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Another Breath, Another Sunrise: A Holocaust Novel (Michal's Destiny Book 4)

Page 7

by Roberta Kagan


  Still, even after the terrible destruction of Hiroshima, Japan still would not surrender.

  For the next three days, Alina heard the bombing mentioned at least a dozen times. And then, three days later, over the radio came a news report that the United States had dropped a second bomb on the Japanese city of Nagasaki.

  Again, mass death and destruction.

  The following month Japan surrendered.

  CHAPTER 16

  Gilde London Sept, 1945

  By the time Gilde got out of bed it was almost noon. Alden had gotten up early to take care of Vicky. They’d hired a nurse to care for the child because Gilde was almost never home, but Gilde had forgotten that she’d given the nurse the day off. The night before, Gilde had attended a cast party, and she’d had too much to drink. Last night was just another one of those wild affairs where her theater crowd of very talented people got together at one of their homes and competed for the starring role. It was no surprise that even off stage they were always performing. They sang ballads, recited Shakespearean monologues, tap-danced, dressed outrageously, and collectively drank enough alcohol to keep a liquor store in business for at least a month. Alden never went to the parties. He always begged off. Either he was at work, or claimed he had to stay at home with Vicky. Gilde knew he hated all of the noise, so she never pushed him to join her. Today, she would have to endure the after effects. Her head ached and her stomach was queasy, but she picked Vicky up and held her in her arms.

  “You’re off today?” Gilde asked Alden.

  “No, I’m working tonight at the hospital.” He had been reading the newspaper. He did not look up at her when she spoke to him. Instead he kept the paper covering his face.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” Gilde said.

  “That’s interesting, because I’ve wanted to talk to you too.”

  “You first, Alden.”

  “No, go ahead, Gilde,” he said, putting the paper down on the table. She saw a flash of sadness in his eyes. Then, as was Alden’s way, he gave her his full attention.

  “I’m going to contact Elias. I’m hoping he can help me get into Berlin to see Lotti. I’ve told you about Lotti and Lev. Theirs is the only address I have of anyone from my past.”

  “Oh … good,” he said. Then Alden got up and walked over to sit beside Gilde. He took her hand in his, but he was looking at the floor. Alden cleared his throat. , “I want a divorce,” he said

  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her eyes flew open wide. , “What, Alden. Why?”

  “Because I thought I could make you love me. But I was wrong. For a while things were good, real good, but then you got involved with the theater and now I never see you.”

  “I love you. But, the theater…. Well, it’s my work….”

  “I know, but it’s also your true love. And it’s hard to have two loves, Gilde.”

  She stood up and put the baby down on her blanket. Then she walked to the window. She was afraid to ask this question, terrified of his answer. But she had to know. “Is there someone else?”

  “I’ve met someone. Yes.”

  “Oh my God, Alden. Who is she?”

  “A nurse. She works with me. At first we were just friends. But, then, well, Gilde, you have been so distant, distracted.”

  “A nurse? At the hospital with you? Do I know her? What’s her name?”

  “I don’t think you know her, Gilde. Her name is Jane. Jane Kendall.”

  A white mask of disbelief fell over Gilde’s face. Jane Kendall. She could hardly breathe.

  “Oh my God,” Gilde said, sinking into the sofa. Vicky started to cry, but Gilde couldn’t pick her up. She didn’t trust her arms to be steady enough to hold her child. “Jane Kendall? Jane Kendall?”

  “Yes.”

  “I know her, Alden. When I came over on the Kindertransport from Germany to London, I lived with her and her family. Her family died in a bombing. I haven’t seen her since. Now this? Does she know you’re my husband?”

  “Yes. She knows. She was so sorry to hurt you. God, I am sorry to hurt you. It’s just that I was alone so much, and she was always there. You belong on the stage, Gilde. Life with me is too small for you.”

  Gilde felt her stomach turn over. Jane. Oh God, Jane had once been her dearest friend. When she first got to London, Jane was her lifeline. In fact, she’d shared everything with Jane, things she’d shared with no one else. Strangely right now she had a memory flashback. Gilde recalled a time she had long forgotten. It was a year after she arrived when she got her first menstrual period. No one had ever told her anything about it and she was sure she had a fatal disease. For an entire day, she’d kept all of the fears to herself. But that night, after the rest of the family had gone to sleep and she and Jane were alone, Gilde had told Jane about the blood on her underwear. She was sure Jane was going to insist that they go to the doctor the following morning. Gilde had been so ashamed because the blood was coming from a part of her body that was so private, and she was only thirteen and still so modest. However, Jane had been so kind and comforting as she explained everything Gilde needed to know about her own sexuality. Then Jane had showed her how to manage the blood. That night she’d loved Jane and been grateful for her as much as any girl could ever love an older sister.

  Jane…her best friend, her sister of the heart. The betrayal was like a butcher knife plunged through her very soul. Jane.

  CHAPTER 17

  Gilde

  Gilde sat in the living room while Alden went into the bedroom and packed a bag. She could hear him taking the suitcase down from the shelf in the closet. All of her ambition and drive to become a star had evaporated. She’d never felt so lost or alone. If only she had the courage to go into that room and beg him to stay she would have. Alden had been the only stability she had in her life. But, he no longer loved her. And even worse, he was in love with Jane. Vicky was crying in her room. She’d awakened from a nap and Gilde knew if she didn’t go in and pick her up, Vicky would continue to wail until she either vomited or fell asleep. However, Gilde’s heart was so heavy that it was impossible to move from the sofa. A million thoughts were going through her mind. What would she do without Alden, without his quiet support of everything she did? Yes, she loved her work, and yes, the applause of an audience was exhilarating. But nothing ever meant as much to her as the close friendship she had with her husband. Alden was different from all of the other men in her life. Because, Alden was not only her lover, he was her best friend.

  Vicky was howling now. Gilde pushed herself off the couch and went to get the baby. Vicky must have felt Gilde’s sadness, because when her mother took her into her arms, Vicky cried even harder.

  “Shhhh Gilde whispered, and tried to sing a lullaby to the child but her voice was strained.

  Before he left, Alden came into the room. Gilde bit her lower lip. Her body was trembling. The door was ajar and from where she sat Gilde could see Alden’s suitcase … packed … ready to go. My God, she thought. Don’t leave me….

  “I’m leaving now, Gilde. I’m sorry … and you know, I only wish you the best of everything. You’re on your way to becoming a star. This is what you were meant to do..”

  She looked at him , his hair tousled the way it always was, and she wanted to run into his arms and beg him to stay. But she was afraid he would reject her and she couldn’t bear the pain, so she just stood there looking at him.

  His lips formed a kiss. Then he smiled a sad smile and left the apartment, closing the door softly behind him. Gilde felt as if a part of her died at that very moment.

  CHAPTER 18

  Lotti Berlin, Summer 1945

  Because youth was on her side, Berni’s body recovered from the abortion, but not her mind. By the middle of summer she and Lotti had returned to their jobs at the hotel. Most of the time Berni was content to leave work and slip quietly back to the safety of the apartment. She walked hunched over and always seemed to be looking at the ground. If
anyone tried to talk to her, she was short with them, preferring either to be with Lotti or to be alone.

  Lotti was different. No matter what happened in her life she’d always looked for a bright side. She thrived when she was able to give to others. And now, even with all she’d been through, Lotti still had the need to be of help.

  After the fall of the Nazis, Berlin was like a dam that broke with a tidal wave of people flooding into the city every day. Some were survivors who’d been liberated from concentration camps, some had been slave laborers under the Nazi rule, while others came back to Berlin after spending years hiding out in the forests, in basements, in attics, or in sewers. They were Jews and non-Jews; they were political prisoners, prostitutes, Romany, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and anyone else who had been considered undesirable. The streets were also filled with newly released prisoners of war. And soldiers with empty eyes on their way home in defeat. Most of the new arrivals to Berlin were in search of or lost loved ones. The were looking for family, friends, neighbors or anyone from their past There were groups of Zionists, Jews who were hoping to find a way to get to Palestine and build a Jewish state where Jews would always be safe. They longed for a homeland.

  The clean-up of the debris from the bombings had begun, but it would take time before Berlin could recover. Every day as Lotti went to and from work, she couldn’t help but notice the wanderers on the streets. How many of them would ever find their friends and families? For that matter would she ever see her brother, Johan, or any of the Margolis family again. Her heart was heavy. It was hard not to be depressed. Even though wallowing in self-pity was unusual for Lotti. One fall afternoon he was walking home from work, thinking about the past. Remembering Lev and the time they spent together made her smile, but feel sad at the same time. She thought about Michal and Alina and how close the three of them had been. Even little Gilde, although she was young when she went to Britain, was a part of her extended family. Taavi too. She missed them all terribly, but she was grateful to have Berni now. At least she had a friend, someone to talk to, to share a meal with. It had been much worse before Berni had come to live with her. She’d spent all of her time alone.

  A disheveled, dirty woman sitting with a child in her arms on the side of the road was begging for money. Lotti reached into her handbag and took out a few coins. Look around you, she thought. As she studied the dazed, empty-eyed people who meandered aimlessly through the streets, she thought, I still have a purpose, there is a reason I am still here. How can I help these people? Instead of feeling sorry for myself, that is what I will do. I will find a way to be of use. When Lotti was a young girl, before she’d fallen in love with a Jew and disappointed her parents, especially her father, her mother had raised her to be a good Christian. She went to church with her mother every Sunday, and was told that when she was sad the best way to ease her own suffering was to help others. That was one of the reasons she’d volunteered at the Jewish orphanage so many years ago, right after her miscarriage. It had helped her to come to terms with the knowledge that she’d never have children of her own, but she could be a surrogate mother to many children who needed one. Her memories of the days at the orphanage were warm and still held a sweet place in her heart. So, that very day, instead of going directly home, Lotti took a train out to the suburbs of Berlin and got a job volunteering two afternoons a week at a displaced persons camp. Perhaps in being of service to those in need she would find peace.

  Lotti walked in to the apartment and put her handbag on the counter. Then she went into the drawer and took out the ration cards. After she put the cards into her purse she looked for Berni. Berni was sitting in the living room with her legs crossed.

  “We have to eat. So, come, let’s go and get our rations,” Lotti said to Berni.

  “I’d rather starve than go out there,” Berni said.

  “No you wouldn’t. Now come on….” Lotti took Berni’s hand and pulled her up off the sofa.

  “Very well, let’s go,” Berni said.

  Rations were provided by the American soldiers. The soldiers knew that the German women were dependent on them. Most of the soldiers were distant and some were downright unfriendly. Others were degrading, and some could be openly flirtatious. But Lotti and Berni thought that the hardest on the women of Berlin was a group of American Jewish GIs. These men made it clear that they were in control of the American sector and they were not too fond of the German women. They’d seen fellow soldiers fall at the hands of the Nazis, and they’d seen terrible acts of cruelty when they liberated the camps. Berni was afraid of them. Unlike Lotti, she’d never had a close relationship with a Jewish man, and these soldiers were intimidating. She would not go alone to get her rations, so she and Lotti always went together. In many ways, Lotti feared the American Jews as well. They didn’t know her or her background, and when they passed out the rations, it was clear that they did not feel any heartfelt generosity.

  Berni cowered like a frightened kitten as she was handed her rations. Sometimes they made obnoxious comments, and Lotti wanted to put them in their place, to tell them what she had endured, to let them know that they were not the only ones who had suffered. But they had the power, and control of the food, and she dared not make them angry. So, she kept her mouth shut and held Berni’s hand until they received their share.

  “You know that group of Americans are Jews,” Berni said one day. “The soldiers who gave us our rations today.”

  “Yes I know.” Lotti said.

  “I heard a couple of women talking about them. They hate the Jewish Americans the worst of all. That group is a whole unit of Jewish soldiers. And believe me they resent us even more than the Russians, I think. It’s probably because of the concentration camps. Dirty Jewish swine,” Berni said.

  Lotti stopped dead in her tracks and turned around to look at Berni. She put her hands on Berni’s shoulders and stared into Berni’s eyes. “Don’t ever say that again. Do you hear me? I don’t ever want to hear you make another anti-Semitic remark. I can take it from the rest, but not from you.” Lotti glared at Berni.

  Berni’s shoulders went limp. “I’m sorry, Lotti. I really am.”

  Lotti shook her head. She was at a loss for words. Today, she’d seen a side of Berni she’d never seen before and it scared her. Berni was her only friend, her best friend. But if Berni didn’t have a deep-seated hatred for Jews she would never have thought to make such a terrible remark. Hearing Berni talk that way changed Lotti’s view of her friend.

  They walked towards home in silence.

  The more time Lotti spent at the displaced persons camp, the more despair she felt about finding anyone from her past. The tremendous number of people who had simply disappeared was beyond her comprehension. People were scattered and lost; they didn’t know if their loved ones had been murdered in death camps, shot and buried in shallow graves, or with God’s help, were still alive somewhere. And then there was always the question of whether all of the people who had gone to hide in the forests knew that the war was over.It was hard to say. At this point, anything could happen, anyone could be found, or not.

  The following week Berni and Lotti went together to pick up their rations. Again, a group of Jewish soldiers was standing around in a crowd. Two of them were working together with another unit of American GIs handing out rations.

  One man in particular caught Lotti’s eye. He reminded her of Lev, but younger, stronger, and far more healthy than Lev had been when she’d last seen him.

  This man was young, muscular, and handsome, with a strong jaw, jutting cheekbones, and a prominent hook nose. His hair was dark and closely cropped, and his eyes were almost black. The soldier was closer in age to Berni than Lotti. And from overhearing him talk to his fellow soldiers, while Lotti was waiting in line, she heard one of the other soldiers call him Gabe.

  “Next,” he said. And to each of the women, he made a cutting comment, something to remind them that they were at his mercy taking his charity.

  O
ne of the women said, “You’re Jewish?”

  “Yeah, I am. And I am an American too.”

  The woman spit on the ground.

  “I’m not going to give you your rations this week,” Gabe said.

  The woman wrapped her arms around her chest. “I wouldn’t want them from you anyway. I’d rather starve.”

  “I hope you do,” the man called Gabe said.

  Just then another soldier came over. “Just give ’em to her, Gabe,” he said.

  “The bitch can go to hell with the rest of the Nazis,” Gabe said.

  The other soldier handed the woman her ration cards.

  “I hope you choke on it,” Gabe said.

  When Lotti and Berni got to the front of the line, Gabe handed Lotti her rations. “It makes me sick that we have to give you food. YOU don’t deserve it. You’re all good for nothing Nazis. You pretend that you had nothing to do with what happened to the Jews. But none of you stood up for our people. I saw the camps. I liberated the camps. I was right there, and I saw what you let them do…” Gabe said to Lotti.

  Berni looked away, but Lotti’s face turned blood red and she trembled with anger.

  “I didn’t let them do anything,” Lotti said. Her back stiffened. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  Berni pulled on Lotti’s sleeve. “Don’t start a fight with them. They can cut our rations if they want to,” Berni said.

  But Lotti shrugged Berni off. Right now she didn’t care if she never ate again. She was furious as she stared into the soldier’s eyes, and she wasn’t going to back down.

  “You’re right. I don’t know what you did during the war. But, you’re not one of us, so to me it means that you’re one of them. I don’t know anything about you and your pretty little friend here. But what I do know is that you people are sick bastards.”

 

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