The Smallest Crack

by Roberta Kagan

  Sometimes the rebbe wished he had married earlier. If Eli had been born when the rebbe was younger, he would have had more patience to deal with the active mind of his ever-questioning son. Sometimes he worried about Eli. However, the old man had confidence in God’s ability to lead Eli in the right direction. After all, God had led him back from his wanderings to his rightful place as a Jew, so he trusted that God would do the same for Eli. In God’s time. Because Rebbe Kaetzel’s faith was strong, he gave his son a long leash.

  The following morning was Saturday. The old rebbe sat among the men in the shul, as he had done since he was thirteen, after his bar mitzvah. The men began davening, and he joined them in swaying back and forth, feeling the power of prayer fill his soul as it always did.

  For several minutes, no one noticed anything strange—they were too enraptured in prayer. But when everyone stood up to recite a prayer, Eli glanced over and saw that his father was not standing. Instead, he sat still, quietly slumped over. A lightning bolt of fear shot through Eli. All around him, men were praying, but he could not hear the prayers. A thunderous voice filled Eli’s head, reiterating what he already knew. His papa was gone. He didn’t cry out for help. This was a personal matter between Eli and the father who had given him life and tried to share his wisdom.

  Eli leaned over and looked directly into his father’s face. Papa, you look so at peace. Where are you? Can you see me now? Eli knelt between the seats in the shul and took his father’s lifeless body in his arms. Eli held his father close and wept. He knew that in a single instant on this not-so-unusual day, his life was changed forever. From that moment on, he was on his own. Never again would he argue with his father, and never again would he draw on his papa's wisdom to make decisions. Alone. Completely and utterly alone. Eli’s shoulders shook as he wept. I’ve failed him in so many ways. I’ve never been good enough to be the son of a great rebbe. I have always known it. But not my papa! He refused to believe I wasn’t worthy. No matter what I did, my papa always believed in me. And now it’s too late for me to find a way to prove to him that I can be the son he always wanted. Why do I always try to fix things after it’s too late? Why is it that I am never contented? I am uncomfortable in my own skin. I really do appreciate the gifts God has bestowed upon me, but I am always in search of something more. What is wrong with me? What is it? Oh, Papa, it was too soon for you to go. I wasn’t ready. I still have so many questions for you. I have so many doubts. I need your advice, your leadership. I know that I wasn’t the son you wanted me to be, but what you never knew was that deep down in my heart, I really always admired you. It was just that I couldn’t see myself capable of growing up and leading our people. You were strong, Papa, and now you are gone. You will never know how much I learned from you. You will never know how much I loved you.

  Eli saw the other men notice him and his father on the floor. Several men rushed over to Eli, and someone called an ambulance. Eli’s mother and wife both came running down the stairs from the women’s section in the balcony, but it was too late. There was no need to rush because there was nothing to be done. The old rebbe had left the earth while in prayer. Within the next few days there would be a burial then the family would sit Shiva. Eli would do what was expected of him. He would gather nine other men and together they would say the Kaddish, the prayers for the dead. The family would mourn, and then life would have to go on.

  But how? Eli wondered. How am I going to go on without my father? People will come to me for advice now, expecting me to know how to advise them. How will I ever do that? I don’t have my father’s wisdom, and I don’t have a brother or anyone else to consult. I was raised to be the next rebbe, but I am not ready.

  Rebecca tried to help Eli up from the floor, but he shook her off, not wanting to look as weak as he felt. Immediately, he saw the hurt look on her face, and he was sorry. He knew he should apologize, but he couldn’t. The words wouldn’t come. I hardly know my wife. It was difficult for him to talk to this pretty, young woman he married. He wished she would yell at him: tell him off even. Tell him how angry she was that he pushed her away when she was trying to help him. He would be impressed if she would just challenge him. But he knew she would not. And because of that, he often thought of that outspoken, sassy, and adorable, little, forbidden shiksa, Gretchen Schmidt.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  September 1935 Nuremberg

  After the loss of WWI and the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, Germany was a broken land. She fell into a great depression with high unemployment. Every material thing necessary for life was rationed. Jobs were scarce. Hunger squeezed the Germans with an iron fist. All this left the German people shrouded in hopelessness.

  When Adolf Hitler was appointed chancellor in 1933, assuring the German people that a new dawn of prosperity was on the horizon for their beloved fatherland, many people rallied in support. Hitler gave emotional speeches that filled his followers with hope and a guarantee of a Third Reich that would last for a thousand years. In short, he promised to restore Germany to her rightful place in the world.

  But this bright promise came with a price. At first, many believed that the hatred the führer spewed toward Jews, Gypsies, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and others whom he found undesirable, was merely talk. So many people said nothing would come of it. However, a few were alarmed. They weren’t sure how bad things would be, but they knew a dark cloud was falling upon the land. Perhaps some were able to see that the treacherous reign of the Third Reich would end in the deaths of ninety million people: six million of whom were Jews.

  On the fifteenth of September in the year 1935, in a town called Nuremberg, the Nazi Party held its annual rally. On this crisp autumn day, the red-and-black flags with the swastika insignia blew proudly in the soft, gentle breeze. A crowd gathered, bursting with excitement and anticipation. Pictures of the beloved führer hung on the walls of the buildings. Everyone was filled with hope for the promise of a new and better Germany.

  At this meeting, the Nuremberg laws were adopted. Henceforth, German Jews were no longer German citizens. Jews weren’t defined by their religious beliefs, but by their blood. If a German had at least three Jewish grandparents, he was considered a Jew. Even if his grandparents had converted, he was still considered Jewish.

  Jews were excluded from politics. Many lost their jobs, and they were not allowed to marry or have sexual relations with anyone of German blood. Any contact between a Jewish person and a German citizen was considered racial infamy and a criminal offense. Jews Unwelcome signs hung in most public places. The only exception was during the 1936 Olympic Games when Hitler removed the signs to hide his hatred of Jews from the world. At least for a short time. However, even though the signs were removed, no German Jewish athletes were permitted to participate in the Olympic Games.

  The Jews were losing their rights, but very slowly. So slowly that many people refused to pay attention. Jews and Gentiles alike. They ignored what was blatantly happening right in front of their faces. They went on with their lives as best they could, hoping it would all just go away. But it didn’t, and they should have been alarmed.

  Summer 1937

  The relationship between Norbert and Gretchen grew deeper. They saw each other at least four times a week, often dining at each other’s homes. Sometimes they went out to restaurants or took long walks through the park or the Berlin Zoo. They were young and full of passion. As soon as they found themselves alone, even in public places, Norbert passionately pushed Gretchen against a tree or the side of a building and stole a kiss. On afternoons when Gretchen’s father worked late and Gretchen and Norbert were not working, Norbert came over, and the couple spent hours wrapped in each other’s arms necking, petting.

  One such afternoon, Gretchen and Norbert each took off work so they could be alone. They lay on the sofa, Gretchen with her head on Norbert’s chest.

  “I love your teeth,” Norbert said.

  “You what?”

  “I love your teeth. Th
ey look like pearls.”

  “Pearls are round, Norbert.”

  He laughed. “I thought it sounded good. I heard an American actor say it in a movie when I was a child.”

  She laughed. “So, my teeth don’t look like pearls?”

  “I don’t know. They’re white and pretty.”

  “My teeth, Norbert? This is all you have to compliment me with?” She giggled and began tickling him.

  “Don’t, please . . .” he begged, laughing.

  “My teeth?” she said again. Now they were both laughing.

  “All right. All right. It was a stupid comment. I was trying to sound sophisticated.”

  She stopped tickling him, but they were both breathing heavily from laughing so hard.

  Norbert took Gretchen’s hands in his.

  “Seriously. Do you know how I feel about you?” Norbert said, clearing his throat. “I think you do know.”

  “No, I don’t . . . tell me.” Gretchen smiled and winked at him.

  “You little minx. You are teasing me again.”

  “Yes, maybe I am. But I want to hear you say it. Tell me how you feel.”

  “You aren’t going to make this easy for me, are you?” Norbert asked.

  “No, I am not. I am going to make you work very hard.” She squeezed his hand. “Tell me, or I’ll start tickling you again.”

  “Very well, then. I couldn’t take another tickling round.” He nodded. “So I guess I’ll have to fess up.”

  She giggled. “Go on. I am listening.”

  “Gretchen Schmidt,” he said, looking down at the floor then slowly raising his head and staring into her eyes. “I think I am in love with you.”

  “You think so, or you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Then say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Come on, Norbert. Say it if you mean it,” she said glaring at him in mock anger.

  “I love you,” he said. His voice was hoarse.

  “I love you too.”

  “I want to marry you . . . if you’ll have me.”

  “Marry you?”

  “Yes. We’ll have a good life together. My father is wealthy. You won’t want for anything. And don’t worry. We will help your father financially. I promise. He will be family, then.”

  “Marry you?” she repeated then sucked in her breath.

  “You said you love me.”

  “I do. But marriage is so life changing.”

  “It is, isn’t it? We won’t have to find time to be alone together. We’ll be together every night. You’ll share my home, my name, my bed. I love you, Gretchen. Please, say yes.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

  “You will marry me?”

  “I will,” she said. Norbert leaned over and kissed Gretchen gently.

  “I have a ring for you. It was my grandmother’s.”

  “Oh!” Gretchen gasped as he placed the gold ring, with the small stone, on her finger.

  “You’re my fiancée now.”

  “Yes, we are engaged. Oh my gosh, we are, aren’t we?” She giggled.

  “We are! WE ARE! Now all we have to do is tell our parents.”

  “Let’s not think about that just yet,” she said, pulling him closer and kissing him.

  “I’m sure it will all go just fine. Your father likes me well enough, doesn’t he? I know that my folks adore you.”

  “Shhhh . . . you’re ruining the mood,” she said, kissing him and placing his hand on her breast. “I want you to make love to me.”

  It was her first time, but she wasn’t afraid. She was ready to become a woman.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Over the next two weeks, Norbert and Gretchen spent endless hours discussing their wedding plans and carefully mapping out their future as husband and wife. One night, after Gretchen’s father went to bed, they were sitting in Gretchen’s living room when Norbert declared, “I want eight children at least. More is preferable. And I want them to be seven boys and one girl.”

  Gretchen laughed sarcastically. “Oh? Then why don’t you give birth to them? Besides, silly, we can’t determine what sex they’ll be.”

  “Sure we can; just look at me. I’m a strong, virile male. We’ll have boys. Besides, we owe it to our country to have plenty of Aryan children. And with a mother like you, well, they’ll be beautiful. And having a handsome father like me wouldn’t hurt either,” Norbert joked.

  “Eight, Norbert? Really?”

  “Why not? Besides, the more little monsters we have, the more likely it will be that you’ll get an award from the Nazi Party for being an ideal Aryan wife. You know how much they stress having plenty of kids. Now wouldn’t you want that?” You’ll be the envy of all your friends.”

  “Sometimes you’re ridiculous. How are we ever going to manage with so many little ones? They’ll run me ragged.”

  He jumped up and took her into his arms. “I wish we were married, so we could start having them right now.” He giggled, caressing her breast. She giggled too.

  She touched his face. “Eight?” she murmured, but before she could say another word, his lips were on hers.

  Every time they got together, they tried to find a place to be alone where they could make love and then lay in bed, excitedly sharing their dreams. Gretchen enjoyed going over details for the wedding, but Norbert was more concerned with getting things underway. He wanted to announce their engagement to their families as soon as possible. Secretly, Gretchen was a little worried about her father’s reaction. She knew he would want her to be happy, but she also knew that if he had his choice for a son-in-law, he would not have picked Norbert. He liked him well enough, and Norbert did come from a nice family. But Norbert was not an intellectual; he was a working-class man and a strong Nazi Party member. Neither of those traits appealed to her father. He never said a word, but Gretchen could tell by the way he looked at Norbert that he found him too crass, uneducated, and lower class. Although Gretchen knew her father would say he approved, she also knew he would be secretly disappointed: this put a slight damper on her giddiness. However, she knew it was inevitable that she and Norbert must tell their parents if they were ever going to get beyond the dreaming stage.

  “Let’s get this going, and tell them all. What do you say?” he said, gently caressing her arm.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I love getting lost in the magic of it all—the flowers, the food, the cake. But you’re the practical one,” she said, winking at him and trying to send all of her worries to the back of her mind.

  “Well, someone has to be practical, right?”

  “Yes, you’re right. I agree with you. And I’m glad you are practical, so we will do what we must do. We will tell them,” Gretchen said.

  “Are you free tomorrow after work?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then, if it’s all right with you, as soon as you finish work we will go and see my parents together.”

  Gretchen didn’t mind going to talk to the Krauses. She knew they liked her, and she had no doubt they would be happy for the upcoming marriage.

  The following day, Norbert met Gretchen at her home after he finished work at his family’s restaurant. They walked to his flat together. As they walked, he told her his new plans.

  “Once we are married you can work at one of my family’s restaurants too if you would like.”

  “Sure. I would love to.”

  “We’ll talk to them about it after the wedding.”

  Neither of them anticipated any problems with Norbert’s family. Gretchen had been to dinner several times at Norbert’s home, and she got along well with his parents. And although Gretchen was secretly worried about her father, Norbert was not. He believed that Professor Schmidt liked him. He often dined at Gretchen’s home and wondered if the professor might have preferred an intellectual like himself for Gretchen. Even so, he was pretty sure that Professor Schmidt would accept the marriage because he knew that Norbert and Gretchen
were happy.

  Norbert’s mother was a heavyset woman with a ruddy complexion. Although she was missing two teeth, she still had a hearty smile. When Norbert and Gretchen arrived, she immediately took an extra plate down from the cabinet.

  “You’ll stay for dinner, Gretchen?”

  “Yes, of course. But we have something to tell you,” Gretchen said, turning to Norbert and taking his hand.

  “Mama,” Norbert said, “Gretchen and I are getting married.”

  “Oh, what news!” Norbert’s mother began crying and laughing all at once. Her large belly shook as she blotted the tears from her cheeks with a kitchen rag. “I’m so happy,” she said. “My boy is getting married and to such a lovely girl.” She embraced Gretchen.

  Norbert’s father, Gunther Krause, overheard the conversation. “What’s this? You two are getting married?”

  “Yes, Father,” Norbert said. Gunther patted Norbert on the shoulder then he shook his son’s hand. “I couldn’t be happier,” he said, then he embraced Gretchen. “You have chosen a wonderful girl for your wife. Now, the real question is, what does she see in you?”

  “Father!”

  “You know I am just joking,” Norbert’s father said. “You’re our son. We love you, and, of course, we think you’re quite the catch, but we love your little Gretchen too.”

  “Thank you for the encouraging words, Father.”

  “And furthermore, I don’t know if you have made any plans for the wedding yet, but if not, you are certainly welcome to the family’s nicest beer hall. After all, Gretchen will be our daughter soon.”

  “That’s so generous of you, Herr Krause,” Gretchen said, a single tear of joy running down her cheek.