You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Companion Novel) (18 page)

“It’s none
of your business. You don’t look like a Jew why you are here?”

“I am not a Jew. I am a Christian and my husband is a member
of the Nazi party.  Now tell me, please, what is going on here?”

“You should not even be in this neighborhood.
Get out now, and be glad that we don’t arrest you too.” He pushed Helen against the wall slamming her hard. The pain sobered her. She rubbed her shoulder. Helen watched the man her eyes were filled with fright. She glanced at Lars suddenly afraid for him.

“Mach Schnell. You have five minutes to gather your things together. Let’s go…MOVE.”
The Gestapo shouted at the three women.

Gitel looked at
Fruma. Zofia stood glued to the floor; it felt as if her feet would not obey.

“MOVE I SAID.” And the
Gestapo agent took a club from the side of his uniform and hit Gitel across the face. Blood flew across the room onto the wall and covering the birthday cake. Fruma ran to Gitel but the man raised the club to hit them both again.

“Move, Now!
”

Gitel spit a tooth into her hand.

Everyone scampered. Esther grabbed Manny who was crying and raced out of the apartment. Helen took Lars and left as quickly as she could. And within minutes Gitel, Fruma, Zofia, and Eidel were being driven away in the notorious black car that had taken so many of their neighbors. Gitel was holding a towel against the side of her face. As the car rounded the corner, Zofia saw Helen standing on the sidewalk with Lars in her arms. The baby was crying and so was Helen.

Chapter 27

Every day more families arrived in the already overcrowded Warsaw Ghetto. Food was scarce and the rations were controlled by the Nazis who gave each person less than 200 calories worth of food per day. Soap was a luxury and everything was filthy. Bought of Typhoid and plague erupted like volcanoes seizing the healthy and ending in death within hours.  Work was hard to find and so women, out of need, resorted to the only commodity they had to sell, their bodies. Children begged for money or food. And the black market flourished. At night those who could escape over the wall and out of the ghetto to make deals with the Polish, they returned with food, medicines, and other necessities to sell. Those who were able survived. The sick or elderly perished within days. The worst of it all were the Judenrats. The Jews who collaborated with the Nazi’s had put them in charge of the Ghetto. The Judenrats were instructed to select a certain number of Jews to be taken to the trains each day. Everyone was lead to believe that the trains led to work camps where the Jews would be employed in the Nazi war effort.  At least at first, everyone believed.

But where
there is life, there is hope and those who lived made the best of the situation. Schools were put together for the children, plays were performed, music and art thrived, and people still fell in love, and married. All this continued with the hope that soon the nightmare would end.

Z
ofia, Gitel, Fruma, and the baby found housing in a crowded apartment building. They shared a small two bedroom flat with another family, the Gursteins. A young mother who’s wrinkled brow gave  her a far older appearance than her thirty five years, a consumptively thin father and two daughters one 10 and the other 11. The water, when it worked, was icy cold making bathing an uncomfortable but necessary evil.  Zofia noticed that the parents who lived in the other room gave most of their food to their children. And, the two girls attended a make shift school where they learned music and drama in addition to the basics of reading, writing and arithmetic. Often Mara the older of the two daughters would come home singing a song from an opera, her sister would join in and even though the situation in the house was crowded, there was joy.  Little Eidel, loved the girls who picked her up and played with her as if she were a human doll. They carried her around the apartment singing to her. Or they sat on the floor talking between themselves and playing with Eidel. Between the two preteens, her mother and grandmothers Eidel never lacked for attention. She was a happy baby, laughing and smiling all the time.  The child took her first steps in that small apartment in the Warsaw ghetto. Everyone laughed and cheered as she toddled along holding on to the worn threadbare furniture.

It came t
o Fruma’s mind one afternoon as she walked home from the market with a measly small bag of food for the entire family that her sewing services might be of use to those on the other side of the wall. After all, she was a master seamstress and Zofia could embroider better than most. Perhaps there was work they could do, work that would buy them more food on the black market. Everyone knew where to go to find the sellers that dealt in black market goods, everyone except the Judenrats, who were kept in the dark because they were not to be trusted.

Fruma
rounded the corner and ducked into the alleyway. There she saw the young man who everyone knew as Karl Abdenstern. He was making some sort of a deal with another man. She saw Karl pull a vial of something out of his pocket, which was exchanged for a few coins. Once the man took the vial and left Fruma approached.

“You are Karl Abdenstern?”

“Who wants to know?”

“My name is
Fruma Kowolsky. I’m a seamstress. My daughter, Zofia is also. We can do sewing and embroidery very well. We will work cheap, anything is better than nothing is.  Is there any call for such things outside the ghetto?”

Karl looked at the woman. He felt sorry for her. Although he’d never looked into the sale
of such services, he could do so the next time he went to the other side.

“I don’t know. I can look into it.” Karl said.

“You will? Please. Of course, I would expect you to take a cut.  I understand that everyone must make a living.”Fruma said.

“Where can I find you?” Karl asked.

“I will come back if you tell me when to be here.”

“Come the day after tomorrow and I will have some information for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I am not sure that I can get you any work, but I will try.” He said, his eyes scanning the old woman, she was painfully thin.

“I am grateful that you should even try.” Fruma said.

Karl gazed at
Fruma who began to walk away. “Wait.” He said pulling a hard piece of bread out of his coat pocket. “Here, it’s not much, but take this.” Karl handed her the food.

“Are you sure?”
Fruma said.

“
Yes, take it please.” Karl was suddenly embarrassed.

“Thank you, thank you so much.”

Karl nodded. “It’s alright. I’ll find out what I can.”

Fruma
nodded her head, and left. As she walked home, she was excited. It was a large heavy roll made of dark grainy bread. She would share it with Gitel and Zofia.

Chapter
28

There was work! Karl said he would bring them work. The Polish who he exchanged with were willing to use their services as long as the work was done cheaply, more cheaply than any seamstress would charge outside the wall.

Z
ofia was thrilled. It was good to have work. She and Fruma were busy all day long. Gitel took care of Eidel until the young girls returned from school when they happily took over the job. Mrs. Gurstein prepared the evening meal, while Mr. Gurstein went out and did whatever work he was able to find. Karl Abdenstern brought fabrics to be embroidered, pearls to be sewn on, carefully and individually, hems to be taken up, and various other tasks. The pay was not even half of what they earned when they had the shop, but it was enough to help buy some small extras, like a bar of soap, and some food, although there was barely enough for the three of them, Fruma, Gitel, and Zofia talked among themselves and decided to share with the Gursteins. Things were better than they were before.

One afternoon as Z
ofia returned from the bakery, Koppel Bergman a well-known Judenrat walked over to her. She had noticed that he watched her come and go through the market for the past month. Zofia took him to be about thirty years old. He was tall, with an arrogance about him, pleasant even features, dark deep set eyes and straight dark hair combed away from his face. His clothes fit his slender frame and it was obvious to Zofia that he thought himself a ladies’ man.  Most women probably fell at his feet, and why not. He was a Judendrat. That meant he had access to better food, more quantity, and he could offer safety. After all, he was one of those with the power to decide who was to be selected for the next train to the work camp.

“Hello.” Koppel said smiling. “I’m Koppel Bergman
, I don’t think we’ve ever formally met.”

“Hello.” Z
ofia said walking more quickly

“Wait, what’s your hurry?
You haven’t even told me your name. That’s rude.”

“I
’m sorry. My name is Zofia. But I have to get home.” She kept walking.

“I’m sure you could spare a few minutes. If you would like, I could
offer a pastry and a cup of coffee if you would like to share them with me.”

Dear God, she was hungry. The idea
of a sweet pastry and a cup of coffee made her mouth water. But it was dangerous to become too involved with this man. Better to stay out of his way. “No, I’m sorry. I really must go.”

“Wait, just a minute, slow down, you’re practically runni
ng. I only want to talk to you.” Koppel said.
 

Z
ofia was afraid. Best not anger him. She stopped.

“
There you go. Now we can talk. Would you like to go with me and have that pastry?”

“I’m sorry. I would like to, but I have to get home.”

“It will only take a few minutes. I promise you it is delicious.”

“All right then.”

“I knew you would see reason, come on follow me.” He smiled.

Even as she followed him, Z
ofia felt uncomfortable. She wanted to go home but if she did, he would be angry then who knows if he might decide to put her on the next list for the train to the work camp.

They walked for three blocks he
stomping confidently ahead of her, she slowly behind him. When they arrived at his apartment, Zofia felt a sick twitch penetrate her stomach.

“Well, come in. I won’t bi
te you.’ Koppel said, his smile charming as his eyes glanced over her.

She entered. The apartment was
the nicest she’d ever entered inside of the ghetto.

“I live here alone.” He
said, “So make yourself comfortable.” Then Koppel put on a pot of boiling water. The aroma of the coffee filled the room. Zofia felt herself salivating in response. It had been so long since she’d even smelled good quality coffee brewing.  Koppel saw the look on her face and laughed.

“As you can see I have access to the better things in life.”

He took a small plate with three white doughy cookies on it out of the pantry. It was covered with a waxy white paper. He removed the paper and set the dish in front of Zofia

“Go ahead. Enjoy.” Koppel
said.

Z
ofia took one of the cookies and bit into it. It was as if she had never tasted sugar before. All of her senses came alive. She chewed slowly savoring every morsel. But even as she enjoyed the incredible sensations, her thoughts turned to guilt as she thought of Eidel and her family.

“May I take the rest
of these for my daughter?” She could easily have devoured the entire plate’s contents in seconds. And, it took every ounce of restraint for her not to.

“
Of course they are all for you.” Koppel said.

Quickly, feeling like a
thief, Zofia wrapped the cookies in the paper and stuffed them into the pocket of her skirt. Powdered sugar fell onto her black skirt. If she’d been, alone she would have licked it off. Instead, as discreetly as she could, she rubbed her finger into the white powder and brought it to her lips. Closing her eyes, she delighted in the sweet pleasure.

“
They are very good, yes?”

“Yes, thank you, very good.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed them. I can always get more.” He said clearing his throat. “Now, Zofia, that is your name, correct? I have a little proposition for you.”

She
didn’t answer she sat there listening, knowing how vulnerable she was here alone with him, in his apartment. She was constantly aware of his position; of the power, he had to decide who would stay in the ragged safety of the Ghetto and who would be forced to the unknown destinations on the train.

“I can get you work, m
oney, and plenty of food. I know that has to sound good to you.”Koppel said.

Z
ofia nodded. “Yes, of course. I would appreciate any work.” HE must never find out about the work she and Fruma did through the black market.

“You’re young and very pretty. That’s in your favor. And may I be so bold as to say that I
have been watching you and I know that you have a child so you are not unfamiliar to the ways of the world.”