Stumble Stones

by Marilyn Baron

  She cried out. He ignored her cry and continued. Then he screamed in satisfaction at his release. After their interlude, he folded her in his arms.

  “Have I hurt you?”

  “It’s just that I’ve never—”

  “Ah. There are many things I can teach you, Madeline. I think you and I will get along just fine.”

  Fat tears slid down Madeline’s face. Luckily, she was turned away from him, and he was already snoring.

  When she woke up the next morning, Max was gone. She had breakfast alone.

  Their meetings went on like this for months. He brought her several dance outfits—a romantic tutu like the ballerinas in the Degas painting in her home back in Berlin, tights and pink satin pointe shoes and a pair of soft leather ballet slippers.

  One day he brought her a fluffy white dog he named Fritzy.

  “She will keep you company when I’m gone.” He treated that dog better than he treated the camp inmates. He pictured himself so cultured and refined, but he was the portrait of evil.

  She danced for him often, and they “made love” in a variety of positions that Madeline had never been exposed to. By then her hair had grown out. Her stomach was beginning to show, so tonight she would break the news.

  “Max,” she began right before he drifted off to sleep.

  “Yes?”

  “I have something to tell you, and I don’t know how you are going to react.”

  She was worried. A pregnant mistress was an inconvenience. If he wanted to, he could have her sent to Dr. Mengele’s laboratory, a special barracks where men and women were sterilized by horrible methods. The doctor particularly liked to experiment on pregnant women, she had heard. But she could no longer delay her announcement.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m pregnant. I haven’t been using any protection, and I know you haven’t.”

  Max sat up in bed.

  “You’re pregnant?” A look of disbelief swept across his face.

  “That’s what happens when two people—are together like we are.”

  She held her breath, expecting a violent reaction—steeled herself for a punch in the gut or a smack across the face. His gun was always out on the bedside table, a not-so-subtle threat to keep her in line and compliant.

  “My God. Is it true? But this is wonderful news.”

  She released the breath.

  “I thought you might be angry.”

  “Angry? No. You’re right, this is what happens in the natural course of things. In the future we can take precautions, but I am overjoyed.” He hugged her. “I will spend the entire night with you. You’re carrying my child. I can’t believe it. I love you, Madeline.”

  She wasn’t expecting a declaration of love. She had half expected to be shot right then and there.

  “Now we must make sure you eat right, have all the right things for the baby.” He patted her stomach and fondled her breasts. “Yes, I notice the changes. I’ll have the doctor come in and look at you.”

  “No,” she cried. “Not the doctor.”

  Max smiled. “I know you have heard some things, and they are completely untrue. But I will have my personal doctor examine you. I wouldn’t let that butcher Mengele touch you. You will not need to leave the room. Everything will be fine. The doctor I have in mind is very discreet. Let’s just say this isn’t the first time such a thing has happened.”

  They didn’t talk about what would happen after the baby was born. Where would they live? How would she raise a child in confinement? Would he let her raise the child? While he was in such a good mood, she decided to risk asking him about Abe.

  “Max. I have to know. I’m having your baby, and I’m married. Do you know anything about my husband, Abraham Hammerman?”

  Max focused on a pattern in the carpet covering the floor. He finally looked up.

  “I hate to have to break such sad news on this happy day, but your husband is dead.”

  Madeline’s hands flew to her heart. She composed herself. “I have to ask. Did you have anything to do with this?”

  Max looked offended. “I can’t believe you would think that. Your husband was working on burial detail. He had a choice job. I saw to that myself. By all accounts, he was a good worker. He couldn’t handle the assignment, and a witness said he walked right into the gas chamber. He committed suicide. It was a very noble act.”

  Madeline let out a silent scream and grabbed the bedpost. “How long have you known?”

  “It happened soon after you got here. I should have told you.”

  Madeline clutched her belly and bit her lip to keep from screaming out loud. She didn’t care if Max shot her. She couldn’t stand the sight of him. “Would you please go now? I would like to mourn my husband in private.”

  “I understand. That is life. I’m sorry. I’ll be by to check on you in the morning.”

  Max got dressed and walked out of the room. After he shut the door, Madeline collapsed on the bed and sobbed herself to sleep.

  She hardened her heart against Max. Cold had seeped into her system and made a home there. If she ever got out of this place, she would never dance again.

  But she and Max continued their hellish dance until the baby was born.

  After the birth, she was allowed to nurse the infant, whom she named Ana, after her friend Ana Hirschfeld. They bonded, and the baby lived with them for a few months. Her figure had changed, and Max no longer desired her, but he was fascinated with his daughter.

  He once asked, “Do you think she looks like her father?” and Madeline answered, “Most definitely.” She was the picture of Abe, and that is what got Madeline through the ordeal. That time with her daughter was heaven.

  When Max was transferred back to Berlin, he had the baby removed from the house and taken to a nearby farm to be raised by the farmer’s wife. When Madeline begged him to take her and the baby to Berlin with him, he refused, although he did take Fritzy. He doted on that dog.

  “I will miss you,” he said.

  She implored him to tell her where Ana was, and he said the baby was better off away from the camp and away from her, but he promised to come back and reunite them. When he finally did come back, she was already working at the brothel, and he installed a new female prisoner in his house. She was glad Abe wasn’t alive to see what she had become. Would this war ever be over? Was her daughter still alive? Would she ever see her little Ana again?

  ****

  Hallelujah put down her notes and flexed her aching hand. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Madeline was a strong woman,” Hallelujah commented. “I don’t think I could have endured what she did.”

  “I’ve always thought so. But what choice did she have? What choice did any of our people have?”

  “Hannah, what ever happened to Max?”

  Hannah paused and looked out the window. “He was found guilty at the Auschwitz trial and sentenced to death by hanging. His sentence was carried out. He was executed in front of the crematorium in Auschwitz. It was a fitting end for him, I think.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Alexander and Hallelujah

  AS THE PLANET SPINS SCRIPT EXTRACT

  BY HALLELUJAH WEISS

  SCENE 6. [IN PARKER’S OFFICE AT WINTHROP ENTERPRISES]

  PARKER: So what’s your answer? Are you going to marry me again?

  POLLY: Do I have your word that you’ll be faithful? And that you’re going to sack your secretary?

  PARKER: I’ll have to find her another job.

  POLLY: Fine with me, as long as it’s with another company, preferably in another city.

  PARKER: Done and done.

  POLLY: (ADMIRING HER NEW ENGAGEMENT RING) Parker, you’re not the most trustworthy man in the world, but you stood by me when I was in a coma for a year, and you never gave up hope. Although you did take up with that model while I was unconscious.

  PARKER: I thought you’d forgiven me for that. I was so distraught. And so lonely. And as lo
ng as we’re speaking of trust, what about the time you lied when you told me Patricia was Lance’s daughter?

  POLLY: Lance falsified the paternity test results. He never told me.

  PARKER: I missed a lifetime with our Patricia.

  POLLY: I thought we’d moved past that. We both have our trust issues, but I do love you, so, yes, I’m willing to take a risk and give you another chance.

  PARKER: [EMBRACING POLLY] I love you too, Polly.

  ****

  Alexander and Hallelujah strolled along a path in a lush park in Baden’s Old Town. In a way, Baden reminded him of Berlin, the old and the new, side by side, the diverse shops and restaurants, the spa district, and the breathtaking views, giving the city an international air. Caught up in the moment, Alexander reached for Hallelujah’s hand. A brief look of suspicion clouded her face. Then she relented and clasped his hand as they continued their walk.

  “Hallelujah, I’d like to talk to you about something.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “It is. It’s about us. And our future together. I was going to wait, to convince you to come to Berlin, but this can’t wait. Sometimes we have to seize the opportunity.”

  Hallelujah had a sense she knew where this conversation was going, and she had to stop him before he traveled down that path and said things he couldn’t take back.

  “You know we have nothing in common,” Hallelujah remarked. “You love math. I detest it. You want to live in Germany. I wouldn’t go there for any amount of money. Your parents want you to marry a proper German girl and have proper German children. You want to bring home a Jew. I’m a risk-taker like Polly. And you’re…methodical. Have you ever done anything spontaneous in your life?”

  Alexander smiled. He was about to do something very spontaneous. Not exactly spontaneous. He had been thinking about it since their wedding…well, their pseudo wedding. And he had been making plans. He was a big planner. And Hallelujah was right. He was methodical. But you had to be methodical if you wanted to get what you were after. And he was after Hallelujah.

  He pulled Hallelujah down to sit on a bench. He palmed her face and turned it toward him.

  “I tossed a bag of diamonds to a stranger on a plane. That’s pretty spontaneous, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I’ve been wondering why you did that. Why did you pick me, of all the people on the plane?”

  “I saw your face and looked into your eyes, and it just felt right. It was like a lightning strike.”

  “That’s the way it was for Parker and Polly,” Hallelujah admitted. But somewhere in the back of her mind she acknowledged that Parker and Polly weren’t real. She was living in a Hollywood fairy tale, and she needed to clear the cobwebs.

  Hallelujah shook her head dismissively and shook off Alexander’s hand.

  “You have a house that you’re rehabbing for a family. You even have a nursery, and you don’t even have a wife or a child. Who does that? You’re either very optimistic or you’re incredibly delusional.”

  As soon as the words were out, Hallelujah regretted them. He had remodeled his home for Sigrid and her baby, a baby he’d thought was his.

  Alexander lowered himself to one knee in front of Hallelujah.

  “I’m not delusional,” he said evenly. “A delusional person believes things that couldn’t possibly be true. You are the truest thing I’ve ever known. I believe in us. I knew you were the one the minute I saw you. I love you, Hallelujah Weiss Evans, back to Weiss.”

  Alexander held out a diamond. An exquisite diamond that shone in the sunlight. It was a large, emerald-cut diamond. The kind of diamond Parker would give to Polly. The kind of diamond she and Polly adored.

  “Alexander, this is one of the Hirschfeld diamonds.”

  “Yes, it is. I offered to buy it from Hannah for any amount of money, but she refused. She wanted me to have it. She wanted us to have it. She asked me if you were my sweetheart. And I told her I planned to marry you. She insisted, and she wouldn’t take money from me. Of course, I’ll get it properly set and then give it back to you. Hallelujah, will you marry me?”

  Hallelujah looked into Alexander’s gray eyes.

  There. He’d gone and done it. Surprised her, and with Hannah’s diamond. The words were out. Could she dash his hopes? Could she crush hers?

  “Resistance is futile,” Alexander said, thinking he had her. He knew, at any rate, he wasn’t going to take No for an answer. He was so close. But she hadn’t given him an answer.

  “I’m not very good marriage material,” Hallelujah protested. “I’ve been married more times than you can imagine.”

  Alexander laughed. “I think you’re confusing yourself with Polly.”

  Hallelujah blinked. “Well, I’m not a very good risk either.”

  “Evaluating risk is my business. I’ll take my chances.”

  “I can hardly bring you home to my parents,” Hallelujah pointed out. “You’re German, and my father’s a rabbi, for heaven’s sake, a Holocaust-obsessed rabbi. He’s written books on the subject. Every one of his sermons references the Holocaust. To him, the Holocaust is the root of all evil.”

  Alexander had been prepared for this.

  “I’ve already asked your father for permission.”

  Hallelujah’s eyes widened in surprise. “And what did he say?”

  “He thought it was rather sudden, after your divorce, and he wanted to know if I loved you. He didn’t ask about my nationality.”

  “And do you really love me?”

  “The word ‘love’ doesn’t do justice to what I feel for you. I feel as if my whole life has opened up and my heart is swelling and I can barely breathe when I’m around you. Like I’ve been underwater in the dark and I’ve finally surfaced into the light. I love you so much it hurts. Since I met you, I can’t imagine life without you. I never thought love would be this wonderful. I had hoped. When I told your father how I felt, he said it sounds like it’s bashert. Is that a good thing?”

  “Yes, that’s Yiddish for ‘meant to be.’ It’s like fate, like the universe is saying we belong together, that it is pulling us together.”

  “He said sometimes something good comes out of a bad experience, like your divorce.”

  “I find it hard to believe that Rabbi Jacob Weiss would welcome a German to the family with open arms. His parents perished in the Holocaust. My mother’s family lost people in the Holocaust, too. They take the credo ‘Never Again’ very seriously.”

  “You know that all Germans aren’t Nazis. Just because my parents are German, which makes me part German, I hope you won’t paint me with the same broad brush.”

  “That’s fair, but you still have to go through the rebbetzin.”

  “The rebbetzin?”

  “Yes. The rabbi’s wife, otherwise known as my mother. She’s going to be a tough sell. She still hasn’t forgiven God or the Germans for the Holocaust. Has she given her permission?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Then there’s the issue of children,” Hallelujah responded. “I know you want children. If I had children, I’d have to raise them in my faith.”

  Hallelujah inhaled a deep breath. That was the crux of the issue, wasn’t it? It all came down to the children, and passing on the legacy of 4,000 years of Jewish existence, heritage, and values. How many times had her father said, “Don’t break the chain of Jewish continuity, the bond of Jewish culture. The tree of Judaism must continue to grow and flourish. We must preserve our faith.”

  As a rabbi’s daughter, she was raised to believe that, and she did believe it. Memories of her childhood came streaming back. Sitting on her father’s lap on the bimah during Shabbat services. Listening to her mother singing in the synagogue choir. The aroma of chicken soup boiling on the stove and brisket in the oven, the sweet taste of challah and apples and honey. Celebrating all the holidays throughout the year. Memories and traditions she wanted to pass on to her children; memories, in turn, that they would share with their
children. It had never occurred to her to marry someone who wasn’t Jewish. But now, a man she’d practically just met was asking her to betray her faith. Of course, she had married Lloyd, and look what happened there. Just because someone was Jewish didn’t make him a nice person.

  What was Alexander’s religion? She’d never even asked, but regardless, she knew how she wanted her children to be raised, and she wouldn’t compromise. Especially after learning Hannah Hirschfeld’s story. Hannah, a woman who was forced to deny her religion her whole life. Hallelujah was not going to do that to any children she might be blessed with, and she told Alexander so.

  “And I would never ask you to do that. Our children will be raised as you wish.” So, they were of the same mind on that subject. “Of course, I hope they don’t turn out to be banshees like Ivan the Terrible or Vlad the Impaler.”

  “That could be a problem,” she agreed.

  “Well?” he coaxed, his eyes pleading with her.

  What would Polly do? If truth be told, right now she didn’t give a damn what Polly would do. She had a mind of her own, didn’t she? Anyway, Polly was in love with Parker. And she was in love with Alexander. Her instinct was to grab onto this bit of happiness and never let go.

  “How do I answer you? I already said, ‘I do.’ ”

  Alexander broke out into a sunny smile. “A definite Yes would be nice.”

  “First, I have to ask. What does your secretary look like?”

  Alexander smiled. He was aware of Hallelujah’s fears about the other woman.

  “He wears horn-rimmed glasses and suspenders, has a five-o-clock-shadow, and his name is Rudolf. Not my type, so no worries there. And, as I said before, I’m not your ex-husband.”

  “Am I that obvious?”

  “No one’s ever been jealous over me before. I kind of like it. Any other objections I can overcome?”

  “We have to be married in a synagogue,” she insisted. “You probably don’t have any left in Berlin.”

  “Another misconception. There are more than a hundred and ten synagogues in Germany. As a matter of fact, we have more synagogues than Jews.”

  Hallelujah cocked her head suspiciously.