“The apartment number is 302. We have to walk up three flights,” Shlomie said.
Zofia nodded.
“You remember this place?”
Zofia nodded again, unable to speak. It was strange that even with all the miles that she’d walked. and all the hills she’d climbed in the forest, these three flights of stairs seemed like the highest mountain in the entire world.
When they reached the third floor, Zofia gasped for breath, and then she smoothed her hair and knocked.
An older, less lighthearted, and far less beautiful Helen opened the door. The war had taken its toll on the pretty blonde who’d had such a kind and gentle heart.
“Zofia?” Helen hugged her. “Thank God you are alive.”
Zofia watched the as tears filled Helen’s eyes. But she could not cry. She could not speak.
“Eidel is here,” Helen said. “I am sorry, Zofia, I had to rename her…it was for her own safety.”
Zofia nodded her head. Eidel was alive. She was alive.
“You want to see her?”
“Yes.”
“Ellen, come here/ I have someone who wants to meet you.” Helen called, and then she turned to Zofia, “She just got home from school. She is changing into her play clothes.”
Ellen came into the room. “Yes, Mama?” She smiled at Helen and tucked herself under Helen’s, arm shy in the presence of strangers.
“This is Zofia.”
“Hello, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hello, Ellen,” Zofia almost choked on the words. The child was beautiful. In many ways she resembled a young Helen, more in her mannerisms than in her physical appearance. She wore a golden cross around her neck.
“Mama, will you help me with my homework please?”
“Yes, in a little while, Ellen. Why don’t you go out and play for now?”
“Before I finish my homework?”
“Yes, today it’s all right. When I am finished talking with my friends, I will call you in, then we can make supper together.”
“I want to bake. Can we bake tonight?”
“Perhaps… I have some flour and sugar, so we will see. Alright then, run along now.”
Ellen smiled up at Helen, and then she looked at Zofia. “Will you be staying for supper Miss Zofia? We would love to have you, wouldn’t we, Mama?”
Helen nodded. “Of course we would. Now go on Ellen, go, and play with your friends.” Helen’s eyes were pleading as she watched Zofia’s face. She didn’t want to lose the child she’d come to love, this little girl who had become her own, especially after her son died of influenza the previous year. But Zofia was her real mother and she was Helen’s friend. Had the time really come to say goodbye?
Zofia studied the tall slender girl with the golden brown curls cascading down her back. Ellen.
Eidel, my Eidel. This child was not Eidel. Eidel was a baby wrapped in a blanket who’d been ripped out of her life many years ago. The lovely young girl who stood before her now was Helen’s daughter. As she watched them together, she saw the affection and love between them. Helen’s arm around Eidel’s neck, the smile they shared. Helen was her mother; she’d raised her. Shlomie was right; Zofia was no more than a stranger.
“I don’t think so, but thank you for the invitation.”
Helen cleared her throat. “Go outside now and play. Mama and Zofia need to talk.” Helen kissed the top of Ellen’s head.
“Yes, Mama,” Ellen said, and left.
“I don’t know how to tell her. It is going to be hard. I mean, she has no idea. She believes I am her mother. It was safer for her not to know. I was afraid if she knew the truth, it might slip out when she was talking to someone. I couldn’t take the risk, Zofia.” Helen hesitated for a moment. “Do you plan to take her with you today?”
Zofia stared out the window and watched as Ellen met with her two girlfriends; they all carried dolls in their arms. She saw them laughing as they put the dolls down in the middle of a circle, then they joined hands and began to sing.
Zofia watched in silence. It was several minutes before she spoke. The children’s voices drifted up through the window, but otherwise there was no sound.
“No,” Zofia said. “No. I am not going to take her today.”
Helen breathed a sigh of relief.
“She loves you. You are the only mother she has ever known. Do you want to keep her?” Zofia asked, turning away, hoping Helen would say no, but knowing she would not.
“More than anything in the world, but I understand that you are her mother and…”
“I am not going to take her away from here Helen. Let her live her life believing that you are her mother, and that this is her home. She has grown up to believe this. To tell her the truth now would only hurt and confuse her.”
“Are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes, I’m very sure. I love her. But sometimes love is about sacrifice. This is what is best for my Eidel.” It felt as if a hole had opened in her heart, another hole, one that would never close.
“I love her too. She is all I have now. My husband is dead, my son also. She is my life. I will always be good to her,” Helen said.
“I know that, and God bless you for all you have done, and for all the risks you have taken for us.”
“You are welcome to come back to see her any time.”
“I will not be back, Helen. It is best that I leave here and never return. But, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you for everything.”
“Zofia, are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want?”
Zofia nodded. Her skin had broken out into red blotches from nerves. She got up to leave, and Shlomie followed, out the door, down the three flights of stairs, and out into the streets of Warsaw.
They walked silently to the truck, where they waited for the soldiers, without speaking, for almost an hour before the American’s returned.
The entire ride back to Germany, Zofia gazed at the surrounding landscape with unseeing eyes. She knew she’d done what was right for Eidel. And that was all that was important. If only Isaac were here. If only she could feel the strength of his arm around her. Shlomie reached over and took her hand.
“Zofia,” he whispered. Then wiped the tears that she didn’t even realize had covered her face. “I’m sorry that things turned out this way.”
“I know, Shlomie. So am I.”
“But you did what was best for your daughter.”
“Oh Shlomie, I have lost so much, and the pain in my heart is so deep.”
“Zofia, I know that you are in pain. But you must realize that we have all suffered great loss. Life goes on. It must.” He squeezed her hand.
“I have nothing left. No reason to go on living,” Zofia said in Polish
The two American soldiers that sat in the back of the open truck were quiet watching with serious expressions on their young faces, they must have understood the language.
“You have me,” Shlomie said, his voice unsure, almost pleading.
“Yes, I have you, my dearest friend.” Zofia managed a smile for him.
For a few minutes no one spoke. Then Shlomie cleared his throat.
“Marry me, Zofia. I will make you a good husband. I will work hard to take care of you. We will have children. You will have more children, and I promise I will do everything to give you a good life.”
She looked into his eyes. They shined as if they’d been coated with oil. She could look deep into them and see the depth of his emotion.
“Shlomie… Oh, Shlomie…” she reached up and touched his face. “I am sorry. You are a dear friend, and you always have been, but I can’t. I can’t marry you.” His eyes glassed over. “I hate to see you hurt, and believe me Shlomie, I love you. But not in that way, not in the way a wife should love her husband. I love you like a brother, like a precious brother. And it wouldn’t be fair to you. You deserve better. You’re a wonderful person, one of the kindest people I know, the smartest,
too. You deserve to find someone who will love you with all her heart, and believe me, this woman that you search for is out there. You just have to find her. Shlomie, you deserve to have what Isaac and I had.”
“And what do you deserve, Zofia?”
“I don’t know anymore. I’ve had great happiness in my life. I think, for me, those days are over.”
“Let me try, at least just let me try to make you happy. Give me a chance. You’ve never really given me a chance.”
“Oh Shlomie…” She reached up and ran her hand down his cheek. “I am so tired of fighting, of trying...”
“Please?” he asked.
She swallowed hard. His eyes looked so hopeful that she could not answer.
“Zofia, think it over, I know I am asking a lot. But you and I, we have been through so much together. In time you will forget Isaac; if not forget, at least you will learn to go on without him. Maybe you could even come to love me. Please, don’t say a thing just think it over.”
Chapter 80
All was lost. The beloved Fatherland stood on the brink of disaster. Manfred’s head ached and he’d vomited several times over the past week as the news circulated among the remaining Party members. Stalin’s troops had marched into his beloved, but bombed-out Berlin. Manfred was in the back of a car on his way to the secret operating theater where he would meet the doctor and go forward with his cosmetic surgery. News spread fast amongst the Party members. Manfred had been told that when the Russians had descended upon Berlin without pity, the only German forces left to meet them were old men and little boys. The battle that ensued was catastrophic for Germany. From what Manfred had ascertained, they’d raped the women, murdered them too. German citizens were taking their own lives by the thousands to avoid an uncertain future without the leadership of their precious Füehrer. Although Hitler had made a speech to the German people telling them that they must never surrender, that they must fight to the end, he had gone down into his bunker with his long time lover, Eva Braun and the two had committed suicide. Worse, yet he had lost his best and only friend Dr. Goebbels. Not only had Goebbels gone to the bunker and killed himself, but he’d also killed his entire family. Manfred wondered if perhaps Hitler and Goebbels had escaped to South America. Perhaps they’d been surgically altered and planned to reconnect with the others, but decided to keep this plan top secret. With Hitler and Goebbels, anything was possible. Cyanide pills had been distributed among the SS officers, giving them the option of suicide, rather than a trial, if they were captured. The idea of suicide terrified Manfred. He cringed when he thought of death, and what judgment might await him if there by some chance was a God. Although he tried to put the fear of his own demise out of his mind, it continually haunted him. Now, he had less than twenty-four hours before his surgery was to be performed, and then his face would be altered forever. He’d been warned to be careful on his way to the hidden bunker where the doctor was working diligently on his fellow SS officers. Manfred must be cautious and sure that he’d not been followed. If he were captured, he knew he could expect to be hanged. If he were followed, he would expose the entire operation. With a heavy heart at the thought of the loss of his friend, Dr. Goebbels, and terror mixed with anxiety shooting through him, he, Christa, and their little girl headed towards Berlin.
Katja laid her head on her mother’s lap. With her thumb in her mouth, she tried to sleep. Christa did not speak. It was one in the morning, and an eerie darkness surrounded them, relieved only by an occasional red or green light.
In less than a week’s time, they would be on a plane headed to a foreign land. Manfred had no desire to be in Argentina. In fact, he still longed for the days when he lived in Berlin and worked with Dr. Goebbels. It was hard to believe that both the Fuehrer and Goebbels were dead. Who was going to rebuild all of this once they got to South America? He wanted to believe that Hitler and Goebbels were not really dead, that all of this was part of the plan. It was just a secretary, a name he didn’t even recognize, who’d called to inform him that he must leave immediately to have his surgery performed. Perhaps Hitler suspected that the phones were tapped, and the information of his death was given to him to confuse the enemy. His mind raced. It was very possible that Hitler and Goebbels had already undergone the face changing operation and were now living under new identities. Manfred could only hope that once he arrived at the underground hospital Dr. Schmidt would tell him that his friends were alive and on their way to South America, or already there waiting for him.
An hour later, they arrived in Berlin.
The vehicle in which they rode killed its lights as it slowly moved down the road, turning into the park. Even in the darkness, Manfred could see the rubble everywhere due to the bombings. The driver pulled the car over and let them out according to the instructions Manfred had given him as to where he must go to find the underground hospital.
“Thank you, Rolph. You’ve been a good friend all these years. Best of luck to you, Manfred said to his driver. “Heil Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler. And best of luck to you too, sir.”
“Come, sweetheart,” Christa said, waking Katja. “We are going on an adventure.”
“I’m scared, Mama.” Katja said, her thumb still in her mouth.
“Hurry. Let’s get moving,” Manfred said
“Shhh, it’s all right,” Christa whispered, taking Katja’s hand. They walked, hiding in the shadows of the trees and buildings, Katja crying softly, until they arrived at a small building in the back of the park.
Manfred found the trap door in the ground behind the bathroom, just where he’d been told it would be. With some effort, he moved the thick patches of grass that had been placed over the opening. Then he pulled the door and descended into the underground hospital. It was dark except for candle light.
Katja began to cry softly.
“Shhhh, it’s all right… It’s all right,” Christa whispered as they went down a narrow iron ladder.
Katja slipped and almost fell. Manfred moaned, annoyed.
“Watch the child, Christa,” he said.
Manfred reached the bottom. Then he helped Katja and Christa down off the ladder.
The three of them walked through the silent hall until they reached a room where several oil lamps were lit. But instead of Dr. Schmidt, they were greeted by soldiers wearing Green berets.
“Hello Manfred Blau, we’ve been waiting for you,” one of the soldiers said. “Your buddy, Doc Schmidt? We already arrested him. After a few minutes of coaxing, he told us to expect you.”
“You are Americans? Or Russians? Or British?” Manfred stammered.
“Americans. And you, Mr. Nazi concentration camp torture man, are in a hell of a lot of trouble,” the American said, taking a puff of his cigarette, throwing it on the ground, and stamping it out with his foot.
Manfred stared at him in disbelief. The flame in the oil lamp grew larger.
“Manfred Blau,” the American soldier said, taking a pair of handcuffs and placing them on Manfred’s hands while another solider held him at gunpoint. “You are under arrest for crimes against humanity.”
Chapter 81
Zofia threw herself into her work. At least she might feel useful if she could help others in some way. Shlomie remained at her side, hoping that time would change her mind about marrying him. She’d fought so hard to go on living, and now it seemed as if she’d fought for nothing. The endless lines of displaced persons in desperate need were the only thing that forced her to keep going. Most of them still wore the tattered striped uniform they’d worn in the camps. One after another, they came to the front of her line, their eyes hopeful, and their faces thin and tortured. Most of the time she had no luck finding the seekers’ loved ones on the list of names and so all she could do was add their name to the endless list of those who searched. However, on rare occasions there would be a connection; two people who’d been separated would find each other again. When this happened, the look of gratitude on the faces o
f the people was enough to keep her going. Day in and day out, she sat at that table scanning the lists over and over again.
One afternoon as the sun beat down on her, she called out, “Next in line please,” as she always did.
A woman approached, dressed in a dove-gray suit with a cream-colored blouse. At her neck, she wore a brooch of gold and pearls. Her dark hair was caught up in a twist and pinned tightly.
“Hello,” she said in Polish. “My name is Bernadette Holland. I am an attorney. Are you Zofia Weiss?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you know a man called Manfred Blau? He was the Arbeitsführer at Treblinka.”
“I knew him,” Zofia said, looking away, not wanting to remember.
“I need to speak with you. Can we go somewhere?”
“Yes, we can take a walk. Let me ask someone to watch the table.”
Zofia walked beside the beautiful attorney and listened.
“Manfred Blau has been arrested for crimes against humanity. He is to be tried in Nuremberg. We desperately need witnesses. If we don’t have any witnesses, he could get away with everything he did. We need your help, Miss Weiss. Would you be willing to testify against him?”
She thought for a moment, remembering Manfred and all he’d done to her. The thought of seeing him again made her sick to her stomach, but the thought of him walking away without punishment for all he’d done to her and everyone else made her feel even worse.
“Yes, I will do it. And my friend, Shlomie, he knew him too. Perhaps you would like to speak with him?”
“Yes, I would,” the attorney said.
Zofia introduced Miss Holand to Shlomie. She explained what she needed from him.
Shlomie agreed to testify.
That night after dinner, Shlomie and Zofia talked about the trial to come.
“The thought of seeing him again makes me sick,” Zofia said.
“Yes, I know, but we must. He must be made to pay for what he did.”
You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Book 2) Page 35
