You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Companion Novel) (19 page)

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Z
ofia said her voice cracking like ice cycles falling from tree branches.

“Well, there are a lot
of men here who would give up their food rations, money too, for an afternoon of badly needed release. Do you understand?”

She understood,
of course she understood. Zofia coughed, and cleared her throat, stifling the desire to slap his pretty face, to see her hand print on that perfect chiseled cheek.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t. It’s just not something I could
ever do.”

“So many women are doing what they have to do
in order to survive, this would be an easy way for you to get the things you need, and what is the big problem? It’s really nothing, just a few hours doing what you’ve done before.”

“I’m sorry, I’m very sorry.” Z
ofia said getting up and heading for the door. It felt as if a lump had formed in her throat and she couldn’t swallow.

“Wait…” He said again.

She stopped only because she knew she must. It was danger to offend him.

“I understand…” he smiled at her. It was a
wide-open smile, but she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “I like you Zofia; I’m not going to hold it against you that you have so arrogantly refused my kind offer.  Instead, I am going to assume that you are a decent girl and instead of being offended, I am going to ask you if you would like to see me again.”

She would like never to see him again.

“Of course I would, but I am so busy with my daughter that I don’t have much time for socializing.”

“Well, you realize that it could be arranged for your daughter to be on the next transport. Then you would have time, right?”
He put his finger up to his lips.

She felt her
knees buckle. He could do it. It was in his power. Here was a Jew as bad as a Nazi. Tears welled up in her eyes.

“
Please, don’t do that, I will see you again. I will arrange whatever must be arranged in order to see you. Just please leave my child alone.” Zofia said.

“I thought you would see reason. I know where you live. I will come by to get you tomorrow night.
We can have a nice evening together.” Koppel said.

Z
ofia nodded and left. A cold wind blew as she walked towards home. Without thinking, she put her hand in the breast pocket of her blouse and felt the cookies.  She took them out and put them into the bag that she’d gotten when she went to the bakery before her confrontation with Koppel. Tears attacked her eyes. She could not tell Fruma or Gitel what was going on or they would force her to refuse Koppel and then what? Worse yet, if Karl, the man from the black market found out that she was keeping company with a Judenrat he would stay away from the whole family. And then she and Fruma would not have any work. All the way home, she agonized, until she decided that she must tell Fruma and Gitel everything. There was no other way, they in turn must explain to Karl. This was not her doing, but if she dared to refuse Koppel, the consequences were far more than she was willing to pay.

When Z
ofia arrived at the apartment, put the bag on the kitchen table and took off her coat. Fruma was sitting at the sewing machine looking at her strangely.

“Where have you been, you’ve been gone over an hour. We were afraid that something happened to you.”
Fruma said her voice stern.

“I need to talk to you and to Gitel. Is anyone else at home?”

“No the young girls are at school, and both of their parents have found some day labor for the week. What is it, Zofia? You are as white as a winter storm.”

“
Fruma…” She burst into tears realizing how vulnerable she was. “Do you know who Koppel is?”

“Stop crying, I can hardly understand you.”
Fruma said her voice still stern, but her eyes kind.  As she got up from the machine, Fruma stretched letting out a gasp from the pain of constant sitting. Then Fruma walked over and put her arms around Zofia leading her to the small cot at the side of the room. “Sit down, and take a breath. I’ll get you some water and then we will talk, yes?”

Z
ofia nodded her head. The room was cold. There had been no heat for several days. Fruma took a long piece of wool from the bolts of fabric that were to be used for upcoming jobs and draped it around Zofia’s shoulders like a shawl. Then she got her a glass of water. Zofia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sipped.

“Koppel, you
know him, he is the Judenrat, the young one.”

“Yes, I know who he is. He is a pimp.”

“You know that?”

“
Of course I know that. Everyone knows that.” Fruma said.

“I didn’t.  Maybe I just wasn’t paying attention.” Z
ofia said. “Any way, he tried to recruit me for his prostitution ring. When I refused, he decided that he would like to see me socially.”

Fruma
shook her head. “No, don’t do it.”

“I have to. He threatened to have Eidel taken away. He has the power to do that. I have to
do it. I can’t put Eidel in danger. She is child, my life. I love her.” Zofia began to weep in powerful gusts of pain and anguish.

“I know I love her too.”
Fruma said patting Zofia’s back as if she were a little girl.

“I must do as he says. I must or he will do something terrible to us. He can.”

“And, he is a Jew. He believes that the Nazi’s are his friends, stupid fool. What he doesn’t realize is that one day the Nazi’s will turn on him and he will end up in worse shape than all the rest of us.” Fruma’s eyes had a glazed over look. Zofia had seen this before it happened when Fruma was seeing visions of the future.

Both women sat quietly for several minutes and watched Eidel asleep in the dres
ser drawer that Gitel had made into a cradle.

“Do you think he would actually do it?
Do you think he is really that cruel?” Zofia said.

“Yes.”
Fruma said, he voice broken. “Zofia, we must do something. We cannot put Eidel’s safety in Koppel’s hands. IF he should decide for any reason that he wants to take her, God Forbid. Well… he will. ”

Z
ofia swallowed hard. She tried to speak and at first, she couldn’t. Then in a whisper, she asked. “So what can we do, if we try to escape they will find all of us and Eidel will suffer anyway.”

“My plan is not a pleasant one. I am sorry to suggest this, but…I think we should have
Karl that man from the black market, find Helen, and ask Helen to take Eidel, to keep her as her own until we can get out of here. She can tell everyone that Eidel is hers. Helen has a good heart she would do it. She would help us. I know she would. Eidel is blond, she doesn’t look Jewish.” This may be our little one’s only chance.

Z
ofia could not speak. Give Eidel up? Send her away? Dear God, my child, my precious child, but if Zofia refused, then she would put Eidel at risk. This way, no matter what happens Eidel would be safe.  Was it really a choice? Again, she looked at the baby asleep, her tiny thumb in her mouth, and the brush of her soft eyelashes against her pale skin, the sweet smell of her essence when Zofia held her close, Eidel, gone, for now…maybe forever. But, at least Eidel would live. She, Zofia, might not see her daughter grow up, get married, have children. But Eidel would have this chance. She would live. She would be away from the ghetto with its constant threat of disease and starvation. In a Gentile home Eidel would be safe from the cold, from the ghetto, and from Koppel. Eidel, my life, my child.

“Tell Karl to contact Helen the next time he goes outside the ghetto. Tell him
to ask her if she is willing to take Eidel.  We will pay him for his help.” Zofia said.

Christa Blau had come to enjoy the life style she and Manfred shared. Every week he remembered to bring her roses, he scooped them up from the street vendor on his way home from the office. When he entered their home, he never forgot to kiss her, and tell her how beautiful she looked.   The Nazi party saw to it that they had a lovely two-story house that was made of sturdy white brick, with a flower garden surrounding the front entrance.   In fact, the house already exquisitely furnished when they moved in, with stylish pieces of well-made furniture and real artwork. She never questioned where these things came from. When Goebbels offered gifts to the Blau’s, Christa smiled and thanked him for his extreme generosity. She and Manfred had come to know the Goebbels family quite well, after several dinners at their home. The Blau’s reciprocating the invitation as soon as they moved into their home.  At least once a month Manfred and Christa attended elegant parties where she was entertained with bright and witty conversation by some of Hitler’s elite. These charming men in pressed black uniforms complimented her shimmering blond hair and athletic figure.  Twice she had also been a dinner guest at an affair given to honor the fuehrer himself. In fact, she’d been introduced to Adolf Hitler and he’d complimented her on her remarkable Aryan beauty. She’d blushed with pride. Everyone they met always told Manfred he had a perfect German wife. It was an ideal life, a life of luxury friendships, acceptance, and beauty. However, there was one small glitch. No matter how hard the couple tried, Christa did not conceive. They increased the frequency of their attempts, but still, Christa’s menstrual blood came on time every month and she remained not pregnant. It was obvious that Goebbels was disappointed. He made occasional snide comments to Manfred and even mentioned it to Christa.  Then one night at a dinner, when she spoke with Heinrich Himmler he seemed surprised that she and Manfred had been married over a year and she was still not with child. It happened at a gala, a rally of sorts, at the Nazi Headquarters in Nuremburg.  Goebbels and his wife shared a hotel room down the hall from Manfred and Christa who Dr. Goebbels had invited as his guests.  The night they met Himmler, they attended a dinner in a room that was decorated with banners, flags, and photos of the fuehrer. Just by the décor Manfred, could see that Goebbels had a hand in the celebration. A crystal chandelier twinkled like stars in the dimly lit room each table had a centerpiece of a silver candelabra with a large swastika in its center. The band played traditional German tunes and music from Wagner’s opera’s. Since his association with Goebbels and the party, Manfred had become a reasonably good dancer. He’d developed charm, which he used when cavorting with his superiors. They liked him. He, unlike some of the others who were ungrateful, showed a genuine love and respect for the Nazi party and even more importantly, a willingness to do whatever was necessary to bring the dream of a thousand year Reich to reality.  Manfred was clever, any distaste he might have towards an idea or program was well hidden. Whatever his superiors proposed, was golden to him.

After several
dances, the bandleader announced that dinner was served.

Manfred and Christa took their seats. Although they were not at the head table, they were close enough for
Goebbels to wink and smile at Manfred who returned the gesture. After dinner, the band began to play and almost everyone got up to dance. Himmler walked over to the table where the Blau’s had been sitting. Although he was not a handsome man, his black uniform fit him impeccably and his shoes were shined to where they reflected the light.

“May I be so bold as to request this dance with your wife
, Manfred?”

“But
of course, if Christa doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all, I am honored,
Reichsführer.” Christa said to Himmler, as her blue eyes glistening in the candlelight that illumined her ivory skin.

It was a waltz. As they whirled around the
room, Himmler directed his complete attention to Christa.

“You dance beautifully.” He said.
“Thank you.” She blushed.

“I don’t know how to address this with you, however, please don’t be
offended.”

She did not answer. She waited.

“Dr. Goebbels has spoken to me about you and Manfred wanting to have children. And of course, we, the party, want that more than anything does. Because we need more good Aryan children, it is very important to our growth as a nation.”

“We can’t seem to have children. I don’t know why.”

“Well, may I make a suggestion?” He said, “Not to be bold or rude…”

“Yes, please do,
Reichsführer.”

“Have you considered adopting a child from the Lebensborn?” He asked.

“I’ve never thought about it.”

“There are many beautiful blond haired blue eyed children waiting to be adopted by a fine Aryan couple just like you two.”

“Really? What would we have to do in order to adopt?”

“Actually nothing, t
he truth is that you and Manfred are perfect candidates. In fact I would bet that you might even find one of the babies that looks so much like you, you would forget it was not your own.”

“Oh,
Reichsführer, my arms have ached for a child. I would be so grateful if you could help us.” She said.

His hand moved a little lower on her back
as he pulled her a little closer to him.