You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Companion Novel) (39 page)

Christa lay in bed,
Katja curled up beside her. The sound of her labored breathing filled the room.

“You have no answer? I tried to telephone
Goebbels. He was in a meeting with Otto Detrich That good for nothing. Do you remember him?”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“He was a bastard. Anyway, the secretary promised Joseph would return my call. But he hasn’t. I’ve been waiting all day. Do you know why he hasn’t? I’ll tell you why, because I am considered bad news. To befriend me is to join the traitors. And of course, Joseph wants no part of that. Why would he?”

Christa shrugged,
too weak to answer, too weak to endure another argument. Christa was recovering from a recent heart attack. She’d spent the previous two weeks in a hospital connected to tubes, worried because she’d been forced to leave Katja in Manfred’s care.

Katja
was too young to tell Christa what happened while she was away. However, since Christa’s return home, she’d noticed that Katja was quiet when Manfred entered a room and she seemed to make an effort to stay out of his way. Christa was afraid that Manfred had been physically violent with the child; it was so easy for him to lose his temper.  Now when Manfred called Katja’s name be it for dinner or otherwise, she trembled and hid under the sheets in her mother’s bed.

“Look at you. You’ve become an invalid. I am ashamed that my wife is a sickly weakling. As if things are not bad enough…”
Manfred stomped around the room speaking more to himself than to Christa.

“I’m sorry Manfred, f
or everything.” Christa said wishing that Zofia were here. She trusted Zofia, cared for her. If Zofia were here, Christa would devise a plan for her to take Katja and run away. It was a matter of time before Germany would be forced to surrender.  When she was born, the doctors had said she would not live long. For a long time she’d refused to believe them. Now she knew it was true.. Her life would be cut short and who would take care of her child. She could not trust Manfred. Oh Zofia, Zofia, where are you?

“
This house is a filthy mess. I’ll have to get another Jewess to help you around here. I hate having them in the house for so many damn reasons. You realize that they cannot be trusted. They steal, they lie, and what hell of a difference does it make? We need one; somebody has to do your work.” Manfred left the room in a huff.

Christa looked away
, and gazed out the window. So long ago, she’d loved this man, loved him with all her heart. It was hard to believe that Manfred was the same man she’d married. What had he become? Where was the shy gently lover she’d fallen in love with? Gone, power hungry and gone forever. Tears trickled down her face.

“Mommy, don’t cry.
Please don’t cry” Katja said. Since Zofia, left Katja had started to call her mother it made her heart ache every time she heard the word. Oh how she had once longed to hear that very word. Now she felt as if she’d made a mistake taking a child she would never live to raise.

“I’m alright.” Christa managed a smile
and ran her hand over Katja’s head. “Why don’t you go and get your baby doll and we can give her a bottle? I’ll bet she’s hungry. I can tell. ”

“I think you’re right.
I’ll be right back. It is time for her dinner.”

“Yes, it is…” Christa said using all the
effort, she could muster to hoist her body up and to sit up in bed. Even though she was tired, she would play with Katja. The child had no one else.

The phone rang. Christa saw
Katja jump at the loud sound. Something has terrified her. Oh Manfred, what did you do? Did you hit this little girl in my place? Please God, let it not be true.

Katja returned with her doll tucked under her arm.

“You were right Mama. She told me she was very hungry.”

“Well, let’s not keep her waiting then. Let’s feed her.”

About a half
hour, later Manfred brought bread, cheese, and fruit to Christa and Katja on a tray along with a tall decanter of water.  He set it down in front of his wife.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be so harsh with you.” Manfred said.

“Thank you for bringing our dinner.” Christa answered, tears filling her eyes again. Sometimes Manfred would do something so kind and it would touch her so deeply. Katja curled into her mother’s side.

“I have excellent news.
Goebbels called.” Manfred said.

“Oh? What did he say?”

“He wants me to come to Berlin. There is to be a meeting in Hitler’s bunker. I am invited. Maybe this curse is finally lifting. Maybe I will finally be forgiven. I am elated right now.”

“When must you leave
?”

“Next week. I will have a Jewess here to help you
with everything. I’ll see to it before I leave.”

Chapter
60

The new woman Manfred found to take Zofia’s place turned out to be nothing like Zofia. She was pretty enough, and he thought she would make a fine substitute for his needs. But, Manfred could see that she just didn’t have the compassion for the child or his wife that Zofia had shown.  In fact, if he’d had time before his trip to Berlin, he would have sent her off to the gas chamber and gotten another one. But he was in a hurry. His mind focused on Berlin and the meeting.

Manfred packed carefully. In the morning he’d be on his way, perhaps this would turn out to be the road back to the life he’d cherished. What wouldn’t he give to be away from the camps? The smells
of blood, feces, sickness, vomit, and death haunted him. The looks on the faces of the prisoners tormented him at night robbing him of his much-needed rest. Often he’d awaken feeling that he was face to face with God and forced to answer for his actions. His body bathed in sweat.  Even so, the strange thing was, that somehow, as much as he loathed the prisoners and all they stood for, he’d come to enjoy the power to thrive on it, the knowledge that he was God to the poor souls who worked under his command. At any time, he might chose to end their lives. Or, should he feel benevolent he might hand them a crust of bread. All in his hands, ultimately weather they lived or died depended upon little more than his mood. Sometimes the depth of his power could send him into a state of ecstasy. At other instances, all of the decisions forced upon him were nothing but annoyances.  It was a strange mixture of emotions; he felt that was for sure.

“Behave yourself.” Manfred told the Jewess
as he carried his luggage to the door. “If I return and my wife has any complaints about you, I will see to it that you are made to be very sorry. There will be a guard watching your every move, so I suggest you do as you’re told. Do you understand me?”

The young woman nodded her head.

Manfred lifted her chin squeezing tightly to make his point “Answer me when I talk to you.” His voice was soft and controlled but the underlying threat was very present.

“Yes,
Arbeitsführer I understand.” She said.

“Good, then we should
have no problems.”

Manfred peered into Christa’s room. The sun had just begun to rise. Christa lay in bed with
Katja beside her, with her arms wrapped around the child. Manfred gazed at the little one. How pretty she’d grown to be, her blond curls lying across Christa’s arm, her thumb in her mouth, such a beautiful child.  Christa on the other hand was withering away. Manfred felt a pain in his chest as he looked at his wife. Once they’d been so happy. Once they’d been so in love. He wanted to go to her and leave her with a tender kiss, but something inside of him would not allow him to. He stood for several moments just gazing at the woman who still, somehow, after all they’d been through, held his heart in her hand If only he could tell her. But, he could not let her know, why? He could not forgive her father. He could not forgive her. There were no clear-cut answers, only a million questions. If, no not if, when she died, he knew he would be devastated, yet, she had no idea. Somewhere he’d lost himself.

Manfred hung his head, then lifted his suitcase and headed outside where the driver was waiting.

Chapter 61

Three days later Manfred was on his way to meet with Goebbels at a pub a few blocks away from the office of the ministry of propaganda. Although he had a car at his disposal, Manfred chose to walk. He needed the time to sort out his thoughts.  As he meandered down the familiar streets, the emptiness that constantly plagued him felt like a black hole growing deeper in the pit of his chest. Even thought Christa was still his life and the only woman he’d ever loved, he could not find a way forgive her. His resentment for her father and they she’d taken his side, had swallowed their marriage, leaving nothing but an empty shell. If only visions of her father’s execution didn’t come to mind every time, he looked at her.  If only he could take her in his arms the way he used to and tell her how much she meant to him. “Christa, Christa, it was all for you.” He found himself speaking aloud “Everything was for you, and now I am buried. I’ve tasted power, and once I did, it became an addiction that I could not live without. Then, it was wonderful to find acceptance. I’d never had that as a boy, but Goebbels gave that to me. I became someone, someone important. Can’t you see, Christa? Your father stole that from me, and now every day I am fighting to regain what I’ve lost. Without the party I am nothing, I am no one. I am just the old Manfred, weak, helpless, pathetic. Nothing more than a small-uncoordinated little boy in the back of the room at the meeting of the Hitler Jugend, hearing the others laugh at me, when they chose their teams. Always knowing I would never be chosen.  You know at night, sometimes I awaken and I can still hear the laughter and teasing from the other children. Those boys, those naturally gifted athletes would never have believed how far I’ve come. They would never have thought that Manfred Blau would be married to the beautiful and popular Christa Henkener. And how I loved you, Christa, how I still do…” Quickly he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his eyes. How silly for him to be walking alone, and crying. He forced his shoulders back, he wore the uniform of the SS he must look a fool should anyone be watching.

Still, his mind drifted to his wife.
At any time, it could all end. Christa was dying and he could not save her. When he considered her death pangs of anxiety tore like the blade of a knife at his insides. I am going mad, he thought.  I must get control of myself and quickly. He took a deep breath, inhaling the fresh air. I am so haunted he thought, and then the thought about the upcoming meeting. What if this meeting meant the end of his work for the Nazi party, perhaps they meant to discharge him of his duties? One could never be sure where they stood or what the Nazi’s might do. The very idea terrified him. Had someone begun to realize that he was not the powerful man he pretended to be? Did they know he was a fake that he was not really strong at all? In fact, every day he hid behind his uniform.

Every day.

The child, he thought about Katja.  That child had never had the chance to touch his heart or to mean a great deal to him. It wasn’t Katja’s fault, but she’d arrived in their lives just as things had turned. When he’d agreed to adopt a baby, it had been more for Christa and Himmler’s approval than for his own needs. Perhaps if things had gone differently he might have come to care about the little girl. But as it stood, she was little more than a burden and he had to stifle the desire to hit her when she interrupted his thoughts or his work. When Christa had been in the hospital, he’d been overwhelmed with worry, and work, leaving him tense and unable to control himself. He’d beaten Katja. Then he felt terrible. Manfred knew that both his wife and child feared him, and it saddened him in many ways. In fact, he knew that all the prisoners took great care to stay clear of his flare-ups of anger. And then, there was that girl, that Jewess, Zofia. Those dark brooding eyes of hers came to him in dreams haunting and taunting him. She epitomized the guilt he felt for all he’d done to her people. But how could he feel so guilty and yet still need the feeling of power that he held over the starving Jews that worked under him.  When he thought of them, the smell of dirt and disease they brought to mind, the look of their sunken eyes and emaciated bodies sickened him. He longed to be away from the camp away from them. And yet, if he were he would never have that God like feeling that burned within him when he decided who would live and who would die.

As he appro
ached the tavern, he took a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Manfred,” Joseph
Goebbels called to him from the back of the room. “come over here, it’s been a very long time.’

Manfred headed to the table where
Goebbels sat.

“Heil Hitler.”

“Heil Hitler,” Goebbels said. “You’ve lost some weight, Manfred.”

Manfred thought
of how difficult the smells at the camp made it for him to eat.

“Yes, I have. You’re looking well, sir.” Manfred lied. Dr.
Goebbels looked strained. He’d always been skeletal thin, but now his clothes hung on him.

“We have much to discuss, but not here
there are too many people around and with times as they are you just cannot be sure who you can trust. Let me pay this check and we can be on our way.”