After she closed the door, turning to sit, she opened the letter.
It read:
Mr. and Mrs. Abdenstern,
It is with deepest regret that we must inform you that your son Michael has passed away. He came down with a bad case of measles and died within two days. There was no time to send for you. You have our sympathies.
The Staff at the Hadamar Institute
Miriam read the letter in disbelief. Then she read it again. Michael, dead…gone forever. Never to come home again. She walked to his room and looked at his bed. She laid her head down upon his pillow and took a deep breath.
It had been her fault. If she had not sent him away, he would still be alive.
She’d killed him, her child, her son. She would rather have killed herself. How dare she live, eat good food, drink hot tea…while he lay cold, never to laugh again? Still holding the letter in her trembling hand, her face blinded by tears, and her mind stunned with shock, Miriam walked slowly back to the kitchen.
There, she took a knife out of the kitchen drawer. Then, squeezing the paper into a tight little ball, she cried out, howling in grief. The pain filled every inch of her body and she swelled with it, until nothing but anguish existed for her. Still crying out, she fell to her knees, unaware of the pain of the impact of her knees on the floor.
“Michael! Oh, God! Why…why my Michael?” Her hand shook violently, as if it moved of its own accord. With her mind crashing with guilt and shame, she cut the life line of the veins in her wrist.
Red blood ran freely, and with the release of it came the release of her mental anguish. She laughed hysterically, glad to feel nothing but the agony as she fell to the floor.
Miriam lost consciousness, and with it, her lifetime of self-blame melted away as her life spilled itself into a ruby red pool on the kitchen floor.
Chapter 77
Warsaw
February 9, 1939
An explosive thunder raged through the city of Warsaw. In response, Mother Earth convulsed wildly, sending tremors rippling madly through the streets. Trees vibrated as their branches ripped off at their centers. Karl raised his eyes to see the air munitions factory ablaze with angry, orange fire. People scattered in all directions in an effort to avoid the shooting debris. Some were knocked to the ground and trampled. Billows of thick, black smoke poured endlessly from the broken structure, covering the street and making visibility nearly impossible.
The factory had been bombed. If Karl had not been out on an errand for his boss, he would now lay dead beside all of his former co-workers, lost in the rubble. But surrounded now by chaos, he could little afford the time to consider his good fortune. Instead, he found himself swept into the hysterical mass of people gripping their loved ones and running for their lives.
Things happened too fast. He could not determine how far he ran, or for how long the building continued to burn. His eyes and nose ran profusely and he coughed, unable to catch his breath. But finally the crowd which had pushed him along by sheer force of its numbers began to disperse. He stopped and held on to the post of a street sign while he attempted to catch his breath. Then, looking around him, he saw a child hacking up grey mucus on the side of the road, his mother cradling him with her hand on his forehead. On the other side of the street a couple gripped each other tightly; blood had been spattered on the man’s face. The woman moaned as the man held her, whispering words of comfort.
For the first time in his life, Karl Abdenstern wished he were not so alone.
Love could be risky; it could make one vulnerable. In the past, he’d never allowed another person into his life, for fear it would weaken him. Now he wished for the comfort of holding someone in his arms and knowing that it mattered to another person if he lived or died.
Thoughts of his family haunted him. They came flooding quickly into his mind, but he forced them away, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.
The walk back to his apartment seemed long and tedious, but once he arrived and began to clean himself he felt a little better. With the factory gone, tomorrow would bring a new challenge, for now he must find another position; the bombing had left him unemployed.
Chapter 78
The following day, the streets still remained littered with bits of brick, wood and plaster. By noon it had begun to snow and the temperature dropped, chilling the windy air as it blew in torrents, lifting pieces of the wreckage and flinging them across the ground. Karl could not allow the cold to stop him. He needed a job. The factory had paid him so little that he’d been unable to save anything. Without an income, he would be homeless in a matter of weeks. He walked the cobblestone street, going from door to door, and asking the local businessmen for work. Each of them turned him away, with the excuse that they barely made enough money to support themselves.
At the corner of a busy intersection, he saw a shop that said, “Petir the Shoe Maker.” With no knowledge of this trade, he knew he offered little to the owner, but desperation forced him to try.
The rich smell of leather filled the shop. Petir Schmidt sat on a wooden bench and looked up when he saw Karl.
“How can I help you?" Petir’s brown and grey hair circled his head like the hair of a monk, leaving the top shiny and bald. His eyes, small and alert, studied Karl.
“I need a job. Do you have any work?”
“Not a lot.” Petir laughed. “But enough. Perhaps, if you don’t expect to be paid too much, I can use you. You’re young and you look pretty strong.”
“I am strong, and I will work for whatever you can pay me.”
“Hmmm….perhaps we can come to some kind of an agreement.”
Chapter 79
Petir turned out to be a fair boss; appreciative and undemanding. He marveled at the way Karl had advanced in his trade.
“A find you are, my boy!”
Karl just smiled. He’d developed affection for the old man. They worked well together.
Petir Schmidt and his wife lived above the shop in a small apartment. Their only son had married and moved to Paris to study art more than ten years earlier. Often they invited Karl to join them for their meager evening meal. The couple enjoyed having the help of this strong and capable young man. Whenever he came for dinner, Karl tried to make himself useful by fixing things that had broken in the Schmidt’s flat.
Even with all of the anti-Semitism since the Nazi occupation of Poland, Karl continued to wear a Star of David necklace. He refused to hide his background, infuriating the neighbors who lived and worked beside the Schmidts.
“Karl, I don’t care that you are a Jew. It makes very little difference to me. But people on the street are making mention of it and I am worrying for you. You think maybe you should take off the necklace?”
“I can’t. I am who I am, Petir. I have been fighting all of my life with pride to be a Jew. I can’t stop now.”
Petir just nodded his head, attributing Karl’s stubborn behavior to his youth.
Winter’s harsh and frigid weather gave way to a wet and slushy spring. Although he received looks of disdain from the Gentiles among whom he lived and worked, Karl had settled into a groove. The relationship he’d developed with old man Schmidt made his work days easier. And the nagging obsession he’d had with the loss of his family seemed to subside, at least a little. Other than Petir and his wife, Karl had no friends.
On his day off, he stayed in his small apartment or had a beer alone at a local tavern. He preferred to work and stay busy than to spend his time idly.
Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. The spring turned to summer, and the summer to fall, as time ticked on.
A crisp chill set into the air as fall gave way to an early snow. Karl felt grateful that he’d purchased a warm coat, and he pulled it tighter around his large frame. Petir kept the shop as warm as he was able to, but both men wore winter clothing as they worked. Humming softly, Karl sat at the work bench tanning a large cutting of fine leather. Earlier that morning a beautiful woman had
come in, placing an order for a pair of fine, well-made, high-heeled pumps. She’d smiled at him, winking when she thought Petir did not see. All day, her face stayed in his mind. The black cashmere coat she wore had hung open, revealing a scarlet silk dress that clung to her womanly shape. He could not help but wonder what wonderful mysteries lay beneath that frock.
Karl decided that hers would be the finest pair of shoes he’d ever made.
Chapter 80
Hello, I am Claramond Bauer. I have a pair of shoes on order. Black pumps.” Her eyes glittered and she smiled a knowing smile. There could be no doubt of his fascination with her. His eyes traveled over her body, out of his control.
“Yes, I recall.” Karl heard himself speak and decided that his voice sounded a few octaves higher than his usual deep tone. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat.
She laughed in response. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”
He laughed a nervous laugh. “No, I mean…perhaps…a little.”
“I’m sorry. If you will just hand me my shoes, I will be on my way.”
With that he turned away so she could not see that the blood had rushed to his face. He walked to the back to the shelf that held finished orders. It did not take much for him to find her name. He’d looked at it every day since she’d last been in. Once more he studied the shoes. Satisfied with having done a perfect job, he brought them proudly to her.
Picking one up a slow smile spread across her lips.
“Nice, very nice.”
Not looking up, he pulled her receipt out of the register. Showing her the amount, he waited while she counted out her cash.
“Well, I thank you then, and I will be going.” She began walking toward the door.
If she left now, he knew he would never see her again. “Mrs. Bauer?”
“Yes?”
“If you need anymore shoes, please keep us in mind.”
“I will.” She stopped and strolled back. “Would you like to take me to lunch?”
He couldn’t believe he’d heard those words come out of her mouth. ’“I would, yes. Let me go and tell my boss I am going out for a while.”
“It’s only ten in the morning.” She laughed, “A bit too early for lunch, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps you could meet me at the restaurant down the street at noon or so?”
“Yes, I could. I mean, I would like that.”
Chapter 81
“Karl, this is a married woman you are playing around with, and a Gentile, too. Have you gone mad?”
“She is so beautiful, Petir. I sat across from her at lunch and it was hard to believe that a creature so lovely could be real.”
“This is not safe, Karl. Did anyone see you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care. Petir. I want to see her again and again. She is trapped in an unhappy marriage. It is only money that keeps her there. She told me all of this. We have plans to meet next week on Wednesday.”
“Karl….what am I ever to do with you?” Young and foolish, Petir thought.
“Be my friend?” Karl hugged the old man with vigor as he thought ahead with pleasure to the prospect of lunch with the beautiful woman.
Chapter 82
A Gestapo car alarm signal blared rhythmically through the narrow thoroughfare demanding attention. The automobile had been waxed to a brilliant onyx, mirroring all that it passed in its glossy frame
The sound reverberated in a deafening roar. Outside the small shops, people congregated on the sidewalks…staring…waiting….wondering. What brought this black crow upon them?
Inside Petir’s little store, Karl worked tirelessly. At the beginning of the week, they had received an order for three pairs of boots. The patron had requested that they be finished as soon as possible.
Lately, Petir had been unable to tolerate the long working hours. He’d developed arthritic pain in his shoulders and arms. Karl hoped to stay late, completing as much as he was able to. Since he planned to be off on the following day, when he would meet with Claramond, he wanted to be sure to leave a light work load for Petir. While Karl worked, he thought of the day he spent with Claramond.
“Call me Clara.” She had taken his hand in hers. Then she'd smiled and asked, “Would you like to kiss me?”
He hadn’t been able to answer, only to nod. Then she’d pressed her lips to his and the sensation had sent him reeling. Even today, the sweet fragrance of her rose perfume still lingered in his nose.
Karl had held her for a few precious moments, rejoicing in the feeling of her body pressed against his own.
He’d been so caught up and lost in thoughts of her that he did not notice that the Gestapo had arrived until they busted through the door.
Before he realized he’d been arrested, three strong men had forced him into handcuffs.
Petir, who had been lying down in his upstairs apartment, raced into the shop.
“What’s going on here? This is my employee. He has done nothing.”
“Shut your mouth old man. He is a Jew. You should not be employing Jews. You are lucky we don’t arrest you.”
“Wait, please! I have money. I will pay you to let him be.”
Petir reached into the cash register and pulled out a fist filled with German reichsmarks. He rushed over trying to stuff the currency into one of the men’s pockets. One of the policemen backhanded Petir across the face and he flew into the wall. His nose and upper lip leaked thick, dark blood. The officer took the money, and shaking his head, he looked at Petir.
“Stupid old man. Don’t make this mistake again! You hear me?”
Petir did not answer. He lay against the wall, knowing they would kill him if he tried to fight.
Karl had begun to kick as soon as he saw what had happened to Petir. Anger came shooting out of him.
“Be still Karl! They will surely kill you if you do not. Whatever they want, I am sure you can explain. You will be out in a few hours.”
The men threw Karl into the back of the vehicle, and the loud alarm blasted through the street as they rode away.
With his hand on his heart, Petir rose from the floor and wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand. Outside the window he saw the satisfied faces of some of the other business owners that shared the block. Otto, the baker, saw Petir and smiled at him as if to say, “Well, you got what you deserved.”
Petir could not bear to see the cruelty sparkling in Otto’s eyes, and he pulled the shade closed. Then he sunk to the ground and wept.
Chapter 83
Berlin
Detrick had spoken to the Muellers. For the right price they agreed to hide the Abdensterns. Now assured that he had secured a safe place for his friends, he planned to discuss the situation with Jacob. Once Jacob agreed, he would contact Konrad, join the party, and apply for work.
That night when he arrived to find the Abdenstern home dark, he felt a wave of panic. He feared he’d acted too late; perhaps the Gestapo had come and arrested them.
Then Jacob opened the door his eyes red and his skin gray.
“What’s going on here?” Detrick entered, some of the alarm subsiding as he slammed the door shut and locked it. “Where is Leah?”
“She’s here. She’s fine. It’s Miriam, Detrick. Miriam is dead. Michael too.”
“What? How?” he sunk down on to the sofa as Jacob handed him the blood spattered message about Michael’s death.
“Miriam was alone when this letter came this afternoon. She killed herself.”
He read the paper and sprang up.
“Leah…where is Leah?” With his heart pounding, he raced to her room to find her lying on her bed, facing the wall.
“My mother is dead, Detrick. My mother is dead.”
“I know, sweetheart. Your father told me.” He lay down beside her. Gently he smoothed the hair out of her face. “I am here for you. I love you, Leah.”
Suddenly, great sobs came from a place deep within Leah Abdenstern. Detrick took her into his arms and held her, kissing the top
of her head.
“My sweetheart.” As she cried, he felt the pain firing through his own heart. The two were one.
They lay like that all night, until finally, as dawn broke, Leah slept.
Chapter 84
Jacob, still filled with grief, had been reluctant to accept Detrick’s proposal. Finally, when confronted with the issue of Leah’s safety, he had agreed and the arrangements had been made.
Helma and Ebner Mueller had two daughters: Adalheid, fifteen, and Rebekka, twelve. Their son Gaufid and Detrick had formed a friendship when they had practiced on the same track team. It had quickly come to Detrick’s attention that Gaufid shared his feelings concerning the Nazi Party and anti-Semitisim. For a while Gaufid had kept company with a Jewish girl they both knew from school. Now Gaufid was in the army and it had been months since he’d been home. Although he was aware of the hazards, Detrick knew that he must put his trust in these people.
With open, honest faces, the Muellers assured Detrick that they meant to help. And there could be no doubt that the money he would provide would bring creature comforts to this otherwise impoverished family. They seemed grateful for the opportunity to earn money that would enable them to live a better life, although there was risk involved.
If his own home had been spacious enough, Detrick would have attempted to keep Jacob and Leah there. But he lived in a very small apartment with no area suitable for hiding.
Back when Gaufid had made the offer, he’d told Detrick that the old house he inhabited had been in the family for generations. With a large attic that appeared to be closed off and completely undetectable to anyone unaware of its presence, the house seemed a perfect choice. At the time Gaufid had made the suggestion, Detrick had felt the Nazi threat would pass. He’d now concluded that it would continue, and perhaps grow even more threatening.
All My Love, Detrick Page 18
