It had been weeks since they’d sat outside under the tree.

  “Ma’am, would you like to get some fresh air?” Zofia asked one morning in late September. The weather had cooled and she thought it would be good for Christa.

  “Sit down, Zofia.”

  Zofia sat on the edge of the bed. Katja came rushing in.

  “Play with me Mama,” Katja handed Zofia a doll.

  “In a minute, Little Sunshine, I am talking to your mother right now.”

  “Up”

  Zofia picked Katja up and propped her on her lap.

  “I should not be telling you this. If Manfred knew, he would never forgive me. But you have always been helpful to me and so I must give you some advanced notice. What I am about to tell you is top secret.”

  Zofia felt the hairs prickle on the back of her neck, and she shivered.

  “Zofia, we are leaving here, Manfred, Katja and I. The camp is being destroyed. That is probably a very good thing. However, I will miss you terribly. I cannot take you with me. I’ve begged; believe me, I have begged. Manfred wanted to have you transported to another camp. I pleaded with him not to. He has finally agreed. Instead, we are just going to move in the middle of the night. If you stay here at the house, the other Nazi officers will come and find you. They will send you to another concentration camp. However, since this house is off the campgrounds, on the night we leave, you could easily slip into the forest unnoticed. Take some food with you and go. Get as far away from here as you can. I wish I could offer you more, but I cannot. I have no more to offer. When this is all over, please, try to come to find Katja and me. She will need you.”

  Katja reached up, and played with the hair that Zofia had regrown. Her tiny fingers curled into the dark locks.

  Zofia looked at the baby, then back at Christa.

  “She will be all right, at least for now. I pray that my health won’t give out until you can take her. I know you will miss her. But things have taken a bad turn and we must go. Manfred insists. Again, please promise me that when the war is over you will try to find Katja. She will need you.”

  Zofia’s head was reeling. She felt slightly dizzy. “I don’t know… What about her father?”

  “Promise me you will try to find her.”

  “I promise. I will do my best. I don’t know what the future brings.”

  “Oh, Zofia, nor do I”

  “When should I leave?”

  “We are going tonight. Listen closely after it gets dark. As soon as you hear we are gone, take what you can and run. No one should come by the house until morning.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you for helping me.”

  “Zofia, if circumstances had been different, we might have been two friends having lunch at each other’s homes, but the Nazis and the war, and my husband made things the way they are. All we can do is try to cope with what has been given to us.”

  Zofia held Katja a little tighter. She closed her eyes and inhaled Katja’s baby scent. Tears threatened, but she did not cry. Zofia nodded her head.

  “God be with you, Zofia. Please… Don’t forget us.”

  That night Zofia listened. She heard the movement upstairs. Katja was crying, calling out for her mama. She wanted to go to the child, to comfort her, but she could not. There were footsteps on the floor above her, whispers in the darkness, and then silence.

  Zofia waited for almost half an hour to be sure that the Blaus were gone. Then she ran up the stairs, gathered as much food as she could carry, and wrapped it in a towel. She took the largest of the flasks from the cabinet and filled it with water. Then she added a large butcher knife from the drawer to the things she would take with her. Next, she ran to the bedroom where she had cared for Christa these last years. Christa had left several dresses and under garments. Zofia quickly changed her clothes, abandoning the camp uniform. Her hair had grown back to just touching her shoulders, s
o the tell-tale sign of the shaved head would not give her away. Still, she took a scarf from Christa’s drawer to cover her hair. Now she would look like any other Polish woman, and no one would suspect that she was an escaped Jew. Zofia gazed into the mirror. It had been a long time since she studied her appearance. She’d grown older since the days of life with Fruma and Gitel. Fine lines had begun to form around her eyes, eyes that had seen far too much misery. Her dark curly hair fell about her face. Her figure was slender. All in all, she was not unattractive. In fact, some might even call her pretty. She sighed. Once, long ago, being beautiful seemed to be the most important thing in the world to her. How little all of that mattered now… As she passed through the kitchen, she took another hunk of bread and began eating. Then she stepped out of the house, never looked back, and headed as quickly as she could, going forward into the unknown.

  Darkness hovered over her, but the moon shed just enough light for her to find her way. And quietly, like a shadow in the night, Zofia left the home of the Arbeitsführer and disappeared into the darkness on the way into the forest.

  Her heart was heavy with a jumble of emotions. She was free, and for the longest time it had been her dream to be away from the camp away from the horrible Arbeitsführer…at last to be free. But she was also on her own, in the dark, in the forest. From now on, she must fend for herself. She must take great care not to be captured, for if she was there was no telling where she might end up. Zofia knew that she had been lucky to be sent to work in the home of the Arbeitsführer, even with all she had to endure. She had seen enough of the camp to know what could have happened if she had not been chosen as a house servant. She’d spent those first months in the barracks with the dirt, starvation and disease before Manfred had decided she should stay at the house. If she had remained at the camp, she would probably have gotten typhoid when the epidemic broke out. Christa had allowed her to bathe, and she’d been so grateful to be clean. But she knew that her fellow Jews were much less fortunate. And should she be captured, she would know their fate first hand. The forest buzzed with life. A wolf howled in the distance, a night bird cawed. The hooting of an owl came from above her. A thick odor of vegetation mixed with flowers surrounded her. Dear God, help Katja, and Christa, watch over them. She walked quickly, the brush sometimes scraping against her legs, until she was well into the protective thick blanket of trees. Then once she was sure she was far away from the house and the camp, Zofia sat down. A small rodent scampered across the ground, startling her. Taking a deep breath, Zofia leaned her head against the rough bark of an oak tree and closed her eyes. Katja… The tiny face appeared in her mind. Soon, she would start asking for Zofia. Katja, her only sunshine since she’d come to this place. Where were they taking her? Would she be safe? Why do I care? So many Jewish babies have suffered; why should I care for this spoiled little Aryan girl? This child who has never known pain or loss… Why, why do I care? But she did care. With her whole heart, she cared. Katja was an innocent, a victim too, although she did not know it. The child had been bred like a puppy to be what the Nazis wanted her to be, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Aryan. They’d decided before Katja was born that she would grow up to hate the Jews, but they’d not counted upon Zofia. Katja, her tiny fingers lost in Zofia’s curls. Her giggles when Zofia tickled her chubby little tummy. The way she sat, her face serious, eyes glowing, as Zofia told her a fairy tale in Polish. Would the little girl even remember her? Probably not; she was far too young to remember.

  Zofia looked up at the sky filled with stars. A full moon winked at her. She pulled her knees up to her chest. So much loss… Everyone and everything she’d ever loved had been taken from her. Yes, I am alive, but I am alone, except for Eidel, my Eidel. I must find her. Then she realized that she must stay far away from Eidel, at least for now. If she showed up in Eidel’s life, she would endanger her baby, Helen and her family, and herself. Right now, Eidel was safe. She must not threaten that safety in any way, even if she longed to see her more than anything in the world. Eidel… At least Eidel was safe.

  The unfamiliar noises of the forest frightened her keeping her awake through the night. She could not help but remember the night she’d spent under the umbrella of the trees holding little Katja as she watched the smoke rise from the camp in the distance. There was no doubt in her mind, she would miss that little girl, and someday, if it were safe, she’d find a way back to the child. Wrapping her arms around herself, Zofia’s thoughts drifted to Fruma, Gitel, and Marsha. She’d tried for so long to suppress her feelings of sadness and loss. It was hard to believe they were all dead. And Dovid? What of Dovid? She’d never been in love with him, but in a way, she’d loved him. And his only crime had been falling in love with her. It was best not to let the guilt consume her. If she did, she might just lay her tired head down in the cool grass and sleep until she died. She was so tired, so exhausted, so utterly spent. No, she must find the strength to go on. Soon, this would all end. Soon, it would be safe to go to Eidel.

  When the sun peeked through the trees, Zofia stood up. Her head ached, and her throat was parched. She must look for water. It took a moment to stretch the stiffness from her back and legs after a night lying on the hard ground.

  Zofia looked around her, assessing the situation. Where she stood, the trees had grown so thick it would take effort to find a path through them. She had no idea which way to go which way was north or south, not that it mattered to her. All she knew was that she must find water in order to survive. For hours, she walked pushing her way through the brush, but found no pond or stream. Rays of hot sun filtered through the trees and the heat of the day mixed with a lack of sleep caused her to feel exhausted again. She rationed the food and water she’d brought with her from the house, but it would not last very long.

  It took almost a week of wandering in the woods for Zofia to exhaust her food and water supply. She could hear her stomach grumbling, and every so often, a pain shot through her belly doubling her over. It became hard to swallow; her mouth was as dry as a sandy beach. And she grew even more tired and listless. A dull ache persisted behind her eyes, and when the sun was high in the sky, she found it difficult to move at all. I am dying. I’m dying of thirst and lack of food. But she was too tired to care. Sometimes her legs cramped up until she could not straighten them, causing her to fall to the ground. As hard as she could, she massaged the tender skin until it subsided. But still the relentless sun trickled through the trees and found her, pulsing over her with life-sapping heat. She was drained. Too tired to keep walking, Zofia sat down under the shade of a tree. Her mind drifted again. This time she remembered dancing with Dovid. He’d hummed a waltz and the two of them danced in the small dark room where he lived. Traa Laa, Traa Laa. She could see it in her minds eye. Gentle Dovid... Traa Laa, Traa Laa…. If I die, I will see everyone I’ve lost. Eidel will be all right. She won’t even remember me. Traa Laa… Dovid’s hand at the small of her back… His other one holding hers… Her tongue felt thick, like a giant snake, filling her throat and choking her. She tried to swallow, but couldn’t. She laid her head against the tree and closed her eyes.

  She felt a tiny drop, then another. God knew where she was, He was not ready for her to come to Him, not just yet. Then a light rain trickled down from the sky. It filtered through the trees and covered the ground. The sound of the drops hitting the earth was the most exquisite sound she had ever heard. Zofia opened her flask to refill her water supply. The raindrops caressed her skin and she lay down where she saw a large opening in the trees that would allow lots of water to come through. She opened her mouth wide, and scrumptious tiny bits of water found their way to her tongue. Relief came over her; she laughed aloud. She lay there long after the rain stopped, just looking up at the sky. Along the west side of her vision, she caught sight of a rainbow. t shone bright against a sunlit background. The loveliness of it took her by surprise, and she was suddenly aware of all of the beauty surrounding her. She took in the green of the forest, the flow
ers that grew wild, spreading their sweet perfume, the crisp ice-blue sky with its sugar clouds, and a sense of well being settled over her, as if God were watching. From where she lay, she observed as a spider spun a web in a tree across the path. It worked diligently to build its future. Once she’d feared spiders. Today she would learn from that spider. She too would work hard and build a future, and soon, very soon, she would reunite with her daughter. If God had meant for her to die, she would have died. This short rain was a sign, a sign that she had much more to do in this life. Zofia closed her eyes; a relaxed smile came over her face. Then Exhaustion overcame her and she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 55

  Zofia awoke with a start to find two burly, unshaven men standing over her, one shirtless, and the other wearing a Nazi uniform with all of the adornments removed. Deserters. Her mind, still cloudy with sleep, raced at the thought of danger. Would they rape and kill her? Quite possibly. Why not? There was no one around for miles, and even if there were, she was a Jew. They could do as they wished. She scampered to get up, but her legs gave way with fear and she fell back to the ground. Her heart thumped so loudly that she was sure they could hear it. Then, one of them spoke.

  “Zofia? Is that you?” he said.

  She did not recognize him.

  “It’s me, Isaac Zuckerman. We went to school together in Warsaw. It’s not surprising that you don’t recognize me. It was many years ago, and I’ve certainly aged.”

  Isaac? She faintly recalled a boy, a chubby little boy, weak and shy, bearing no resemblance to the man who stood in front of her now. This was a man, bold and unafraid, muscles swelling across his bare chest. He’d grown tall, and the golden curls his mother had kept short in his youth were now long, framing his face. Hunger and hard work had chiseled his features, leaving him with a strong jaw and high cheekbones. He smiled at her, his luminous brown eyes glowing