Forever, My Homeland: The Final Book in the All My Love, Detrick Series

by Roberta Kagan

  “I won’t stay. I’ll run away.”

  “Ima! Listen to me.”

  “Please, Mommy, please don’t lock me up. Please, I promise I’ll do better. I’ll stop taking drugs. I’ll stop doing bad things. I’ll go and talk to the therapist like you wanted me to. Please, Mommy, please give me another chance.”

  Katja felt her throat close. She knew she should go ahead with her plan, but she couldn’t bear to think of Ima locked up in a room, maybe in a straitjacket.

  “You promise me, Ima? You promise to try, to really try?”

  “Yes, I promise, Mama… I do, I promise…”

  CHAPTER 11

  ISRAEL 1983

  At first, Ima seemed to be serious about changing. She was trying to act the part, getting home at reasonable hours, attending sessions with her tutor, seeing a therapist regularly, and dressing less provocatively. Zofia saw through Ima and prayed she was wrong, but she was a pretty good judge of character. She felt it was only a matter of time, and over the next year Ima’s troubles only increased.

  If it had not been for the IDF, Ima might not have made it into adulthood alive. However at eighteen, like all other Israelis, Ima was drafted. Katja was worried about how Ima might fare in the IDF, but Zofia was relieved.

  “This is what she needs,” Zofia said. “You’ll see.”

  “I hope you’re right, Mama.”

  The IDF was Ima’s worst nightmare. She fought against the constant demands and restrictions, but the Israeli army was stronger. They saw a troubled girl, but they were unwilling to give up on her. They’d dealt with this sort of thing before. So the IDF sent her to a special unit where she received tough, but effective training.

  CHAPTER 12

  ISRAEL 1986

  Katja had not received any correspondence from Ima since she had left for the army. Every week Katja sent letter after letter, but Ima never answered. Katja even wrote to her squadron leader just to see if Ima was all right. She received a brief and to-the-point answer that Ima was doing fine.

  All communication was cut off. Katja felt as if she might go mad with worry.

  Then, the most remarkable thing happened. Ima would be finished serving her term with the IDF in six months when Katja received a letter from her. Katja knew Ima’s handwriting, so she knew who the letter was from immediately. She tore the envelope open. Her hands were trembling, but just seeing her baby’s handwriting brought hope to her heart. Then she plopped down in the chair as she read the following words in amazement:

  Dear Mom and Bubbie,

  I just signed up for a second term in the IDF. The army has been a great experience for me. I met someone. He is the love of my life. His name is Ido, and I know you will both love him. This is going to sound a little strange, but we got married in a civil ceremony. Believe me, I know it was the right thing to do. I’ve messed up a lot of things in my life, but this isn’t one of them. Ido has helped me to realize how much I’ve hurt both of you over the years, and I am really sorry. I hope you can forgive me.

  Ido and I are coming to see both of you next week. We will only have a week to spend with you because although we have a longer leave, we’ve signed up for an extra assignment. The assignment pays well and since we want to buy a small house, we could use the extra money. The assignment seems like fun, actually. We are going to be escorting a group of American teenagers from a synagogue in the U.S. all around Israel. This should be interesting! Anyway, Ido and I look forward to seeing you both. By the way, my new name is Ima Hadar! Can you believe it?

  Love to you both,

  Ima

  Katja drew a deep breath. Was this for the better? It was hard to say. Ima had always been so unstable, and to Katja this letter seemed that Ima was still unstable. She read it to Zofia.

  “Well, I am not sure what to say. We will know more once we meet the boy, once we see them together.”

  “She sounds like she’s still crazy but in a different way,” Katja said.

  “Maybe so, but then again, maybe not. All we can do is pray,” Zofia said.

  When Ima and Ido arrived, Zofia saw the change in Ima almost instantly. She’d gone from being a troubled girl into a confident, young woman. Katja saw the changes too. She was dressed conservatively, and her hair was cut and groomed. This was not the same Ima.

  Ido treated Ima like a treasure, but Katja saw too many similarities in Ido to her ex-fiancé Elan. This bothered Katja a little. Katja had suffered a terribly broken heart over Elan, and she was afraid for Ima.

  She talked to Zofia, and the two of them decided that Ido must never learn the truth about Katja’s birthparents. He must never know that Ima’s grandparents were Germans and that her grandfather was an SS officer. That had destroyed the relationship between Katja and Elan. Katja and Zofia knew that Ima was not strong enough to endure a breakup between herself and Ido. It would destroy her. Katja and Zofia knew that they must keep the secret from Ido no matter what the cost.

  The week that Ima and Ido stayed with Ima’s mother and grandmother was the most joyous time Zofia could remember spending with Ima since she was a baby. Ima was happy. In fact, she seemed to be like the old Ima, the Ima before the incident. She was helpful, considerate, caring. Who was this girl?

  This girl no longer chopped her hair or wore thick black eye makeup. Ima was beautiful, her blond hair long and flowing in loose curls. She’d put on just enough weight to have a slim but healthy figure. It made Zofia smile and secretly at night when she was alone, she would speak quietly to Isaac who she felt was always with her.

  “It looks like Ima is going to be all right, Isaac. Now if only my Katja were not so all alone. I worry. When the time comes for me to leave the earth and finally come home to you, who will be here for my Katja?”

  CHAPTER 13

  Two days after Ima and Ido left, Katja was feeling lonely. Zofia was with her, but when Ima and Ido were visiting the house, it seemed to come alive. They were young, and they filled the usually quiet house with life and exuberance.

  Although Katja had filled the house with food before they arrived, the refrigerator was now empty. She opened the door and looked inside, and then she smiled to herself. When she and Zofia were alone, most of the food they bought went to waste. Neither of them ate much anymore.

  Oh well, she would get dressed and go to the market early before she went into her office. Katja slipped on her jeans and a silky white blouse with thick shoulder pads. Because she was slender with very small shoulders, the new style looked good on her. Most of her friends who wore the shoulder pads looked like football players. She wore a pair of black pumps with a kitten heel, but instead of fluffing her hair up to look full and teased like she usually did, she put it into a French braid and wore her gold hoop earrings.

  It was early, so the food market was not as busy as usual though there were still several women talking and complaining about rising food costs. She was glad that she didn’t know any of them. If she had, she would have had to stay, be polite, and listen.

  Katja was walking down one of the aisles, looking for the olive oil that she bought. She was quite particular about her choice. It had to be extra virgin, very dark green, and good quality. The brand she used was sold out, so she was scrutinizing the others, trying to decide which one would suffice when she looked up and saw John.

  It had been a long time since that day she’d left him in the café. A shiver went down her spine. He was pushing a steel grocery cart and walking toward her. She felt such a mixture of emotions that she could not even determine what she was feeling.

  At the first sight of his large and comfortable frame, his wide smile, she felt like she wanted to rush into his arms. But then, she was reminded of why they’d separated in the first place, and her heart fell. Was he married? The thought of him married to someone else cut her deeply. But of course, why wouldn’t he have married? She’d left him. What did she expect?

  The group of women had somehow come around the corner, and now they were
standing like a group of nosey hens and watching her. Their judgmental looks reminded her that she and John were of different races. But even so, here he was. John—her friend—John, the man who loved her without question, regardless of who she was or where she came from. God, how she’d missed him.

  “How have you been, Katja?” His voice brought back so many memories. It was gentle, kind, understanding.

  “Fine…” she stammered.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  She cleared her throat. “I thought you were going back to England.”

  “Yes, I did go back. Then I got an offer from one of the firms I had applied to when I was here, and it was a great offer…so I’m living here in Israel now.” He smiled at her, but she could see the pain in his eyes—pain she’d caused. “Are you still living in the same place?” he asked.

  “Yes. I’m still living in the same place. I’m still volunteering with The Wives of Fallen Soldiers.”

  She quickly glanced at the selections in his cart. It was hard to determine if he was shopping for one or more.

  He nodded. The conversation was awkward, but he didn’t want to say goodbye.

  “I read in the local paper that The Wives of Fallen Soldiers is doing a benefit this week to raise money for the organization?’

  “Yes, we are. In fact, we’re featuring performances by the kids from the local school. We’ve done this before. The parents come and buy tickets. They enjoy seeing their kids on stage. It guarantees us at least some audience. I think it’s going to be a lot of fun.

  We have a troupe of fourth-grade girls who are members of a ballet troupe who will be doing a performance from Romeo and Juliet.” After she’d said that, she felt her face flush. How clumsy—Romeo and Juliet. She wondered if he’d caught the connection. Again Katja cleared her throat… “And we’ll be having a band from one of the local high schools doing a few numbers. Nobody famous, but a few of the local restaurants are donating food.”

  “It sounds like you’ve put together a nice fundraiser.”

  “I hope so. There will be a few other performers, too… All of them are local kids. We even have a rock and roll band made up of kids from the high school. It looks like they have a lot of fans because tickets are almost sold out. Anyway, the money goes to a good cause.” She felt like she was rambling, but she didn’t want to say goodbye, either.

  “Katja,” he said.

  She heard the hesitation in his voice, and she wanted to run. She was terrified of what he might say, but she wanted to stay, too.

  “Katja,” he repeated. “Can I call you sometime?”

  God, how she wanted to say yes. In fact, she wanted to leave her cart in the aisle and go with him right now. Run away with him to some secluded island where nobody could stand in judgment of them. But she said, “I don’t know, John. I don’t think so…it’s not a good idea.”

  He nodded. She felt her heart sink as she looked into his eyes.

  “I understand,” he said, looking down. Then he met her gaze again. “Listen, you probably will never use this card, but if you ever need anything, anything at all…here is my number. Just call me. I’ll always be there for you, Kat.”

  His hands were trembling as he took a business card out of his worn, brown-leather wallet and handed it to her.

  “It was good to see you, John,” she said, slipping the card into her purse and trying to hide the tears that were stinging the corners of her eyes.

  He watched her walk away. Then he left his shopping cart where it was. The hell with the food, he’d get take out again this week. John had to get out of there quickly. He didn’t want anyone to see the pain in his face.

  CHAPTER 14

  Israel 1986

  Elan felt a smile wash over his face as he watched Noa practicing for her ballet recital. This had to be at least her one-hundredth time she’d gone over her dance in the last two days. Even though the constant repetitive music on the tape player was driving him nuts, he was proud of her.

  She looked so much like her mother, but Elan had to admit, she danced like her father. Elan had always been a good dancer, but for him it had never been ballet. Elan Amsel had fallen head-first in love with rock and roll from the first time he’s heard it. He still loved it, and even though he was over fifty, he could still out-jitterbug most people half his age.

  Unfortunately, no one danced the jitterbug in any of the nightclubs anymore. But at home, Elan would turn on the radio and dance with his daughter. He’d taught her how to swing, and how to spin and follow his lead as he lifted her high into the air. She could move in his arms effortlessly. It was easy for Noa to master any dance, from Latin to waltz, but she longed to be a prima ballerina.

  It was her dream, and she wanted it more than anything in the world. That was why she was so excited when she was selected to dance the part of Juliet. Noa Amsel had won the female lead in the fourth-grade performance. And now The Wives of Fallen Soldiers was doing a benefit, featuring the ballet at the local community center. It was important to Noa, and she was determined to be perfect. It was the first time she’d ever danced in front of a big crowd, and she was a nervous wreck.

  Gloria Finkelstein was still working for the Amsels, although now she was more like a grandmother than an employee. Elan still felt that he needed to keep her on because sometimes his job took him away overnight. Although he knew he could always leave Noa with his brother and sister-in-law, he preferred Mrs. Finkelstein. He liked the confidence of knowing that Noa was at home in her bed, especially when she had to go to school in the morning.

  It was two more days until the performance. Elan could see that as the time to perform got closer, Noa became more on edge. He would be glad when it was all over, and things at home could get back to normal.

  The dancers were to have a rehearsal at the auditorium the night before the performance, to help them to become familiar with the stage where they would be dancing. Elan promised Noa that he would be home from work in time to accompany her to the rehearsal. The dancers were scheduled to be at the venue at five o’clock. He had to leave an hour early to make it on time, but for Noa…he would do anything.

  Noa was ready and anxious to go when Elan got home. She had her little pink bag with her costume and ballet slippers packed. Her hair was neatly pulled into a tight bun on the top of her head.

  “Just give me ten minutes to take a shower and change, and we can be on our way,” Elan said, kissing the top of Noa’s head.

  “Hurry, Daddy, I don’t want to be late.”

  “I know you don’t, and I promise we will be on time.” He smiled at her and patted her cheek.

  ***

  Noa’s ballet instructor was waiting at the community center to greet them as soon as Elan and Noa arrived. She introduced herself to Elan, then showed Noa how to get to the dressing room and escorted Elan out to the audience seats.

  “The rehearsal should start in about a half hour. Just make yourself comfortable. There is coffee and cake in the lobby.”

  “Thank you,” Elan said. He could use a cup of strong coffee.

  The parents of the students who were performing had gathered in the lobby. They were nibbling on individual cakes and sipping coffee. Elan poured a cup of black, steaming-hot coffee. As he turned around to join the other parents, he saw that golden blond halo of curls that he knew could belong to only one person, his old love, Katja.

  He stood dumbfounded—it was her.

  His eyes were glued upon her as he spilled the scalding coffee on his thumb. A shot of pain shook him out of his dream state. He wanted to speak to her, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. What could he possibly say? So much had happened. Perhaps it was best to go back into the auditorium and hide in the dark, in the back row until he could figure out what he wanted to do. But in an instant, it was too late. Their eyes met, and she saw him.

  “Elan?” Katja asked, her head cocking to one side, and with her mouth gaping open.

  Could she still be so pr
etty? How could she still look the same as she did twenty years ago? He was suddenly aware of how much he’d aged.

  “Katja…” He tried to sound casual, and tried to muster a smile.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “My daughter is in the school ballet.” He looked into those azure eyes and he remembered everything. The first time they made love, the night he proposed, the breakup, the shiva for Mendel…

  “Oh, how nice… Who is your daughter?” Katja said, unsure of what else to say. Elan had a child, a girl. Did he have more children? She was surprised, stunned. Of course, she thought, why wouldn’t he have gotten married and had children? It was just so hard to believe. To her, he was still Elan, young Elan, the Elan she’d once been engaged to marry. But of course, he wasn’t. Too many years had passed. Even so, there was no doubt Elan was still handsome, strong, and sexy. The same…on the outside anyway.

  “Noa Amsel. She’s playing Juliet.”

  “Oh, you must be so proud!” Katja said, forcing an uncomfortable smile to hide her awkwardness. “I’ll have to keep an eye on her performance.” Katja coughed a little. “So is your wife here?”

  “No.” Elan looked away. “My wife passed away.”

  “I’m sorry.” Katja wanted to know how and why, and who she was. Who was the woman who had been good enough for Elan when she had not been? She longed to ask, but how could she pry? The poor woman was dead. And besides, she wasn’t even sure why she wanted to know in the first place.

  “It was a long time ago, nine years. She died in childbirth.”

  “Oh…” Katja felt her throat close. That was horrible, a young woman dying in childbirth. She thought about Ima. Someday soon, Ima might become pregnant. God forbid anything like that should happen to Ima. Katja was quickly repentant for the terrible thoughts she’d been having about Elan’s wife. I’m sorry, she whispered in her head. God forgive me.