You Are My Sunshine: A Novel Of The Holocaust (All My Love Detrick Companion Novel) (48 page)

“Zuckerman, Isaac.   Isaac Zuckerman.” Zofia’s voice cracked.

“Let’s see what we have.” 

“Please, may I look too?” Zofia asked

“Sure.” The woman said, her accent clearly American.
She handed Zofia a pile of papers.

Z
ofia scanned the lists of names.. For the most part, they were written in English making them difficult for her to read. Still, she had to try. And sadly, she recognized the word ‘deceased’ even in English, written over and over again next to most of the names.

“I’m sorry I don’t see any Isaac Zuckerman. But you can feel free to check back tomorrow.”

Zofia nodded defeated. She turned to walk away. Then she got an idea.

“Missus?”
Zofia said.

“Yes” The American volunteer answered.

“Can I help you here at this desk? I can read in Polish, and also a little bit of English.  Perhaps, I can help with the language when you have Polish refugees come through this line.” Zofia said.

“We are not paid.”

“That’s alright. I want to help. And who knows. My, Isaac may come through here to register.”

“Yes, it’s very possible that he might. If you want to help, you are welcome to. We are closing this booth for the night in a few minutes. But, come in the morning if you would like. We could certainly use the extra
manpower. I warn you though; it’s demanding and heart breaking work.”

“I’ll be here.” Z
ofia said.

And she was.

Chapter 78

Zofia worked tirelessly, she put her heart and soul into helping with a determination and understanding for the survivors that the American’s and the British could not match. They tried, but they could not ever really comprehend the horrors forced upon these people. Zofia knew them first hand.

She rose early to begin her work and did not rest until well after sun down. She ate at the
registration table, not leaving to take a break. This gave her purpose and more importantly, it gave her hope. She planned to continue volunteering, but first she must find a ride to Warsaw. It was time to go to Eidel.

“Please” Z
ofia said to the young nurse, Marion who worked with the Red Cross, and who’d been kind and befriended her. “If you know of anyone who is going to Warsaw, I must go there. Not to stay, but to see someone.”

“Oh honey, I doubt anyone you knew is still in Warsaw. I’m so sorry
to have to tell you that.”

“N
o you are wrong, she is there. It is my daughter. She was living as a gentile with a gentile family. They were protecting her, caring for her, God Bless them, until I could return.”

“Hmmm that does make a difference. She just might be there
in Warsaw. Let me see if any of the fellas are going that way. If they are you could go along with them.”

“I would like
to find Eidel and then bring her back here with me. I want to stay here at the camp and do what I can to help others find their lost loved ones, for a while anyway, until all of this is settled. And maybe with God’s help my Isaac will show up.”

The nurse nodded.
The humanity Zofia saw in Marion’s eyes made her look away. It was hard to face such kindness without tears.

“Very well, give me a day or two and I’ll find you a soldier headed that way. And we’ll see if we can’t get you a ride back here with y
our daughter when your all done in Warsaw” Marion smiled and winked. Then she walked away.

“Next.” Z
ofia said aloud. She was speaking to the people waiting in line. A boy of fifteen covered in filth wearing a ragged torn stripped uniform, walked forward.

“Please ma
’am,” he said in broken English “I look for my parents. Their names are Gretchen and Hymie Mikelsky. Also, you can please add my name to the list of people searching for their families. My name is Yankel Mikelsky.” Tears threatened to fall from his eyes “You can help, please?”

“You speak polish?” Z
ofia asked in Polish.

“Yes.” He answered.
“I am good for speaking Polish. I am born in Lodz.”

Z
ofia nodded answering in Polish. “I’ll do what I can. Let me check the lists.” She began to scan for The Mikelskys.

Chapter
79

The following week Marion the nurse, with her pressed white uniform, blond finger waves and perky little hat approached Zofia as she sat at her table. “I’ve got great news. Two of the fella’s are going to Warsaw next week. They’ll be there for the day, and then they’ll be heading right back here. That would be a perfect opportunity for you to go and get your little girl.” Marion had a pretty, smile with perfect white teeth. Her eyes twinkled like stars.

“Oh, that’s wonderful news, Missus Marion. I am so happy. I will finally see my Eidel. I cannot thank you enough for arranging this for me.”
Zofia said in her broken English

“Would you like to bring your boyfriend along with you?”

“My boyfriend?” Zofia looked at her confused. “Oh you mean Shlomie. He is not my boyfriend, just a very good friend. But, yes, if it is possible I would like him to accompany me. And thank you so much, it is so kind of you to do all of this for me.”

“I’ll arrange everything for you. Z
ofia, you have been such a help to us that this is the least I can do. They are going on Thursday.”

“Just tell me where I should go
to find these men and what I should do, and I will be there on Thursday.” Zofia said.

“I’ll get you all the info.” The young American nurse squeezed Z
ofia’s shoulder. “I wish you the best, in finding your little girl. And I’m glad that I can be of a little assistance, anyway.”

“Oh yes, you are a great help.”

Zofia’s heart leapt with anticipation. It was difficult for her to concentrate. All she could think of was Eidel.  She’d waited for so long and through so much. She’d dreamed, hoped, and prayed for her child. Now, within days Eidel would be in her arms. She asked one of the other volunteers to watch the desk for a few minutes. Zofia had told someone, someone who knew her, someone who would understand. She ran to find Shlomie.

He sat under a tree reading a book. Before she approached
him, she watched from across the path, smiling at how peaceful he looked. Of course, she knew his inner demons continued to haunt him and probably would forever, as her own demons would walk with her for the rest of her life. It was part of surviving this, a part; every survivor would have to learn to accept. Shlomie missed his loved ones, and told her as much. Worse, although they only discussed it briefly, both of them felt tremendous guilt at having survived while so many others had perished.

“Shlomie” Z
ofia called out. He looked up from his book and smiled.  “I have to talk to you.”

“Yes,
of course. Please come and sit down.” He patted the ground

She sat beside him.

“One of the American nurses has arranged for me to go to Warsaw next week to find Eidel and bring her back here. Would you be willing to go with me?”

He took her hand in his “
Of course I will go with you Zofia. I wouldn’t let you do this alone.” His eyes showed genuine concern.

“What is it Shlomie? Why do you look so troubled
all of a sudden?”

“Z
ofia, I don’t think you have given this meeting with Eidel, a great deal of thought.”

“I have, I have thought
of it every minute of every day. Eidel has kept me alive…” Her voice cracked.

He squeezed her hand then patted it.
“Yes, I know that. But, Zofia…you realize that when you last saw her Eidel was just a baby. She isn’t going to know you. It will be hard for her to just get up and leave her family, the family she has come to know and love, and go with you. Zofia, to Eidel you are a stranger.”

Z
ofia stared out in front of her. Shlomie was right. How could she not have realized this? What was she thinking? She would rather die than hurt Eidel. Yet, that was just what she was about to do. Still, how could she not go back and see Helen and Eidel, see how Eidel reacted. Maybe, just maybe, Shlomie was wrong. Never to return to her child, was unthinkable. She must go, she must see. Maybe Eidel had been a burden on Helen’s family and Helen might be glad that Zofia had finally come to claim her. But what if Helen was attached to the child? Zofia’s presence would serve to break up a family. Would it be better for Eidel if she grew up with Helen and her husband? Was it better if Eidel never knew her mother? If she did not return, Helen would assume she had died and their lives would go on. But, what if, Helen was only hanging on and waiting for Zofia’s return? What if she’d told Eidel about her mother? Zofia was filled with questions without answers.

“O
h Shlomie, what am I going to do? I don’t know what to do.”

“Give it some serious thought. If you decide to go
to Warsaw, I will be there at your side to help you.”

“I must go, Shlomie, I must know how Eidel is doing. I must know if she is alive if Helen is alive.  When I get there, and I see things for myself, I will know better what to do.”

Zofia was silent the entire ride to Warsaw. She sat in the back of the open army truck beside Shlomie, her slender shoulders hunched in worry. He held her hand as they moved along with the rhythm of the bumpy road.

“We’ll meet ya’ll back here in four hours.
Now don’t you be late cause we got to be getting back and we just won’t have time to wait for you.” An American soldier with gold stripes on his shoulder told them.

“Yes, thank you.
We will be here on time.” Zofia said. Zofia and Shlomie, both silent, began to walk down the old streets so familiar to Zofia. The streets she’d taken to school strolling beside Lena, young, carefree, and giggling. The same roads she’d meandered along with Fruma and Gitel talking as they pushed Eidel in her buggy to the park. Zofia felt a chill run down her spine as she passed the old bakery where Isaac’s mother had once sold her bread and Hamantaschen, so long ago, so many ghosts.  Now the bakery was a general store owned by a man with a gentile name. Zofia sighed. Isaac, she thought, my love, and my friend, how I miss you, how I wish you were beside me. Zofia let out a small cry of pain, then she looked at Shlomie. “Ever since that man Karl took Eidel out of the ghetto and to Helen’s house in the middle of the night, a day did not go by when I did not think of her.  Sometimes, I wanted to die, I wanted to kill myself and end the misery, but I thought, ‘my Eidel needs me’ and so I fought back the urge to give up. And now, that this is all done and over, I can’t believe how afraid I am to see her. How afraid I am of what lies ahead.”

Shlomie said nothing. He nodded and squeezed Z
ofia’s arm.

The apartment building where Helen lived seemed exactly as Z
ofia remembered it. Somehow, it had gone through the war untouched. Except for a subtle difference, a small change that no one would notice unless of course they were looking for it as Zofia was. As her eyes scanned the bells and mailboxes inside the door, Zofia saw there were no Jewish names of occupants. It was as if Jews had never lived in Poland at all.

They stood in the lobby.
Helen would have to press the buzzer to let them in to the entrance of the building.

Z
ofia could hardly steady her finger to ring the bell under the name “Dobinski.” Her hand was trembling so hard that she needed to use her other hand to hold it firm enough. She pressed the small gray button.

“Yes.” It was Helen’s voice a voice s
o far away so far in the past that Zofia felt her heart pounding in her ears.

“Helen.”

“This is Helen.”

“Helen.” Her voice croaked barley a whisper “Helen, it’s Z
ofia.”

There was a long hesitation.  Then the buzzer rang and Shlomie pulled the door to the apartment buildin
g open. Zofia could not breathe deeply she could only inhale shallow breaths. It was as if her lungs had shrunk and would not allow the intake. Her legs felt like jelly, she was afraid they might collapse beneath her. She was only a few steps away from Eidel. After all this time, after all she’d endured. It she was still alive, (God please let her be alive) Eidel was here, right here in this building.

“The
apartment number is 302. We have to walk up three flights.” Shlomie said.

Z
ofia nodded.

“You remember this place?”

Zofia nodded again, unable to speak. It was strange that even with all the miles that she’d walked and all the hills she’d climbed in the forest, these three flights of stairs seemed like the highest mountain in the entire world.

When they reached the third floor, Z
ofia gasped for breath, and then she smoothed hair and knocked.

An older, less
lighthearted and far less beautiful Helen opened the door. The war had taken its toll on the pretty blond who’d had such a kind and gentle heart.

“
Zofia?” Helen hugged her. “Thank God you are alive.”