The Heart Of A Gypsy

by Roberta Kagan

  Chapter 65“Christian? What brings you here? I am so glad to see you, my son. It’s been such a long time, and I have heard such bad things about your behavior.” Dr. Eberhart shook his head as he continued to speak, “From what I have been told, you joined the Resistance? How dangerous… I hope that you have finally come to your senses.”

  “I need to speak to you, father.”

  “You look terrible, Christian. I remember you being so clean cut. What should I make of your unshaven face and this scraggly long hair? Have you been spending so much time with the Jews that you are turning into filth just like them?”

  “Father, you know I would not come to you unless it was a matter of grave importance.”

  “Of course, Christian; you hate me and everything I stand for.” Christian’s father looked into his son’s eyes. “Come into my office and have a seat. Let’s talk.”

  They entered the office at the end of the hall, the same office where Nadya had been chained to the chair.

  Christian sat and his father lit a cigar. “Would you care for a smoke?”

  “No, thank you,” Christian answered.

  “No, thank you, what?”

  “No, thank you, sir.” Christian swallowed his pride.

  “Well, for as disheveled as you appear I must admit you are still a handsome man. Aqua blue eyes…sun kissed skin…that marvelous physique. Why you are an excellent example of the perfect Aryan male…and I must admit that makes me proud. Not that I am so proud of some of the things you’ve done.” Dr. Eberhart put his cigar in the ashtray. “Why do you defy me so, Christian? You have so many wonderful opportunities. If you joined the party, I could help you. Why do you refuse to build a decent future for yourself, Christian?”

  “The world has gone insane, father. I am sick at heart to see what has become of us…what has become of you…”

  It astonished Christian as he looked across the desk at this strange doctor, that once, what seemed like a lifetime ago, he’d thought the sun rose and set on this man whom he called father, this older, stronger man, who he’d believed had the answers to every question. His father, whom he’d emulated and admired…who had taken him on outings and played soccer with him when he was a child. How could this man, this Nazi, be the same one who taught him how to hunt and to respect all living things? The first day they had gone hunting, his father explained that he was responsible for all the animals in the forest, and he was never to kill unless he meant to eat the meat. His mind traveled back to the deer his father shot that day, and how Christian had cried when he saw the animal lying dead. Dr. Eberhart had put his arm around his son’s shoulder and explained that meat came from beasts, and that when a man took the life of an animal for food, it was important to thank the animal for its sacrifice. Then his father had taken a handkerchief and wiped Christian’s tears. Together they had thanked the deer for the nourishment it would provide the Eberhart family. Was this man who sat across from Christian the same man he remembered? It was unfathomable… When, how and why had he lost his respect for life? When Christian studied his father, he saw that the wrinkles around his eyes had grown deeper and the skin at this chin had gone slack since Hitler was appointed Chancellor of Germany. Dr. Eberhart had grown old. In Christian’s youth, his father was a highly respected surgeon at the local hospital in Berlin, filled with generosity and often treating those who could not pay. Dr. Eberhart had told his son that he worked side by side with, in his own words, “some brilliant Jewish doctors.” It had happened one afternoon when Christian returned from school. He was upset at having heard a teacher refer to the Jewish people as ‘Christ killers.’ Clearly distressed, Christian had gone to ask his father what the teacher had meant. His father had comforted him by answering that it was nothing more than silly superstition. The Jews that they encountered today had never even met Christ. Then Dr. Eberhart explained that sometimes people made things up because they needed someone to blame for their own unhappiness. Although at the time, Christian did not fully understand, still he accepted his father’s words, which had taught him generosity, tolerance and kindness. It should have come as no surprise to the father that his only boy would be willing to die to defeat the Reich. Wasn’t it the way the doctor raised him? Of course, that was such a long time ago. Once the Nazis took over and Dr. Eberhart was awarded respect, and absolute power, then things had changed…he had changed. The secret feelings of jealousy that the doctor harbored at being passed over for promotions by his Jewish colleagues began to surface. And with all the material wealth, connections and respect he’d acquired through the party, Dr. Eberhart began to accept, and even revere, the Nazi doctrine. The fact was that believing what he was told made it easier for the doctor to carry out the job that had been allotted to him. Then it became exciting from a scientific point of view to have human subjects to use in order to test his theories. It gave him an edge over scientists in other countries. And then…it happened…Dr. Eberhart began to enjoy the feeling of playing God.

  As they sat in his father’s office, Christian saw the jars containing the human eyes and various other body parts. He thought about those who had died so that his father would have the opportunity to use their bodies for his own purpose.

  When Christian looked into his father’s eyes, he found him weak to accept a position as an SS doctor. Of course, the offer had been enticing, plenty of money and prestige, but most importantly, safety. Christian knew that if his father had refused he could very well have faced the camps himself. And to some extent, Christian knew Dr. Eberhart had done what he had to do in order to protect his family. Well, at least in the very beginning… But still Christian found it hard to forgive him. Christian knew it was necessary to put the past and the disgust he felt at his father behind him. He’d come here with a purpose. He must find Nadya. Neither father nor son spoke for several minutes as Christian watched the doctor shift papers on his desk, the pain in the older man’s eyes so apparent to Christian. He is ashamed, Christian thought; he knows that what he is doing is not right. His father loved him, of that he was sure, and he prayed that it would be enough to give the old man a reason to be willing to help him in this most crucial venture. Chritian realized that no matter what he thought or felt, he must control his anger in order to enlist his father’s aid in finding Nadya, and at this point that was all that mattered to Christian.

  “I need you, father. I need your help. I have never asked you for anything before, but I come to you now. Please father, don’t let me down.” Christian swallowed hard and felt his Adam’s apple rise and fall. His mouth was dry as sandpaper as he waited for the answer.

  The doctor studied his son’s face, and gazed into his deep, serious eyes, as he wondered what brought him, what needs might the boy have that would bring him here against every principle he knew Christian held dear. Perhaps, Dr. Eberhart thought, this could be the opportunity he’d been waiting for. If he could appease his son, maybe Christian would come home, possibly even join the party; then he would be safe. And Dr. Eberhart would help him to find success in a stable career. Dare the doctor even hope that the bond between father and son could be rebuilt? Dr. Eberhart trembled with anticipation. He could easily forgive his son for all of the mistakes Christian had made. In fact, if the doctor were to be honest with himself, he didn’t hate the lesser species: the Jews, the Gypsies, the homosexuals and such; he just was not willing to risk his life, or his future, like his son was, to save them. In fact, he knew many Jewish doctors who were camp prisoners and were forced to work under Mengele, and although he never told anyone else, he admitted to himself that they were intelligent and capable doctors. But he tried to believe the rhetoric that he had been taught. He needed to believe. That was the only way he could find the strength to go on with his work and his affiliation with the party. In his mind, working to save these people was not worth the sacrifice of his own life, and he wished that Christian felt the same. If he could just convince Christian to come back home and forget his crazy notions of sav
ing the world, he could be assured that his son would live safely to be an old man instead of constantly risking death. His heart broke as he thought of the joy he had felt the day his son was born, how he had swelled with pride as he held the tiny infant in his arms. He’d raced through the halls of the hospital, telling the nurses and other doctors on the floor that he had a little boy, a son. That had been his greatest pleasure.

  “I’m listening, Christian. You have brought much shame on me these past several years, but of course, you know that. You’ve been traipsing around using an alias, posing under the name of Christian Stearn, and telling everyone that you’re from Norway. Why are you so ashamed to be a German? Don’t you realize that we are the superior race? Oh, Christian, I had such hopes for you. You must know that.”

  Biting his tongue, and swallowing his pride, Christian said, “Yes, father. I’m sorry.” He would beg forgiveness if it meant his father would help him find Nadya.

  Regardless of what had happened, somewhere buried deep within him, Christian still loved his father, if only for the memories, but the admiration he’d once had for him was gone. Christian wanted to believe that his father really hated the Nazi’s, but did not have the courage to fight against them, so he had joined the party and blindly followed orders. Looking into the older man’s eyes, for a moment Christian felt sorry for him. He had lost his principles, and then he had lost his soul.

  “Very well then; go on. What is it that you need? Perhaps if I can help you, then you might consider joining the party?” Dr. Eberhart asked. He looked at Christian, so tall and well built, with the fine chiseled features of a perfect Aryan, and he felt a twinge of pride that this was his son. Regardless of what Christian had done, this was his blood. Could the doctor possibly allow himself to hope that whatever had brought his son to him, whatever it was that Christian needed so desperately would prove to be the miracle that Dr. Eberhart had been waiting for? Maybe now, the doctor dared hope, Christian would come back to his family. How he missed the boy. So many nights he had lain awake and wished with all of his heart that his son would return to him. Not a single day had passed since Christian left that the doctor had not trembled with fear for his son’s life. Watching, always standing in the background, hidden from view, Dr. Eberhart, had intervened, whenever he was able to, in order to prevent Christian’s death. Such problems, such trials and tribulations this child of his had put him through. This bright and sunny boy, who since he had been born was obsessed with helping those less fortunate then himself, even if it meant that he, Christian, would suffer terrible consequences, was still his beloved son.

  “Father, I will do whatever you ask. Just please, this one time, I am begging you…help me. My wife was taken by the SS. I don’t know where they took her. She is a gypsy girl; her name is Nadya. She would be listed as Nadya Stearn. Please, I beg you… find her for me and I will be forever in your debt.”

  A spark flickered in the old man’s memory; he remembered the pretty little gypsy that he had sterilized. Something about her had disturbed him greatly, so of course he’d been unable to forget her. The girl’s name had been Nadya, he was sure of it. He hadn’t paid much attention to her surname. It just hadn’t seemed important at the time. To him, she had been nothing more than another Romany girl, and he’d assumed she had one of those long unpronounceable Romany surnames. Then he remembered…she was pregnant when he performed the procedure. The doctor clutched his chest as a sharp pain radiated through his heart and then down his arm. In a flash of despair it all became clear to him… Dr. Eberhart realized that he had aborted his own grandchild.

  “I have seen this girl. I know where she is. I will tell you if you agree to leave the Resistance. It is for your own good, son. It is for your own safety. Join the party, Christian; it will make your life so much easier,” Dr. Eberhart pleaded. Why had his son chosen a gypsy girl to marry and bear his seed? It didn’t matter. Actually, at this point nothing mattered to the doctor. The baby the gypsy girl carried was of Eberhart blood, his son’s child, the doctor’s legacy, his own bloodline. Dr. Eberhart was consumed with the horrific knowledge that he’d killed it. Reinhart Eberhart now remembered, exactly, the look of the tiny fetus. In fact, he thought he might have kept it in one of his jars. Suddenly the doctor had an overwhelming need to vomit. His head ached and the blood pounded behind his eyes. He began seeing black dots floating around the room, but he could not let on to Christian, because the doctor knew for certain that if Christian discovered what his father had done, he would never forgive him. “There is no way to get her out of the soldier house safely. If you try you will put yourself in mortal danger. But, you can still see her. In fact, you can see her whenever you like. I will make the arrangements. I will call immediately, and I will tell them you are an SS officer. As an officer, you automatically have privileges in the soldier house. There is even the possibility that I can get it approved by the authorities that you will be her only male visitor.”

  “A soldier house? Isn’t that a brothel? My wife is in a brothel? Oh, God… My poor little Nadya!” Christian stood up and paced the room. He felt the sweat bead on his brow as his heart sped up. “What brothel? Where is it? Tell me!” He pounded on his father’s desk with his fist. “Tell me father, now!”

  “Don’t worry… You can continue to see her.” Christian was his only son. If this went wrong he would surely lose him forever. And that was only the half of what could happen. If Christian tried to take matters in his own hands, he would surely be killed. There would be no way the doctor could prevent them from killing Christian if he got out of hand and began shooting guards at the soldier house. It was because of his father’s influence that he had survived many of his escapades, but Christian remained unaware of his father’s interventions. Behind the scenes Christian’s father acted in whatever manner necessary to keep his son alive, including very expensive bribes, putting himself and Christian’s mother at risk of severe punishment if he were caught. But this time Dr. Eberhart would not be able to intervene.

  “Please father, tell me where she is! Tell me what I must do… I will do whatever you ask of me.” Christian fell to his knees at his father’s feet. He held fast to his father’s pants leg and shook him.

  “Get up from the floor. She is in a soldier house in Berlin. I’ll give you directions, and then I will make the telephone call. But Christian, you must follow the rules. You will be allowed to see her, but do not, under any circumstance, try to get her out of that place. When you go there, you must act as if you are a true Nazi. Do you understand me?” Dr. Eberhart said.

  “Yes.”

  “And you will do as I say?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter 66

  When Christian left his father’s office, Dr. Eberhart telephoned the soldier house to inform them that Christian Eberhart, his son and an officer in the SS, would be arriving, with permission from himself, to use the facilities. The doctor explained that Christian would most likely choose to have one of the women reserved exclusively for his pleasure, and if money was required to keep a girl solely for Christian’s purposes, the doctor would be happy to pay the fee.

  Then, once the arrangements were in order, Dr. Eberhart hung up the telephone, poured himself a shot of whiskey, which he drank in a single swig, and then went home. He was not feeling well. Sharp pains jabbed at his heart and his head ached. The dark spots had begun to fade, but his vision was blurry and unclear. When he arrived earlier than usual at the lavish house he shared with his wife, she studied him and said he looked terribly pale. Frau Eberhart drew her husband a warm bath and insisted that he relax while she prepared a light lunch for him.

  The doctor lay in a porcelain tub surrounded by the warm water, but he could not enjoy the sensation. Instead he was preoccupied with the abortion he’d performed on Nadya. Over and over it came; it stabbed at his mind that it was Christian’s child he’d killed and his son’s wife that he’d sterilized. For the first time in his life, Dr. Eberhart realized fully
that he’d become a monster. When he rose from the tub, he looked at his reflection in the steamy bathroom mirror. His eyes were sunken and ghostly, and his face was lined. When he could not bear to look at his reflection anymore he turned away. Then quietly, so that he would not to disturb his lovely blonde wife, who was in the kitchen chopping vegetables for his lunch, the doctor went to his bedroom. In the drawer of the night table beside his bed he kept a pistol. Dr. Eberhart took the weapon in his hand and felt the cool steel of the revolver against his hot, sweaty palm. Then he checked to make sure the gun was loaded.

  It was.

  A single tear fell from his eye as he looked at the picture on the wall. It was a photograph of his wife, himself and Christian as a young boy. They had just been to the zoo. Christian held a red lollipop. Looking at the picture now, Dr. Eberhart wondered why he had never noticed it before, but the sucker matched his wife’s lipstick perfectly. The whole family was smiling. Those were such good times. So long ago…before Hitler…before…

  Dr. Eberhart squeezed his eyes shut, then with trembling hands he put the gun into his mouth and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 67

  On the train ride back to town, Christian’s mind raced, and by the time he’d walked the five miles from the train station back to the Gypsy camp he had a plan.