YouAreMySunshine

By

RobertaKagan

Allrightsreserved.Nopart of this book maybeusedorreproducedin any mannerwhatsoever withoutwritten permissionfromtheauthor.

The characters andeventsinthisworkarefictitious. Anyresemblance to realpersons, living ordead, is purelycoincidental and notintendedbytheauthor.

YouAreMySunshine

Copyright 2014 byRobertaKagan

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In 1936, Heinrich

Himmler built homes wherewomen of acceptablebloodlines were to be bredwith SS officers. Thesehomes were called “Homesfor theLebensborn.”Womenwho became pregnant out ofwedlock could go to one ofthese establishments andreceivethefinest infoodand

careduringtheirpregnancies,with no stigma attached. Infact, they were honoredbecause they were bearing achild for Hitler, for theFatherland. There was onlyone stipulation. Once thechild was born, if the fatherwas unwilling to raise it, itmust be given over to theHome for the Lebensborn.When a woman entered thehome, she signed papers to

this effect, and the policyforbade mothers from takingtheir children withoutmarriage to an SS officer.These breeding farms werecreated in the hopes ofrepopulatingtheworldwithaperfect Aryan race once theNazis had cleared out all ofthe undesirables, such asJews, Gypsies, Jehovah’sWitnesses, homosexuals, thephysically or mentally

handicapped,andanyoneelseHitlersawfittodestroy.

PrologueSteinhöring, Home for theLebensbornThe Highlands of MunichGermany,1941

Atfirst,shebarelynoticed

the quickening. It came asjustaslightflutterdeepinthemagical cavernofheruterus.Ever so insignificant…but

Helga knew. The time hadarrived. In just a few hours,the baby would enter theworld. With God’s help, thechild would be perfect,because defective babiesnever left the birthing roomalive. Helga didn’t know ofthe euthanasia until she wastoofaralongintotheprogramtoescape.Ashuddertraveleddownherbackasshethoughtabouttheconsequencesofher

actions. When she’d signedthe papers and entered thisplace, she’d been wild withdesperation.Eric,thedashingSS officer,withwhom she’dfallen deeply in love, hadseduced, and thenabandonedher. Pregnant, alone, and tooashamed to go to her family,she’d clung to the hope of awayoutofhersituationwhenthe doctor suggested theLebensborn Institute. It had

seemed the perfect solution,the only solution. At thetime, it had seemed easy.She’dagreedtogivethechildto theLebensborn nursery assoon as it was born. In turn,she would have a place tostayuntilthebirth,andwhenshe left, no one would everknow what had happened.Shewasassuredthatthechildwould receive the finest careuntilalovingfamilychoseto

adoptit.Ofcourse,thefamilymust meet the rigidspecifications of the ThirdReich. Then, in the blink ofan eye, everything changedthe second that she felt thetiny life stir within her. Atthat moment, she realizedhow much she had alreadycome to love her unbornchild. She found herselfrubbingherbellyand talkingto the fetus that nuzzled

inside. Panic set in. Soon,theywouldtakeherbabyandshewouldnever see it again.Neverholditwhenitcried,orcomfort it in sickness. Shewouldnotbe there tosee thelittle one as it took its firststeps or on the first day ofschool.Whowould hold andlove her child? Dear Godwhat have I done? Sherubbed her belly and gazedoutthewindowfromherbed,

watching for the light of thesunrise, but a shroud ofdarkness covered the lushcountryside.Tearsburnedthebacksofhereyes.Forgivemelittle one. I was young andfoolish. Now, it is you whowill pay the price for mymistakes. If I could, I wouldtrademylifeforyoursafety.

Like the runaway trainshe’d boarded, her destinyracedbeforeheratafullclip

now and she could notdisembark.TheNazisdidnotunderstandamother’slove,amother’s needs, a mother’smistake. Dear God, amother’s terrible mistake.She’dtriedtogobackonthecontract that she’d signed,begged them even. “Please,letmego,please letme takemy child. I will give youanything I have, anything atall. Iwillworkandpayback

themoney that it costyou tokeepmehereallthistime,butplease, I am begging you,don’t take my baby.” Shewenttothehighestauthoritiesbut they refused to listen.WhenHimmlercame tovisitthe institute, as he did mostmonths, she pleaded for anaudience. He agreed to seeheralone. She’dgraspedhishand in hers, gripped ittightly, fell toherknees, and

triedtomakehimunderstandhow she felt. Her hearthammeredinherthroatasshebegged, choking on thewords, “Please, take pity onme.”Shegazedupathim,hereyesglisteningwithtearsandhope. Her body trembling asshewaitedforhisanswer.

Himmler listened. Hesmiled as if hewere a fatherexplaining why too muchcandywouldgive someonea

tummyachetoayoungchild,and then patted her shoulderas she wept with her headhungdown.“Thereisnoneedtocry,Helga.Youarehavingthis baby for our cause. Forthe Fatherland,” he said, hisvoicegentle.“Youdidagoodand noble thing. Now, afteryour child is born, if youwant to raise the baby, leavehere and find yourself an SSofficer,getmarried,and then

thetwoofyoucancomebackand adopt your child.You’rea lovely Aryan girl. Youshould have no problemfinding a good man whowouldbehonored tobeyourhusband. Otherwise, youmust do what is best for thechild.Yousee,yourbabywillhave the finest home andfamily. The child will beadoptedbyacouplewhowillraiseitproperlytounderstand

our Aryan ways and ourdoctrine.Thatwillensurethatyour little one will be aperfect leader in the newGermany,andtakeshisorherrightfulplaceasamemberofthesuperiorrace.Youshouldbe very proud, HelgaHaswell. You should bejoyful, not in tears.” Hesmiledandpattedherhead.

She released her grip onhis hand, still on her knees.

Then she fell flat out on thefloor and wept as he walkedoutthedoor.Bastards, all of them.

Helga would never haveanything to do with anotherSS officer. She’d made thatmistake once, before sheknew who the Nazis were,before she realized what aprice she would pay. Goodfor Germany, that’s whateveryone said about Hitler

and his band of murderousmonsters.True,he’dreturnedGermany’spride,butatwhatprice? The price of humansacrifice. This brought backthoughts of her brother,Detrick. How he suffered.Helga knew, everyone knew.DetricklovedtheJewishgirl,Leah.WhenDetrickwasveryyoung, Leah’s father JacobemployedDetrickandofferedhim friendship like a

surrogatefather.Theloveherbrother felt for the girl andher father was painful towitness,becauseHelgaknewher brother suffered everyday for his feelings. Everyhour he was at risk. Shehoped forDetrick’s sake thathe’d broken up therelationship.Thingswouldbeeasieronhim.ButsheknewDetrick, and she knew howhe loved. He could never

walk away, not her brother,notDetrick.

This time the pain shotthrough her back and Helgahad to get up and sit on therocking chair. She mightlaborforhours;itwashardtosay. This was her firstpregnancy and she’d beenwarnedthatitcouldbealonganddifficultprocess.Perhapsshewoulddie.Manywomendied in childbirth. And she

felt that she deserved to die,but then how much painwouldthatbringtoKurt?Heloved her. They had foundeach other right here inHitler’s breeding lair. Kurt’ssister, Hermina, was herroommate. Over time, thecountrygirlhadwonHelga’sfriendship with her honestapproach. And then oneSunday afternoon Helga’sfamily had come to have

lunch with her. Sundaymeals were the time whenfamilycouldcomeandspendtimewith the girls.KurtwasHermina’s brother. At first,HelgahadnointerestinKurt,a mere farmer. But as shecametoknowhim,hisgentlesinceritywon her over. Theybothknewtherules;thebabyshe carried would be leftbehind. When Kurt saw thehurt inside of Helga, he’d

urgedhertotrytoseeiftheycould make the adoption.“Promise them anything,” hetold her. “Tell them we’llraisethebabyasaNazi.Tellthem we’ll follow theirdoctrine. Tell themanything.”Thatwasastretchfor Kurt, Helga knew,becauseKurthatedHitlerandthe entire Third Reich. Oh,howhe’dtried,butintheend,all Kurt could offer Helga

wasalifefilledwithloveandchildrenshecouldkeep,theirchildren. This baby, the onethat lay breathing gentlyunder her heart, this childmustbe sacrificed toHitler’smadness.Whowasthisbaby?Was it a girl or boy? Whatwoulditgrowuptobelike?Kind? Loving? Happy? Ormean and filled with hatredlikealloftheNazis?Woulditgrow up to hate its mother?

Helgafeltshedeserved tobehated,butmostofallwoulditbeloved?Woulditbehappy?Would someone be there tobandage a skinned knee andkissascrapedelbow?God,ifonly she could change whatshehaddone.Asignature,sosmall and insignificant, thatwas all it took to change herlifeforever.

Itwasearlymorningwhenthe labor began in earnest, a

little after four. Her newroommate slept soundly.Onceagain,Helgathoughtofrunning away. But she knewshe didn’t have the courage.If she were going to run itwouldhavehadtohavebeenmuch sooner than now. In afewhours thebabywouldbeborn.

By six a.m., the painsgrew more regular, still nottoostrong.Theyshotthrough

herbackandthengrippedherlower abdomen. At first, thepainswereatleastahalfhourapart,butnowtheyseemedtobe coming every twentyminutes.Shewatchedthesunbegin to rise as a dusting ofsnow,liketinybitsofcotton,fell from the sky.My baby’sbirthday, January fourth. Nomatterwherelifetakesme,onthisdayeveryyearuntilIdie,Iwillthinkofmychild.Iwill

remember, calculate its age,and wonder where life hastaken it. God please, protectmy baby. Watch over mybaby…please.

The housemother foundHelga awake at five minutestoseven.

“You’reinlabor?”“Yes”“For how long do you

labor?”

“Aboutthreehours.”“And your pains? When

theyarecoming?”“Every fifteen minutes

now.”“StayhereIgetabedand

wewheelyou to thedeliveryroom.”

She labored for anotherfive hours, until the painsseemed unbearable, wishinghermotherandKurtcouldbewith her. Then Helga felt a

warm liquid running downherlegs.

“Her water is broke,” thehousemother said as shelooked under Helga’snightdress. “The baby iscrowning.”

Helga lay under a hotwhitelight.Shefeltthesweatdripping down her face. Thepainswereintensenow.

“Don’t push yet,” a nursesaid.“Wait…Notyet.”

AnothernurseputHelga’sfeet up in stirrups. The coldmetal made her shiver, andthe depth of the pain alongwith her nerves brought onnausea.Shegagged.

“Wait…wait…wait…Okay…Now…push, as hardasyoucan.”

Helga pushed. The cordsin her neck and foreheadstood at attention as everymuscle in her body

contracted,tryingtoforcethenewlifeintotheworld.

“Wait…wait…Allright…Now…Again.”

And this went on fornearly an hour before herbodyrippedasthetinyinfantsprung from her loins,coveredinmucusandblood.

Thenursecaughtthebaby.Sheslappedthebottom,andaheartycryfilledtheroom.

“It’s a little girl. She’s

perfect.Beautiful.”Helga breathed a sigh of

relief. Her childwas perfect;itwouldbeallowedtolive.

“CanIholdher,please?”“Itisagainsttherules.”“Please, just for a

moment.Please.”“Yes, okay, just for a

moment.”The naked infant lay in

Helga’s trembling arms.

Helga was exhausted but asshe lookedat the tinyperfectface, the small ears, the littlehands and feet, she felt suchoverwhelming love and sucha desire to protect the childthat she feared shemightgetup and run out of theinstitution in her nightgown.The stirring she felt withinherbreastwaslikenoneshe’dever known. Tears streameddownhersweatycheeks.

“Iloveyou,littleone.AndIamsosorry.”

Thenursesawthebondingbegin and reached for thebaby.

“ItisbestItakeher.Itwillbeeasieronyouifyouspendlesstimewithher.”

“Please let me take herhome. Please. Please let mego from here and take herwith me. She is only onesmall child. How much can

one small little girl mean toHitler? Please, I beg you,please…” Helga felt thesweatdrippingdownherface.

“Now, you know better,Helga,” the nurse said, firmbut sympathetic, and shepried the infant fromHelga’sarms.

“No!”Helga screamed, asthenursehanded thebaby tothe housemother. Thehousemothercarriedthechild

out of the room. As Helgawatched, it felt as if a knifehad torn a hole in her heart.Shehungherheadandwept.

Beforesheknewwhatwashappening, Helga received ashotthatmadehersleep.Andsosheslept.Thehousemotherdelivered the infant to theLebensborn nursery, a roomthat was locked behind aheavy steel door. Althoughshepleaded,Helgawouldnot

see the child again. In aweek’s time, Helga Haswellwould be on her way to herfiancé’s farm inMunich.Formonths to come, she wouldcry, unable to eat or sleep,andKurtwouldholdherandcomfort her, trying to easeher pain and loss. Kurt andHelgawouldmarry.Hewasagood man and a goodhusband. But, her armscontinued to ache with

emptiness for the smallbundle of life she’d held forjust a brief moment, anemptiness that would hauntherfortherestofherlife.Butsomehow, Helga would findthestrengthtogoforwardandbuildafamily.

After spending the firstyear of her life in theLebensborn nursery, Helga’sdaughterwouldbechristenedinaNaziceremonywhereshe

would be given the nameKatja, and be declared readyfor adoption by a suitableNazifamily.

Without the help of hisMinister of Propaganda, Dr.Joseph Goebbels, AdolphHitler could never havegained the popularity heneeded in order to achieveabsolute power. Goebbelswas a master of lies, soconvincing that he was able

to fool an entire nation. Atleastinthebeginning…

Chapter1Berlin,1939

Manfred Blau watched as

ChristaHenkenerwalked outof the double doors of thehigh school. He could nothelp but notice that she hadtheattentionofalloftheboyswhostoodalongtheconcretestairssmokingcigarettes.Her

wavy golden locks bouncedasshedescendedthestaircaseand glittered in the sunshine.Manfred knew better than tobelieve that a girl as popularand lovely as Christa wouldever notice him when shecould have her choice ofathletes.Hewasnothingbutaskinnyartisticboywithabadcomplexion. Andworse yet,his family were poor whilehers was wealthy. Everyone

knew Christa’s father was afamousdoctor.No,shewouldnever want any part of him.Still he continued to gazeafterherasshewalkeddownthe sidewalk on her wayhome.

“What are you lookingat?” Alexander, a tall well-builtsoccerplayerasked.

“Nothing,” Manfredreplied and began walkingaway. He knew if he stuck

around, Alexander’s friendswould be along shortly andhishumiliationwouldbetheirentertainment for the nexthour.

“What’s your hurry?”Alexanderasked.

But Manfred didn’tanswer. Instead, he movedquickly towards home. Hehated himself for the fear hefelt when the otherstormented him. It was not in

hisnaturetostanduptothem.And he despised that weakpart of himself. If only hewere stronger, more athletic,better looking,more popular.Ifonly…thenhemighthavea girlfriend as lovely asChrista.

That night he lay in bedand thought of Christa. Hewould do anything, anythingat all towinher heart. Soon,theywouldgraduate,injusta

month,infact,andshewouldbegonefromhis life.Ifonlythere was a way to make animpressiononher.Ifonly.

ThenManfredgotanidea.Although he had been a

failureintheHitleryouth,hestill planned to join theNaziParty.Hehopedtoapplyforaposition working inpropaganda under Dr.Goebbels.Ofcourse,heknewthiswasapipedream,buthis

drawings were good. And itmade him feel good to thinkthat he might be someoneimportant someday.Even hisart teacher touted theexcellence of his work.Perhaps his skills could beput touse. Ifnot,hewasnotabove making coffee orcleaning, anything at all tofind his way into the Party.From there he just mightmake something of himself.

Whatagloriousfantasy.Andthen…perhaps…and then…hecould lookChristaupandshe might agree to have acoffee with him. Was hedreaming?Hewasadreamer,but nothing can ever beaccomplished without it firstbeingadream.

Allnighthestayedawakeand contemplated thesituation.Themorehegaveitthought, thestronger the idea

became.Nowhehadaplan.For the next month,

Manfred spent every freemoment working. Heillustrated and wrotechildren’s books, stories thathe knew the Party wouldembrace. Stories aboutJewish child molesters andJewish businessmen whostole from the innocentGermans… Stories of Jews

with tails that sacrificedAryaninfantsanddranktheirblood… To him, the storieswere silly. He knew manyJews and they weren’t reallylike this. In fact, he’d had aJewishphysicianwhohehadgrownupreallyliking.Butitdidn’tmatter. Thiswaswhatthe Party wanted. This waswhat he would give them.Having grown up poor andunpopular, in order to

survive,Manfredhadbecomewise, in that he knewinstinctively what it wouldtake towin someone’s favor.He used this knowledgesparingly,butwhenhedid,italways worked. The pictureswere only pictures after all,and the stories, well, juststories.Howcouldtheycauseany real harm? And besides,if this littleendeavorgothima decent job, then he would

havethemoneytobuildalifefor himself and, hopefully,the woman he longed to bewith. Christa. So, he drewand he drew. Pictures ofdistorted-looking Jewishmenwith massive noses, verymuchresembling thepictureshe’d been shown at themeetings of the HitlerJugend. But in his stories,he’d added some frighteningaspects. The old Jew was

offering candy to beautifulblondAryanchildren.Onthenextpage,thestorycontinuedas it became clear the Jewwas luring the unsuspectingchildren to their death. Themessagewasclear:bewareofthe Jewish child molesters.Another book explained howon the Jewish Sabbath, Jewscooked and drank the bloodof Christian babies. Itfeatured a large, fat, Jewish

woman, again with anoversizednose,standingoverakettle,atailprotrudingfromthe back of her dress, whileshe held the body of a tinyblond infant over thecauldron,bloodflowingfromthechild’sbreastintothepot.Manfred drew pictures ofGypsies, filthy and riddenwith vermin, stealing fromlocal markets, laughing astheyranaway.Each storyhe

wrote to accompany theillustrations acted as aterrifying warning tochildren. He made sure theywere filled with thepropaganda he knew hadbecome so popular with theNazi Party. On the otherhand, he also created booksthat praised the Führer,showing how he’d saved theGerman people from thedevastation they’d suffered

aftertheGreatWarm,thelossof which he made sure toblameontheJewishbankers.Knowing that Dr. JosephGoebbels was Minister ofPropaganda, and hoping thatthe time would come whenGoebbelsmightseehiswork,Manfred drew a picture ofGoebbels looking loyal andrighteous standing besideHitler.Goebbelswassmiling.Hitler’s arm was around his

shoulder and at each of theirsides stood a blond Aryanboy and girl, both strong,athletic, and healthy. Thecaption Manfred wrotebeneaththepicturewas,“TheFuture of our Fatherland, aland where the Aryan racecantaketheirrightfulplaceasrulers of the world, a landwithout Jews, Gypsies, andother sub-humans.” And so,this was how he built a

portfolio filled withchildren’s books, all of themperfect examples of theNazidoctrine. Once school wasdone and he’d graduated,Manfred would take thesedrawings to Goebbelshimself. There he wouldexplainhowimportant itwastobegineducatingthemasterraceatayoungage.Manfreddidn’t care one way oranother about Jews,Gypsies,

orotherenemiesoftheReich.What he cared about wasmaking the right impression.Thiswaswhattheywantedtohear.Sothisiswhathewouldtell them. And hopefully hewould be rewarded with ajob, even a small job, and afootinthedoor.

Allthroughthegraduationceremony, Manfred kept hiseyes on Christa. She movedwith such grace; her smile

was so captivating. Hewanted her more thananything in the entire world.His family was poor, hisfather hadn’t worked in adecade and they lived on themoney from his motherssewing jobs, but if someonehad offered him a choicebetweenamilliondollarsandakiss fromChristahewouldhave chosen the latter. Shewasunawareofhim, andyet

shewaswithhiminhismindeverymomentofeveryday.

Manfred would makegood.Hewouldprovethathewas worthy. He had to. Herefusedtolivewithouther.

And so on the firstMonday after graduation,Manfred took the streetcarinto downtown Berlin. Thesun burned bright in a silverblueskyonthatfatefuldayinJune that would change his

life forever. He got off atWilhelmstrasse and walkedalong the well-manicuredstreets until he got to abeautiful old building knownas theLeopoldPalace,whichhoused the offices of thePropaganda ministry. Hishandstrembledasheheldtheportfolioandforaminute,hethought about turning back.But then Christa’s faceappeared before him and he

knewhehadtogoforward.Thepalacewasfilledwith

people running this way andthat hurrying along.Manfred’s voice cracked ashe asked a guard where hemight find the offices of thePropagandaMinistry.Hewasdirected up a flight of stairsandtoldtoturnleft.

A dark brown woodendoorstoodbeforehim.Ittookall of the courage he could

muster to raise his hand andknock.

“Come in.” It was afemalevoice.

Whenheentered,hesawawoman sitting at a desk. Shehadapleasantsmile,notatallintimidating.

“Can I help you?” sheasked, looking him up anddown.

“I would like to speakwithsomeoneaboutajob.”

“Idon’tthinkweneedanyhelprightnow.”

“Please, I need to seesomeone. I have some veryuniqueideashere.”

She was a middle-agedwoman, heavyset, with aruddy complexion and a bunof red,wiry hair spicedwithgraysittingatthebaseofherneck. He thought that shewas looking at him with atwingeofpityinhereyes.

“Allright.Haveaseatandwaithere.Iwillgetsomeonetohelpyou.”

He sat down and rubbedhis hand over the leather ofhis portfolio. They mightlaughhimout of here.Therewas a good chance theywould think him a fool.Manfred considered leaving,but before he could get upand go, a man stood beforehim. He was young and

attractive, dressed in theneatly pressed black uniformof the SS. He remindedManfred of the boys in theHitlerJugendwhoteasedhimforbeingapoorathlete.

“HeilHitler.”“Heil Hitler,” Manfred

answered.“How can I help you?”

The man asked obviouslyalready bored by theconversation.

“I am looking forwork. Ihave a portfolio that I thinkyou might be interested inlookingat.”

“I’msorry.Wedon’tneedany help right now. Youmight want to check backwithusinafewmonths.”TheSS officer turned to leave.He’d seen so many of thesepathetic job seekers comethroughhisdoors.

“I see. But I am about to

graduate from gymnasium. Iwilldoanything,anykindofwork at all. I am a quicklearner. Please, is there anywork that I might qualifyfor?”

“I am truly sorry, but Icannothelpyou.”

Just then, a gaunt manwithdarkwellsformingdeepeggplant colored crevicesbeneath his hawk like eyescame walking by. The

skeletalmanmissed nothing,his eyes shifting around theroom,surveying.Heturnedtolook at Manfred, their eyeslocked and a shudder ranthroughManfred.

Hawk eyes stopped. Hestood, listening to theconversation.

“Fritz, who is this boy?”His face was a death mask,buthistone-of-voicesignifiedauthority.

“He is applying forwork,sir. I told him we have noworkrightnow.”

“I am Dr. JosephGoebbels,” the man said,turningtoManfred.Oh! I never expected to

meetGoebbels!Ishouldhaverun out of here while I hadthechance!

“My name is ManfredBlau. It is a real pleasure tomeetyou,sir.”

“What kind of work didyouhaveinmind?”

“Well sir, I would doanything,anythingatall.ButIthinkIhavearatheruniqueidea and I believe it couldpossibly help our cause. Imean I think it mightstrengthentheFatherland.”

“Hmmm, are you a Partymember?” Dr. Goebbelswatched Manfred as heanswered.

“Not yet sir, I justgraduatedfromgymnasium.Iplan to join immediately. Iwanttobeapartofthisgreatmovement. I can seeGermanyrisingtoherrightfulplace under the direction ofourwonderfulFührer.”

“OfcourseyouwereintheJugend?” Goebbels asked.Although hewas a twig of aman, nevertheless he had anintimidating presence.

Goebbelscouldseeeagernessin Manfred that he’d onceseeninhimself.

“Yes sir. I was. And itwouldbemygreatestwishtowork for the Party, in anyway possible. I want todevote my life to bringingGermany back to thegreatness it deserves.”Manfred enthusiasticallyrepeated the phrase he’dheardsooftenintheJugend.

“Sounds to me like youareontherighttrack,youandI certainly share a commongoal.” Goebbels studiedManfred.“Ihavealittletimetoday. So I will take amomenttoindulgeayouthsointent on helping the Party.”He smiled. “Come, followme to my office, and let’shave a look at your ideas,”Goebbelssaid.

Goebbelslimpeddragging

his leg towards the back ofthe building and Manfredfollowed.

Once they were in theoffice,GoebbelsmotionedforManfredtosit.

“Now,letmeseewhatthisideaisthatyouhave.”

Manfred handed him theportfolio. He could hear theclock tickingoverheadas thedoctor slowly leafed throughhiswork.

“This is very good. Youknow our Führer is anartist… In fact, he is a verygoodone.Butnotasgoodasheisa leader.Asa leaderheisaGod.”

“Yes, sir.” Manfredlooked around the office.PicturesofHitleradornedthewalls.ANazi flag flew fromtheceiling.

“This is very good,”Goebbels repeated, running

his fingers over his lips.“Effective, too. I’d like toinclude these in mypublication. Have you everseen my magazine, “DerAngriff?”

“Yes,sir,Ihave.”“And?”“It’s brilliant, sir,”

Manfred said clearing histhroat.”

“Ifoundedthatperiodical.It is likemybaby,youknow

myspecialcreation.”“Yes,Iamawareofthis.”Goebbelslikedtheboy.In

Manfred, Goebbels sawhimself as a youth. Theyshared willingness to workand an obvious need toovercome the obstacles ofbeing less than an athlete.Neither of them had ever fitin, nor had they beenaccepted by their peers.Goebbels remembered how

he’d suffered at the hands ofhisfellowstudentsduetohiscrippled leg caused by infantparalysis. He wanted to helpManfred, not so muchbecause of Manfred, butbecause Manfred’s successwould be another blow tothose athletic boys who hadbeenbornperfect.

“Would you like to haveyourworkinmymagazine?”

“Oh, yes. It would be a

greathonorsir.”“Hmmm.” Goebbels

noddedashestudiedManfred“Letmemakeyouawarethatit’s highly unusual forme tohireaboyrightoffthestreet.Takehimundermywingandbring him into the Party,especially directly into theSS. You do realize this? Imean this is what you areaskingofme.”Goebbels hadthepowertodothis,totakea

boy, an underachiever, andgive him the uniform, butuntil now, it had beenunheardof. Itwas a rigorousroad to be accepted into theSS, one Goebbels knewManfred could not achievewithout his intervention.Well, why not? That’s whatpower meant wasn’t it? Hewouldtakethisboyandmoldhim.

“Yessir.”Manfredlooked

down at his hands theyweretrembling. He felt the sweattrickle down the back of hisshirt.

“But in many ways,Manfred, you remind me ofmyself,myoldself.ThewayI was at your age. You seemyleg?Iamacripple.Ihadinfant paralysis. So, I knowwhatyouwentthroughinthegymnasium, and in theJugend.Icanseethatyouare

noathlete.”“No,sir,I’mnot.Andthe

othersneverletmeforgetit.”“Ahhh,don’t Iknowhow

thatcanbe?Thoseboyswhoare bornwith perfect bodies,yes,theycanbeterriblycruel.But you are smart. I can seethat by these drawings. Youknow just what the countryneedsrightnow,andjusthowto give it them. In so manyways,youarejustlikeIwas.”

GoebbelslookeddirectlyintoManfred’s eyes “So, sinceyoudon’thavethebody,youhave something better. Youhavethebrain.”

“Yes,sir.”“And I can see by your

cheap suit that you comefrom poverty. I, too, camefrom humble beginnings...However, I was fortunate. Iwas able to attend severaluniversities.Igraduatedfrom

HeidelbergUniversity,withadoctorate in Philosophy. Canyou just imagine the look onthe faces of all those boyswho’d taunted me when Ireturnedhomewithdoctor infront of my name?” Helaughed, and then indicatedthe degree that hung on hiswall beside the picture ofHitler.“ItwasthebestfeelingI’ve ever had in my life.Except, of course, when I

joined the Party and Hitlertookmeunderhiswing.Theway I am going to mentoryou, Manfred.” JosephGoebbels reached over andpatted Manfred’s shoulder.“This,myboy, is your luckyday.”

“Thank you, sir. I willnever be able to thank youenough.”

“However…. If I do this,hireyou,andtakeyouasmy

ownspecialproject,youmustbe sure never to disappointme. Do you understand?”Goebbelssaidsmiling.

“Yes sir. I will never doanythingtodisappointyou.”

Chapter2All the way home on the

streetcar Manfred was inshock. In fact, he was soawestruck he almost missed

his stop. It was hard tobelieve what had justhappened. He, Manfred, thenobody,hadactuallymetandspoken to Joseph Goebbels.And to further escalate hisexcitement Goebbels hadoffered him a job. Ithappened just like he’dimagined it in his daydreamswhen the other boys weremaking fun of him. Exactlytheway he’d planned.Never

before in Manfred’s entirelife had he been showeredwithsuchgoodfortune.

Manfred joined the NaziParty.

On Monday morning, hearrived at the Ministry forPropaganda, bubbling withexcitement. Although heonly had a small desk in theback of the secretarial poolnear the coffee pot, he wasthrilled to be a part of this

large and important divisionof the Nazi Party. After thefirst several days, Manfredrealizedthathisjobwaslittlemore than errand boy, butstill he carried it out as if itwerecrucialtothesurvivalofthe Fatherland. For a month,hebroughtcoffeeandstrudelto the high-ranking officials.He sat quietly in meetings,notvoicinganyopinions,justsupportive of whatever

Goebbels found agreeable. Itwas through his constantperseverance, willingness towork late, and lack ofcomplaint that he won thefavor of the Minister ofPropaganda. And in winningGoebbels’ acceptance,Manfredfound thatGoebbelswas willing to take anotherlook at his portfolio, a moreseriouslook.

When Goebbels ordered

that Manfred’s ideas beincorporated by other artistswho were higher ranking inthe Party to create new andinnovative ways of reachingthe Aryan youth in thecountry, Manfred wasflattered. Although GoebbelsdidnotcreditManfredopenlywith the achievement,Manfred still felt honored tohave come as far as he had.His salary also improved,

along with several perks forhisloyaltytothePartyandtotheSS.

Late that summerManfred’s father had a heartattackanddiedinstantly.ThePartyralliedbehindManfred.The money for the burial,along with all of thenecessary arrangements, wasgenerously taken care of bytheParty.Manfredwasgiventwo weeks off work, with

pay, in order to resituate hismother in the new apartmentthe SS had given them.Although his mother wasgrief stricken, she found thenewflatmorethanluxurious.Theyhadlivedina tenementin the poorer part of Berlin,where children ran aroundoutside the building hungryanddirty.Nowtheylivedinaneighborhood where flowerslined the streets and shady

trees covered the well-maintained lawns. Theirlavishly-furnished new homehadaplushsofa,awell-madetable and chairs, and twobedroomswithlargebedsanddressers.Foodhadoncebeenscarce, but not anymore.Manfred brought home agood salary, more thanenoughforhismothertostopsewing,andhisskinnyframebegantofillout.

Every night beforeManfred fell asleep, histhoughts still drifted toChrista. She was his dreamgirl.Everythinghedid,hedidfor her. Soon he would beready to go and find her, toapproachher, towinher,butnotyet.

By December, Manfredwasmore thanwell liked;hewasapartoftheinnercircle.Goebbels often lunched with

him, just to talk and getthingsoffhischest.Itbecameknown that Manfred kept tohimself, he never gossiped,andsosecretsweresafewithhim.

“Manfred, the Führerhimself is planning a visit toour offices. I am a bitnervous.Iwanttobesureallgoes well. Is there anyonehere that you know of whomightbeatraitor?”

“I haven’t noticedanything like that,” Manfredsaid, although he had. He’dheardothermentalkinginthelunchroom. They’d saidthingsagainstGoebbels,evenagainsttheParty.

“Watch, keep your eyesopen,andlistencarefully.Doyou understand? We mustweed out any enemies inordertobesurethatourworkissecureandsafe.”

“Yes, I will do as youask.”

The moral dilemma ofspying on his colleaguesnever entered Manfred’smind. Up until now, he’dspent his life friendless, anartist alone, scorned by hispeers in school and in theHitlerYouth.Thenwhenhe’dbegun working at theMinistry, most of the otheremployees treated him like a

servant. They had no qualmsabout talking in front of theinsignificant boy who satquietlyeatinghisbratwurstorschnitzelsandwich,ata tablealoneinthecorner.

“And of course the safetyoftheFührerwhenhearrivesmust be taken intoconsideration. So, although Iknow you are not one toramble on about the goingson at the office, you must

keep abreast of everythingand everyone here. Am Imaking myself perfectlyclear,Manfred?”

“Yes, sir, indeed you are,andIwilldoasyouask.Youcan count on me,” Manfredanswered. This was a bigresponsibility, one that hedreaded, but he did see thenecessity for it. It wouldmean that he had to payattention to all of the gossip

that traveled through theworkplace. And Manfredhated social involvement.Hepreferredtobeoffbyhimself.ButifsomethinghappenedtoHitler when he came to theoffices of the Ministry ofPropaganda, all eyes wouldturn to Goebbels. Goebbelshad been good to him.Goebbelswashisonlyfriend,andManfredwouldnotallowthattohappen.

Nobody suspectedanything.Manfredatequietlyas usual sipping his coffee,but now his ears were wideopen. When he heard aderogatory comment aboutthe Party, or Goebbels, orHitler himself, Manfredrushed back to his desk todocumenttheevent,thetime,theplace, theperpetrator.Hecarefully wrote verbatimeverything that he heard.

Thenhefoldedthepaperandhiditunderhisartworkinthedrawerinhisdesk.

OnFridaywhentherestofthe staff left, Manfredknocked on the door toGoebbels’office.

“Yes.”“It’sManfred. I have that

informationyouaskedfor.”“Come in, please,”

Goebbelssaid.“Sitdown.”

Manfred sat, and he tookthe neatly folded papers outof a black artist’s notebookand presented them toGoebbels.

Joseph Goebbels reachedinto his breast pocket. Hetook out his reading glassesandputthemon.

“Hmmm,” Goebbelsgrunted, frowning andnoddinghisheadashebeganto read. “Some are as I

suspected. Others come as asurprise.” He hesitated amoment. “But you,Manfred...You’vedonewell.Keepitup.Iwillget this listto the Gestapo as soon aspossible.Weneedtohaveallofthisinvestigated.”

“What will happen tothese people?” Manfredasked.Itwasaboldquestion,bolderthanhe’deverdaredto

be when speaking with asuperior. But a strange waveof guilt at having been theone to turn them in begangnawingathim,andhehadtoknow.

“Nothing will happen ifthey are innocent, but thecrimes that you accuse themof are treason. That makesthemenemiesofourpreciousFatherland. And that makesthem a danger to all of us.

Therefore, you may feelconfident thatyouhavedonetherightthingforGermany.”Goebbels smiled. “You see,son,we areGermany’s heartandsoul,youandI,andallofthe Aryan race. We mustprotectherfromtreachery,orshe could fall again. Thingscould return to the way thatthey were before our greatFührer brought this countryback to its rightful place in

the world. Do youunderstand? Things mayseem cruel, but they are notcruel.They are necessary forourverysurvival.”

Manfrednoddedhishead.Hedidunderstand.

“And,” Goebbels smiled,“There could be a promotioninyourfuture.”

A promotion, apromotion! Manfred wouldfinallyhavefoundaplacefor

himself intheworld.Perhapshe would be in a positionworthy of a man proposingmarriage to a woman likeChrista. His heart skipped abeat as he walked towardshome, his mind racing. Shedidn’tknowwhohewasbackat school. Itwas not as if hecould just appear at her doorand say, “Hello, would youliketohavedinnerwithme?”Eventhoughhealreadyknew

whereshelived.Howwasheto ever approach her? Allnight he contemplated ideas,but came to no logicalconclusion. Then thefollowing day, and withoutany plan at all, he took thestreetcar to the neighborhoodwhereshelived.Formostoftheday,hesatonabench intheparkacrossthestreetfromher house. He had a bookwithhim,andhehelditopen,

but he never read a word.Instead, he waited to see ifshewouldcomeoutside.Shedidn’t. Manfred waited untilthe sun had gone down anddarkness descended upon thestreets before heading backhome.

“Where have you been?I’ve been worried,”Manfred’s mother said evenbeforehetookhisjacketoff.

“I was out with some

friendsfromwork.”Shenodded.“Idon’tmind

you going. It’s good for youto get out with people yourown age, but please let meknow so I don’tworry aboutyou,all right?”Shewasgladhe had finally made somefriends. Itwas hard towatchhimgrowupassuchalonelychild. But even though shewas pleased, she was also alittle jealous. After all, since

herhusbanddied,hewashersolecompanion.

Again, on Sunday, hewent to the park across thestreet from Christa’s house,watching, waiting, hoping.Not knowing what he mightdo or say if he saw her, butunable to leave. She did notappear.

Monday morning theoffice buzzed with whisperswhen Manfred arrived.

Several people had beenrelieved of their jobs; therewere even rumors of arrests,butnooneknewwhy,noonebutManfred.Apangofguiltshot through him. He’druined their lives, perhapseven sent them to workcamps. He’d heard that thecamps were brutal, peopledied. A shiver ran up hisspine. He was responsible.Shake it off, he told himself.

If hegot soft now,hewouldneverhaveChrista,nevergetthatpromotion,andneverwinthe prize.Hemust not allowthat to happen. Besides, theyprobablywereenemiesoftheReich. They said terriblethings about the Party, aboutGoebbels, about Hitler. He’dheardthemwithhisownears.Thatmeanttheyweretraitors,andiftheywerearrestedthenit was well deserved. He’d

done nothing wrong. In fact,he’dhelpedtoensureHitler’svisit would go off without ahitch. And wouldn’t it havebeen worse if somehow theFührer had been harmed?What would become ofGermany? What wouldbecomeofManfred?

Over the past weekend,Goebbels had ordered thearrest of four of his maleemployees. Those arrests

were carried out by theGestapo.

Fourarrestsmadesofar…The more Manfred kept

hislogoftraitors,theeasieritbecame, and the justificationgrew more and morerighteousinhismind.Forthefirst timeinhis life,Manfredfelt good to be a part ofsomething bigger, somethingmonumental. The party ofAryan rulers meant to save

Germany.By the time the day for

Hitler’sarrivalattheMinistrycame around, six moreemployees had been placedunder arrest. But Manfredwas too caught up in thepreparations to give it muchthought. He must see to theordersofthespecialfoodandhandmade white tableclothswith the swastika insigniaembroidered into their fine

linen fabric. Manfredshellacked the wood of thepodiumthatHitlerwouldusefor his speech until it shinedlike brushed gold. A brandnewNaziflagwaspurchasedand hung on a brass pole,while an oil painting of theFührerwasplacedbehindthepodium.

On the eve of AdolfHitler’s arrival, Manfred andGoebbels surveyed the

conferenceroom.“Once again, you did not

let me down, Manfred.You’re a diamond. Andbecauseyouhavebeensuchahelp, I would like tointroduceyoutoourleader.”

Manfred gasped, he couldhardly speak. “Me?Introduce me to Hitler?Thank you. Truly, thankyou.”

“Behereearlytomorrow.I

want tobe sureeverything isperfect.”

“Ofcourse.”The excitement wafted

throughtheofficelikesmokeafter a huge fire. It wasunavoidable and strongenoughtopenetratethelungs,polluting any clean air thatmightremain.

When Hitler arrived andentered theoffice surroundedby his entourage, a roar of

enthusiasm shook the room.Although Hitler was not alarge man, he commandedattention. It took fiveminutes of him raising hishandsinanefforttoquietthecrowd before he was able tospeak.

Unlike his small stature,Hitler’s voices rang throughthe halls like an entiremarching band. Manfredglancedaroundtoseethatthe

entire group was spellbound.Their faces open, receiving,internalizing everything theFührer said. It felt good tosee a man who was notathletic, and in many waysvery much like himself, sopowerful and adored. Thewomen looked at him withsuch strong desire thatManfred was stunned. Asmile crept over Manfred’sface. This was what he

longed for. Hewould rise inthe Party. He would be avoicetobereckonedwith.

After his speech, Hitler’sbodyguardsescortedhimintothe private conference roomof the Minister ofPropaganda. Only a fewemployees were invited,Manfred was among them.As the diners took theirplaces, Hitler stopped for amoment to admire the lovely

tablecloth, ordered anddesigned by Manfred, whobeamed at the compliment,eventhoughitwasdirectedatDr.Goebbels,andnottohim.

“You’ve done well,Goebbels.”

“Thank you, meinFührer.”

“Andwhoareyou,youngman?”

“I am Manfred Blau,” hereplied.

“Manfred, Blau… Josephtells me that you are quite ahelp to him. In fact, hementioned thatyoudid someoutstanding children’s booksin order to further our cause.The young people are themostimportantcitizensoftheThird Reich. They are thefuture of our Aryan race.Correct?”

“Yes,sir.”“Good. Very good. I saw

someofyourwork,andbeingan art studentmyself, Imustsayitwasquiteimpressive.”

“Thank you. Thank you,sir.”

“We’ll have to keep aneye on you, Manfred Blau,nowwon’twe?”Hitlerplaceda strong hand on Manfred’sshoulder.

The food was delicious,butManfredcouldhardlyeat;hewastooenthralled.Hemet

and spoke to Hitler himself.And Hitler was keeping aneye on him.Manfredwas onhisway,hewasmovingupintheworld.

On Saturday, Manfredwent to the park across thestreet from the Henkeners’home. He took his seat onthe bench and opened thesmallpaperbaghe’dpacked.Taking a bite of the pastryinside,helickedhislips.Life

wassweet.Hewasnolongeranoutcast.Hewasonhiswayto becoming an importantman. His eyes fixed on thelarge cherry wood door ofChrista’s house. Even fromwherehesat,hecouldseethethick gold knocker. Manfredtookadeepbreath.Ittookallof the courage he couldmuster.Thenhestoodupandtossed the bag and itscontents into a trash can.

Wiping his hands together tobe sure that there was notrace of powdered sugar, hestraightened his suit and tieandwalkedovertothehousewhere the woman of hisdesireslived.

OnceManfredknockedonthedoor,hewassorryhehad.His nerves and feelings ofinferiority returned. Hewanted to run away; hewishedhe’dbrought flowers.

A million thoughts ranthroughhismind.But beforehe could turn and bolt, thedoor opened. A maid with anavyblueuniformwithwhitelapels and a crisp whiteapron,stoodbeforehim.

“Can I help you sir?” thewomanasked.

Thiswashis only chance.Ifheleftnowhecouldnevercomeback.Hisheart beat sohardthatitseemedtowantto

leap out of his chest. Andthen…there shewas.Christa,beautifulChrista.

“Whoisit,Mary?”Christaaskedthemaid.

“I don’t know. Are youselling something?” themaidcalledMaryaskedhim.

“No,I’mheretoseeyou.”Hecouldnotbelievehisownwords.“Christa.”

“DoIknowyou?”

“Probably not, I was inyour class in school, and Iwas wondering if youwouldlike to have dinner or coffeewithme.”Howclumsy I am,how awkward. He stoodtrembling waiting for heranswer,wishing the concretebeneath his feet wouldswallowhimup.

It took a moment but toManfred it seemed likecenturies.Thena smilecame

over her lovely face. Herbrightblueeyesdanced.

“Yes,”shesaid,“Acoffeewould be nice, how abouttomorrowafternoon?”

“Yes, yes, that would befine. I will be here to pickyouupattwo.Wouldthatbeallright?”

“Yes, perfect.” Shenodded.

“Wellthen…”

“Wellthen…”“I’llseeyoutomorrow.”Sheclosedthedoorandhe

walkedbacktowardsthebus,hisfeetontheground,buthishead dancing in the cloudswith the fairy king and hisentirecourt.

By a quarter to two thenextday,Manfredwaspacingthe sidewalks in front of theHenkenerhome.Inhishands,he carried a bouquet of red

roses and a box of creamfilled chocolates, which hadbeenquitedifficulttoacquire.He felt dizzy in a kind ofdream like state. It was hardto believe that he would bespending time with Christa,the woman he’d wanted aslongashecouldremember,awoman far above his class.Untilnow,thishadbeenonlyafantasy.Butsoonhewouldsit across the table from her

and they would sip coffee.Shewouldspeaktohimwhilehegazedintohercrystalblueeyes.

Manfred knocked on thedoor and waited. Christaanswered instead of theservantgirl.

“Would you like to comein?” She wore a pale bluedressthatbroughtouttherichsky blue of her eyes.As sheopened the door, he saw her

pale pink nail polish and hisheart fluttered. He missednothing. From her slenderankles to her wavy goldenhair,Christawastrulylovely.

“Yes of course,” he said,but he was frightened. He’dnever dated awomanbefore,andhe’dcertainlyneverbeeninside a potential girlfriend’shome, meeting her parents.Manfredwasgladthathewaswearing the impressive black

uniform of the SS. It gavehim an air of sophistication,importance. An importancehedidnotfeel.Afterall,untiljustafewmonthsagohehadbeen an unpopular boy atschool, shunned by themoreattractive athletic students.Forced to spend his timealone,drawingpicturesintheart lab. Well, he bore noresemblance to that boy anymore, at least not on the

outside.Christashowedhimintoa

small sitting room with aplushloveseatandtwochairsupholstered in deep goldvelvet interlaid with huntergreen needlework. The wallswere lined with books, theirleather jackets bringingwarmthtotheroom.

Hehandedherthegifts.“Ibroughtyousomethings,”hesaid, and he felt clumsy,

awkward,again.“Thank you. The flowers

are lovely. And thechocolates…well, they aremy favorite kind. How didyouknow?Andhowdidyouevergetthem?”

He smiled. She had suchpoise,suchgrace.

“I didn’t realize that youwere in the SS.Youweren’twearing your uniformyesterdaywhenyouarrived.”

“No, it was my day offandIwasjusttakingawalk.”

“So you just decided tocomeby?”

“I…yes…Ijustdecidedtocomeby…”

“How did you knowwhere I live? I’m afraid Idon’t even remember youfrom school.”Sheplaced theflowersinavase,butdidnotyetgotothekitchentowaterthem.

“I…well…I’ve alwaysknown,” he stammered,almost wishing he could getup and run out the door. “IguessyoucouldsayI’vehada crush on you for years.”There, he’d said it. Now hefelt even more foolish…vulnerable. His handstrembled as they gripped thesides of the chair.He lookeddown and noticed that hisknuckles had turned white.

Then, quickly, he releasedthem, hoping she didn’t seehownervoushewas.

“I’m flattered.” Shesmiled. Her teeth were likesnow on Christmas morningagainstherlightredlipstick.

She sat down in the chairbeside him. From where hesat he could catch whiffs ofher perfume, notoverpowering, just enough tobeenticing.

“Well,Manfred.Tellmealittleaboutyourself.”

“I am an artist. I workunderDr.Goebbels.”

“Really? That’s ratherimpressive for one soyoung.Haveyouevermethim?”

“I have. I speakwith himallthetime.”

“Do you really?” He sawthat she was impressed. Itgave him strength. “He sortof scares me. He looks so

seriousandstark.”“I suppose he can be, but

hehasalwaysbeenveryniceto me.” Manfred began torelax.

“Why don’t we havecoffeehere?IcanhaveMarybring us a tray, and we canjustsitandtalk.”

“If you prefer,” Manfredsaid.

“Yes, and then perhaps Iwillallowyoutotakemefor

dinner.”Shesmiled.“Mary!”she called, and withinseconds, the womanappeared.

“Yesma’am?”“Can you bring us a tray

with coffee and somesweets?”

“Ofcourse,ma’am.”“So, I suppose you have

seenHitler?”“I’vedinedwithhim.”

“My goodness, you reallyhave made a name foryourself.”

Hesmiled.“My father doesn’t like

the Party. He doesn’t likeHitlerorashecallsthem,hisgoons.” She laughed and tohim it sounded like the ringoftinybells.

Manfred knew this wastreason, but he would keephis mouth shut. With any

luck, this man would be hisfuturefather-in-law.

They sipped black coffee.The pastries were small andbland.Christa apologized forthelackofsugar.“It’shardtocomeby,asyoumustknow.”

“Yes, I know.” He saidand made a mental note tobring some sugar the nexttime he visited. Provisionswere easier to acquire forPartymembers.

The sun began to setcasting a golden light on thetreesandgrass.

“May I be so honored asto take you to dinner?”Manfred asked, not lookingdirectlyather.

“Yes,”sheanswered.“Letmegoandgetmypurse.”

Hehadplentyofcash,andthatfeltgoodforaboywho’dbeen raised in poverty. TheNaziPartywassurelygoodto

him.As they walked towards

the main street, he realizedthathedidn’treallyknowthearea.Itwouldhavebeenwisetodosomeplanning,tolearnthe area, so that he couldsuggestarestaurant.

“I’m sorry. I’m notfamiliar with thisneighborhood.Doyouhaveafavoriteplacetodine?”

“It just so happens I do.”

ShewinkedathimWhenhewalkedherhome

that night, they stood underthe light over her front door.Manfred had never been outwith a girl before. He didn’tknow what to do. He juststood with his hands in hispocketsstaringattheground,feelingfoolish.

“Well, goodnight, andthank you for a wonderfulevening,”hesaid.

“Wait.”Shetookhishandinhersandlookedupintohiseyes.“Wouldyouliketokissmegoodnight?”sheasked.

Wouldhe?Wouldhe?Ofcourse, he would, but he’dneverkissedawomanbefore,and he didn’t know what todo.Justdowhatyou’veseenin movies. He told himself.Taking her into his arms, hepressed his lips on hers.Every nerve in his body and

allofhissensescamealiveina divine dance of heightenedawareness. He took in thesweet fragrance of herperfume,thetasteofherlips.The softness of her cheek asit brushedagainsthis. Imustbe the luckiest man in theworld,hedecided.

Every Saturday night,fromthatdayon,hetookherto dinner, followed by longwalks. They discussed

everything, their favoritefoods, how much they bothenjoyed swimming on a hotsummer day, and their loveforchildrenandanimals.

“Someday, when I marry,I want to have lots ofchildren,”Christasaid.

“Yes, it would we bewonderful to sit at the tableonSundaynights andhaveabigdinner,likearealfamily.”

“Yes, that would be

wonderful.WhenIwaslittle,I used to plead with myparentsforabrotherorsister.But Iwas born sick, andmyfather,beingadoctorandall,didn’t want to risk having ithappenagain.”

“Areyouallright?”“Yes,I’mfinenow.”“I’mglad.Iwouldn’twant

tothinkyouwerenotwell.’She squeezed his upper

arm. “I’m just fine. I still

wishIhadabrotherorsister,though.”

“I felt the same growingup. Itwas lonelygrowingupanonlychild,”Manfredsaid.It was hard to admit howvulnerable he’d been in hisyouth. But he found himselfopeningup inwaysheneverthoughtpossible.

“It’s very strange that wearebothonlychildren.”

“Yes, it is. It is another

thing that we share incommon. And there are somany,”hesaid.

She smiled at him. “Yesthereare…”

They walked through thezoo in the park, holdinghands. It was enough just tobetogether.

Oftenwhenwefallinlovewith someone from afar wefindthatwhenwemeet themand spend time with them

they do not live up to thefantasy we have created ofthem. This was not the casewith Christa. She waseverything and more thatManfred had spent his manyhoursdreamingabout.

What began as a regularSaturday night date grew toinclude a twice-a-weekluncheon.EveryTuesdayandThursday, Christa took thestreetcar into town to meet

Manfredforlunch.Oftentheydined at outdoor cafes, onbratwurst and beer. They satunder an umbrella laughing,talking, and smiling at thelocals who walked by withtheir dogs on leashes.Whenever the flower girlscame by selling flowers onthe street, Manfred alwaysboughtabouquetforChrista.

It was early December,and a light dusting of snow

covered the trees, whenChrista invited Manfred toSunday dinner with herparents.

“I would like my parentsto meet you. They havebegun towonderwhere I amgoing all the time, and justwhatI’vebeenupto.It’stimetheyknew.”Shegazedathimher eyes as warm as honeybutter. “But Manfred…” shehesitated. “I have to ask you

topleasenotbeoffended,butyou mustn’t wear thatuniform when you come. Ithink I’ve mentioned itbefore,but Ihave to tell youagain, my father is a littleskepticalabouttheParty.”

Hereyestoldhimthatshewas unsure of how hemightrespond. She needn’t haveworried. No matter what, hewould not turn on anyonefrom her family. He would

never alert the Gestapo. Ifneed be, he would cover forherfatherhimself,ifitmeantthatherfatherwouldgivehisblessingtotherelationship.

“I will wear streetclothes,”hesaid.“Doesyourfather know what I do for aliving?”

“No, I’ve just told himthat I am keeping companywith someone.Hewas ratherangry that I have not yet

invitedyoutothehouse.”“Iamgladtobeinvitedto

meetyourfamily.”“You know I would have

invitedyousooner,butIwasafraidofwhatyoumight saywhen you found out howstrongly my fatherdisapprovedoftheParty.”

He was quiet for amoment. Then he gingerlytookherhandinhis.Theskinwassofterthananythinghe’d

ever felt. She turned to facehim.

“I believe in the Party,Christa. I believe we aredoing the right thing forGermany and the Germanpeople. But, well…” Hesighed and took a deepbreath.Hereyeswere lockedon his. “I love you.” Therehe’d said it. His voicecracked, but he’d said it.Manfred cleared his throat

“And so I will respect yourfather and his beliefs. I willkeep the secret of how hefeels to ensure his safety…andmostofall,yours.”

OntheFridaynightbeforeManfred met Christa’sfamily, Christa agreed tomeetManfredinthecity.Shewastoarriveathisofficejustastheywereclosing.

“When you come intotownonFridaynight,Iwould

like to take you to a fancydinner and then out dancing.Would you like that?” he’dasked.

“Yes, I would, verymuch,”she’dsaid.

During the week, as theysat having lunch in thelunchroom, Manfred hadaskedallofhiscoworkersfora recommendation as towhere to take Christa.Everyone piped up with a

suggestion. This was animportant night. Manfredwanted to be sure thateverythingwasperfect.

“Oh,thecaféatthecornerisnice.”

“No, that’s not fancyenough,”Manfredsaid.

“How about the nightclubwiththebigstatuesinfront?”

“No, that’s not elegant atall.”Manfredshookhishead

Finally,oneofthewomensuggested, and Manfredagreed upon an expensiverestaurant with a dance floorand complete band right inthecenter.

“Can you waltz,Manfred?” a secretary in theoffice asked. Manfred hadbecome friendly with Lydia.She was an older woman,kind and understanding, andalwayswilling to lendanear

whenManfredwantedtotalk,especiallyaboutChrista.

“Actually, I can. Mymother taught me,” he said.“I am a little nervous,however,becauseIamgoingto askChrista to bemywifetonight.”

“Oh, how very special!Well, she should love therestaurant.”

“I hope so.” Manfred’sfingerscaressedtheboxinhis

jacket pocket. “Would youliketoseetheringIbought?”

“Yes,ofcourse.”Hetooktheboxoutofhis

pocket and pulled the topbacktorevealthering.Itwasdiamond, over a carat. Somuch more than a poor boylikeManfredwouldeverhavebeen able to afford. Before,before he became a part oftheNewGermany, before heclaimed his rightful place in

theworld.“Oh,mygoodness!Thisis

abeautiful ring.Magnificent,really,”Lydiasaid.

“Thank you. She is morethan deserving,” Manfredsaid.

And soChrista came intothe city to meet Manfred athisofficeafterwork.Hesawthe admiration shining in hereyes as he showed her hisdesk.Butwhenheintroduced

hertoGoebbels,shebeamed.Itwas then thatheknewthatshe would accept hisproposal. Christa Henkenerwouldbehiswife.

She linked her arm in hisas they walked a few blocksto the restaurant. Theyentered to find a large roomwithwhite-tablecloth-adornedtablesandadancefloorinthecenter. The waiters worewhite gloves, and the

centerpiecesweremadeupofwild flowers surrounding athick ivory colored candle.Manfred had telephoned therestaurant earlier in the dayand arranged for the band toplayasonganddedicateittoChristaafterdinner.

“Iwillpassanotethroughthe waiter when I am ready.Then youwill announce thatthesongyouareabouttoplayisfromManfredforChrista,”

Manfred had told therestauranthost.Ofcourse,therequest had been receivedwithout a question, onceManfred told thehost thathewas an SS officer workingdirectlyunderDr.Goebbels.

Christalookedlovely.Sheworeadovegreyskirtwithablouse thatmatched her eyesperfectly. In her ears, sheworesmalldiamondsandhergoldenhairwavedbackaway

from her face just enough toshowofftheirsparkle.

“You are very beautiful,”Manfredsaid.

“Thank you.” She smiledher eyes catching the lightfromthecandlesglow.

Although the food wasscrumptious, neither couldeat. There was a tensionbetween them, with him,because he knew, and withher because she sensed

something. Once the dinnerplates had been cleared,Manfred took Christa’s handandledhertothedancefloor.She moved like a butterfly,delicateandagileinhisarms.They danced through twosongs before he escorted herbacktothetable.

Hesatacrossfromherforseveral moments. He didn’tspeak, couldn’t look at her.His face flushed and his

fingers felt as if they werebeingprickedbytinypins.Inhis pocket, he grasped thesmallbox.

“Christa…” hestammered, “I… I…” Thenhe got down on the floor onone knee, “Will you marryme?”

Shetookhishandinhers.With her, other hand sheliftedhisfaceuntil theireyeswerelocked.

“Yes, Manfred, I willmarry you,” she said. A tearfellfromhereyeandlingeredonhercheek.Manfredstood,andhe liftedherupand tookher into his arms. Then hekissedher.

He brought the ring fromhis pocket. “I hope you likeit.”

“Oh,my!It’s lovely,”shesaid.Heputitonherfinger.

“Tomorrow,wemust talk

toyourparents.”“Yes,tomorrow.”Manfred gave the signal

andthebandleaderintroducedthesong.

“This is for Christa, fromManfred,” he said over themicrophone. “It’s called, “IWillLoveYouForever…”

“Oh Manfred, I am sotouched,” Christa said, hereyesshining.

“I will love you forever,Christa…”hesaid.“Iwill.”

ThatnightManfredhardlyslept. He’d won the womanofhisdreams.Christawouldbe his wife. She would bearhis children. And, togetherwith their offspring, theywould go through life in astate of incredible bliss. ThePartywould help him to buya home. He would becomewell known as a man of

power to be respected. Lifewas good and it was in theprocess of getting better.Whatmore could apoorboyfromthewrongsideofBerlinever ask for? He smiled inthe darkness. Manfred hadmadethisallhappen.

Until the Sunday whenManfred arrived toting abottle of fine wine for Dr.Henkener, a box ofchocolates for Mrs.

Henkener, and a largebouquet of red roses forChrista, he had never beenbeyond thesittingroomrightoff the front door in theHenkenerhome.

When he rang the bell,Mary opened the door andshowed him into the livingroom where Christa waitedwith her parents. He’d beencareful towearaciviliansuitas Christa had requested. It

wasmadeofdarkgraywool,well tailored, and had costhim nearly a week’s salary.However, he didn’t care.Christa was worth everypenny. Manfred presentedthemwithhis gifts.Christa’smother smiled and glancedoveratChristaashegaveherthe chocolates. But Dr.Henkener just glared at him.When Manfred handed thephysician thewine, hedidn’t

even thank him. Instead, hejust placed the bottle on thecoffee table as if it were amereafterthought.

“Mother, Father,” Christasaid, “This is Manfred Blau.We have been keepingcompanyforseveralmonths.”Shelookeddownatthefloor.“Hehasaskedformyhandinmarriage. And I haveaccepted. We would likeyourblessing.”

“Oh? You would, wouldyou?” Her father said. “Youknow how I feel about theNazis and how they haveruinedGermany.”

“Father,please.”“You think you can fool

me by wearing that suit? Iknowwhoyouare,andmoreimportantly, what you are.You are one of them, one ofthe murderers. I don’t blessthismarriage,Christa.Notat

all.HeisnotamanIwanttohaveinmyfamily.YouworkforGoebbels,don’tyou?”

Manfred knew he had toconfess.“Yes,sir.Ido.”

“Why?Why do youwantto be part of a hate squad,son?”

“How did you know IworkforGoebbels?”

“I’madoctorinthistown.Iseeandheareverything.Mypatients tell me everything.

You and your cohorts areresponsible formakingmanypeople miserable. Do youhave any idea how thepropaganda you spreadaffects people? Do yourealize what happened onKristallnacht because of allthe nonsense you spew?Peoplewere beaten, tortured,killed. Their businessesweretaken away from them. Doyou realize that the Jewscan

no longer make a livingbecause the Nazis havedecided that it is a crime tobuy anything from a Jewishshop? I have seen doctors,friends of mine, Jewishdoctors, learnedmen, healerswho have spent their liveshelpingothers,nowputoutofwork.Thisisasin.Whatyouare,arelittlemorethanapartof,isasin.”

“Father…” Christa raised

hervoice.“I am not afraid to speak

mymind.Takeme,arrestme.Goahead.Sendmeofftooneof your work camps if youwish.But Iwill tellyou this.These crimes you arecommitting, you and yourNazifriends,theywillnotgounpunished. There is a God.AndIhavenewsforyou,itisnotAdolphHitler.”

Dr. Henkener walked out

of the room. Christa burstintotears.Hermotherwenttoherandtookher inherarms.Manfred sat on the edge ofthesofa,feelingawkwardanduncomfortable.Dr.Henkenerhad hurt his feelings, forcedhimtothinktoomuch.If theman were not Christa’sfather,hewouldturnhimintothe Gestapo today for hiscomments against themightyFührer who Manfred had

come to believe had savedGermany.ButalittlevoiceinManfred’s head said, “If notGermany, well, at least hesavedme.”

“Excuse me…” Manfredsaid. “I must be going.” Hegot up to leave and Christarushedtohisarms.

“Wait. Please, let me goforawalkwithyou.”

Ifhewascorrect,hesawaglint of fear in her eyes.Did

his beloved believe hemightturnherfatherinfortreason?Was she that unsure of hisfeelingsforher?

“Allright,”hesaid.A fresh blanket of snow

covered the sidewalk.Manfred held Christa’s armso that she would not slip,and also because he lovedtouching her, being close toher.

“My father didn’t mean

what he said,” she said astheywalkedtowardsthepark.“He thinks he knows somuch, but he doesn’t reallyunderstand.Forgivehim.”

“Itdoesn’tmatterwhathethinks.Ifyouwillstillbemywife, we will marry withouthisblessing.”

“Of course I will,” shesaid. “Manfred…” Shecleared her throat against thecold. “You won’t report my

father,willyou?”“No, darling, I would

neverdothattoyou.Butyouand your mother must speakwith him. He is far toooutspoken for his own good,and for the good of hisfamily. If he continues tovoice his negative opinions,he will surely be arrested.There are spies everywhere.Hemust learn to be quiet. Ilove you, Christa, and I

would do whatever I couldfor you and your family, butifheiscaughtImaynotbeinapositiontohelphim.”

“I’m afraid for him,Manfred.I’mterriblyafraid.”

“Iknowdarling.Youmustgo to your mother and thetwo of you must make himunderstand. He is not onlyhurtinghimself,butheisalsohurting the both of you.Silencehim.Youmust.”

She nodded wonderinghowshewouldeverreachherstrong-willedfather.

“Now,onahappiernote…let’splanawedding,”hesaid,gentlysqueezingherarm.

“Idon’tknowifmyfatherwillpayforawedding.”

“We don’t need him.We’llhaveasmallceremony.SomethingIcanafford.”

“Areyousure?”

“Absolutely.” He gentlypinched her cheek. “Yourfather will come around.He’ll see that I’mnot such abadguyafterall.”

“I hope so. He can be sostubbornsometimes,butheisagoodman.And ithurtsmyheart to think he might notattendmywedding.”

“Iknow.Wewilldowhatwe can to try to convincehim.Yes?”

“Yes.” She sniffled, andhe knew she was close tocryingagain.

“I loveyou,Christa. I amgoing to do everything I cantogiveyouagoodlifeandtomake sure you are happy. Ithink perhaps I loved youfromthefirsttimeIsawyou.Give me a chance. Don’t letthis thing with your fatherdiscourageyou.Please…”

“Iwon’t.Iwillstillmarry

you.” She said. But he sawthatadarkspotofdoubthadcoveredthesunnyglowinhereyes.

“Trust me.When he seeshowmuchbeingon the rightside of the Party can do forhim,hewillsurelychangehismind.Theyaregenerousandgood to their own. I promiseyouthis.”

Shenodded.

Chapter3“I am getting married,”

Manfred told Goebbels thefollowing day as they atetheir lunch in Goebbelsoffice.

“Oh,isitthegirlwhowasheretheothernight?”

“Yes, it’s her. ChristaHenkener.”

“She’sarealbeauty.”“Thankyou,sir.”“Youshouldbeproud.”“I am,”Manfred said.He

thought about talking toGoebbels about his futurefather in law. Perhaps hismentor could help. But thenagain, he might alertGoebbels to an enemyof theReichandthedoctorcouldbearrested.Thatwouldbeabigproblem with Christa right

before the wedding, best nottomentionanything.

“Where are yougoing foryourhoneymoon?”

“Idon’tknow.Wehaven’tdecided.”

“How about thehighlands? It’s beautifulcountry up there in Munich.I’ve always loved Munich.Once, long ago, I wanted tolive there. Have you everbeen?”

“No sir, my family neverhadenoughmoneytotravel.”

“Ahh, well, I couldarrange for the Party to payfor a lovely honeymoon foryou and your bride inMunich. Would you likethat?”

“Ohyes sir thatwouldbewonderful. And my futurewife would appreciate it aswell.”

“Iwilltakecareofitright

away.”“When do you plan to

marry?”“Assoonaspossible.”“Well, this is rather good

news. Hitlerwill be comingto visit again in early May.Perhaps you might want toinvitehimtothewedding.Ofcourse,onlyif thatgivesyouenough time to planeverything.”

Manfred thought of his

fatherinlaw.Heworriedthatthe old man might say thewrong thing. Still, AdolphHitler,attendinghiswedding!What a compliment;what anhonor. He would surely goplaces in the Party with acreditlikethatunderhisbelt.

“Of course. I would behonored, sir. And we willmake sure to date thereception during the timewhenourFührerwillbehere

in Berlin. Do you think heactuallymightattend?”

“He might. You neverknow with him. Sometimeshe will do something sowonderful and unexpected.Thereisnotelling.”

“I will send an invitationtohissecretaryassoonaswebookthebanquetroom.”

“No need to bookanything, son. Would youlike to have the wedding at

that lovely restaurant whereyouproposed?”

“You know where Iproposed?” Manfred didn’tremembertellinghim.

“OfcourseIknow.Iknoweverything that goes onaroundhere.That’swhyIamtheMinisterofPropaganda.”

Manfred felt a pang ofconcern. Perhaps Goebbelsknew about Dr. Henkener aswell.“Iwouldlovetohaveit

there,butIamafraiditmightbetooexpensive.”

“You’re future in-lawshave plenty of money, don’tthey?”

“Yes, but they are not asgenerouswithitaswewouldlike.”

“Well, don’t worry. ThePartywill cover theweddingas well. You just tell yourfuture wife to get her guestlist together. And let’s get

startedplanningthiswedding.And perhaps, just perhaps, Imight play a song on thepianoatyourwedding.”

“Youplaypiano,Doctor?”“In fact I do. I love

music.”“SodoI,”Manfredsaid.“So, Manfred, what do

you say? Shall we beginweddingpreparations?”

“Oh, yes, sir. Thank you,

sir. Thank you so much,”Manfred stammered. TheParty was good to him, verygood.

Chapter4Withonlyafewmonthsto

plan thewedding, the couplewascaught inawhirlwindofexcitement. They sentinvitations to relatives onbothsides.Manfred,escortedbyGoebbels,went to see theproprietor of the restaurant.They were welcomed like

royalty, and offered tastingsof the food, until theyselected the menu to beserved on the special day.Theband thathadplayed thenight of Manfred’sengagementagreedtoplayatthewedding. The hallwouldbe decorated with Nazi flagsand pictures to honor theFührer and the Fatherland.Goebbels ordered that thetableclothsManfreddesigned,

the ones with theembroidered swastikas, beused.Manfredagreedwhole-heartedly.Thesilverwarewasplatedwith14-karatgold,andtheivorydishesmadeoffineGerman china had tiny goldswastika emblems all aroundtheir perimeters. Christaquickly took her mother’sgown to the dressmaker foralterations, which took time,but Mrs. Strum had known

the Henkeners for over tenyears, and so she agreed toput the job in front of anyothers shemight have in herqueue.Ofcourse,partofthatdecisionwasmadewhen shewas told thatChrista’s futurehusbandwasworking for theSS, directly under Goebbels.Together, Manfred andChrista visited a florist thatwas highly recommended byDr.Goebbels.Goebbelsmade

aphonecallbeforethecouplearrived,andthefloristagreedtodothetables,boutonnieres,and bouquets all in pink tearosesatnocharge.Agift,theflorist said, for a fellowcitizen who was working sohardfortheircause.

As a wedding gift,Manfred gave Christa anecklace of ivory-whitepearls. He gave them to herearlysoshewouldbeableto

wear them on their weddingday. When she received hisgift, she cried with joy andputherarmsaroundhisneck.

“Manfred,youhavemademethehappiestwomanintheworld!”

“And you have made methehappiestman.”

OneeveningManfredand

Christa were invited to havedinnerwithGoebbelsandhis

wife Magda. They met at apopular restaurant a fewblocksfromtheNewReich’sChancellery.

“Heil Hitler.” The groupexchanged greetings beforethe host ushered them to atablebythewindow.

“This ismywife,Magda.Magda, this Manfred Blau.I’ve told you a little abouthim. And this is his futurewife,ChristaHenkener.”

“A pleasure to meet youboth,” Magda Goebbelssmiled.

“My pleasure,” Christasaid.

Thedinnerwentwell.Thewomen talked of weddingsand children, while ManfredandJosephlookedon.

But even in the midst ofall of his joy, and evenwithall that JosephGoebbels haddone for him,whenManfred

looked at the doctor, he stilllooked like the death headsymbol.

It was mid April whenManfred found the letterwaiting on his desk. It wasstamped with Hitler’s owninsignia.

“The Führer will behonored to attend theweddingofManfredBlauandChristaHenkener.”

Manfred read the letterover twice. He could notbelieve it. Hitler himselfwouldbeatthewedding.

Chapter5Thomas Henkener sat

besidehiswifeHeidiat theirkitchentable.Christawasnotyetawake.

“Manfred brought Christasome butter. If you wouldlike,youcanhavesomeof iton your toast. I’m sure shewon’tmind.”

“I mind. I mind verymuch. I don’t want anythingfrom that boy, or from hisNazi friends. He is nothingmorethanahoodlum.”

“Perhaps, Thomas. ButChrista is fond of him, fondenoughofhimtoagree tobehis wife. We don’t want tolose our daughter over this,dowe?”

“I cannot understand howa child of mine could be

seduced by the lies of theNazi Party. And not only isthis boy a Nazi, but he is amember of the SS, theworstkindofNazi,thecruelest.”

“Maybe not, he onlyworksinanoffice.”

“Yes,heworksslanderingand ruining good people.Why? Because he feelssuperior? Somehow, in hisdistortedbrainhehasdecidedthat he is part of some

imagined Aryan race, aninsane notion. That is forsure. I hope you know thatmost of these SS mencouldn’t compare inknowledge or character to adoctorlikeDr.Shulman.”

“Iunderstand.Iknowyouthink of Dr. Shulman as afriend, a colleague who hasearned your respect over theyears. But, Thomas, pleaseremember, Dr. Shulman is a

Jewandweliveindangeroustimes.”

“DoyouthinkIamafraid?Howcanyouforgethowsicklittle Christa was with thatterrible heart problem, and itwasDr.Shulman that helpedher, saved her life, actually.Without him, we wouldn’thave a daughter. You mustrememberhowweprayed. Ican still see, Shulmanwalking into the room and

takingyourhand,thentellingyou that it would all be allright. How can you forgetthis, Heidi? He is a brilliantdoctor.Besides,doyouthinkthese boys with their fancyuniforms and ridiculousnotionsscareme?”

“You should be afraid.Youshouldtakecareofwhatyou say. It not only affectsyouitalsoaffectsChristaandme,nottomentionyoursister

and her family. Be morecarefulThomas.Thinkbeforeyou speak, and before youact. I know you see thesestorm troopers as mindlessthugs, but they have power,Thomas, real power. Thepower to make our lives alivinghell,eventokillus.”

“Can’tyousee?HowcanIturn on the men I haveworkedbesideat thehospitalforthelast25years,menlike

Shulman, Kahn, Schultz?TheyareallJews,buteachofthem, in his own right, is abrilliant doctor. I’ve gone tothem for help withconsultations. They havestoodbesideme in surgeries.I know these men. I knowtheir hearts andminds.Whatis going on here is a dirtyshame, an embarrassment togood German people. WhenGermany persecutes its

citizens for no valid reason,we,theGermanpeople,lose.”

“I know all of this. I’veheard it a dozen times. Youhavetoldmeandtoldme.Butyou must not forget for aminute that the Nazis are incontrol.Theyhavethepowerto send you to a work camporworse.Thatwouldkillme.So,please,Iambeggingyou,for my sake, if for nobodyelse, try to be quiet. Try

Thomas,please.Trytoignorethem.”Her eyes fixed on hisand he could see the linesdeepeninginherbrow.

Thomas Henkener sat insilence staring at the breadand the large bowl of butter,his fingers running up anddown the handle of thesterlingsilverknife.Hecouldnot eat the butter, it wouldturn his stomach, and so hestood, and got up from the

table.Heidi,poorHeidi,shewas

afraid. He looked at herslumping shoulders; age hadgivenherbackaslighthump.Looking at it made him feelsad and tender towards her.He walked over and gentlysqueezedhershoulder.

“Iwill try.Foryou,Iwilltry,” he said. She lookedupathim,hereyesglisteningasif she might cry. Thomas

managedasmileandreacheddowntostrokehercheek.

“We must attend thewedding or there will beproblems…suspicions.”Heiditookhishandinhersandhelditforamoment.

“Yes,Isupposewemust,”he said, nodding. This wasthe day he’d thought aboutsinceChristawas young, thedayhewouldgiveher away.And now, look at her choice

ofmen.Itturnedhisstomach.Poor Heidi, she would doanything,sayanythingforthesafety of her loved ones.She’d always been a good,devotedwifeandmother.Hepattedhershoulderagain.Buthe believed that a man’scharacterwasmoreimportantthan his safety or even hislife. Thomas walked to hisbedroom at the back of thehouse. Locking the door

behindhim,hepickedupthephone.

“This is Dr. ThomasHenkener,”hesaid,hisvoicelow,almostawhisper.

“Yes. I’ve been waitingfor your call since you cameto see me,” a gravely malevoiceanswered.

“I have given the matterthatwediscussedlastweekagreat deal of thought. And IhavedecidedthatIwouldlike

to volunteer to help theunderground. I want to dowhat I can to help as manyJews as possible to leaveGermany. I will give moneyfor those who do not haveenoughtoleave.”

“Imustaskyou,becauseImust be sure. Are you areawareofthedanger?”

“Yes.”“And you still choose to

dothis?”

“I do. I must,” Dr.Henkenersaid.

Chapter6Warsaw, Poland, November1937

Seventeen-year-old Zofia

Weissbraidedherthickblackhair.Shewasgettingreadytoleave for school. Her deepburgundy dress wasmade ofcoarse wool and she woreheavy black stockings. Soon

her best friend Lena wouldarrive and they would walkthe twomiles together.Aftershe looked in the mirror,satisfiedwithherappearance,Zofia put on her heavy coat,woolscarfandhat.NovemberinWarsawwasbitterlycold.

A single knock at thedoor, so as not to awakenZofia’smotherwhohadbeenill, andZofia steppedoutsidetogreetLena.

“Ibakedtheselastnight.Ibrought you one,” Zofiahanded Lena a roll wrappedinbrownpaper.

“Thanks, how did youknow I was hungry?” Lenasaid.Shewas aheavysetgirlwith a warm smile. The twohad been best friends sincetheyweretoddlers.

“I guessed.” They bothlaughed.

“It’s freezing,” Lena said

asshepulledherscarftighteraroundherneck.

“Yes,itcertainlyis.”“Zofia, is that lipstick

you’rewearing?”“No,” Zofia answered

turningherfaceaway.“Yes it is.Wheredidyou

getthat?”“I’mnotwearinglipstick.”“Don’t lie to me. I know

youbetterthananyone.”

They both laughed. “Allright,somaybeIam.”

“Don’t tell me. You’restillcrushingonMr.Taylor?”

“I never said I wascrushingonhim.”

“You didn’t have to.Every time we are in musicclass and he plays that crazyAmericanjazzyourfaceturnsasredasaripeapple.”

“Ijustlikethejazz.”

“And they way he lookswhen his long hair is fallingoverhisforeheadashesitsatthe piano, I look over andyour eyes light up like thecandles on my mama’smenorah.”

“Well, you do have toadmithe’swildlyattractive.”

“AndAmerican.”“Yes,” Zofia said. “And

American.”“Butheistoooldforyou.

And besides, he is ourteacher.Nothingcancomeofthis. I hate to see you gethurt.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”Zofia stretched her fingers.They were uncomfortablycold as she held her books.“Butheisstillfuntolookat.”

“Yes, he certainly is,”Lena said as she finished thelastcrumbofherroll.

Chapter7Donald Taylor sat at the

pianoinfrontofhisclass.Heplayed a wild rendition of apopular American song. Ashis voice crooned theseductive blues melody, hegazed out at the students.There was no doubt that thegirls were swooning over

him. Their glazed-over eyesand sensuous smiles broughthim to heights of ecstasy.And,thatwaswhyhe’dcomehere to Poland. In America,he’d been little more than amediocre music teacher. Buthere, in Europe, in his smallclassroom, he felt like asuperstar, like a musicalversionofClarkeGable.Thegirls were young, that wastrue,andheknewbetter than

to take them to his bed, buthe’ddoneit,againsthisbetterjudgment. Not regularly, butoften enough. How could aman resist? These younggirls,tender,justonthebrinkof womanhood, offeringthemselvestohim.Theywerelike delectable chocolatemorsels, irresistible, but ifyou ate too many youmightfind your health in jeopardy,or,inhiscase,hisjob.

Latelyhe’dbeenwatchingZofia, one of his students,Zofia, with her slender, butvoluptuous figure, dark,alluring eyes, and longwavyhair.Shestaredathimlickingher lips that sparkled in theoverhead light,deepdarkredlike ripe berries as he sat atthe piano. There was nodoubt he wanted her. Whowouldn’t? No man couldresist a woman like that

twitching around hisclassroom,evenifhewasherteacher.

Hewasonhisway to thelunchroom when he sawZofia. She was sitting byherself on the bench beneaththe tree reading a book. Herlunchwas spread on a whiteclothnapkinbesideher.

“Hello,” he said as heapproached.

“Hello, Mr. Taylor,” she

said,lookingup.“May I sit here?” he

asked, indicating the emptyspaceontheothersideofherpicnic.

“Ofcourse.”Shebegantogather her food together toputitaway.

“No, please eat. I didn’tmeantodisturbyou.”

“Youaren’tdisturbingmeatall.”

“Well, I wouldn’t feelrightifyoudidn’tfinishyourlunch.”

“I’m all done. I was justreadingforbit.”

“Whatareyoureading?”“Nothing,anovel.”“Aromancenovel.”She blushed. “I suppose

you could call it that.” Shegiggled.

Heletoutalaugh.“Don’t

be embarrassed I like themtoo.”

She smiled and lookedaway.

“I really enjoyyour class.I love the American music,especiallythebigbandstuff.”

“Yes, so do I. I supposeyoucantell.”

“Yes,Ican.”“I wish I had a turntable

so that I could play some of

the records at home.” Zofiasaid. Before her father died,there had been very littlemoney, but she might havegotten one. Now, however,with her mother ill, it wasimpossible.

“Youcouldborrowmine.”“Really, you would allow

metodothat?”“Butofcourse.Imeanmy

personalone,nottheonethatbelongs to theschool.Would

youlikethat?”“Oh, yes, I really would.

But I don’t have anyrecords.”

“Of course you don’t.Whywouldyouhaverecordsifyoudon’thaveanythingtoplay them on, silly? I wouldlendyousomeofmypersonalcollection.”

“That would bewonderful.”

“Why don’t you come by

my apartment on SaturdayandIcangivethemtoyou?”

“Oh, I can’t come onSaturday.I’mJewish,itistheSabbath.”

“Ahhh, I see. Well,Sunday,then?”

“Yes. Sunday would befine.”

“Here,letmejotdowntheaddressforyou.”

Chapter8Zofia decided to save

carfare and walk the mile toMr.Taylor’sapartment.Eventhough shewasworking, hermother was not and everypenny she earned counted.Theturntablewouldbeheavyand she would rather spendthe money to take the

streetcarbackhomewhenshewascarrying it.Although theicywindwas blowing, Zofiadidnotfeelthecold.Shewasfar too excited.All night thenight before she’d thoughtabout Mr. Taylor, how helooked when he sang withenough passion to reach outand touch something deepinside of her. He causedstirrings that she’d never feltfor anyone before. Puckering

herlipstogether,shegiggled.The red lipstick she woremade her look older, moremature.

Because she’d grown upinWarsaw,sheknewtheareafairlywellandhadnotroublefindingthebuildingwherehelived. Before she rang thebell,shelookedinthemirrorin the compact in herhandbag. Zofia applied afresh layer of lipstick and a

spritz of the toilet water thathad been hermother’s. Thenshe pressed the button andwaited, her heart skipping abeat.

“Who is it?” Mr. Taylorsaid.

“It’sZofia,”sheanswered.“I’m on the third floor,”

hesaid.“I’llberightup.”A loud buzzer went off

and she grabbed the doorhandle.Itseemedalongwalkup. But when she got to thethird floor, Mr. Taylor waswaitinginthedoorwaytohisapartment.

“I’msogladyoumade it.Come on in. It’s not much,butitshome.”

Sheenteredhisapartment.Itwassparselyfurnished,justasmalltableandchairsinthekitchen, which was attached

to a livingarea. In the livingroom there was a sofaupholstered in dark bluefabric and a matching chair.But on the walls hungpictures of Americanmusicians, Benny Goodmanand his band, Count Basie,Duke Ellington, and CabCalloway.

“Here, let me take yourcoat.”

Sheremovedhercoat,hat

andscarf,andhandedthemtohim. He hung them on awooden coat rack by thedoor.

“Please sit.” Mr. Taylorindicatedthesofa.

Zofiasatdown.“Would you like me to

playarecord?”“Yes, Mr. Taylor. I’d

enjoythatverymuch.”He smiled and began

shuffling through a pile ofvinylrecords.“CallmeDon.”

“Areyousure?”“Well,yes,ofcourseIam,

but onlywhenwe are not inschool.”

“Don,then.”“Wouldyouliketoheara

song?Aspecialsong.I thinkyou will enjoy this. It’s realAmerican music, not jazz,somethingdifferent.Infact,itwasreleasedinAmerica.”

“I would love to hear toit.”

Heplaceda recordon theturntable. A group begansinging.

“Youaremysunshine,myonly sunshine.Youmakemehappywhenskiesaregray…”

“I love this. It sound justtheway I think thatAmericawouldlook.Notinthecities,butinthecountry.”

“You’re right, this is

American folkmusic.Wouldyouliketolearnthewords?”

“Iwould.”“Then we can sing along

together,withtherecord.”Hetaughtherthewordsin

English and explained whatthey meant in Polish. Onceshe’dmasteredthesong,theysangittogether.

Aftertherecordwasdone,he smiled at her his eyesliquid,likehotoil.

“How did I do?” Sheasked.

“You did wonderfully.Can I get you something toeatordrink?”

“No thank you. I’vealreadyeaten.”

Don sat down on thecouch beside Zofia. She’dnever had aman sit so closeto her. It was exciting anduncomfortable at the sametime.Ofcourse,hecouldnot

really be interested in her,other than as a student. Buther mind raced, and thefantasiesshehadofhimkeptsurfacing, so much that shecouldnotmeethiseyes.Zofiafelt like a small animalhuddled in the corner of thesofa,trembling.

“So,tellmeallaboutyou,Zofia. I like to know aboutmystudents.”

“There really isn’t much

to tell. I’m not terriblyinteresting.”

“I’llbethejudgeof that.”He smiled and she noticedthathehadaslightcleftinhischin. Just looking directly athimmadeherstomachweak.

“Well, I live a couple ofmilessouthoftheschoolwithmy mother. Last year myfather passed away from aterribleboutof the influenza.Since then my mother has

been very lethargic. Shedoesn’t get out of bedmuch.After school, I work for thediamondseller.”

“Oh, I am sorry. How doyoudoitall?”

“It’s alright. I manage. Idon’t really have any choice.Andbetweenwhatmy fatherleftus,andthemoneyIearn,wesurvive.”

“Please, if I can help inany way, you must not

hesitatetoask.”“That isverykindofyou,

butwe’refine.”“Here, let me get you

sometea.Ihavesomelovelybiscuits aswell, and it is notsooftenthatIhavecompany.Will you please share themwith me? I would enjoy thatsomuch.”

“Then, yes, of course Iwill.”Shewasn’thungry,butitdidn’tmatter.Hereshewas,

alone with Mr. Taylor. He’daskedhertocallhimDon.Helikedher.Hewantedhertobehis girlfriend. She was soexcited, and nervous shecouldhardlycontainherself.

DonTaylorgotupandputthe teakettle on the stove,thentookaswigfromabottleof vodka that was on thecounter. Zofia studied thepictures on the walls andwonderedwhat lifemight be

likeinAmerica.When Don returned, he

put another record on theturntable. He wound thecrank and placed the needlecarefully on the edge of theblackvinyl.

“Beimirbistdusheon…”asultryfemalevoicesangoutinGerman.

“You like it?”Mr. Taylorasked.

“Ohyes,verymuch.”

“Come,dancewithme.”“Idon’tknowhow,”Zofia

said, blushing. She feltinferior. She’d never learnedto dance. There had been noonetoteachher.

“Come on.” He took herhand “I’ll show you. You’llget this quickly. You have agreatsenseofrhythm.”

At first, she was clumsy.But the smooth beat of theswing music took hold and

she began to loosen up. Shegiggled as he spun andflippedher.

“Ilovethis.”Shelaughed.“Ican’trememberwhenIhadsomuchfun.”

“I’mglad.”Hesmiled,hiseyestwinkling.

He is so attractive. Hewould make the perfecthusband. Idon’tcare ifhe isJewish or not. I like him somuch. I could see us living

happily together in thisapartment.Iwoulddecorateita littlebit;addafewtoucheshereandthere.

Thepiecingwhistleoftheteakettle brought her back toreality.

“I’ll be right back.”Donaldwinkedather.

In a fewminutes, Donaldreturned with a plate ofshortbread biscuits a pot ofteaasmallbowlofsugarand

twocupsonatray.“I am so glad you came

today. I don’t know if Ishould tell you this. It iscertainly out of line and Ihope you will not take it inthewrongway,but…well…Ithinkyouaretheprettiestgirlinmyclass.”

Zofia quickly glanced atDonald, and then turnedaway.Sheknewherfacewasdeep red. But she was so

flattered. Perhaps it wastrue… Perhaps he really didlike her… Perhaps theywouldmarry…

“You really think so?”Zofia asked, her voice smallandcracked.

“Undoubtedly. I thoughtsofromthefirstday.”

Involuntarily she sat up alittle straighter. “No one hasevertoldmethatIwasprettybefore.”Shebitherlowerlip.

“That’s because the boysin your grade are just that,boys. Any man, who is aman,would tell you thatyouaregorgeous.”

“Oh…” The word caughtinherthroat.

He laughed. “And you’reeven lovelier when youblush.”

She cast her eyes down.Looking desperately forsomething to do to cover the

awkwardness she felt, shepoured the tea. A smallpuddleformedonthetray.

“I’msorry,I’vespilledit,”she said. Putting the teapotdown,shepickedupthelinennapkinandbegantocleanthemess.

He tookherhand inhis itwassmallandsoft.“Noneedto clean up.” He said. “I’lltake care of that later.” Shedroppedthecloth.

“Your hand…the skin isso soft.” He caressed herhand.Shedidnotpullaway.

Then he opened her handand brought her palm to hislips. He is in love with metoo, the same as I have beenwith him all these months.Her eyes glazed over withpassionandjoy.

“You are very special tome,Zofia,”hewhispered.Hisvoicewashusky.

Without another word, hetook her into his arms andkissed her. It was the firsttime any man had kissedZofia. She shivered in hisarms,butherbodywentlimpassheyieldedtothewarmth.It had been years sinceanyone had touched her, andshe was starved for theaffection. At first, she wastimid. But when he kissedher, again her arms went

aroundhim.His kiss becamemore demanding. She didn’tbackaway.Instead,shefoundthat her desire matched his.Donald leaned her back onthe sofa. He gazed into hereyes.

“Zofia…” He whispered.But that was not what Zofiaheard.Whatsheheardwas,“Ilove you,” even though heneversaidit.

Everythinghappenedvery

fast. Nature, youth, andhormones took over, andbeforeZofiarealizedhowfarthingshadgone,sheandDonhad consummated theirfriendshipandbecomelovers.

Once he’d finished, hestood up, clearly sobered byhisactions.

“I’m sorry, Zofia. I don’tknowwhat got intome.”Hebrushed the hair out of hiseyes and quickly pulled his

pantsonzippingthem.She didn’t answer. Why

was he sorry? She wasn’tsorry.

“Please, forgiveme.Let’spretend that this neverhappened.”

“Why? I am not sorry ithappened,”shesaid.

“Zofia, I am too old foryou and besides I am yourteacher.Ididn’tmeantotakeliberties with you. My

goodness, you were just solovelyandsowilling…Whatwas I to do? You mustpromisetokeepthisasecret,because if anyone findsout Iwill be fired from theschool.”

“I would never tellanyone. It is our specialsecret. But,” she hesitated,her heart breaking a little,“youarenottoooldforme.Iamverymature formyage.”

Shesatup,pullingherclothesback around her body,suddenly ashamed of hernakedness.

“That you are. But youdeserve better thanme. I amnothing more than an oldalcoholic schoolteacher. Youhaveyourwholelifeaheadofyou.Therewillbemanymen,better men than me.” Hespoke fast, his handcontinually running through

hislonghair.Theneventhoughthesofa

wasdarkincolor,hesawthespotofblood.

“Oh!” he said, as if he’dbeenhitbya train.“Ihadnoidea.Youwereavirgin?”

“Yes.”Shehungherhead,could not look directly athim.

“I’m sorry. I really am.”Hewalkedovertothekitchencounterandpouredhimselfa

shotofvodka.Afterhedrankit ina singlegulp,hepouredanother.

“Do you want me toleave?”

“I think its best that youdo.” Donald was flushed.“Here take the record playerandthispileofrecords.Theyare a gift, no need to returnthem.” He said handing herthecoatandhatshe’dworntohisapartmentandloadingthe

heavy pile of records andplayer onto the table in frontofher.

She was trembling andholdingback the tears as sheputhercoaton.Thereshouldbe something she could say,but she could think ofnothing.Shewantedtosay,“Ithought you loved me,” butthe words would not come.Instead, Donald ushered herout and before she knew it,

Zofia was walking home,carryingaheavyload.

After he closed the door,Donaldthrewhisvodkaglassat the wall, his face burntwith anger.Why couldn’t hestop seducing these youngstudents? This wasdangerous.He could lose hisjob,andmaybeworse.

Chapter9

When Lena arrived at

Zofia’s house, on MondaymorningZofiawasstillinbedbut she got up to answer thedoor.

“Are you sick?” Lenaasked.

“I’m not going to schooltoday.”

“I can see that. What’swrong?”

“Nothing. I think I amgoingtoquit.”

“Areyoucrazy?Youloveschool. Why would youleave?”

“I am going to work fulltime.My mother and I needthemoney.”

“It’sonlyafewmonthstograduation, why don’t youjuststickitout?”

“I can’t. We need themoney now. I am going to

talk tomybossandsee ifhewillgivememorehours.”

“Areyousure,Zof?”“Yes,Iamsure.”“ThenIguessIshouldgo.

I’llseeyoulater,afterschoolmaybe?”

“Maybe… I don’t knowwhat hours Mr. Bidowskywillwantmetowork.

“I’lltrytodropbyandseeifyou’rehere.”

“Allright.”Zofia did not go to work

that day. She stayed in bed.When Lena knocked at thedoor after school, she didn’tanswer.How could she havebeen such an idiot? Howcould she have made such afoolofherself?Hermother’sdemands continued. She hadbeen ill for so long now thatshe did not get out of bedunless she had to go to the

bathroom.Zofia realized thathermother’sillnesswasmorementalthanphysical.Shehaddied insidewhenshe lostherhusbandandnowshejustlayin bed waiting for the timeshe would join him. UsuallyZofia brought her trays offood and tried her best toengage her in lightconversation.ButtodayZofiahad her own bundle ofemotionstocontendwith,and

so she just got out of bed tobring her mother a slice ofbreadwith a little butter andsometea.Thenshesatonthechair in the living roomgazing out at nothing andwondering where she couldgofromhere.Determinednotto face Mr. Taylor, Donald,she decided that she wasgoing to findwork, full-timework and leave schoolforever. She would miss her

friends and she’d alwaysdonewell in her studies, butseeing him and reliving herhumiliationwasfartoomuchtobear.Tomorrowshewouldask Mr. Bidowsky to teachher more about the diamondbusiness.Upuntilnow,she’ddonelittlemorethankeepthestore clean, and occasionallyhelp a customer. Perhaps hemight hire her to learn thetrade.

Lena came by again thefollowing morning. Zofiaached to get dressed and gooff to school. She felt emptyinside as if a part of her lifehad ended, and endedabruptly. But she could notbringerself to facehim. So,she bid Lena farewell, gotdressed and walked toBidowsky’sjewelrystore.

“Zofia, what brings youhere so early in the

morning?” Mrs. Bidowskyasked.

“Ihave aproblem. I needto talk to you and Mr.Bidowsky.”

“Yes, dear. Of course.Comein.Youwantsometea,maybe a little something toeat?”

“No,thankyou.”“Sammie, Zofia, is here.

Sheneedstotalktous.Cometakeaminute.”

The Bidowskys livedbehind the store in a smallapartment. Zofia followedMrs. Bidowsky back to thesmallkitchenwheretheybothsatdownatthetable.

Mrs. Bidowsky took asmallglassjugofmilkoutoftheicebox.

“Here, you’ll have a littlemilk?”

“No,thankyou.I’mfine.”“I insist. You can’t come

to my house and not have alittlebitofsomething...”Mrs.Bidowsky said smiling. ShepouredaglassmilkandgaveZofia a thick slice of bread.“You should eat a little bit;you’resoskinny.”ShesmiledatZofiathencalledoutagain“Sam? Come on. What areyoudoing?”

“All right. Give me aminute…I’mcoming.”

Whentheywereallseated,

Zofialookedatthekindfacesofherbossandhiswife.Godforgivemeforlying…

“Mr. andMrs. Bidowsky,mymother and I have fallenon hard times. As you knowmy mother, Selda, is ill,bedridden. It seems that themoney my father left us isrunning out. I must leaveschool and find full-timework. Can you extend myhours? I am willing to learn

thebusinesssothatIcanhelpyouevenmoreefficiently.”

Mr. Bidowsky ran hishandoverhisbeard. “I don’tknow if I can afford to giveyouanymorehours.My sonGeorge is finishing schoolandhewillneedajob.”

“What can we do to helpher?” Mrs. Bidowsky asked.She was a heavyset womanwith a round face, soft blueeyes,andawarmsmile.

“Icangiveyoua littlebitof money. Perhaps that willhelp.”

“No, I don’t want to takeyourmoney.Iamlookingfora trade. Something for thefuture,”shesaid.

“Youdon’twant to finishschool?” Mrs. Bidowskyasked.

“I can’t. I need to findwork.”

Theolderwomannodded.

“You know, I heard thatthe seamstress, Mrs.Kolowskyislookingforagirlto apprentice. She is only afewblocksfromhere.Doyousew?”Mrs.Bidowskyasked.

“I haven’t but I couldlearn.Iamaquicklearner.”

“She is a friend of mine.Well, not exactly a friend.ButIknowher.Shehasdonealterations for me, plenty.”Mrs. Bidowsky laughed and

her large tummy shook.“Give me a few minutes, Ihave some things to do, butthen I will go with you andtalk toher.Howwill thatbe,Zofia?”

“That’s so kind of you,Mrs.Bidowsky.”

“Oy, it’s nothing.” Shesmiled.

“I am glad we can help.”Mr. Bidowsky said. “I hopetheseamstresswillbeableto

giveyouwork.”“Yes,sodoI.”After she bundled up

against the cold, Mrs.Bidowsky put her armthrough Zofia’s and togethertheywalkedthetwoblockstothe storefront of theseamstress.

“Good Morning, Mrs.Bidowsky.”

“Good Morning, Fruma.ThisisZofia.”

“GoodMorningZofia.Sitdown ladies. What can I doforyou?Letmeguess,maybethis isGeorge’sbashart?Arewe going to be making aweddingdress?”

Zofia blushed. EstherBidowsky cleared her throat.“No, nothing like that, notthatIwouldbeopposed.”Shesmiled at Zofia. “But that’snotitatall.Zofiaisourpart-timeemployee.Lastyearher

father passed away,God resthissoul,andhermotherisill.Sheneedsfull-timework,butwe don’t have the work forher.Iheardfromsomeoftheladies that I play cards withthatyoumightbelookingforan apprentice. I can tell youthatsheisreliable,andaverygood worker. Maybe youwould consider giving her ajob.”

Mrs. Kolowsky

scrutinized Zofia. Her eyestraveled over the girl untilZofialookedaway.

“She lookscapable.”Mrs.Kolowsky said. “If youwantthe job Iwill give you a try.You are going to find,however, that sometimes wewillhave towork longhoursinto the night if we have aspecial event, like sometimesa wedding dress needs to befinished. You understand

this? And I cannot afford topay you seamstress wageswhileyouarelearning.Itwillbemuch lessuntil youknowwhat you are doing. But ifyou do well, then you willmakeadecentsalary.”

“Yes, ma’am, I amgratefulfortheopportunity.”

“Allrightthen.Youcometomorrow morning at eighto’clock.Don’tbelate.”

“Yes ma’am. And thank

you.”After Zofia and Mrs.

Bidowskyleft,theywalkedtothe end of the block, wherethey would separate. Zofiagoing north towards herhome,Mrs.Bidowskyheadedsouth.

“I cannot thank youenough for doing this forme,” Zofia said, and shesqueezed the older woman’sarm.

“I am glad it worked outthewaythatitdid.”

“Yes,soamI.”“Listen,maybesome time

youaregoing tocometomyhouse? You’ll have somecake and meet my George?He is a good boy, a Jewishboy from a good family. It’shard to find a nice Jewishgirl,thesedays.”

Zofia smiled, but insideher heart was breaking. She

wasn’t a nice Jewish girlanymore. She’d donesomethingbad.She’dsinned.Zofia believed herselfundeserving of a boy likeGeorge.

The following day Zofiaarrived at “Perfect Stitches,”Fruma Kolowsky’sdressmaking shop, fifteenminutesearly.ShesatoutsidewaitingforMrs.Kolowskytoopenthedoor.

“Good morning, you areearly.Thatisagoodthing.Itshowsmethatyoucareaboutyourjob.”

“I care very much, Mrs.Kolowsky.”

“You and I will beworking very closelytogether,soyoumightaswellcallmeFruma.”

“Thankyou.Iwill.”“All right then, let’s get

started.”

Zofia followed Fruma’sdirection but it seemed as ifher stitches were alwayscrooked or in some waydispleasing to Mrs.Kolowsky.

“Remove this line and tryagain. I cannot have suchsloppy work. You will learntodothisperfectlybeforeyouwill work on my clients’orders.”

Zofia resented Mrs.

Kolowsky. She wasdemanding and overbearing.Everystitchhadtobeperfect.Shegavenoslack.

“Slave driver,” ZofiawhisperedunderherbreathasanothercustomercameinandFrumawasbusyhelpingher.

Zofia worked from earlyinthemorninguntilwellpastsundown. Every day shestitched and removed,stitchedandremoved,cutand

measured patterns to Mrs.Kolowsky’s standards ofperfection.

November passed toJanuary,andthentoFebruaryand still Zofia was only anapprentice. Her back achedfrom sitting at the sewingmachine for hours. But shehadsomethingevengreatertoworry about. Zofia had notseen her menstrual bloodsince the month before her

moment of indiscretion withDonald Taylor. She tried todeny it to herself. Perhaps Iam just late because I havebeen going through so manychanges in my life. But sheknew better. She wasnauseous and could not eat.She was very tired. And herbellywasgrowing.Zofiawaspregnant.

On a brisk morning inMarch, Helen Sobczak came

in, Zofia looked up from hermachine to seeawoman justafewyearsolderthanherself,lovely,withblondecurlyhairand soft blue eyes. Frumahad left to go to the bakerywhere she would purchasesome rolls to share withZofia.

“May I help you?” Zofiaaskedthebeautifulblonde.

“Hello,mynameisHelen.My mother and I have been

comingheresinceIwasjustalittle girl. Is Mrs. Kolowskygone?”

“No, she just went toZuckerman’s bakery. Whenthat Mrs. Zuckerman bakes,thesmellissowonderfulthateveryone who works on thisstreet lines up to buy thebread. I am Zofia, herapprentice.”

“Hello, Zofia, it’s so nicetomeetyou.Well,letmeget

tothepointofwhyIamhere.I am getting married in thesummer.Iwouldliketohavea dress made for mywedding.”

“I am sure we can helpyou.ButIhaveafeelingthatFrumawill probably want totake your measurementsherself.”

“Yes, probably so, but ifyou want to try and thencomparethemtohers,Idon’t

mind.” She smiled. Zofialikedherrightaway.

“I would like that. Itwould help me to see howaccurateIam.”

When Fruma returnedwith the bread, Zofia wastakingHelen’smeasurements.

“What are you doing?”sheasked.

“Nothing,”Zofiasaid,andputthetapemeasuredownonthetable.

“It’s all right. I asked hertodoit.”

“But she isn’t ready tomeasureyouproperly.”

“Idon’tmind,even if it’sjustforpractice,”Helensaid.

Fruma smiled. “All rightthen,Zofia,youcangoaheadandlet’sseehowyoudo.”

After Zofia had finished,herbosscheckedherwork.

“Verygood.Iamhappyto

say,youaregetting thehangofthis.”

Zofia smiled and Helensmiledtoo.

Helen spent hours siftingthrough bolts of fabric. Shefinallydecideduponanivorysatinwithalaceoverlay.

“Sheisanicegirl,”Frumasaid after Helen left. “I’veknownherandhermotherforaverylongtime.Hermotheris a midwife. She is a good

woman,not a Jew.But she’snever shown any disdain foruseither.”

“O,.” Zofia said. Sheturnedaway.Amidwife.Shewould need a midwife, butshe was an unmarriedwoman.Nobodyintheirrightmind would want to becomeinvolved in such a scandal.Shewasworried.Howwouldshe tell Fruma that she waspregnant?Whatifshelosther

job? But before Zofia had achance,Frumadecidedtotalktoher.

“Here,eat.Ibroughtsomerolls and a hunk of cheese.Areyouhungry?”

“Yes,alittle…”Zofiawasravenous.

“Zofia, sit down here. Iwant to talk to you.” FrumaKolowsky put the grainybreadonaplate.“Ihavebeenfitting women longer than

you have been on this earth.Thatwouldcometoabout35years. I know the femalebodyverywell.And,well…Iam not going to beat aroundthe bush here… Zofia, youarewithchild.Icanseeit.”

Zofia dropped her thinsliceofcheese.

“It’s all right. I am notgoingtoletyougo.Youhaveajobhere.Imightseemharshsometimes, but I understand

more than you know. I amgoingtohelpyou.That’swhyItoldyouthatHelen’smotherwasamidwife. Wewill talkto her and perhaps she willdeliver the baby here in myapartment right above theshop.”

Zofia realized that sheknew very little about herboss’s personal life. But thekindnessMrs.Kolowskywasshowing her brought tears to

hereyes.“It’sgoingtobefine.”“Will your husband be

angry if I give birth in yourapartment?”

“Ihavenohusband.Ihavenever been married. I livewithaladyfriend.Sheiskindand understanding. You willlikeher.Shewillbefinewithususingtheapartment.”

“Areyousure?”

“I am sure. Gitel and Ihave lived on the edge ofsociety for a very long time.Sowehave learned longagonot toworry toomuch aboutwhatpeoplesay.”

“Idon’tunderstand.”“Iknowyoudon’t.Gitelis

myhusband.”“But you said she is a

woman.”“Yes. Now you

understand?”

Zofianodded.“Closeyourmouth,you’ll

swallow a fly.” Frumalaughed.

“ButyourtitleisMrs.?”“Yes, I use that. Like I

said,Gitel and I aremarried,if not in the synagogue, theninourhearts,forsure.”

“I’ve never met anyonewho…”

“And so there is a first

time for everything. By theway, you did very well withyour fitting today. You aregoing to be a gooddressmaker, Zofie. I know Ihave been hard on yousometimes, but that is theonly to make you excel atyourwork.AndImustsay,Iamveryproudofyou.”

“How can I ever thankyou?”

“Ach,Idon’tneedthanks.

I need an apprentice. I needyour help. So, if you are inagreement, once the babycomes,wearegoingtosetupa play pen here so that youcan continue to work. Gitelalreadyknowsabout thisandshe has agreed to help.Between the three of us wewillcareforthechild.”

Tears flowed downZofia’s face. Fruma hadknownallalong!“Youareso

goodtome…”“Ach,stop.Youmakeme

embarrassed,” Frumalaughed.“Comeonnow,eat.You must eat. The babyshould be healthy andstrong.”

Zofia felt unburdened. Itwas as if a thousand-poundweight had been lifted fromher shoulders. Since theincident with Mr. Taylor,she’d borne the fear of her

pregnancy alone. She couldnot discuss her predicamentwithLenawhosherarelysawthesedaysorwithhermotherwho was wrapped up in herowndepression.Butnowshehad a friend, an ally, whowould help her get throughthis. And Fruma was right.She was becoming a goodseamstress.

Zofia still loved theAmerican swing music and

she sang it to herself whilesheworked.

One afternoon, Gitelarrived at the tailor shopcarryingalargepackage.

“I’mGitel.Frumasaidshetold you about me?” Gitelasked.

“Yes.Shedid.I’mZofia.”“Frumaaskedmetobring

this for the two of you; shesays she is sick of yoursinging.” Gitel laughed and

she put the box downon thecounter.“Goon,openit.”

Zofia opened the box.Inside she found a turntablewith four American swingrecords. She gasped withdelight. “Oh,mygosh, thankyou.Thankyouboth.”

When Zofia had returnedfromDonald’sapartment,sheput the turntable and recordsinto the closet. It had beenunbearable to look at them.

Now, she thought that shemight bring some of therecordsintotheshop.

When it wasn’t busy andno customers were around,Zofiawouldgetup andcoaxFrumatodancewithher.Shetaught Fruma the steps thatshe’d learned from Donald.And Fruma learned toappreciateAmericanmusicasmuch as Zofia did.Sometimes they would

splurgeandbuyanewrecord.When Zofia entered, her

sixth month there was nolonger any hiding herextended belly. The babywould arrive soon, and sheknew she must tell hermother.

After work on a Fridayevening, Zofia picked up herusualChallahandchickenonthe way home fromwork. Itwas the Sabbath, so she got

off early to prepare. Shearrived at home and put thechickenup to roast, and thenshe went into her mother’sroom. As always, the roomwas dark. Her mother layfacingthewall,eyesopen.

“Good Sabbath, Mama,”Zofia said as she smoothedher mother’s thinning hairbackfromhertroubledface.

“Howdoyoufeel?”“Oy,notsogood,Zofie.”

“Whathurtsyou?”“Everything, my whole

bodyaches.Iamsotired,butI cannot sleep. I don’t know,mine kind. I am just notwell.”

“I’m sorry mama. Can Igetyouanything?”

“No, nothing. You doenoughalready.”

“Mama,” Zofia hesitated.Her mother did not look ather; she continued to stare at

the wall. Zofia wished shedidn’t have to tell her. Butsoon the cries of an infantwould echo through thehouse. She had to be madeawareofwhatwastocome.

“I have something to tellyou.”

Her mother did notanswer.

“Iampregnant.Ithinkthebaby will be born inOctober.” Zofia swallowed

hard.Hermother found a burst

of angry energy. Zofia hadnot seen her so enraged inyears.

“A shanda (a scandal)!You will never marry adecent boy. How could youlet something like thishappen? Did someone forcehimselfonyou?”

“No,mama.Iamsorry.”“Getoutofmyroom.Iam

sickwhenIlookatyou.Asifwedidn’tsufferenough,nowyouhavebroughtshameuponus.Howcouldyoudothis tome? How?” Mrs. Weissasked.

That nightZofia’smotherrefused to eat. The next daysherefusedagain.Shewouldnot speak to her daughter atall. Instead, she just laidstaring at the wall andshaking her head. Zofia was

filled with guilt, but shehoped that once her mothersawthechildherheartwouldsoften.Eventually,shewouldget hungry, and she had toeat.

OnMonday,Zofiawenttowork.Whenshereturnedthatevening her mother had slitherwrist.Shewasdead.

Chapter10Dr Goebbels leaned back

in the chair behind his desk,smiling.

“So Manfred, since theFührerwascomingtoBerlin,to see me, anyway, he hasagreed to come to thewedding. You are a verylucky man. He is bringingReichsführer Himmler with

him.Do you realizewhat anhonorthisis?Yourbridewillbeovercomewithexcitement.However, since our leaderswill be attending, we mustchange the venue. I am sureyour bride will understand.The wedding will take placeat the Nazi Headquarters.There we should be able tofollow the traditionsproperlyandthatwillmakeourFührerproud.”

“Of course, whatever youthinkshouldbedone.Iamsoindebted to you, Dr.Goebbels. I can never thankyou enough for all you havedoneforme.”Manfredwasalittle concerned. Christawould have tomake a lot ofconcessions.

Goebbelssmiled.Histeethlargeandprotruding,hisbonestructure jutting through hisdelicate skin. Manfred was

once again taken a back athow much he resembled thedeathheadsymbol.

“You tell your lovelybride that we are all lookingforward to her bringing usplenty of Aryan children.She and her parents must bevery excited for theweddingandofcourseforourhonoredguests.”

“Oh yes, they are, sir.Manfred thought about his

future father-in-law.Somehow, he would have tofindawaytowintheoldmanover.ItwasessentialthatDr.Henkener not cause anyproblems for the couple. Ifthingscontinuedastheyweregoing now, Manfred wouldberisingintheParty.HeandChrista would have a bigfamily,plentyofmoney,anda life he could never havedreamed of before Hitler’s

risetopower.

Chapter11Itwasalmostfiveo’clock.

But Thomas Henkener hadwaitedforaspecialpatienttoarrive.

“Hershel, come in,please,” Dr Henkener said.“How are you? How haveyoubeen?Andthefamily?”

“All right, they are all

right,Thomas.”“I brought you Dr.

Shulman’s chart. Do youneed anything else?” Hilde,Dr. Alder’s nurse and oldestfriend,entered.

“No, thank you, Hilde,”Dr.Henkenersaid.“Thatwillbeall,Hilde.Thankyou.”

After thenurse closed thedoor,Dr.Henkenerspokeinawhisper. “I called you tocome here because Iwant to

talktoyou.”“Yes, of course, Thomas,

whatisit?”“I want to help you. You

andyourfamily.”“Thomas, I couldn’t let

youdo that. I shouldn’t evenbe here now. It is dangerousforbothofus.”

“You are inworsedangerthan I am.Have you thoughtaboutleavingGermany?”

“I have thought about it,butIamadoctor.Mypatientsare here. They needme,”DrShulmansaid.

“Yes, but thatdemonstration onKristallnacht a few monthsagowas terrifying, and I amafraid that things are onlygoing to get worse here forJews.Lookat thelawsgoinginto effect. Things arehappening around us all the

time,horrifyingthings.”“I agreewith you.Things

arebad,buthowcanIleave?How can I leave all of thepatientswhoneedme?Don’tyou think that this fire underHitler will burn out? I havealways had faith in theGerman people. They aresmart, cultured, it is just amatteroftime,andthiswholethingwillblowover.Butyouareagoodfriend toofferme

your advice. Iwill keep it inmind.”

“You have always beenthereformeandmyfamily.Iwill never forget what youdidforChrista.Shewassucha sick child, bad heart. Weknewitassoonaswesawtheblue lipswhenshewasborn.Youhelpedher.”

“Yes,well,thatiswhatwedoctorsdo,isn’tit,Thomas?”

“Itis].Weheal.Andwhen

we can…we save lives. I amhere if you should need me,anytimeatall.”

“It is probably best that Istop coming by your office,and you stop coming bymine. It will only bring ustrouble,”Dr.Shulmansaid.

“I don’t care Hershel. Iwillnotdenyourfriendship.”

“Doitformysake.Forthesake of my family if youwon’tdoitforyourself.”

“If you ask, I will stayawayfromyou.”

“Just until this is all overwiththeNazis,Itellyou,it’stemporary. People arefrightened. But such afanatical dictator cannot lastin such a civilized countrylikeours.Sooneveryonewillhave had enough. Theneverything will be as it wasbefore. I will come back tothehospitalandwewillwork

together again. You’ll see.”Dr. Shulman smiled. Hepatted his old friends back.Then he left the office andheadedasquicklyashecouldout of the Gentile sector oftown.

Chapter12Everything for the

wedding was planned tocoincide with the visit thatHitler and Himmler wouldmake to the Minister ofPropaganda’s office.Goebbels had involved theentire office to ensure everydetail would be perfect. In

fact, to show how muchaffectionhefelt forManfred,Dr. Goebbels planned topreside over the weddinghimself.

It was on a morning inearly May. Manfred awoke,hisstomachtightwithnervesand excitement. Althoughhe’ddreamedof thisday,he,anawkward,unattractiveboyfrom a poor family, couldhardly have expected a life

like this to ever become areality. But here he was,ManfredBlau,abouttomarrythe girl of his dreams, in aceremony attended by thehighest,most reveredmen inthe land. He was awestruck,delighted beyond his wildestdreams,butsecretlyhefoughtagainstanaggingfear.Apartof him that whispered in thenight, I am a fraud. What ifthey find out I am not as

talented an artist as theybelievemetobe?WhatiftheyfindoutIamnotasstrongastheyare,thatIdon’treallyfitin?Ortheworst,whatiftheyrealize that I amnothing butthe poorest specimen of anAryan and hardly worth theposition I’ve been awarded?It was hard to forget howclumsy he’d been in theHitler Jugend, how the otherboys had made fun of him,

how the girls had giggledbehind their hands watchinghim as he failed. No doubtabout it, Manfred was theslowest runner and he wasneverchosenbyanyonetobeon a team when they playedfootball or any other sport.Fencing and archery took farmore physical strength andagility than he possessed.However, now, because ofDr. Goebbels, he was far

above all of them, thosemindless athletes who stoodaround in groups tauntinghim, so sure that they werehissuperiors.Ifonlyhecouldsilencethatannoyingvoice.Ifonly, somehow, he couldbelieve in Manfred, in hisownworth.

Manfred took his blackdress uniform out of theclosetandputiton.Thenightbefore, he’d spent an hour

polishing his shoes to a highshine. He combed his blondhairbackfromhisfacewithalittle water and hair cream.When he looked in themirror, a handsome manstared back at him. Hisfeatures were chiseled, andalthough he was small andslender,theuniformgavehimpresence.

With Hitler attending thewedding all of the plans that

Christa and Manfred hadoriginally made as a couplehadtobechangedinordertocreate the Führer’s idealwedding. Manfred knew bythe look on her face that thechangesdisappointedChrista,but when he’d explained thenecessityofhisactionsasanimportant careermove, she’dagreed.ItwashardtobelievethatChristawasaseasygoingas shewasbeautiful.Fortune

certainly had smiled uponhim.

The building at the NaziHeadquarterswasdeckedoutfor the occasion, with Naziflags suspended from theceiling, life runes laidoutonthe altar, and pictures ofAdolf Hitler hung inexpensive wood frames onthe walls. All of the flowershadbeenchangedfromrosestogoldensunflowers,because

thesewere the flowersHitlerhad chosen to represent theThird Reich. The bridewouldcarryasimplebouquetof sunflowers adorned withfir twigs. This gnawed atManfred, because he knewhow much Christa lovedroses.ButManfreddarednotdisappoint Goebbels. So, hedecided that he would makethis up toChrista.He vowedto himself to see to it that

every week of their livestogetherashusbandandwifehe would bring her roses tomakeupforhersacrifice. Aredrunnerwithaswastika inthecenterhadbeenplacedonthe aisle for the couple towalkdown.Attheendoftheaisle stood the altar and alarge brass urn, burningbrightly with the eternalflame.

Andsoitbegan…

Thebandplayed a simpleGermanfolksong.

Manfredwalkeddowntheaisle alone and stood at thefront of the altar,waiting, asDr. Henkener escorted hisdaughter to her newhusband’sside.

When he saw Christa,Manfred felt a pang of guiltfor amoment, becauseunderDr. Goebbel’s insistentsuggestion, he’d requested

thatChristawearatraditionalGerman folk dress instead ofher mother’s gown. Again,shehadmadetheconcession.Tomakeituptoher,Manfredhad purchased the finestfabric he could find for thedressmaker to design thewedding dress. Now, as shewalked towards him in herfull colorful skirt, with thegolden threads and puffy-sleevedblouse,she looked to

him like the most stunningexample of Germanwomanhood.

Christa came closer.Manfred stood staring at herin awe at how beautiful shetruly was. Her golden haircaught the glow from theeternal fire, illuminating ituntil it looked like a halo ofsunshine caressing her head.She smiled at him, and hertender blue eyes melted his

heart like snow on the firstwarmspringmorning.

Dr Henkener placed hisdaughter’s hand inManfred’s. Then he went tosit in the front row of theaudience.

Manfred and Christaturnedtofacethealtar.

TogethertheystoodbeforeDr.Goebbelsandsworetheiroathsof loyaltytoeachotherandtotheParty.Manfredhad

purchased gold bands withtiny swastikas engraved allaround them. Theyexchanged the rings. ThereweretearsinChrista’seyes.

“I love you.” Manfredmouthed the words that hecould not speak aloudbecause Goebbels washandinghimthebreadthathewouldsharewithhisbride.

“Thisbreadisasymbolofthe earth’s fruitfulness and

purity,”Goebbelssaid.Manfredbrokeapieceand

handedittoChrista.Togethertheytookabite.

Next,anofficerbroughtaheavy oak box that wascarved with runes. Goebbelsopened the box and took abookfrominside.

“ThisisagifttoyoufromtheReich.”Goebbels handedManfred a copy of Hitler’sbook,“MeinKampf.”

“Thankyou,sir,”Manfredsaid.

“You’re welcome. Youarenowmanandwife. Andmayyoubothbeveryfruitfuland produce many AryanchildrenforourFatherland.”

Manfred smiled atGoebbelsandthenatChrista.He took her hand and kissedit.ThenheledherthroughacrowdofsalutingSSmen,hisheart pounding with joy.

These were his people. Herehe was loved and accepted.Herehewasathome.

Chapter13Once the ceremony was

over, the wedding party andtheir guests were escorted

into a large banquet hall.Overhead,crystalchandelierstwinkled casting a soft glowover the embossed china andcrystal. In the center of thetables were largearrangements of dazzlingyellow sunflowers, theirheads dipping over theirsparklingvases.

The entire party wasseated, including Manfredand Christa, before Dr.

Goebbels and Himmlerentered. The two stoodbehind their chairs as thebandplayedamarchingsongand Adolf Hitler entered theroom. He wore a smile andgreeted the guests as hewalked by, shaking theirhands and patting theirchildren’s cheeks. When hearrived at his seat, he turnedto the crowd and raised hishand in a salute. Everyone

stood,returningthesaluteandcallingout,“HeilHitler.”

Everyone except Dr.Henkener.

Once everyone wasseated,HimmlergaveChristaastrangelook.

“You’re father did notsalute?”

“No, he has been havingtrouble with his leg. It wasverydifficultforhimtowalkme down the aisle. He must

beinpainagain,”shelied.“I see,” Himmler said, a

smile twinkling across hisface.

ManfredandChristasatata long head table with Dr.Goebbels, Hitler, andHimmler. They weresurrounded by Hitler’spersonal bodyguards, whostood behind them quiet andunobtrusive.Atthefirst tableto the left of the couple,

Manfred’s mother sat,accompaniedbyDr.andMrs.Henkener.

Once the excitement ofHitler’s arrival began to diedown, a group of white-glovedwaiters carrying traysof food paraded through thedoor. They offeredoverflowing platters ofroasted meats and freshvegetables, cheesy potatoes,and fresh breads. Girls with

their hair in braids, wearingtraditionalGerman costumes,similar tothebride’s,butnotas exquisite, carried pitchersofdarkGermanbeer.

After everyone had eaten,Hitler stood. A roar ofapplausefollowed.Hesmiledand gave a short speechhonoring the couple.Reiterating his constantmessage to Germany, that itmust be the responsibility of

all good German citizens tomarryandhavelotsofAryanbabies. These children, hesaid, would be the future ofthe Reich. Everyone cheeredwhen he finished, and theirhands went up in the Nazisalute. Hitler smiled like abenevolent father. ThenHitler, followedbyHimmler,Goebbelsandthebodyguardsleftthecelebration.Butasheleft,HeinrichHimmlertooka

longer than usual glance atChrista’sfather.

Thenabandbegantoplaytraditional German folkmusic, and everyone dancedthe polka. Manfred led hisnewwifeoutonto thedancefloor. Pride swelled in hisheartashetookherhandandtogether they danced theirfirstdanceasmanandwife.

“Iwillspendeverydayofmy life doing everything in

my power to make youhappy,”hesaid.“Iknowhowmuchyouwantedrosesatthewedding and so every weekfrom this day forward youshall have roses in ourhome.”

“OhManfred,Iamhappy.I am so happy,” she said astheywhirledacrossthedancefloor under the large NaziflagandthepictureofAdolphHitler.

That night the couplestayedinahotelindowntownBerlin.Even thoughManfredwasavirginandhadno ideawhat to do, Christa was not,and so she helped him tolearn. Because he loved herso much, his lack ofexperience made littledifference. The depth of hisfeelings came through everytime he touched her and sheresponded to his tenderness.

When they finally began todrift off to sleep in eachother’s arms, Manfred feltsurethateverydayofhislifefrom this day forwardwouldbejoyous.Iamblessed.

Chapter14Inthemorning,thecouple

took the train out of the citytoMunich.Theysattogether,holding hands and watchingthecountrysiderollbyoutthewindow,until theyarrived inMunich, a fairytalewonderland, with storybookcobblestone streets. Around

every corner lay anotherenchanted castle. The Reichhadarrangedforthemtostayon the outskirts of town in asmall chalet overlooking theAlps. Manfred had neverbeenoutofBerlin.Hisfamilyhad been too poor to eventhink of travel. Now here hewas,withhisbeautifulyoungwife, walking the streets inthe quaint Bavarian city ofMunich. They walked for

over an hour, stopping onlyfor a few moments to buy asausagefromastreetvendor.Neither of them wanted tomiss a thing that thismagnificentcityhad tooffer.He took a deep breath andsighed. Then he reached forChrista’shandandbrought ittohislips.Shesmiledathimandhekissedherhandagain.Thecloudsgatheredoverheadanditbegantorain.

Theshowerquicklyturnedinto a downpour, like thetears of all of the angels inheaven combined. Manfredand Christa stood under theawningofa tallbuildingandheld hands. They’d bothgotten wet, but it didn’tmatter, they were young andinloveandtogether.Soonthecar would arrive thatGoebbels had arranged totake them to the little chalet

where they were staying ontheoutskirtsofthecity.

As planned, the driverarrived. The automobileedged through trafficnavigating itsway out of thecity and towards themountains. Manfred staredout the window, mesmerizedby the beauty of Munich.He’d fallen instantly in lovewith the old buildings, themassivetoweringclockinthe

centeroftown,themuseums,the restaurants, and even theopera house.As they left thecongestionoftownandbegantoentertheruralareanearthemountains, the rollinglandscape turned everyimaginable shade of green,from forest to emerald, andshimmeredinthedryingrain.

Christa laid her head onManfred’s chest, his armprotectively around her, as

theygazedoutthewindowatthe farms. Sprawling greenhills, with cows and horsesgrazing, scattered across thecountryside.ThiswastherealGermany… Beautiful,untouched…

After the driver let themoff in front of a small chaletthatlookedlikeithadbeenina Han’s Christian Andersonnovel, the twowere eager tobealone.

Christa ran inside thecottage and sat down uponthebed.Shebouncedup anddown reveling in its softpillow-[like quality. Manfredjoined her, and they bothbounced on the bed. ThenChrista got a pillow andswung it across Manfred’sbody. He returned with apillow of his own and theybegan pillow fighting, liketwo children, until they fell

into each other’s arms,laughing.

After they made love onthe feather bed, they laytogether,gazingout the largepicture window at abreathtaking view of themightyAlps.The iceboxhadbeenfilledwithfood,sotherewas no need to leave thechalet that day. Instead, theyate and made love again. Itwas enough just to be

together.That night they slept

holding hands, and in themorning, they awoke, eyesglossedoverwithlove.

“Let’stakeahikethroughthemountainstoday,”Christasaid.

“I’veneverbeenmuchforhiking,”Manfredadmitted.

“Please? We won’t gofar...”

He smiled. “For you…Iwould walk all the way toFrance,andback.”

Shelaughed.They hiked up into the

mountains, under a sun sobrightitlookedsilver.

“Look, a waterfall! Oh,Manfred,howbeautiful!”

“It is, very, but not aslovelyasyou.”

She began to remove her

clothes.“Whatareyoudoing?”“There’s no one around.

Comeandswimwithme.”“Icouldn’t.”“You could.” She giggled

and before he could protestanymore shewasnakedandrunningtowardsthewater.

He took off his clothes,feelingpaleandclumsyinthelightofday.

“Come on. The water isnice.”

He followed. “It’sfreezing.”

She laughed. “I knew if Itold you that, you’d nevercomein.”

They embraced. ChristatookManfred’s hand and ledhim under the waterfall. Heheld her tightly as the sprayfrom the falls drifted intotheiryoungfaces.

“Iloveyousomuch.”“And I love you too, my

wonderful, kind husband. Iam so happy to have foundyou.”

They kissed their lipswarmoneachothers.’

“Look, Manfred… Arainbow…”

“Yes,darling.Iseeit.”Over the next twoweeks,

ManfredandChristaexploredthe quaint Bavarian town ofMunich, at the same time asthey reveled in exploringeachother.

They went into town andhad breakfast at smalloutdoor cafes, laughing andtalking for hours. They heldhands,eatingicecreamconesastheywalkedalongthelakein a park so green it couldhave been a painting. An

entire afternoon was spentadmiring the treasures in theart museum, followed by anevening at the opera house,enjoying the music andelaborate costumes of anopera by Wagner. In whatManfred referred to as hisformer life, what he meantwashislifebeforehe’dswornallegiance to the Nazi Partyand Adolf Hitler, he wouldnever have dreamed of

attendinganopera.Infact,hecouldonlyimaginealifelikethis, a life that theReichhadmade possible for a poor,lonelyboylikehim.

Everywhere they went,Manfred wore his uniformand because of this he wasshown the utmost respect byeveryone, from wait staff inrestaurants, who insisted onserving the couple freedrinks, to shop owners, who

werehappytopresentgiftstoChrista at no charge. All ofthis was astonishing, butwhenhe saw thepride inhiswife’s eyes, Manfred beganto feel like a very successfulmanindeed.

Long lazy afternoonsdrinking dark beer andmaking love made Manfredwish that he could stay inMunichforever.Butheknewbetter. Soon he must return

and when he did, he mustprove himself worthy of allthatthePartyhadgivenhim.

Chapter15Withouthermother,Zofia

was alone, and even worse,she blamed herself for hermother’s suicide. She stillmade it a point to come toworkeachdayanddoagoodjob,butshe’dstoppedsingingandhadgrownquiet.

“Youmight aswellmove

inwithGitelandme.Thereisno sense in you staying inthat big house by yourself.And being pregnant, well, itwillbegoodtohavesomeonearound in case you needhelp,” Fruma said in hermatter-of-factway.

Zofia nodded. Are yousureyouwouldwantthat?”

“Yes, if I didn’t, Iwouldn’t have suggested it,nowwouldI?”Frumasmiled.

“Besides,Gitel likesyoutoo.Itwillbegoodforustohavesome young people around.We’rebecomingliketwooldboringladies.”

ZofialikedGitel,whohadcome by the shop whenevershehadtimeofffromherjobatthefishmonger.

The funeral for Zofia’smother had taken a toll onher. She now wore a blackmourning dress with a piece

of fabric torn at the lapel.When she looked in themirror, the darkness of thedress against her face addedto the somberness she felt. Itwastruethatsincethelossofher father, her mother hadbeen littlemore than a shell,but she was still a presence,sometimesaburden,oftenanextra job, but always apresence. For a very longtime,hermother’sdepression

had affected Zofia’s entirelife. But still, she was there,givingZofiaapurpose,ifnotin mind, at least in body.Now Zofia was an orphan.Shehadnoone.

“I understand if you areashamed. People will talkbecause of how Gitel and Iare together. They talkanyway,butthetalkwillnowinclude you,” Fruma said,foldingasquareoflace.

“Peopleshouldmind theirown business. I am notashamed of you and Gitel.You are entitled to live yourlifeanywaythatyouchoose.Besides,howaboutme?Iampregnant without the benefitofmarriage.Whatarepeoplegoingtosayaboutthat?”

Fruma smiled. “Yes, itlooks like we are the perfectband of misfits: two oldlesbian lovers and a young,

unmarried woman, with ababyontheway.”

Fruma laughed. Zofialaughed.

Living with Fruma andGitel was fun,more fun thatZofiacouldrememberhavingina longtime.Gitel lovedtosing,andshestrolledthroughthehouse,fillingitwithsong,her voice a deep resonantalto. Most days the threepreparedmealstogetherwhile

Gitelsang.Zofiacontinuedtowork with Fruma at thedressmakingshop,butas shegrewlarger,shebecamemoretired. The older woman sawthe difficulty Zofia washaving with her heavy bellyand the sewing machine andsosheconstantlyinsistedthatZofia lay down on the oldsofa in the back of the store.Once Zofia’s belly becametoo big for her to sit at the

machine, Fruma insisted thatshe relax on the sofa. Zofiadid as she was told, but shebegan to take on all of theembroidery work. It wastedious, but Zofia had anatural talent for the tinystitches, and so the demandfor her embroidery grewquickly. In exchange forMaria, Helen’s mother’smidwife services,Zofia handsewed over a hundred tiny

pearls onto Helen’s weddingdress. She also embroideredcabbage rose bouquets intothewhite satin. Even Fruma,as particular as shewas, hadtoadmititwasstunning.

At least twice a week,Helen and her mother camebytheshoptoseethehowthedress was coming along.Sometimes they broughtkolaczkis, and Fruma andZofia would take a break to

share the apricot-filledcookieswiththeirclients.

OftenHelenstayedtochatwithZofiawhilesheworked.Maria didn’t look down ofZofia for being pregnant andnotmarried. In fact, shewassurprisinglysupportiveofherdaughter’snewfoundfriend.

Although Zofia did whatshecouldtohideherfeelings,itwaspainfulforhertolistento all of the wedding plans

while sheherselfplanned fora life raising a child alone.Allshe’deverwantedwastofind love, get married, andhavechildren.Stupidgirl,shechastised herself constantly,butsecretly,overhermistake.She’d actually believed thatDonTaylorwouldbethemantofulfillherdreams.Well,bedamned if she’d ever letanyoneintoherheartlikethatagain. But, even though she

enviedHelen, shewashappyforhertoo.Itwashardnottobe caught up in theexcitement,and itwas fun towatchtheprettyblondedancearound the room in herwedding gown while Frumayelled,“Staystill!Ican’tpinthisrightwithyoumovingallovertheplace.”

Zofia and Helen wouldlook at each other and burstintofitsoflaughter.

In just a month, Helenwouldmarrytheboyshehadbeen in love with since shewasonlyfourteen.Theywerechildhood friends andneighbors who had growninto sweethearts. Once,Helen’sfiancéhadpickedherup for dinner after a fitting.When Zofia saw themtogether, their affection foreach other made her feelempty. It seemed to Zofia

that, unlike her own, theirliveswouldbewrappedupina perfect package, but Zofiawas young and howwas shetoknowthatsometimeswhatappears to be perfect can bedestroyedinasecond?

The first time Zofia feltthe baby move, she andFruma were at the marketshopping for food for theSabbath dinner. As Frumasmelledanappleforripeness,

she noticed that Zofia hadstopped moving and stoodstill, with her hand clutchingher belly and a strangeexpressiononherface.

“Are you all right?”Fruma asked, her voicebetrayingalarm.

“Feel this,” Zofiawhispered.She tookFruma’shand and placed it on herswollenabdomen.

Asthebabytwirledabout,

the two women looked ateachotherinawe.

One night the three sattogetherafterdinnerdrinkingcups of dark, bitter coffee.Thesunhadjustbeguntosetand it looked likea large redballinthewesternsky.

“Zofia, you have broughtlotsofjoytoourhome,”Gitelsaid. “We’ve always been ahappycouple,butweusedtotalk and say how much we

bothmissedhavingachildofour own. You are like ourdaughter.”

“Thankyou. ItwarmsmyhearttoknowthatIamnotaburdentoyou.”

“You have never been aburden tous.Not evenwhenyou first started working atthedress shopandyoumadeso many mistakes,” Frumasaidandshelaughed.“Itwasstill a delight to have you

there.”Zofiasmiled.“Zofia,canIbesoboldas

toaskyouaquestion?”“Yes,ofcourse,Fruma.”“The baby’s father? He

knows that a child iscoming?”

“No,hehasnoidea.”“Youthinkabouthim?”“Not anymore.Hewas a

mistake. I did a foolish thing

and I neverwant to speak tohimagain.”

“But ifheknewabout thebaby, maybe he would helpyou. It is his responsibilitytoo,andmaybehewouldgiveyousomemoney.”

“I don’t want anythingfromhim.Ineverwanttoseehimagain.”

“Doyoueverworryaboutpassinghimonthestreet?”

“No, not here. He is not

Jewish.Hewouldneverbeinthispartoftown.”

Frumanodded.“CanIgetyou anything?” she asked.“Eitherofyou?”

“No,”bothGitelandZofiasaid.

“Zofia,itisyourchoice.Ifyou don’t want the fatherinvolved,thenthatisthewayit will be, and I think I canspeakforbothFrumaandme.Wewill standbehindyouno

matter what happens.Together the three of uswillfind the money to raise thebaby.Isn’tthatrightFruma?”

“Ofcourseitis.”On a lazy sun-kissed

afternoon late in the autumn,asthesmellofburningleavesfilled the city streets, Zofia’swater broke. It happened asshe stood in the kitchenhelping to clean up after

supper. There was no pain,just a stream of warm waterthatrandownherlegs.

Fruma saw it first. Sheknewalittleaboutbabies,soshewasveryconcernedwhenshe saw that the water wasgreen.Butshedidn’twant toalarmZofiaorGitel.Thebestthingwastogetthemidwife,as quickly as possible. Shewouldknowwhattodo.

“Gitel,hurryupandgoget

Maria. The baby is coming.I’ll stay with Zofia,” Frumasaid.

“Yes, all right. You stayherewithZofia.I’llgo.”

The twofumbled like twonervousmothers.

“Here, comeonnow,youshouldget right intobedandwait forMaria.” Fruma tookZofia under the arm andpractically carried her to hersmallbedroom.

Fruma grabbed a pile offolded towels and put themunder Zofia’s buttocks tocatchtheflowofwater.

Gitel dressed quickly andran all theway into the non-Jewish sector to Maria’shouse.

As soon as Gitel andMaria returned, MariaexaminedZofia.

“Well, it looks like she isgoingtohaveadrybirth.”

When Fruma was able toshe pulled Maria out of thebedroomandintothekitchenwhereZofiacouldnothear.

“Whenherwaterbroke, itwasgreen.Ithinkthatmaybethat is a signof somesortofevilspirit.“

“No, but it is a sign thatwehavetodowhatwecantoget this baby out as soon aspossible.Thebabyhashadabowel movement. If we are

notcareful,whenitcomes, itcould inhale the nastymaterialanddieinstantly.”

“Oy vey, what should Ido?”

“You and Gitel get me abowl of hot water and sometowels, then leave the rest tome.”

The pains grew strongerand more frequent as thehourspassed.Zofialayinhertinycot,sweatpouringoutof

her body, as her twosurrogate mothers waited,filled with angst, outside theclosed door. Hours passed.The sun set and rose againtwice. Zofia grew tired fromtheintensityofthepain.

“I don’t think I can dothis.IamafraidIamdying.”

“Youwill notdie.This isyourfirstchild.Itisalwaysahard labor with the firstbaby,” Maria said, but she

was worried. The baby wasnot crowning. In fact, it wascomingfeetfirst,ifitcameatall.Sheknewshewouldhaveto reach inside of Zofia andturn thebabyso that it couldcomeforwardintotheworld.

As Maria reached upthrough Zofia’s vaginalcavity to turn the baby,Zofia’s screams filled theroom. The old midwife wascovered in sweat, her hair

stuck to her forehead, as theskilled hands moved insideZofia’s body. One mistakeandthemotherwouldbelost.She would bleed to death. Itwas a tedious and painfulprocess.

Finally,shewasready.“Push, now,” Maria said,

out of breath from the stressandexertion.

Zofia had never been sotired. It took all the strength

inherbodytopush.“Again.”The cords stood out in

Zofia’s neck as the beads ofsweat ran fromher face, intoher hair, and down onto herflushedneckandchest.

“Again. Push. You mustpush.”

“Ican’t!”Zofiacried.“Again, now… Push!”

Maria demanded. “Push, I

said,push…”Zofia did not respond.

Maria slapped her face tobring her back to reality.Zofiamustusealloftheforceleft within her to bring thischild into the world.“Push…” Maria growled.“Push, I said, push…” If shestopped now, Zofia woulddie.

Zofia cried out, tearsfalling on her face. “I’m so

tired.Please...”“PUSH...”Zofia pushed with all the

strengthleftinherbody.Once thewalls of Zofia’s

body’ tore open, the tinyslippery infant left the safetyof its mother’s womb andpoured into the world in ariver of blood, water, andfeces.

Immediately Mariagrabbed the child. Her thick

knowing hands cleaned theinfant’s air pipes, and thensheheld thebabyhigh in theair, by its feet, and slappedthechildhardonitsbuttocks.A hearty cry echoed throughtherooms.

Maria took a deep breathand sighed. She lay the babybeside her mother. With herforearm, she pushed the hairoffhersweat-ladenbrow.Herworkwasdone.“Youhavea

daughter,Zofia.”Zofia smiled, cradling the

babygentlyinherarms.Maria took the little girl

and gently laid her in thedresser drawer that had beenmadeintoamakeshiftcradle.“Onemorepush…Youhavetogettheafterbirthout.ThenIwillgiveyouthebaby.”

Zofia looked at herdaughter, who whimpered,waiting, and felt a burst of

energy.Shepushedhard.Herbodygavewaytomorebloodandwater, then the rushof alarge slimy mass came forthandsheknewitwasover.

Not yetwashed, the childlaycontentedinhermother’sarms as the midwife cleanedthe mess. Then she took thebabyandtenderlywashedherclean.

“She’s a beauty,” Mariasaid, handing the baby back

toZofia.“Whatareyougoingtocallher?”

“Eidel.Itmeansgentle.”“That’salovelyname.Let

me go and get Fruma andGitel. They will want to seethebaby.

Fruma and Gitel camestorming in like twoprotectivewildcats.

“Are you all right?”Gitelasked.

“Yes,”Zofiasaid,thenshemoved the blanket away sothey could see the baby.“ThisisEidel.”

Thetwowomenlookedonin amazement at the tinyhands,feet,ears…

“Oy, she is really shane(beautiful).”

“Soshane.”They cooed and giggled

like young girls, gentlyfondling the soft skin of the

baby’scheek.Zofia was happy, content

even.But she could not helpthinking of her parents. Apangof sadness shot throughher. She wondered how theyhadfeltthedayshewasborn.Itmust have been somethinglikethis.Theymusthavefeltthisextremeloveandneedtoprotecther, theway shenowfelt towards the bundle thatslept softly in her arms. She

was sure they had been inawe at the wonder of a newand precious life. Zofiamissed them. She realizedthat she’d done wrong, shehad brought shame to herfamily name, but shewishedthey were here. She wishedthey could see theirgrandchild.Surelyiftheysawthis little wonder, God’sperfect creation, then allwould be forgiven. A tear

escaped the side of her lefteye, but no one noticed. Ittrickled away quietly andmingled with the sweat thatwas beginning to dry on herface.

Zofia was tired. FrumatookthebabyandZofiaslept.

Overthenextweek,Zofiaregainedherstrength.Butshewas still in bed. The tearingof her delicate parts wastaking time to heal. Fruma

andGiteldidnotmind.Theyenjoyedbeinguseful.

Having an infant in thehousechangedthelivesofallthree of the womenimmensely.Theyfussedoverthe baby and took turnsgetting up to bring her toZofia’s side, thenwatchedasthe small little lips graspedZofia’s nipple and suckedvigorously.

“She is a healthy baby,”

Fruma said. “Thanks be toGod.”

“Yes, thanks be to God,”Gitel said, taking Fruma’shandandsmilingather.

As the baby grew, so didthe responsibilities, whichFrumaandGiteltookonwithrelish.Theyhadbeensolongalone that they enjoyed therole of grandparents. At firstFrumainsistedthatZofiastayat home and take care of the

child,butasthechildbecamesturdier,theysetupaplaypenin the dressmaking shop.Allday,ZofiaandFrumaworkedwhile Eidel slept in herplaypen. Many times, theyhad to put work aside tocomfort a fussy baby, but itwasallright.Afterall,itwasEidel.

WhenHelenreturnedfromher honeymoon, she and hermother, Maria, went to visit

thedressmakers.“Oh, look at her, she is

beautiful,” Helen said aboutEidel,asshesmiledatZofia.“She has such light hair. Ithinkshewillbeablonde.”

Helen had never askedwho the baby’s father was,but Zofia could see by theway that she looked at thechild that she wondered.After all, how had a womanwith hair the color of a

raven’s wing produced achildwitha fullheadofhairas light as a field of wheat?Well,itwasapparenttoZofiathat Eidel, with her strikingsapphire eyes, looked a lotlikeherfather.

“I really like her name.It’slovely.”

“Oh, thank you. It meansgentle.Butsofar,she’smorefeistythangentle.Asamatterof fact, when she nurses, I

feel likeawhale ispullingatmynipple.”

Helen laughed. “I can’twait to have a child. I’vealwayswantedchildren.Fritzsays we should startimmediately.”

Theybothlaughed.“How was your

honeymoon?”“It was very nice. We

didn’t have a great deal ofmoney,sowewerelimitedas

towhatwecoulddo.Butweenjoyedit,”Helensaid.Thenshe gently ran her fingeralongEidel’scheek,tryingtomakethebabysmile.

“Can I hold her?” Helenasked.

“Yes, be careful.Remembertoholdherhead.”

“Of course,” Helen said,and she reached down to liftthe baby. At first, littleEidel’slowerlipwentoutand

she looked as if she mightcry. “Shhhh,” Helenwhispered Helen stroked thebaby’s soft cheek. Shewalked the room, gentlyrockingthechildandholdingher against her chest.After awhile,insteadofcrying,Eidelsuckled and curled intoHelen,thenfellasleep.

“Sheisawonder.”“I know. Sometimes I

cannotbelieveIhaveachild.

It’s almost inconceivable. Ihave to pinchmyself,” Zofialaughed.

“ThislittlegirlisspecialIcantell.”

“Canyou?”“Ofcourse,”Helensmiled

as she gingerly touched thesmall head that restedonhershoulder

“I wonder what she willgrowuptobelike.”

“Oh, I think she will beverysmart.”

“Andpretty?”“Not pretty, beautiful,”

Helen said. Then shewhispered, “Won’t you,Eidel?”

Chapter16“AtleastHitlerisgoingto

leave us alone. He promisedto say away from Poland.Thanks be to God,” Gitelsaid, “He is most surely amadman.”

“Yes, it’s true, he haspromised to leave Polandalone, and that is good,”

Frumasaidasshewashedthecereal off Eidel’s chin. “Butdoyoutrusthim?Reallytrusthim?”

“Ofcoursenot,whocouldtrust him? But if he staysawayfromhere,thatisallweshouldbeconcernedwith.”

Zofia came in to thekitchen. “Who is this Hitler,anyway?”

“TheleaderofGermany;arealconqueror,Ithink,”Gitel

said. “But don’t you worryabout him. He is far awayfrom us, and we have toomuch to do with our tinypackage toworry about suchadisturbingman.”

“I have a cousin inGermany,”Frumasaid.“Iamconcerned for her. Althoughwehavenot spoken inyears,I think I will send her aletter.”

“You want to ask her to

come here?”Gitel said. “Wedon’thavesomuchroom,butifneedbe,wecanmanage.”

“Yesandno. Idon’tevenknowherreally.WemetoncewhenIwasjustalittlegirl.IfI saw her on the street, Iwouldn’trecognizeher.ButIhear it is bad for Jews inGermany. I don’t knowwhattodo.Doyouthinkallofthiswillpass?”

“You mean this anti-

Semitism? Of course it willpass. It always does. Iwouldn’t worry too much.Besides thisHitler issobusyconquering theworld that heprobably has very little timeto concern himself with theJews.”

Chapter17“Manfred, Dr. Goebbels

would like to see you in hisoffice,” Dr. Goebbels’secretaryannouncedwhenhewalkedintoworkonthatdayinearlyNovember.

“Thank you,” Manfredsaid, and rushed to put histhings on his desk. Then he

went immediately to thedoctor’slargecornerofficeinthebackoftheroom.

“Dr. Goebbels, sir. Youaskedforme?”

“Yes I did. Sit down,please. I want to discusssomething with you. I needsomeoneIcantrusttotalktoabout a pressing matter, inorder to gather my thoughts.You see, somethinginteresting has happened.

Something I believe we canusetoouradvantage.WhatIhave heard is that a Jew inParis, his name is HerschelGrynszpan, went to theGerman embassy, and shot aGerman official. The officialwas really nobody ofimportance.HisnameisErnstVonRoth.But… If thisVonRoth should die, then wehave a good case to start apogromagainsttheJewshere

inGermany. Itwill bring thepeople together,strengthening their love forHitler and all he has done torebuild the Fatherland. Andbecause of how we willpresent this situation, as aterrible crime that wascommittedagainstus,therestof theworldwill understand.We will show them how theJews are sabotaging ourcountry, make them see our

side. This is an opportunityforus.Themorewecanunitethe German people against acommon enemy, the strongerournationwillbecome.

“Yes, sir, as always youare right. This is a badsituation turned intoopportunity by your brilliantmind.Iamjustcurious.Doesanyone know why this Jewdidsuchathing?”

“Fromwhat I understand,

his family was forced out oftheirhomeinGermany,alloftheir possessions confiscated.Apparently, theywere forcedover the border into Poland.Their son, thisHerschel, hadsomenerve.HewaslivinginParis when he got the news.AndthisJewhadtheballs togo into the German embassyand shoot a German official.Thissortofbehaviormustbenipped in the bud. It cannot

be tolerated. If we shouldoverlook something like this,then the Jews will surelybegin to act out more andmore until they are out ofcontrol. This must be dealtwithinsuchamannerthattheJews begin to know theirplace. We must show themwho is boss right now, rightaway, with such a strongdemonstration that they willneverevenconsideractingup

again.Theymust be terrifiedofus.Thatwaywecankeepthem where we want them.So you see, if this shouldwork out the way that I amplanning, we will haveachieved three things. Wewill show the world that theJewsare the enemy.Wewillshow the Jews who is boss,andatthesametime,wewillunite and strengthen ourAryanbrotherhood.”

“Youareatruegenius,Dr.Goebbels.No one else couldtake such an unfortunateincident and turn it into avictoryfortheFatherland.”

Goebbels smiled andManfred knew he’d said theright things. He could see inthe doctor’s eyes just howmuchhisbossenjoyedhavinghim around. They made agoodteam.

Forseveraldays,Manfred

and Goebbels waited. Thenon November 7th, Von Rothdied.

Itwasadaylikeanyotherday in November of 1938,except that when it wasfinally over, it would godown in history as the datewhen Hitler openly wagedwarontheJewsofGermany.And so, on the ninth ofNovember in the year of1938, everything began its

rapid descent in a downwardspiral. For two blood-splattered nights underGoebbels’ direction, withHitler’s approval, the Jewishcommunities throughoutGermany were ravaged bygangs of hoodlums intent onrevenge for the death of anunknownGermandiplomatatthe hands of a young Jewishman.Thecriesofvictimsandperpetrators echoed through

the streets as synagoguesweresettofire,windowsandstorefronts demolished,people beaten, dragged fromtheir homes, and murdered.That night, genocide hadbegun that would last untiltheendofthewar.November9, 1938 would go down inhistory to be known foreveras “Kristallnacht” the nightofthebrokenglass.

On November 9,

unsuspecting Jews all overGermany went about theirlivesastheyalwayshad.Thegrowing anti-Semitism hadnot as of yet turned violent.Some Jews had been forcedfrom their homes. But thosestill living the way they didbeforeHitler rationalized thisby telling themselves thatthose who’d been evictedmusthavecommittedacrime.Boycotts had taken place on

Jewish businesses, but thenagain, the Jews had livedthrough this sort of thingbefore. And although theNuremberg laws had beenpassed, declaring that it wasillegal for Jews and Gentilesto marry, well, again, theyrationalizedthisasjustapartof Hitler’s campaign. Itwould pass, they told eachother and themselves. And,of course, there were

whisperswhenneighborssaweachotheratthebutchershopor the bakery, talk ofconcentration camps andwork camps being built, butmost people believed thatonly those guilty of crimeswould ever see the inside ofthese prisons. In short, theJews believed that if theyremained quiet, and enduredtheinsultsfornow,allofthiswouldsoonpass.

Theycouldnothavebeenmorewrong.

That night, the night ofNovember 9, truckloads ofGerman youthswere broughtinto the Jewish part of town.They carried clubs and weretoldtodestroythebusinessesandbeatanyonetheysawoutonthestreets.

“Youmaydoasyouwish,but do not steal anything.Only destroy it,” the leaders

told the young men. For itwas to be a demonstration,not a robbery. The Germansmustbeexacting revenge foracts committed against theirFatherland. If they took anyvaluables, the entire actwouldloseitsideals.

Besides, there was plentyof time to confiscate Jewishproperty.

The sound of crashingglass echoed for miles,

combined with the wildhollering of the youths asthey ran through the towns,bent on destruction. Thesmell of burning permeatedthe air as the hundred-year-old synagogues burst intoroaring flames. Bloodcoveredthesidewalksasmenand women were torn fromtheir homes and crushedunder the clubs and boots ofthe raging attackers. By

morningall,theJewishsectoroftownwasnearlydestroyed.

Chapter18On November 12,

Goebbels returned from animportant meeting. Thedoctor had always beenfastidious, his clothingpressed and well fit. Buttoday, it was not. His suithung on him as if he’d losttwenty pounds, and his hair

appeared unkempt. Largepurple swellings gave hissunken eyes the appearanceof a troubled man. He satdown at his desk and gazedoutthewindow.Heneededtotalk. Desperate for someonewith whom to discuss whathe’d heard and seen, Dr.Goebbels sent for Manfred.Manfred had proven to himtime and again that hewas agood friend and a competent

understudy. Joseph Goebbelsenjoyed the admiration hesaw in Manfred’s eyes. Andhebelievedthathecouldtrustand confide in this youngapprenticewhoremindedhimsomuchofhimself.Aftertheothers had left for the day,GoebbelscalledManfredintohisoffice.

“Would you like a beer?”Dr. Goebbels asked as heopenedabottleforhimself.

“Iwould,yes.”“Nothing on this earth is

likeagoodGermanbeer.”“Icouldn’tagreemore.”“How is your lovely

wife?”“She is doing very well,

thankyou.”“Soon we can expect a

child?”Goebbelsasked“Wearetrying…”“That’s the good part,

huh?”Goebbels laughed,andManfredlaughedtoo.

“As you know, I wasattending a meeting withGoering and some of theothers. Men you will begetting to know very soon.GoodGermanmen…”

Goebbels lit a cigar andplaced it into his pelvisashtray.

“Anyway, this businesswiththeJewsisgettingoutof

hand. While we were in themeeting a message came. Itwas from Adolf Hitler. Hesent a notice that we are tobegintheFinalSolution.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t knowwhatthatis.”

“Nastybusiness…”“Idon’tdoubtit.

EverythinghavingtodowithJewsisanastybusiness.”

“Yes, that is true.”Goebbels hesitated for a

moment. After taking a longpuffonhiscigarandasipofbeer, he looked Manfredstraight in the eye. “It is theeliminationofallof theJewsinGermany.”

“Elimination? You meanmurder?”

“I mean…elimination.Youdounderstand.”

“Wehavetokillthem?”“Isupposethatistheonly

waytoeliminatethem.”

Manfrednodded.Hefeltathickeninginhisthroatasifhemightvomit.Itwasbesttoremainquiet,regaincomposure.Hewouldnotbedirectlyinvolved,sowhyworry.Thiswouldtakeplacefarfromhistidyoffice.

“Weshouldbearrestingthemsoonenoughandshippingthemofftothecampsthatwe’vebeenbuildingforthispurpose.

Therewewilldealwiththem,”Goebbelssaid.

Manfrednoddedagain.For several minutes, the

room was quiet. The onlysound was irritating thetickingfromtheclockon thewall.

“Nasty, but necessarybusiness,” Goebbels said,shakinghisheadasifthejobwereaburdenhecouldshakeoff. “Would you like to join

mefordinnerdownthestreetatthecafé?Ordoyouwanttoget on home to that prettywife of yours?” He pattedManfred’sshoulder.“Iwouldreally like it if you joinedme.”

“Then, of course, Iwouldbe happy to accompany youto dinner. Just give me amomenttocallChristaandlether know I am going to belate.”

“Of course,wewouldnotwanthertoworry,”Goebbelssmiled.

Chapter19Tryastheymight,Christa

could not become pregnant.After dinner the followingevening, they sat at the tableeating strudel and coffee.Manfredlookedworried.

“What is it? You lookupset.”

“No, darling, nothing is

wrong,”hesaid.“Are you upset that I

cannotconceive?”“No, I am sure you will

soon enough. We areprobablytryingtoohard.”

“Perhaps we should goandseemyfather.Hecantestus to see what is wrong. Itmightbesomethingsimple.”

“Yes, all right. If youwould like, we will go,” hesaid,andpattedherhand.

Manfred was worried. Hewas worried about so manythings. The inability toconceivewascertainlyonhismind, covert operations thathehadbecomeprivytoattheoffice were concerning him,and his workload wasconstantly increasing. Mosttroubling of all was the factthat he had stood by andwatchedas anold friendhadbeen arrested. He could not

erase the scene from hismind. It was the man whoowned the delicatessen rightdown the street from theapartment where he’d grownup.Themanwas a Jew.Butone incident that occurredwhenhewasjustaboystuckout in his mind. It was aterrible winter he and hismotherweresopoorthattheywent for days without food.Manfred had gone down to

the butcher and begged forcredit, only to be turnedaway.Onhiswayhome,he’dstopped at the delicatessen,hoping to ask for the crumbsof bread that diners had lefton their plates. At the time,the deli owner was muchyounger than he was today.Manfred recalled walking upto thecounter,hisheadhungin shame, and asking foranythingediblethatmightbe

inthetrashcan.TheJewhadlooked at him. He’d refusedto let him look in the trash.Instead, this man had givenhim two sandwiches to takehome to his mother. Thatnighthe’dsleptonafullbellyfor the first time in a longtime.He had never forgottenit,andyet,whenthismanlayonthecobblestonesjustafewfeet in front of him, beatenand bleeding, speaking in a

voicebarelyaudible…“Manfred,” he’d said his

name as he stared at himthrough eyes crusted shutwith blood. “Manfred Blau?Is that you?” The old mansquinted against the brightsunlight.

“Manfred?”Again,hesaidit,inavoicethatcracked,likethe dried blood in the oldJew’s white hair. “Help me,please, Manfred. Help me…

you’ve always been a goodboy.Please,don’tletthemdothistome…”

Manfred turned his head.He could not bear to look atthe old man lying on thepavement, surrounded by apoolofdarkblood.

Why did he have to seethis? He was only herebecause Dr. Goebbels hadsenthimonthismissionwiththeGestapotoseehowthings

were being handled. ForJoseph’s sake, hemust showleadership qualities. Heneededtoconvincethemthathewas strongandwouldnotbecome squeamishperforming the tasks theFatherlanddemandedofhim.He wanted to be heartless,ruthless,andsingle-minded:aperfectsoldier,aperfectNazi,the man that the Partyexpectedhimtobe.Butnow,

herehewas,inthemiddleofthe street with the Gestapoagents standing right besidehim, so close that he couldsmelltheircologne,andallhewantedtodowashelptheoldJew. He dared notacknowledge this man, orworse, tell him to run. Hewanted to. He wanted toscream.Tovomitatthesightof the battered man coveredin blood. He could taste the

sandwiches. If he closed hiseyes, he remembered hismother’s smile when he’dhandedher thefoodwrappedin white butcher paper. Thiswasmadness.Itwassuicide.Hemust look the otherway.Any feelings of sympathywouldmarkhimaseithertooweak to be an officer, orworse, as a traitor. It wouldputhimandChristainterribledanger. For just a secondhis

eyes connected with therheumy, pleading eyesof theold Jew. “Stop accusing me,stop begging me,” Manfredsaid in his mind. “There isnothingIcandotohelpyou.”Then he turned and walkedaway, to the sound of hisheels clicking against thecobblestone walk. Manfredtold himself over and overthat themanwas a Jew, andJews were enemies of

Germany.Itmustbethiswayif the Fatherland was to besaved. Still, he kept thinkingof how kind the man hadbeentohimwhenhewasjusta boy. And now, Manfredknew that same man was tobe taken to a camp. And,unlike somanyothers at thispoint in time, Manfredalready knew about the finalsolution.The old Jewwas tobe murdered. Every night

since the incident, Manfredfoundithardtosleep.Oh,hewould fall asleep inexhaustion as soon as hisheadhitthepillow,butwithinanhourortwohewasawake.He’dgetupandwalkaround,the demons in his mindtaunting him. He’d taken aliking to drinking shots ofwhiskey to quiet thosedemons. As the alcoholburned his throat, it also

clouded his feelings, makingiteasiertoconductnecessarybusiness. In order forGermany to take its rightfulplace as theworldpower, allof the undesirable elementsmust be eliminated. This isthe way it must be,Manfredthought. He poured anothershot.

Chapter20For several months, Dr.

Goebbels releasedpropaganda-filledfilmstotheGerman population, showinghow the Polish people weretaking advantage of theirGerman neighbors. But eventhoughHitlerhadpromisedtoprotect and never invade

Poland, thesemoviesmade itclear that Germany mustdefendherself.

Onacoolday, thefirstofSeptember in the year of1939, Hitler broke hispromise to Poland. BecauseGermany had vowed toprotectandneverinvadetheirPolish neighbors, Poland didnotseeanyneedtostrengthentheir army. Instead, theyrelied on the integrity of the

word of the great Führer.Therefore, when the Germanarmy invaded Poland, thePolishwerenomatch for thepowerfulThirdReich.Withintwo weeks, Germany hadconquered Poland, and theNazioccupationbegan.

Chapter21Eidel crawled across the

floor of the apartment. Shewent straight to Gitel’swaiting arms.Gitel lifted thebaby high in the air as thechild’s giggles filled theroom. Fruma was in thekitchen preparing pancakesand Zofia was washing

diapers.“Can you believe she is

almost a year old?” Frumasaid.

“Well, not quite, but yes,almost,”Zofiasaid.

“Eh,youjustdon’twanttogetold,soyouwanthertostayababyforever,”Gitelsaid.

“Don’tyou?”Zofiatookamomenttowalkawayfrom

thewashbasinandmarvelatEidel.

“I do, actually. She is themost wonderful treasure wehaveeverhadhere.”

“Thatsheis,”Frumasaid.“Ithinkweshouldtrytobuyausedrug.Ihateitthatsheiscrawling around on the coldfloor.Thewinteriscoming.Itwillbe toocoldforher tobedoingthat.”

“Yes, let’s see what kind

ofrugwecanget,”Gitelsaid.“Oh,Zofia,Iforgottotell

you, when you were buyingmilk yesterday, Helen camebytheshop.Shebroughtyoua little present for Eidel.And… She brought news,too.Shewouldprobablywanttotellyouherself.”

“Oh, come on, Fruma.You can’t do this to me. Ican’t stand the suspense.Whatnews?”

“Well…”“Comeon…”“She’spregnant.”“Oh,that’swonderful.”“Yes, isn’t it? The babies

willbecloseinage.Thatwillbeniceforthemastheygrowup.”

“Itwill.”“Here is the gift Helen

broughtforEidel.It’sasmalltoy, a little yellow duck.”

Fruma handed the toy toZofia.

“She is so kind. Hermotheristoo.”

“Yes. I like them bothverymuch.”

“You know, I’ve noticedthatShmulhastakenquiteaninterestinyou,”Frumasaid

“Shmul?Who is Shmul?”Zofiaasked

“You know who that is.

It’s the boy who brings thefabric samples. He alwayswatchesyouwork.Iseehowhelooksatyou.’

“Oh, Fruma, I’m notlookingforahusband.Idon’thavetimeforsuchthings.”

“What do you mean youhave no time? Only a stoneshouldbeallalone.Youneedsomeone in your life. I haveGitel,butwhodoyouhave?”

“Well, I have you and

Gitel, and of course, I haveEidel.”

“ButonedayEidelwillgooff to live her own life.AndGitel and I are much olderthan you. What will happenwhenwedie?”

“Don’t talk about dying,please.”

“Well, at least you couldgivethisShmulachance.”

“Perhaps,Idon’tknow.”

“Why don’t you invitehim for a Shabbos dinner?You’llseehowyoulikeeachother.Ifyoulikehim,fine.Ifnot, well, nothing is lost,right?”

“Oh,Fruma,Idon’tknow.I‘llhavetowaitandsee.”

“Fruma, leave her alone.Shehastodecidethiskindofthingbyherself.She’llknowwhenshe’sready.”

“Oy,Gitel, you know she

won’t be young forever.Youth and beauty fade. Onedayheryouthwillbegone.Ifshe’sgoing to find apartner,nowisthetime.”

“You’re no longer young,but to me you’re still, andalwayswillbebeautiful.”

“Gitel, you are a dear,”Frumalaughed.

It was two weeks beforeShmulcametotheshopwithhis trunk filled with fabrics,

and odds and ends. Asalways,helaidthetrunkopenin the middle of the floor,where the Fruma and Zofiacould look through it to seewhattheymightneed.

“So, Shmul, you’remarried?” Fruma asked. SheavoidedlookingatZofia,whowasgivingheradirtylook.

“No, I’ve never beenmarried,” Shmul said toFruma,buthewaslookingat

Zofia.Zofia felt her face burn

withembarrassment.“Do you have a special

girl?”“No,notreally,Iseeafew

peopleonoccasion.”“You know that Zofia is

notmarried.”“Fruma!”“Well,youaren’t.”“So, what does that have

todowithbuyingfabric?”“Nothing, nothing to do

withbuyingfabric.”“Ithinkyourbossistrying

to arrange a date for us,”Shmulsaid.

“Yes, I can certainly seethat.” Zofia glared at Frumawho turned away putting allher focus on the pile offabrics.

“I would like to take you

for dinner, or maybe wecould go for awalk,” Shmulsaid.

“YoudorealizethatEidelismydaughter.”

“Yes,Iknow.Irememberwhenyouwerepregnant.”

Zofianodded.“Andyoustillwanttotake

metodinner?”“Yes, I do. Would you

liketogo?”

Zofialookedupathim.Ifhe wasn’t exactly nicelooking, at least hewas verywell dressed. Shmul wore avery well-tailored grey suitand black tie. His shirt waswhite cotton and he worebeautiful shiny gold cufflinks.

“All right,” Zofia said.Now Fruma looked up fromthe pile of fabric. “You andGitel will watch Eidel for

me?”“Ofcourse.Didyoudoubt

it?”Frumasmiled.“No.”“Maybetomorrownight?”

Shmulasked.“Yes, all right, tomorrow

night,afterwork.”“Isseventooearly?”“Seven is fine. She can

leavealittlebitearly,”Frumasaid.

“I’ll meet you here?”Shmulasked.

“Yes, here at the shop,”Zofiasaid.

After Fruma pickedseveralboltsofmaterialandasmall bag of pearls fromShuml’strunk,heleft.

“Why did you do that?”Zofiaasked.“ItoldyouIamnotinterestedinlookingforahusband.”

“So, you’ll have a nice

dinner.What’ssowrongwiththat?”

“Oh,Fruma,Idon’tknowwhattosay.”

“Thensaythankyou.”Zofia shook her head.

Then she laughed. “Thankyou,”Shesaid.

Shmul took Zofia to thesmall kosher restaurant threeblocks from the shop. Heordered crispy-skinnedroasted chicken, kishka, and

potato pancakes with sourcreamandapplesauce.

“If Ikeepeating like this,I’llgetasfatasacow,”Zofiasmiled.

“Doyoulikeit?”“Yes, of course. It is

delicious.”“Youhaveprobablyheard

this before, but I wanted tosaythatyouareverypretty.”

“Oh, thank you,” Zofia

said, turning away,embarrassed.

“You are so closed upthough.Why?”

“I’mnotclosedup.”“Sureyou are.Youwon’t

evengivemeachance.Iamaprettyniceguy.”

“Yes,well,thetruthisI’mnotreadytogetinvolvedwithanyone. IhaveEidel to thinkof, and quite frankly, she ismymainfocus.”

“I understand. I’m notlooking for anything serious,likemarriage.ButIknowthatyou must get lonely, andhaving someone to havedinnerwith isnotsuchabadthing.”

“No, it isn’t,” Zofia said.“I am sure you’ve heard therumors about me, a womanbearing a child without ahusband.”

“Yes,Ihave.”

“AndIsupposethatmakesyoufeelasifIameasy?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’tknowwhatyoumean.”

“I mean that you knowthat I amnot avirgin and soyou assume taking anotherman into my bed would benothingforme.”

“Well, yes. I do feel thatway.Womanmaketoomuchofthissortof thing.Itwouldbe nice if it could be more

casual.”“Well…let me say this. I

donotplantosleepwithyou.Doyouunderstand?”

“Yesandno.Imean,whynot? Don’t you get lonely?And isn’t it true that once awomanhasbeenwithaman,she needs to have it again?Sortoflikeanitchthatneedstobescratched?”

“Oh,Shmul,”Zofiashookherhead“Thiswasamistake.

I knew it was. Fruma meantwell,butIamnotlookingforsomething like this,” Zofiasaid, removing the napkinfromherlapandplacingitonthe table. “Goodnight,” shesaid,andstooduptoleavetherestaurant.

“Zofia, what are youlooking for?Do youwant tospend the rest of your lifealone, or worse living withtwo lesbians? A little time

with a man would do yougood. Or maybe you areliving with two lesbiansbecauseyouareone?”

Shmulwas still talking asZofiawalkedoutthedoor.

The following day Gitelwent off to work and Frumaand Zofia took Eidel to theshop. Eidel fussed most ofthe morning wanting to bepicked up and carried. Butbothwomenwerebusy,soall

theycouldmanagewasafewminutesbetweenseams.

“She’sveryfussytoday.”“Yes, does her head feel

hot?”Zofiaasked.“No, I checked a few

minutes ago. Maybe she’scuttingatooth.”

“Yes, perhaps that’s it.Here give her to me for aminute.”FrumahandedEidelto her mother. Zofia rockedthebabyinherarmsandtried

tolookinhermouth.“I think her gums are

swelling. Do you have anywhiskey?”

“I do, but its back at theapartment.Wedon’thaveanyhere.”

“Then she’ll have to waituntiltonight,”Zofiasaid.

“By the way, how wasyourdatewithShmul?”

“Terrible, like I thought it

wouldbe.Iknowthatnomanis going to have respect forme because of what I havedone, having a child withoutthebenefitofmarriage.Theythink that since I’ve alreadybeen with a man, I wouldthink nothing of doing itagain.They lookatmeasaneasymark.I’mnot.”

“Of course you are not.Did he try to take you tobed?”

“Yes and no, I mean hedidn’t touch me. He asked.But he sort of let me knowthathefeltthatIwasgoingtobe easy. I walked out of therestaurant.”

“Oh sweetie, I am sosorry. I never meant for youto get hurt. It’s my fault. Imeantwell.Ireallydid.”

“I know you did, Fruma.ButIthinkthatpartofmylifeisover.Nomore love affairs

forme.Fromnowon, Ineedtofocusonmychild.”

“Over?Youaresoyoung.Were you so in love withEidel’s father that you can’tlookatanotherman?”

“IthoughtIwas.Iwasjustasillyyounggirl.Iwantedtohave some kind of bigromance. You know, getswept off my feet, like thegirlsyoureadaboutinbooks.Instead,Igotpregnantbymy

teacher who wanted nothingtodowithmeafterhegothisway.”

“Oh, you never told mebefore.”

“I know. I wasn’t ready.But yes, he was my teacher,an American, not Jewish,very dapper. I was a fool. Iwon’t be a fool for anymaneveragain.”

By lunchtime, Eidel’swhining had begun to grate

on both of their nerves.Between thehummingof themachines and the noise fromoutside, Zofia was getting aheadache.

“Oh,Eidel,pleasebequietalready,” Zofia said, but ofcourse,sheknewthebabydidnot understand. Her handswereshakingandshefeltlikeshemight cry. “She is reallygettingtometoday,Fruma.”

“Maybe you should take

her out for a walk in thebuggy for a little while. Thefresh air will do you bothgood,” Fruma suggested.“Besides Eidel always calmsdown and takes a nap aftershegoesforawalkoutside.”

“That’s a good idea. I’llfeed her first, then I’ll walkher to the park. By then sheshouldbereadytonap.”

The fishmonger Gitelworked forhadgiven thema

carriage for the baby. Hischildren were all grown andthe grandchildren had longsince left the infant stage.Soheno longerhadanyuse forthe buggy. In the afternoonssometimes,whentheweatherwasnice,andiftheyhadtimebetween jobs, Fruma andZofia took turns pushing thebabythroughthepark.Frumaknitted two thick blankets, ahat,mittens,andasweaterfor

Eidel. And now that theweather was changing, theywouldbeputtogooduse.

Zofia took Eidel in thebackof the store andofferedher the breast. Eidelwas toofussy to eat. With her littlefist, shekeptpushingZofia’sbreast away. After severaltries, Zofia decided to waituntil later. Instead, shechanged the baby’s diaperand dressed her for the walk

outside. When they left,Fruma sighed. It was hard,butwonderful,tohavealittleonearound.Shestretchedherback and shoulders. As shewas getting older, the longdayshunchedoverthesewingmachine had taken their toll,and she’d begun to haveaches in her upper back. Itwas unusual for Fruma tostop working even to eat,unless it waswith Zofia, but

shewastiredtoday.Thebabyhad been up a lot the nightbefore.Fruma lookedout thewindow as Zofia pushedEidel’s carriage down thebusy street. Then she set thedress she’d been working onaside to have a quiet,uninterruptedlunch.

The sky sparkled, silverblue, like a crystal. A cool,but not yet cold breezebrushed through the autumn

colored leaves of the trees,like a younggirl brushes herlong hair. And a blindinglybright sun dominated thesky.

“Look, over there, Eidel.That’s a squirrel,”Zofia saidas a squirrel scamperedthrough the long goldengrass. Eidel giggled andpointedherfinger.

“Yes sweetheart. It’s asquirrel,” Zofia cooed. Eidel

is such a beautiful baby, shethought. If someone had toldme that, I would ever loveanyone or anything as muchas I love her, I would havetold them that they werecrazy, she said aloud, to noonebutherself.

Zofiadecidedtowalkoverto the bakery and pick up astrudel for Fruma. She knewhow much Fruma loved thevinegar raisin strudel that

Mrs. Zuckerman, the bakeron the corner, made. If shehurried, perhaps they wouldnot be all gone, and what adelightitwouldbetoserveitafterdinnertonight.

She pushed the carriageslowly along the cobblestonewalk towards the bakery. Itwas necessary to go slowlybecause the stones made thebuggy rock, disturbingEidel.Asshecrossedthestreet,she

ran right into her old friendLena.Therewasnoavoidingthe confrontation. The twowomen were face to face.Zofia had heard that Lena’sparentsforbadetheirdaughterfromhavinganycontactwithZofia because of Zofia’sbearing a child out ofwedlock. From the way thatLena looked, her face as redas a ripe pomegranate, hereyes averted, Zofia knew it

wastrue.

“Hello, Lena, I haven’tseenyouinmonths.”

Zofia, pregnant and bigbellied, had gone to Lena’shometwice,tryingtoseeher,but her mother had alwayssaid that Lena was not athome.

“Yes, I know. I’m sorry,I’vebeenbusy.”

“I left word with your

mother that Iwas livingwiththe seamstress, Fruma. Youcould have come byanytime.”

“Yes, I knew where youwere,” Lena said, biting herlower lip, her eyes dartingaround to see who waswatchingthisconversation.

“You knew? But younevercameby.Weusedtobebest friends. You doremember?”

“I have to go, I’m sorry,Zofia. I can’t stayand talk. Imusthurryandgethome.”

“You’re ashamed to beseen talking to me, aren’tyou?”Zofia’sfacedropped.

“Whatdoyouwantme tosay, Zofia? You’ve done aterriblething.You’veshamedyourself. Now, you want todrag me into yourembarrassment. If I’m seenkeeping company with you,

I’ll never find a decenthusband.You’vealwaysbeenthisway,doingjustwhatyouwant and never thinkingabout the consequences. I’msorry, but I don’t have thatluxury. Iwant togetmarriedand have a family. I’m notlikeyou. Idon’twant to liveon the outskirts of society. Ineed friends. I want to beaccepted. I’m sorry Zofia.Now,please,moveoutofmy

way.Ihavetoleave.”Lenapractically randown

the street. Zofia stoodwatching Lena’s full skirtflutteraroundher legsas sheleft, her heart breaking. Sheknew that whateverfriendship they’d shared wasover. It had been over for awhile, but she’d alwayshoped that somehow, whenthey saw each other, Lenawould remember how close

they’d been and would wantthat closeness again. But itwould not be so. It wouldnever be so. Zofia’s mouthsaggedalittleandshefeltthetears burning at the back ofher eyes. Yes, sleeping withMr. Taylor had been amistake, but now, shewouldn’t trade Eidel foranything. And she was notsorry that she’d given herdaughterlife,evenifitmeant

that shewas tobeanoutcastforever.ZofialookeddownatEidel’s littlehandholdingonto her blanket. The tinyfingers fisted on the pinkknitted cover as the babysmiled up at her. It’s allworth it. God works instrangeways. I don’t careatall about the baby’s fatheranymore. In fact, I don’tknowwhatIeversawinhim.So strange that I thought I

was in love with him.However, he did give meEidel, and for that, I amforever grateful. I love thischild so fiercely that Iwouldgive anything I have for her,evenmylife.

And then…withoutwarning…breaking throughthe sameness of the earlyafternoon, of the vendorshawking, the customersquibbling, all the sights and

sounds of the city…she sawthem, marching. Germansoldiers in uniform, tottingguns,marching right throughthecenteroftown.

Zofiacouldnotmove.Herfeet felt as if theyweighed athousand pounds and wereglued to the sidewalk. In afew moments, the soldierswould be turning the cornerright in front of where shestood. Instinctively, Eidel

pickeduphermother’sangstand began to cry. Normally,Zofiawouldliftthebabyintoher arms and cuddle her, butthe crying was just thecatalyst Zofia needed to freeherfromherstance.Withherheartpounding to therhythmof themarching soldiers, shebegantoruntowardtheshop.She must get off the streetbefore the soldiers got anycloser. As Mother and baby

raceddown the sidewalk, thecarriagehitacobblestoneandalmost toppled over. Zofiacringed and trembled withnervousfear.Ifthebuggyhadturnedover,Eidelcouldhavebeenhurt.Shecouldhavehitherhead.Zofiashivered.Stopthinking and keep moving,she told herself. Get back tothe safety of the shop andlockthedoors.

When she arrived at the

shop, Zofias mouth was sodry that she could hardlyspeak.Herheartpounded.Asquickly as she could, shelocked the door. Then shepulled the curtains tightlyclosedoverthewindow.

“What’s the matter?You’re as white as a ghost,”Fruma said putting down thethickwoolfabricthatshewasworkingwith. She’d finishedthe dress forMrs.Balinsnksi

and had begunworking on acoat for Mrs. Klenstien, thebanker’swife.

“The Germans are here.RighthereinWarsaw,”Zofiasaid,andshebegancoughing,choking.

“Where? What are youtalkingabout?”Frumagotupand handed her a glass ofwater that had been sittingbeside Zofia’s sewingmachine.“Drinkthis.”

Eidel let out loud,hysterical wails. She sensedthe tension in the room. Herfacehadturnedcrimson.

“Here, look. Come, theyare right outside. Get downlow.We don’t want them tosee us. I don’t knowwhat ishappening, but I thoughtHitler had agreed to leavePoland alone. I heard that. Iknow he said that. Come,come, and peek out the

window,” Zofia was almosthysterical,hervoicewashighpitched, and she wasshaking. Fruma rubbed herbackforamoment.

“Shhh,” she said, “It’s allright. You are upsetting thebaby,”Frumasaid.

Eidel’s incessant cryingfilled the room. Fruma tookthe baby into her arms. Sherocked her back and forth,and Eidel began to quiet

down. Next, the two womengot down on their knees andpartedthecurtainacrack,justenough to see the streetoutside.

People stood watching asthesoldiersmarchedthrough.Some were blank-faced,staring out of unseeing eyes.Otherscried,orcoveredtheirmouths with their hands inshock,orhorror,orboth.

The news of the plight of

the Jews in Germany hadreachedPoland.Therewasnodoubtastotheanti-Semitismof the Nazi regime. Formonths, many of the PolishJews,Gitel among them,hadsent word to their Germanrelatives, inviting them toleave Germany and comeacross theborder to safety inPoland. Fruma’s only livingrelativeswere inHungry,butGitel had tried to convince

heraunt,tonoavail.Oftenatnight, when everyone hadgone to sleep, Gitel sat up,unable to rest. Zofia wouldhear her in the living room.She knew that Gitel worriedthat perhaps her familyrefused because she lived alife that theydidnotapproveof.ItsaddenedZofiatothinkthat such hatred andmisunderstanding could keeppeople from their own best

interest. Well, at least youtried,ZofiawouldhearFrumatellGitelwhen the discussedthematter.

German marching musiccame thundering in fromoutside.

The Third Reich hadcome to Poland. Theterrifying Nazi flag flew atthe front of the legion. AchillrandownFruma’sback.Since she was a little girl,

she’d always had a gift forseeing the future. But she’dnever had control of the gift.Itcamewheneveritchoseto.Once, as a child, she’d gonetothehospital toseeafriendof her mother’s. The friendhadaminorsurgery,andwasexpectedtoleavethehospitalin a few days. However, assoon as Fruma saw her, sheknew that the woman wouldnever leavealive.Thatnight,

hermother’sfrienddevelopedan infection. By the end ofthe week, she was dead.Incidents like these hadoccurred throughout Fruma’slife. Now, Fruma stared outthewindow,hereyesblurringas mental pictures came toher. Horrible visions ofmountains of corpses, theirbones jutting from emaciatedbodies. Fruma collapsed.Zofia saw that she had

fainted. Carefully she putEideldownonathicksquareoffabricandtookFrumaintoher arms, laying her downgentlyonthefloor.

“Fruma,” Zofia said.“Fruma…” Fruma did notanswer, although her eyeswerewideopen.

Zofia got the glass ofwater she had been drinkingfrom and brought it toFruma’s lips, but Fruma did

notdrink.“A dark day is upon us,”

Fruma saidher voicedistant,deep,andfrightening.

ThetoneofFruma’svoicemade Eidel begin to fussagain.

“Shhh, it will be alright,”Zofia said, her finger gentlyrubbing Eidel’s cheek, buteven she didn’t believe herownwords.

“I wish Gitel were here

withus,”Frumasaid.“Yes, so do I. Shall I go

over to the fishmonger andfetchher?”

“No,no,don’t leavehere.Stay.Keepthedrapesclosed.Let them pass like the angelofdeathonPassover,”Frumasaid. “We will see Giteltonight.”

Once the troops passed,thestreetsbegantoclear,andeverythingseemedtogoback

to normal. The vendorshaggled with customers, theold orthodox men walked,huddling together, wearingtheir black coats and highhats,womenhurriedalong infashionable dresses, but evenin all the regularity, forFruma and Zofia, everythingintheirworldhadchanged.

Zofia hand-sewed thebuttons on the winter coatwhile Fruma rocked Eidel.

But instead of the usualconversationandgossip,theyworked in silence, neither ofthem knowing how today’sevents might change theirlives.

Chapter22“Maybe nothing will

change. Maybe the Germanswill be too busy conqueringthe world to bother with usJews,”Gitelsaid.

“Always the optimist, mylove,”Frumaanswered.

“Well, who knows? Itcan’t be that bad. So the

goyim stop shopping in ourstores.Businessmightbehurta little bit and money mightbe tight, but we’ll survive.We always have. I’ll get asecond job if need be. I amnot going to let us starve,”Gitelanswered.

Zofiasatquietly listening.She had heard about theNuremburglaws,andshewasconcerned becauseEidelwashalf-Jewishandhalf-Gentile.

“Do you think that Eidelwill be in trouble? I can’tremember if I ever told youtwo this, but her father wasnotJewish.”

“What? She’s a baby.Nobody is going to botherwith a baby,” Fruma said.“Don’tbesosilly.”

“I amworried.Youknowthat it is illegal for Jews andGentilestohavechildren.”

“So, who knows that her

father was a goy? Only you,only us, and we certainlyaren’t going to say anything.So,stopworrying.”

Eidel started fussing, andGitel lifted her out of herplaypen.”

“Come here shaynamaidel, you beautiful girl,”Fruma cooed, smiling untilthewrinkles around her eyesweredeepcrevices.“Nobodywould ever hurt such a

shaynamaidel.”Gitelreachedforthebaby

and Fruma handed Eidel toher. She lifted Eidel highabove her head, and Eidelgiggled. Then she drooledontoGitel’sshirt.

Zofia had a memory ofhow strict she’d thoughtFruma was when she’d firstbegunworking for her. Howwrong she’d been. Frumaonly seemed hard on the

outside.Underneath,herheartwas as warm as a cozyblanket.

“You deserved that,”Frumasaid,laughingasGitelwiped the drool from her.“You lift her so high up. Ofcourse, when she drools it’sgoing to land on your shirt.You’re lucky it doesn’t landinyoureye.”

“I guess I do lift her highup. But I love it when she

laughs.”“We all do,” Fruma said.

“So, you’ll just have to copewiththedrooling.”

“That I can do,” Gitelsmiled. Fruma returned hersmile.

“Oy, my Fruma, you’vemademylifesocomplete.”

“Andyoumine…”Zofia prepared dinner

while the two surrogate

grandmothers played withEidel. They whispered theirworries to each other, notwanting to alarm Zofia, butZofia was young and herhearingwasexceptional.

“Whatever happens atleast we are together,” Gitelsaid.

“I am so afraid.” FrumalookedatGitel,hereyescastdarkwithshadows.

“I know. I know. So am

I.”

Chapter23ChristaandManfredwere

seated in a private room inherfather’soffice.Theresultsfrom the fertility tests wereback and Dr. Henkener’snurse called them in todiscuss what the doctor hadfound. Manfred got up tolookoutthewindowontothe

street. So many things werehappening so fast in his life.Hitlerwasmovingforwardinhis conquest to makeGermany the most powerfulnation in the world. At thelast rally Manfred hadattended in Nuremburg,Hitler explained how heplannedfortheReichtolastathousand years, forGermanyto take its rightful place asruler of the entire world.

Since then things weremoving at an alarming rate.Manfred tried to not thinkabouttheexterminationoftheJews, Gypsies, homosexuals,andother inferiorclasses.Heunderstood the necessity. Itwas just the actual act ofmurder that lefthimsickandspeechless. How far wouldHitler takeall of this? Itwashard to say. Could entireraces of people be

annihilated? And how couldsuch things be carried out?Whatwould they dowith allofthebodies?Manfredhopedthathewouldbeabletoavoidseeinganyofwhatwastobedone. With any luck hewouldneverleavehisworkattheoffice,neverbesubjectedto a field trip to the campswhereitwasalltotakeplace.Thetheoriesworkedjustfinefor him, it was the acts, the

blood, and the death thatfrightenedhim.

“Manfred, do you hearme?”Christasaid

“I’msorry.Iwassolostinthought…”

“I know you were, I wasasking ifyouwanted tohavedinner with your mother onSunday.Shecalled.”

“My mother, on Sunday?Yes,ifyouwouldliketo…”

“Youseemdistracted.”“I’m sorry, darling. It’s

work. I was thinking aboutsomethingsIhadleftundoneattheoffice.”

She nodded. “Well, let’sgoout foranice lunchwhenthis appointment is over. Inever see you anymore.Youare always at work. This ismy time.” She smiled. “So,just for a few hours, pleaseput the office out of your

mind.Allright?”“Yes, of course.And you

choose the place for lunch.Howdoesthatsound?”

He thought about howneglectful he’d been latelyand decided that he wouldbringheradozenrosesonhiswayhomefromworktonight.This job of his consumedhim.Itdemandedeverything:all of his time, all of hisattention.Hewondered ifhis

beingoverworkedmighthavesomething to do with theirinability to conceive. Manynights he would go to bedexhausted, only towake in afew hours unable to sleep. Itwould then takehimhalf thenight to fall back asleepagain,andbythetimehedid,the alarm was sounding,telling him it was time toreturn to the office. Perhapsthiswasthewayitwasforall

men attempting to betterthemselves through theircareers. It seemed to be anever-ending struggle up theinvisibleladderofsuccess.

Dr. Henkener opened thedoor carrying a manila file.He walked over to Christaandkissedhercheek.

“Hello, Manfred.” Dr.Henkener reached out toshakehishand.

Manfred saluted himwith

the Heil Hitler, salute. Dr.Henkener followed with aless enthusiastic salute. Thenwalked behind his desk andsatdown.ManfredsatbesideChrista her reached over andtookherhandinhis.

“Ihavetheresultsofyourphysical exams right here.Fromwhat Icansee,bothofyou are healthy and there isno reason thatyou shouldbeunable to conceive a child. I

willsaythis:sometimesiftheman isoverworkedand tired,he has amore difficult time.Emotions can also have aneffect.What Imean is that ifyou are so worried aboutgetting pregnant, sometimesthat can stop it fromhappening for you. Or itcould be that your job is sooverwhelming, Manfred thatitistakingatollonyou.But,I think that if the twoofyou

bothtrytorelaxandnotrushthings, Christa will becomepregnantinashorttime.”

Manfred lookedaway.HedidnotwanttomeetChrista’seyes,sohedroppedherhand.His old feelings ofinadequacy peeked out fromunderthecarefullyplacedrugin his mind. He was sure itwas him. It sounded as ifChrista’s father blamed himandhisjob.Hisfaceflushed

as he got up and walkedtowards the window again.YouforgetwhoIamsir.IamSturmann Blau, a successfulofficerintheSS.Idon’thaveany problems. I am not tiredor emotionally upset,Manfred thought, tryingdesperatelytoregainhisself-confidence.

“Do you have problemswithinfertilityinyourfamilyhistory,Dr.Henkener?”

“No, Manfred, we don’t.But itmay not be a problematall.Youbothmightjustbetrying too hard. Sometimesthat can be a sort of a blockforconception.”

“That’sabsurd.ItmustbeChrista.”

Christa’s head snapped assheturnedherheadtogazeathim. Never had he saidanythinglikethisbefore.Herlips parted and she almost

said something, but then sheclosedthemagain.

“Manfred,” Dr HenkenerlockedhiseyesonManfred’s,“Itmaybenothingatall,andthen again, It may just beyou.”

Manfred’s face turned thecolor of fresh blood. Heclenched and unclenched hisfist. Dr. Henkener hadtouched a nerve. Christa gotup towalk towardsManfred.

He glared at her and she didnotmove.

“Let’s go now,” Manfredsaid to Christa. “That is allyou have to tell us, is thatright?”

“Iamafraid so. I’msorryManfred. I think you mightjust be under a great deal ofpressurefromyourwork.Butthen again…who knows?”Dr.Henkenersaid.

“Noneedtobesorry.The

tests are wrong. I am not anemotional weakling whocan’t work and produce achild at the same time. ForGod’ssake,mendo itall thetime. I am afraid, Dr.Henkener that you just don’twant to admit that theproblem might be yourdaughter. Because I canassure you that, it is notme.AreyoucomingChrista?”Heopened the door and stood

waiting. “Well, are youcoming?”

Christa looked fromManfred to her father. Hurtandunspokenapologieswereall over her face. Her handstrembled as she gripped herhandbaginfrontofher.

“Goodbye, Father,” shesaid, her voice trembling,tearswellingupinhereyes.

Dr Henkener watchedChristawithsympathy.

Before Christa had achance to kiss her father’scheek, Manfred was outsidethe door. He let it slambehindhim.

Christa followed Manfredout into the street. He waswell down the block so shehad to run to catch up withhim.

Manfred walked so fastthatChristahadtojogtokeepup. The sound of his boot

heels clicked on thepavement.

“Manfred, slow down. Ican’tkeepupwithyou.”

“I’m in a hurry. I have togetbacktotheoffice.”

“But we were going tohavelunch.”

“I realized that I don’thavetimetoday.”

“Manfred,pleasedon’tbethisway.Weloveeachother.

Itwillbeallright.”“I’ll see you tonight,” he

said,andwalkedawaysofastthat he left Christa behind.She stopped trying to keeppace with him. Instead, shestood still, just watching theman she loved race awayfrom her. Only once did heturnback to seeher standingaloneonthesideofthestreet,watching him. He was faraway,toofartoseeit,buthe

knew she was crying. Still,eventhoughhewantedto,hecould not go back and takeher in his arms. Somethinginsideofhim-theneedtobestrong,tobepowerful,andtoberespected-stoppedhim.

WhenManfredreturnedtotheoffice,hewenttohisdeskwithout saying a word toanyone. Dr. Goebbels sawhimandwalkedover.

“Everythingallright?You

went to thedoctor, yes?Youlookupset.”

“Yes, it’s fine. We justneedtotryharder.”

“Nothing wrong withthat…right?”

“Yes,sir.”“Ach, don’t feel bad.

Beforeyouknowit,she’llbepregnant and you’ll have abeautifulchild.”

“Yes, that will be very

nice.”Joseph Goebbels patted

Manfred’sback.“Have you had lunch?”

Goebbelsasked.HeputdownthelatestcopyofDerStumer,the newspaper which he hadbeen leafing through whenManfred arrived. He wasproud of the propagandapaper his office produced. Ithad proved helpful inswayingtheheartsandminds

oftheGermanpeopleagainstthe subhumans, and rallyingthem behind Hitler and hisnoblecause.

“No.”“I thoughtyoumight stop

with the wife and grabsomething.”

“Shehadtogethome.Herlady friend was stopping byto drop off her child.Christapromisedtowatchherbaby,”Manfredlied.

“Well, then it’s you andme. Why don’t we take awalkdowntothecornerpub?We can have a couple ofbeersafewbratsandanhourortwoawayfromwork?”

“Soundsgood,sir.”Whentheygottothepub,

there was a line of peoplewaiting for a table. Theproprietor,arotundlittlered-facedmanwithawhiteapronandred-blondhairthatwasso

thinhisscalpshinedthrough,walkedovertothem.

“Heil Hitler,” therestaurateursaid.

“Heil Hitler. Table fortwo,”Goebbelsanswered.

Although they were thelast to arrive, he seated themfirst. Once again, the blackSS uniform had worked itsmagic.

They sat at a table in thecorner by the window. The

tablewas coveredwith a redand white checkeredtablecloth.

“Bring us two beers,”Joseph Goebbels told theyoungwaiter.“Andaplateofbrats and some sauerkraut.Also,somefriedpotatoesanda green salad. Do you wantanythingelse,Manfred?”

“No,soundsperfect,sir.”“Verywell, then,” turning

back to thewaiter, “keep the

beerscoming.”After the waiter left,

Goebbelscarefullyplacedhisnapkinonhislap.”

“So, the invasion ofPoland was a landslidesuccess.”

“I know, sir. It surelywas.”

“Our Führer is a genius.He told them not to form anarmy, that we would protectthem, andwouldyoubelieve

theylistened?NotverysmartI’d say.Well, it’s nowondertheyarenotthesuperiorrace.But at least the Poles aren’tJewsorGypsies.Wecanfinda place for them as ourworker slaves in the NewWorld Order. You know,some of their children arebeautiful; they look German:blond, blue-eyed, beautiful.Aryan looking...Actually thelast time I saw Heinrich, he

thought that perhaps weshould take a few and sendthem off to be retrained asGermans. It’s an idea,anyway. At least we couldconsider taking some of theprettyones.”

“You mean theReichsführer, sir?” Manfredlooked at Goebbels andthought about Hitler andHimmler,whom he hadmet.Noneofthemlookedlikethe

Aryans they professed to be.Here they proclaimed theGerman man to be tall, andathletic, blond, with blueeyes.Yet,Hitler himself hadall the physical qualities ofthe Jews he hated. He haddark hair, was small instature,anddidnotappearatall athletic. Furthermore, thelarge nose he used as asymbol of the ugliness ofJewry sat right in themiddle

of his own face. These aretreasonous thoughts I amhaving. These thoughts mustbe kept under wraps at allcosts.

“Yes, of course I meanReichsführer Himmler. Hehasbeensettinguphomesforthe Lebensborn. It is anexciting idea. These arewonderful institutions tohelpincreasetheAryanpopulationthroughamatingprocess.He

also thought that we mighttake a few of the Polishchildrenandputtheminthereas well. They are children,they are young, are quick toforget. If theyareaway fromtheirparents, theywill forgettheir parents, and we couldturn them into Aryans. Ofcourse we’d set up schoolsforretraining.”

“It’s a good idea,”Manfred said, nodding and

taking a swig of his darkGermanbeer.

“Youandyourmissuswillhavebeautifulchildren.”

“Yes, she is lovely, mywife.”

“Youarebothblond.ThatshouldgiveyoubrightAryanbabies.Bytheway,haveyouever seen photographs ofmywifeandchildren?”Goebbelsasked.

“Only the one on your

desk,sir.”“Oh, let me show you.

You already know mybeautiful wife. There she is,my Magda.” He showedManfred a picture of slenderwoman with wavy hair,smiling at the camera,surrounded by a brood oflight-haired, laughingchildren. “I don’t thinkyou’ve ever seen my fivebeautiful children. I will tell

you a secret… We haven’ttold anyone else yet, but wehaveanotherontheway.”

“Congratulations,”Manfredsaid,tryingtosoundsincereandhidethejealousy.Goebbelshadfive,soontobesix. Manfred and Christacould not even produce one.Why?

“Yes,wearequiteexcited.The more Aryan babies wecan bring into theworld, the

better things will be for theNewOrder ofGermany.Ourleader is doing a wonderfuljob of restricting Germany.Soon we will be the worldleaders as it was alwaysmeant to be. We will leavethisworld to our children.Aworld free of undesirableelements, and filled with thebeauty, grace, and charm oftheAryanrace.”

Thefoodarrived.Manfred

was relieved not to have todiscuss having childrenanymore, at least for today.They ate and discussed foodand beer. By the end of themeal,bothmenwerefullandtired.Astheywalkedbacktotheoffice,GoebbelssmiledatManfred.

“I meant to tell you…some good news…I ampromoting you toRottenführer.”

“Sir!” Manfred beamed.“Thankyou.”

“You deserve it, my boy.You are a wonderfulemployee and an excellentfriend and confidant. Yes,Manfred, I chose you well.You are a true asset to theParty.”

“Thank you. Thank you,sir.”

Chapter241940

The Germans established

ghettos in Poland. EvenbeforetheNazishadachanceto build fences around them,the arrests began. At first, itwas a small numberof Jews,and so their neighbors, otherJews, were able to overlook

whatwastakingplace.Peoplewere able to deceivethemselves by rationalizingthat those whowere arrestedwerecriminalsofsomesort.

ButnoJewwassafe.TheNazismeant to kill them all:men, woman, children,infants...

Andthenoneday,withoutwarning, thoseJewswhohadcarefully looked the otherwayinhopesthatitwouldall

disappear were seized atgunpointfromtheirhomes,orthe streets, or their jobs, tornfrom their lives, and all oftheir possessions confiscated.Justordinarypeople,guiltyofno crime, and yet, oftenbeatenorshotiftheyresisted.They were taken to a smallarea set off from the rest ofthe population, the ghettos,where they again chose todeceive themselves, that they

wouldliveandworkuntilthewar was over. But,unbeknownst to them, theywereonly in lineforanevenmore sinister fate. Theghettos, rotting with disease,plagued by starvation, dirt,and overpopulation, weremerelyastop-gap.Next,theywould face the answer to therace contamination that theThird Reich had put intoeffect and named the Final

Solution. Hitler planned tobegin the annihilation ofmillions. It was not just theJews. Oh no, the Naziswanted to erase the Gypsies,the homosexuals, theJehovah’s Witnesses, and somanyothers fromthefaceoftheearth.Atfirstlargegroupsof people were shot andthrown into ravines, but thismethod was far too slow.Europe was filled with

undesirables, and the Nazisdecided that theyallmustbeeradicated. And so, nextcame…the trains. The trainsto the camps, filled withpeople loaded like cattle, ontheir way to places whereNazi scientists had workedpainstakingly to create themostefficientdeathmachinesever known toman. The gaschambers, Zyklon B. Thesehouses of death were

accompanied by the ever-operating crematoriums,which could never work fastenough in the effort todispose of the dead bodies.The surrounding cities weresubjectedtoconstantrainthatpouredfromtheovens,madefromtheashesofthedead.

Chapter25The sewing machines

buzzed.FrumaandZofiahadaweddinggown tomake forthe Eisenstat’s youngestdaughter, Sora. It had to befinished by the week’s end.There were pearls to handsewandhems tobe finished.The women worked quickly

their skilled fingers flyingacross the fabric like tinybirds.

“Canyoubelieve it?Nextweek is Eidel’s first birthdayalready.How the time flies,”Frumasaid,shakingherheadandsmiling.

“I know. My figure tellsmeeveryday.Ican’tseemtogetmyoldshapeback,”Zofiasaid.

“You look lovely. You’re

just not a girl anymore.You’reamother,awoman.”

“Old and flabby, in otherwords.”

“If you’re old, then GitelandIareancient.”

Zofia laughed and shookher head. “I want to makeEidel a new dress for herbirthdayparty.”

“Ithinkthat’sawonderfulidea.Howmany children arecoming?”

“JustHelen,thebaby,andEstherfromnextdoorandherson.”

“Oy,heisawildlittleboy.Ihopehedoesn’t tearup theapartment.”

“Yes, I knowhe is out ofcontrol,buthe’sjustanormalthreeyearold.”

“Not refined like ourEidel.Eidelisspecial.”

“Of course not,” Zofialaughed. “Nobody is as good

asourEidel.”Thefloorwaslitteredwith

strings,dust,andsmallbitsoffabric. Eidel slept quietly,lying on her stomach in herplaypen with a pink knittedblanketoverher.

“Shelookslikeanangel.”“Doesn’t she?You know,

asmuchasIregretwhatIdidwith her father, I mean,having relations with a manwho was so much older and

all of that, I can’t becompletely sorry because Iwasblessedtohaveher.”

“I know. You knowwhatmy grandmother used tosay?”

“What?”Zofiaasked,bothwomenstaringatthesleepingchild.

“Shesaideveryblessingisa curse and every curse is ablessing.Yes, her fatherwasa curse, but Eidel is such a

blessingtoallofus.”“Thatsheis…”Zofiasaid.

Chapter26The small apartment that

Zofia sharedwithFrumaandGitel was decorated withballoons and streamers.Giteldragged herself out of bedthatmorningandwent to thebakery nice and early. Thereshe bought a small birthdaycake. Fruma and Zofia had

bothmadedollsoutof fabricand stuffed them. They’dsewed on buttons for theeyes, nose and mouth. ThenFruma made a few dressesthat would fit the dolls,giving them a wardrobe.Zofia laughed. She knew itwouldbeseveralyearsbeforeEidel would change theclothes, but the effort thatFruma and Gitel made tomake things beautiful always

touched her heart. She knewhow fortunate she was. Andregardless of what peoplesaid about them, her friendswere the kindest women shehadeverknown.

A pot of thick, strongcoffee was brewing on thestove.Thefragrancefilledtherooms.Soontheguestswouldarrive. It was Eidel’s firstbirthday. She wore a dressthatwasthecolorofthedeep

pinkofasummersunset.Herdark blonde hair was caughtup on top of her head in abowtomatchthelacyruffleson her dress. Zofia watchedEidel playing, and her heartswelled with joy, pride andevery other emotion anymotherhaseverfelt.

Helenknockedatthedoor.In her arms, she carried herson,Larsandagaily-wrappedgift for Eidel. The babies

were born a few monthsapart, and themothers hopedtheirchildrenwouldgrowuptobefriends.

“Come in, will you havesome coffee or tea?” Frumaasked.

“Thank you, Fruma. Iwould love some tea. HelloZofia, Gitel.” Helen smiled,andZofia realizedagainhowbeautifulHelenwas.Shewas

tall and blonde. Thepregnancy had done nothingto her slender, girlish figure.But not onlywas she lovely,she was kind. “And who dowe have here?” Helen askedas she bent to tickle Eidel’scheek.“Why,it’sthebirthdaygirl.”Eidelgiggled.

“Here letme takehimfora minute so you can enjoyyourtea.”Gitelsaid.

“Areyousure?”

“Of course. I have lots ofexperiencefromEidel,”Gitelsaid, but as soon as she tookLars,hestartedcrying.

“Ech,he’sjustusedtohismother. I’m sorry Gitel,”Helen said, andGitel handedthebabybacktoHelen.

“You look wonderfulZofia, you’re glowing.Motherhood really agreeswithyou,”Helensaid.

“Oh,Iwishthatweretrue.

Ican’tseemtolosethisbabyweight.”

“Well,yougaineditinallthe right places. You have abeautiful shape. Iwish ithaddonethesameforme.”

“Oh Helen, you still looklike a young girl. You willalwaysbelovely.”

EidelmusthaveseenLarsbeingheldbecauseshebeganfussingandreachingherarmstowardsZofiatopickherup.

Fruma saw Eidel reachingand lifted her. Then Gitelcame and reached for thebaby, lifting her high in theair.Eidelforgotwhatshewasfussing about and giggledloudly.

Esther, the widow wholived next door, arrived withher four-year-old son, anactive little boy with amischievous smile. Heimmediately began grabbing

Eidels toys. He picked up afat baby doll and beganracingaroundtheroom.

“No, Manny, behave.Weare not at home. This isEidel’s party.” Esther pulledManny by the arm and tookthe doll away. She held himclose to her and he began tocry in frustration. “PleaseManny,behave.Wearegoingto have cake soon enough.You love cake. Now, if you

don’t act properly I will notallowyoutohaveapiece.”

Fruma glanced at the boyandfrowned.Littleboysweresuchapain in theneck.Besttogetthecakeoutbeforethelittle monster got hisdestructive hands onsomethingelse.

Frumaputthecakeonthetable with a single candle inthecenter.

“Is everyone ready?”

Frumaasked.Nods all around. Zofia

pickedEidelup andheldherso that she could see asFruma lit the candle. Eidelbegan to giggle as everyonesangahappybirthdaysong.

Zofia blew out the candlefor Eidel, and she made asilent wish that her childwouldhavealongandhappylife. Everyone clapped, andEideltriedtoclaptoo.

Fruma went into thekitchentogetaknifeandthepile of plates she’d takendownforthecake.

There was a knock at thedoor. Fruma put the platesdown and opened it. Theentire festive mood changedin a single moment as theroomseemeddwarfedby thepresence of three tall,menacing men wearing longblack leather coats: the

Gestapo.Fruma’s hands trembled,

her face turned white. Shecould not speak or hear. Allshe heard were two words:“Arrested,”and“Jews.”

“What’s going on here?”Helen asked. “Why are youarrestingthesewomen?”

“It’s none of yourbusiness.Youdon’t looklikeaJew.Whyyouarehere?”

“I am not a Jew. I am a

Christianandmyhusbandisamember of the Nazi Party.Now tell me, please, what isgoingonhere?”

“You should not even beinthisneighborhood.Getoutnow, and be glad that wedon’t arrest you too.” HepushedHelenagainstthewallslamming her hard. The painsobered her. She rubbed hershoulder. Helen watched theman. Her eyes were filled

with fright. She glanced atLars,suddenlyafraidforhim.

“Mach schnell. You havefive minutes to gather yourthings together. Let’s go!Move!” he shouted at thethreewomen.

Gitel looked at Fruma.Zofiastoodgluedtothefloor.Itfeltasifherfeetwouldnotobey.

“MOVE, I said!” TheGestapo agent took a club

from the side of his uniformand hitGitel across the face.Blood flew across the roomonto the wall, covering thebirthday cake. Fruma ran toGitel, but theman raised theclubtohitthembothagain.

“Move,now!”Gitel spit a tooth into her

hand.Everyone scampered.

Esther grabbed Manny, whowas crying, and raced out of

the apartment. Helen tookLarsandleftasquicklyasshecould. And within minutes,Gitel,Fruma,Zofia,andEidelwerebeingdrivenawayinthenotorious black car that hadtaken so many of theirneighbors. Gitel was holdingatowelagainstthesideofherface. As the car rounded thecorner, Zofia saw HelenstandingonthesidewalkwithLars in her arms. The baby

was crying, and so wasHelen.

Chapter27Every day more families

arrived in the alreadyovercrowdedWarsawGhetto.Food was scarce, and therationswerecontrolledbytheNazis,whogaveeachpersonless than 200 calories worthof food per day. Soapwas aluxury, and everything was

filthy. Bouts of typhoid andplague erupted, seizing thehealthy and ending in deathwithinhours.Workwashardtofind,andsowomen,outofneed, resorted to the onlycommodity they had to sell,theirbodies.Childrenbeggedfor money or food. And theblack market flourished. Atnight,thosewhocouldescapeover the wall and out of theghettotomakedealswiththe

Polish returned with food,medicines, and othernecessitiestosell.Thosewhowere able survived. The sickor elderly perished withindays.TheworstofitallweretheJudenrats.The Jewswhocollaborated with the NazishadputtheminchargeoftheGhetto. The Judenrats wereinstructed to select a certainnumberofJewstobetakentothetrainseachday.Everyone

was led to believe that thetrains led to work campswhere the Jews would beemployed in the Nazi wareffort. At least at first,everyonebelieved.

But where there is life,there is hope, and thosewholived made the best of thesituation. Schools were puttogether for the children,playswere performed,musicand art thrived, and people

stillfell in love,andmarried.All this continued with thehope that soon thenightmarewouldend.

Zofia, Gitel, Fruma, andthe baby found housing in acrowded apartment building.They shared a small two-bedroom flat with anotherfamily, the Gursteins: ayoung mother whosewrinkledbrowgavehera farolder appearance than her

thirty-five years, aconsumptively thin father,and two daughters, one tenand the other eleven. Thewater, when it worked, wasicy cold, making bathing anuncomfortable, but necessaryevil. Zofia noticed that theparentswholivedintheotherroomgavemostoftheirfoodto their children. The twogirls attended a makeshiftschool, where they learned

music and drama in additionto the basics of reading,writing and arithmetic.OftenMara, the older of the twodaughters would come homesingingasongfromanopera.Her sisterwould join in, andeven though the house wascrowded, there was joy.Little Eidel loved the girlswhopickedherupandplayedwith her as if she were ahumandoll.Theycarriedher

aroundtheapartment,singingtoher,ortheysatonthefloortalking amongst themselvesand playing with Eidel.Betweenthetwopreteens,hermother, and grandmothers,Eidel never lacked forattention. She was a happybaby, laughing and smilingall the time. The child tookher first steps in that smallapartment in the WarsawGhetto. Everyone laughed

and cheered as she toddledalong,holdingontothewornthreadbarefurniture.

It came to Fruma’s mindone afternoon as she walkedhomefromthemarketwithameasly smallbagof food forthe entire family that hersewing services might be ofusetothoseontheothersideofthewall.Afterall,shewasamasterseamstressandZofiacould embroider better than

most.Perhapstherewasworkthey could do, work thatwould buy them more foodon the black market.Everyone knew where to goto find the sellers who dealtin black market goods,everyone except theJudenrats, who were kept inthe dark because they werenottobetrusted.

Fruma rounded thecornerandduckedintothealleyway.

Thereshesawtheyoungmanwho everyone knew as KarlAbdenstern. He was makingsome sort of a deal withanother man. She saw Karlpull a vial of something outof his pocket, which wasexchanged for a few coins.Once the man took the vialandleft.Frumaapproached.

“You are KarlAbdenstern?”

“Whowantstoknow?”

“My name is FrumaKowolsky. I’m a seamstress.My daughter, Zofia is also.We can do sewing andembroidery very well. Wewill work cheap, anything isbetter than nothing. Is thereany call for such thingsoutsidetheGhetto?”

Karllookedatthewoman.He felt sorry for her.Although he’d never lookedintothesaleofsuchservices,

he could do so the next timehewenttotheotherside.

“I don’t know. I can lookintoit,”Karlsaid.

“Youwill?Please.Ofcourse,Iwould expect you to take acut. I understand thateveryone must make aliving,”Frumasaid.

“Where can I find you?”Karlasked.

“I will come back if you

tellmewhentobehere.”“Come the day after

tomorrow and I will havesomeinformationforyou.”

“Thankyou.”“Don’tthankmeyet.Iam

notsurethatIcangetyouanywork,butIwilltry,”hesaid,his eyes scanning the oldwoman. She was painfullythin.

“I am grateful that youshouldeventry,”Frumasaid.

Karl gazed at Frumawhobegan towalk away. “Wait,”hesaidpullingahardpieceofbread out of his coat pocket.“Here,it’snotmuch,buttakethis.” Karl handed her thefood.

“Are you sure?” Frumaasked.

“Yes, takeitplease.”Karlwassuddenlyembarrassed.

“Thankyou.Thankyousomuch.”

Karl nodded. “It’s allright. I’ll find out what Ican.”

Fruma nodded her headandleft.Asshewalkedhome,she was excited. It was alarge, heavy roll, of dark,grainy bread. She wouldshareitwithGitelandZofia.

Chapter28Therewaswork!Karlsaid

he would bring them work.The Polish with whom hetraded with were willing touse their services as long asthe work was done cheaply,more cheaply than anyseamstress would chargeoutsidethewall.

Zofia was thrilled. It wasgood to have work. She andFruma were busy all daylong.GiteltookcareofEideluntil theyounggirls returnedfrom school, when theyhappily took over the job.Mrs. Gurstein prepared theevening meal, while Mr.Gurstein went out and didwhateverworkhewasabletofind. Karl Abdensternbrought fabrics to be

embroidered, pearls to besewn on, carefully andindividually,hemstobetakenup, and various other tasks.Thepaywasnotevenhalfofwhat they earned when theyhad the shop, but it wasenough to help buy somesmall extras, like a bar ofsoap, and some food,although there was barelyenoughforthethreeofthem.Fruma,GitelandZofiatalked

among themselves anddecided to share with theGursteins.Thingswerebetterthantheywerebefore.

One afternoon as Zofiareturned from the bakery,Koppel Bergman, a well-knownJudenrat walked overto her. She had noticed thathehadwatchedhercomeandgothroughthemarketforthepastmonth.Zofiatookhimtobe about forty years old, but

he was in good shape andcould easily have passed forthirty.. He was tall, with anarrogance about him, withpleasant, even features, dark,deep-set eyes, and straightdark hair combed away fromhis face. His clothes fit hisslender frame and it wasobvious to Zofia that hethought himself a ladies’man. Mostwomen probablyfell athis feet, andwhynot?

He was a Judendrat. Thatmeanthehadaccesstobetterfood, more quantity, and hecould offer safety. After all,hewasoneof thosewith thepower to decide who was tobe selected for the next traintotheworkcamp.

“Hello,” Koppel said,smiling. “I’m KoppelBergman.Idon’tthinkwe’veeverformallymet.”

“Hello,” Zofia said,

walkingmorequickly.“Wait,what’syourhurry?

You haven’t even told meyourname.That’srude.”

“I’m sorry. My name isZofia. But I have to gethome.”Shekeptwalking.

“I’msureyoucouldsparea fewminutes. If youwouldlike,Icouldofferapastryanda cupof coffee if youwouldliketosharethemwithme.”

Dear God, she was

hungry. The idea of a sweetpastry and a cup of coffeemadehermouthwater.Butitwasdangeroustobecometooinvolved with this man.Better tostayoutofhisway.“No, I’m sorry. I reallymustgo.”

“Wait,justaminute,slowdown,you’repracticallyrunning.Ionlywanttotalktoyou.”Koppelsaid.

Zofiawasafraid.Bestnotangerhim.Shestopped.

“There you go. Now wecan talk. Would you like togo with me and have thatpastry?”

“I’msorry.Iwouldliketo,butIhavetogethome.”

“It will only take a fewminutes. I promise you it isdelicious.”

“Allright,then.”

“I knew you would seereason.Comeon,followme,”hesmiled.

Evenasshefollowedhim,Zofiafeltuncomfortable.Shewantedtogohomebutifshedid,hewouldbeangry.Thenwhoknewifhemightdecidetoputheronthenext list forthetraintotheworkcamp?

They walked for threeblocks, he stompingconfidently aheadof her, she

slowly behind him. Whentheyarrivedathisapartment,Zofia felt a sick twitchpenetrateherstomach.

“Well, come in. I won’tbite you.’ Koppel said, hissmile charming as his eyesglancedoverher.

She entered. Theapartment was the nicestshe’d ever entered inside oftheghetto.

“I live here with my

mother,butsheisoldandshewon’tbotherus”hesaid.“Somake yourself comfortable.”ThenKoppel put on a pot ofboiling water. The aroma ofthe coffee filled the room.Zofiafeltherselfsalivatinginresponse.Ithadbeensolongsince she’d even smelledgood-qualitycoffeebrewing.Koppel saw the look on herfaceandlaughed.

“As you can see, I have

access to the better things inlife.”

Hetookasmallplatewiththree white, doughy cookiesonitoutofthepantry.Itwascovered with a waxy whitepaper.He removed thepaperand set the dish in front ofZofia

“Go ahead. Enjoy,”Koppelsaid.

Zofia took one of thecookiesandbitintoit.Itwas

as if she had never tastedsugar before. All of hersenses came alive. Shechewed slowly savoringeverymorsel.Butevenassheenjoyed the incrediblesensations, her thoughtsturnedtoguiltasshethoughtofEidelandherfamily.

“May I take the rest ofthese for my daughter?” Shecould easily have devouredthe entire plate’s contents in

seconds. And it took everyounceof restraint forhernotto.

“Of course. They are allforyou,”Koppelsaid.

Quickly, feeling like athief, Zofia wrapped thecookies in the paper andstuffed them into the pocketof her skirt. Powdered sugarfell onto her black skirt. Ifshe’d been alone, she wouldhave licked itoff. Instead,as

discreetly as she could, sherubbed her finger into thewhite powder and brought itto her lips.Closing her eyes,she delighted in the sweetpleasure.

“They are very good,yes?”

“Yes, thank you, verygood.”

“I’m glad you enjoyedthem.Icanalwaysgetmore,”he said, clearing his throat.

“Now, Zofia, that is yourname, correct? I have a littlepropositionforyou.”

Shedidn’tanswer.Shesatthere,listening,knowinghowvulnerableshewasherealonewith him, in his apartment.She was constantly aware ofhis position, of the power hehadtodecidewhowouldstayin the ragged safety of theGhetto and who would beforced to the unknown

destinationsonthetrain.“I can get you work,

money, and plenty of food. Iknow thathas to soundgoodtoyou,”Koppelsaid.

Zofia nodded. “Yes, ofcourse. I would appreciateany work.” He must neverfind out about the work sheand Fruma did through theblackmarket.

“You’re young and verypretty. That’s in your favor.

And may I be so bold as tosaythatIhavebeenwatchingyouandIknowthatyouhavea child, so you are notunfamiliar to thewaysof theworld.”

“I’m afraid I don’tunderstand.” Zofia said hervoice cracking like iciclesfallingfromtreebranches.

“Well, there are a lot ofmenherewhowouldgiveuptheirfoodrations,moneytoo,

for an afternoon of badlyneeded release. Do youunderstand?”

She understood, of courseshe understood. Zofiacoughed, and cleared herthroat, stifling the desire toslaphisprettyface,toseeherhand print on that perfectchiseledcheek.

“I’msorry.Icouldn’t.It’sjust not something I couldeverdo.”

“So many women aredoingwhattheyhavetodoinorder to survive, this wouldbeaneasywayforyoutogetthethingsyouneed,andwhatisthebigproblem?It’sreallynothing, just a few hoursdoing what you’ve donebefore.”

“I’m sorry. I’m verysorry,”Zofia said, getting upand heading for the door. Itfelt as if a lump had formed

inherthroatandshecouldn’tswallow.

“Wait…”hesaidagain.Shestopped,onlybecause

she knew she must. It wasdangertooffendhim.

“I understand…” hesmiled at her. Itwas awide-open smile, but she felt thehair on the back of her neckstand up. “I like you Zofia.I’m not going to hold itagainst you that you have so

arrogantly refused my kindoffer. Instead, Iamgoing toassume that youare adecentgirl and instead of beingoffended, I am going to askyou if youwould like to seemeagain.”

She would like never toseehimagain.

“Of course Iwould, but Iamsobusywithmydaughterthat I don’t have much timeforsocializing.”

“Well, you realize that itcould be arranged for yourdaughter to be on the nexttransport. Then you wouldhave time, right?”Heputhisfingeruptohislips.

She felt her kneesbuckle.He could do it. It was in hispower.HerewasaJewasbadasaNazi.Tearswelledupinhereyes.

“Please, don’t do that. Iwill see you again. I will

arrange whatever must bearranged in order to see you.Just please leave my childalone,”Zofiasaid.

“I thought youwould seereason. I know where youlive.Iwillcomebytogetyoutomorrownight.Wecanhavea nice evening together,”Koppelsaid.

Zofia nodded and left. Acoldwindblewasshewalkedtowards home. Without

thinking, she put her hand inthe breast pocket of herblouse and felt the cookies.She took them out and putthem into the bag that she’dgotten when she went to thebakery before herconfrontation with Koppel.Tears attacked her eyes. Shecouldnot tellFrumaorGitelwhat was going on or theywould force her to refuseKoppel and then what?

Worse yet, if Karl, the manfrom the blackmarket foundout that she was keepingcompanywithaJudenrat,hewould stay away from thewhole family. And then sheand Fruma would not haveanywork.All thewayhome,she agonized, until shedecided that she must tellFruma and Gitel everything.There was no other way.They,inturn,mustexplainto

Karl.Thiswasnotherdoing,but if she dared to refuseKoppel, the consequenceswere far more than she waswillingtopay.

WhenZofiaarrivedat theapartment,sheputthebagonthekitchentableandtookoffhercoat.Frumawassittingatthe sewing machine lookingatherstrangely.

“Where have you been?You’ve been gone over an

hour. We were afraid thatsomethinghappened toyou,”Frumasaidhervoicestern.

“Ineed to talk toyouandto Gitel. Is anyone else athome?”

“No,theyounggirlsareatschool, and both of theirparentshavefoundsomedaylaborfortheweek.Whatisit,Zofia?Youare aswhite as awinterstorm.”

“Fruma…” She burst into

tears, realizing howvulnerable shewas. “Do youknowwhoKoppelis?”

“Stopcrying, Icanhardlyunderstand you.” Fruma saidher voice still stern, but hereyeskind.Asshegotupfromthemachine,Frumastretchedletting out a gasp from thepainofconstantsitting.ThenFruma walked over and puther arms around Zofia,leadinghertothesmallcotat

the side of the room. “Sitdown, and take a breath. I’llgetyou somewater and thenwewilltalk,yes?”

Zofia nodded her head.The room was cold. Therehad been no heat for severaldays.Frumatookalongpieceof wool from the bolts offabricthatweretobeusedforupcoming jobs and draped itaroundZofia’s shoulders likea shawl. Then she got her a

glass of water. Zofia wipedhereyeswith thebackofherhandandsipped.

“Koppel, you know him,heistheJudenrat, theyoungone.”

“Yes, I know who he is.Heisapimp.”

“Youknowthat?”“Of course I know that.

Everyoneknowsthat,”Frumasaid.

“I didn’t. Maybe I justwasn’t paying attention,”Zofia said. “Any way, hetried to recruit me for hisprostitution ring. When Irefused, he decided that hewould like to see mesocially.”

Fruma shook her head.“No,don’tdoit.”

“I have to. He threatenedtohaveEideltakenaway.Hehas the power to do that. I

havetodoit.Ican’tputEidelin danger. She is child, mylife. I love her.”Zofia begantoweep in powerful gusts ofpainandanguish.

“I know. I love her too,”Fruma said, patting Zofia’sback as if she were a littlegirl.

“I must do as he says. Imustorhewilldosomethingterribletous.Hecan.”

“And, he is a Jew. He

believesthattheNazisarehisfriends, stupid fool.What hedoesn’trealizeisthatonedaythe Nazis will turn on himand he will end up in worseshapethanalltherestofus.”Fruma’s eyes had a glazed-overlook.Zofiahadseenthisbefore it happened whenFruma was seeing visions ofthefuture.

Both women sat quietlyfor several minutes and

watched Eidel, asleep in thedresser drawer thatGitel hadmadeintoacradle.

“Do you think he wouldactually do it? Do you thinkheisreallythatcruel?”Zofiaasked.

“Yes,” Fruma said, hevoice broken. “Zofia, wemust do something. Wecannot put Eidel’s safety inKoppel’s hands. If he shoulddecide forany reason thathe

wantstotakeher,Godforbid.Well…hewill.”

Zofiaswallowedhard.Shetriedtospeak,andatfirst,shecouldn’t. Then in a whisper,she asked, “So what can wedo? Ifwe try to escape, theywill find all of us, and Eidelwillsufferanyway.”

“Myplanisnotapleasantone. I am sorry to suggestthis, but…I think we shouldhaveKarl thatman from the

blackmarket,findHelen,andask Helen to take Eidel, tokeepherasherownuntilwecan get out of here. She cantell everyone that Eidel ishers.Helenhasagoodheart.She would do it. She wouldhelp us. I know she would.Eidel is blonde, she doesn’tlookJewish.Thismaybeourlittleone’sonlychance.”

Zofia could not speak.Give Eidel up? Send her

away? Dear God, my child,my precious child… But ifZofiarefused,thenshewouldputEidelatrisk.Thisway,nomatter what happened, Eidelwould be safe. Was therereally a choice? Again, shelooked at the baby, asleep,her tiny thumb inhermouth,the brush of her softeyelashes against her paleskin, the sweet smell of heressence when Zofia held her

close… Eidel, gone… Fornow, maybe forever. But, atleast Eidel would live. She,Zofia, might not see herdaughter grow up, getmarried, have children. ButEidelwouldhavethischance.Shewouldlive.Shewouldbeaway from the Ghetto, withits constant threat of diseaseand starvation. In a Gentilehome, Eidel would be safefrom the cold, from the

Ghetto, and from Koppel.Eidel…Mylife,mychild.

“Tell Karl to contactHelen the next time he goesoutside the Ghetto. Tell himtoaskher ifshe iswilling totakeEidel. Wewillpayhimforhishelp,”Zofiasaid.

Chapter29Christa Blau had come to

enjoy the life style she andManfred shared. Every weekhe remembered to bring herroses, he scooped them upfrom the streetvendoronhisway home from the office.Whenhe entered their home,he never forgot to kiss her,

andtellherhowbeautifulshelooked. The Nazi Party sawto it that they had a lovelytwo-story house that wasmade of sturdy white brick,with a flower gardensurrounding the frontentrance. In fact, the housewas already exquisitelyfurnished when they movedin,withstylishpiecesofwell-made furniture and realartwork. She never

questionedwherethesethingscame from. When Goebbelsoffered gifts to the Blaus,Christa smiled and thankedhim for his extremegenerosity. She andManfredhad come to know theGoebbels family quite well,after several dinners at theirhome.TheBlausreciprocatedthe invitationassoonas theymoved into their home. Atleast once a month Manfred

and Christa attended elegantparties where she wasentertained with bright andwitty conversation by someof Hitler’s elite. Thesecharming men in pressedblackuniformscomplimentedher shimmering blond hairandathleticfigure.Twiceshehad also been a dinner guestatanaffairgiventohonortheFührerhimself.Infact,she’dbeen introduced to Adolf

Hitler, and he’dcomplimented her on herremarkable Aryan beauty.She’d blushed with pride.Everyone they met alwaystoldManfredhehadaperfectGermanwife. Itwasan ideallife, a life of luxury,friendships, acceptance, andbeauty. However, there wasone small glitch. No matterhow hard the couple tried,Christa did not conceive.

They increased thefrequencyof their attempts, but still,Christa’s menstrual bloodcameontimeeverymonth.Itwas obvious that Goebbelswas disappointed. He madeoccasionalsnidecommentstoManfred,andevenmentionedit to Christa. Then one nightat a dinner, when she spokewith Heinrich Himmler, heseemedsurprisedthatsheandManfred had been married

over a year and shewas stillnotwithchild.Ithappenedatagala, a rallyof sorts, at theNazi Headquarters inNuremburg.Goebbelsandhiswife shared a hotel roomdown the hall fromManfredand Christa, whom Dr.Goebbels had invited as hisguests. The night they metHimmler, they attended adinner in a room that wasdecoratedwithbanners,flags,

andphotosoftheFührer.Justby the décor,Manfred couldseethatGoebbelshadahandin the celebration. A crystalchandelier twinkled like starsin the dimly lit room. Eachtable had a centerpiece, asilvercandelabrawithalargeswastika in its center. Theband played traditionalGerman tunes and musicfromWagner’s operas. SincehisassociationwithGoebbels

and the Party, Manfred hadbecome a reasonably gooddancer. He’d developedcharm, which he used whencavorting with his superiors.They liked him. He, unlikesomeof theotherswhowereungrateful, showedagenuineloveand respect for theNaziParty, and even moreimportantly, a willingness todowhateverwasnecessarytobring the dream of a

thousand-year Reich toreality. Manfredwas clever.Any distaste he might havetoward an idea or programwas well hidden. Whateverhis superiors proposed wasgoldentohim.

After several dances, thebandleader announced thatdinnerwasserved.

Manfred and Christa tooktheir seats. Although theywere not at the head table,

they were close enough forGoebbels to wink and smileatManfred,whoreturned thegesture. After dinner, theband began to play, andalmost everyone got up todance.Himmlerwalked overto the table where the Blaushadbeensitting.Althoughhewasnotahandsomeman,hisblack uniform fit himimpeccably, and his shoeswere shined, reflecting the

light.“May I be so bold as to

request this dance with yourwife,Manfred?”

“But of course, if Christadoesn’tmind.”

“I don’tmind at all. I amhonored, Reichsführer,”Christa said to Himmler, asherblueeyesglistenedinthecandlelight that illuminedherivoryskin.

It was a waltz. As they

whirled around the room,Himmler directed hiscompleteattentiontoChrista.

“You dance beautifully.”Hesaid.“Thankyou.”Sheblushed.“I don’t know how to

address this with you;however, please don’t beoffended.”

She did not answer. Shewaited.

“Dr.Goebbelshas spokentomeaboutyouandManfredwanting to have children.Andofcourse,we,theParty,wantthatmorethananythingbecause we need more goodAryan children. It is veryimportant to our growth as anation.”

“We can’t seem to havechildren.Idon’tknowwhy.”

“Well, may I make asuggestion?” he asked. “Not

tobeboldorrude…”“Yes, please do,

Reichsführer.”“Have you considered

adopting a child from theLebensborn?”heasked.

“I’ve never thought aboutit.”

“Therearemanybeautifulblond-haired, blue-eyedchildren waiting to beadopted by a fine Aryancouplejustlikeyoutwo.”

“Really? What would wehavetodoinordertoadopt?”

“Actually, nothing. ThetruthisthatyouandManfredareperfectcandidates.Infact,I would bet that you mighteven find one of the babiesthat looks somuch like you,you would forget it was notyourown.”

“Oh, Reichsführer, myarmshaveachedforachild.Iwould be so grateful if you

couldhelpus,”shesaid.His hand moved a little

lower on her back as hepulled her a little closer tohim.

“I’m sure it can all bearranged. I’ll speak to Dr.Goebbels about it, and wewill send you and yourhusband to Munich, toSteinhöring, thehomefortheLebensborn, where you canchooseachild.”

“I can never thank youenough.”

“I’msurewewillthinkofsomething,”Himmlersmiled.Chapter30

Itwas latewhenManfred

and Christa arrived back atthehotelroom.Heundressedandtookashower,whileshesatatthevanityremovinghermakeup and combing her

hair.When he came into thebedroom, she turned to lookat him. He was still slender,buthe’dfilledoutsince theirmarriage. In his black SSuniform, he appeared to be aman strong, powerful,daunting, but standing herewrappedinatowel,toher,hestilllookedlikeayoungboy.That same young boy she’dtaken to her bed on theirwedding night. She couldn’t

help but compare him toHimmler. Himmler, apowerful man indeed, notnecessarily a looker, but theauthority in his step, theconfidence in his manner;well, it was attractive, veryattractive.

Sheputthecombdownonher dressing table. It was anivory comb inlaid withmotherofpearl.Manfredhadgiven it to her as a gift for

theirfirstanniversary.“Manfred…”“Yes,dear.”“Pleasesitdown.Iwantto

speak with you aboutsomething.”

“Yes…”“Well,tonightwhenIwas

dancing with theReichsführer, he mentionedsomething to me.” She said,looking in his eyes assessing

his mood. This pregnancyissue sometimes brought outadarksideofhim.Shemusttreadverygently.“Ihopeyouwon’t be angry, but hementioned adoption. He saidthat we would qualify for ababy from the Lebensborn.He said that there is a homeinMunich. Ihaveheardof ittoo, it is called HeimHochland or Steinhöring. Healsosaidthatifwewantedit,

we could receive a beautifulAryan child in need of ahome just like ours, a homewith a fatherwho is devotedto the Reich and a motherwhowillloveandcareforit.”

Manfredsatontheedgeofthe four-poster bed. Perhapsthiswastheanswer.Itwouldtake the stress off theirmarriage.

“Iamnotangry.Infact, Ithinkitmightbegoodforus.

We’ve both wanted a babyforsolongnow.”

“Oh, Manfred, do youmean it?” She got up andwrappedherarmsaroundhisneck.

“Yes, I do. I will talk toDr. Goebbels on Mondaymorning, and see when hethinksitmightbeconvenientforme to take aweekoff sothat we can go up to theHighlandsandbringthechild

backwithus.”Sherubbedthebackofhis

neckandhepulledhercloser.“Come to bed,” he

whispered in her ear. “Eventhoughwewilladoptachild,there is no need to stoptrying.”

Shekissedhimandbrokeaway for a moment to turnoutthelights.Thenshegotinbeside him and they madelove.

Chapter31“Heil Hitler.” Manfred

walked intohisoffice to findDr.Goebbelswaiting.

“Heil Hitler,” Goebbelssaid.

“Can I havemy secretaryget you anything? Coffee?Tea, perhaps?” Manfredasked.

Goebbels shook his head.“Nothankyou.Ijustfinishedbreakfast,” he said smilinglikeaCheshirecat.“Manfred,your pretty little wife madequite the impression on theReichsführer. Do you knowwhat he has done? He hasinstructed me to present youwith a car and a driver.Youwill have your ownautomobile.”

“I am taken aback,”

Manfred said and his facebroke intoahugesmile.“Anauto?That’squiteagift.”

“Well, Himmler said thatyou and Christa planned toadopt a child from theLebensborn, andwith a littleone you will need reliabletransportation. Is this trueabouttheadoption?”

“Yes, it is. In fact I wasgoingtoaskyouabouttakinga week off to go up to

Munich and see the childrensothatwecouldselectone.”

“Of course. It will bearranged. Would next monthbe soon enough? I need youforafewthingsthismonth.”

“Yes, that would be justfine.”

“I think the spring shouldbe a nice time to travel.. Bythen theweathershouldhavebroken and you can have afew nice days to enjoy the

country.”“Dr. Goebbels, you have

alwaysbeensokindtome.”“Yes, you are a good

employee, a dedicatedmember of the Party, and agood friend. I am proud toknowyou,Manfred.”

“Sir, knowing you hasbeen the greatest honor andmost precious part of mylife.”

“I’m glad to hear it. In

fact, I brought you a gift,because you made such agood impression on theReichsführer. Something foryour office… The goodimpression you’ve madereflectsonme,youknow.”

“Ido,andIcannever tellyouhowmuchitmeanstometo be someone you can beproudof.”

GoebbelshandedManfredalargebox.Itwaswrappedin

whitepaperwithablackbow.“ThisgiftIamgivingyou

is unique, very unique.”Goebbels said. “Go ahead,openit.”

Manfreduntiedtheribbon.Then he tore the paper andtook the top off. Inside hesaw thedriedwhitebonesofa human pelvis. Skeletal,bleached.Healmost letoutascream. Looking up his eyesmet the doctor’s with

confusion.“It’s an ashtray, a

conversation piece. We havethemmadefromthepelvisofdead Jews. Only top-rankingofficers own them. I thoughtyou might like it… Givespeople something to look atwhen they come into youroffice.”Dr.Goebbelssmiled.“Ihaveone.”

“Thank you sir, thankyou,”Manfred said trying to

hidehisrevulsion.Heputthebox on the side of the desk.“It is a truly unique gift.”Later, he would put thehuman ashtray on the otherside of the room, where hemightavoidlookingatit.Buttheharderhetriedtoaverthiseyes, the more drawn theyweretowhiteslopingpelvis.

Chapter32Oncehewassurehiswife

Heidi was asleep, Dr.Henkener left the bedroomand dressed quietly in thedownstairs bathroom. It wasbest to keep Heidi fromknowing anything. The lessshe knew, the better. It wasnot that he didn’t trust her.

Although she did not agreewith his sympathies for theJews, he knew she wouldnever turn him in. But whysubject her to this possibledanger. If she remainedignorant, at least sheremained safe. He dragged awet comb through histhinning white hair andlookedinthemirror.Satisfiedthat even though his insideswere churning, he appeared

calmandnormal,afterquietlylocking the door, he left thehouse. Dr. Rosen, his wifeand fifteen-year-old daughterwere to meet him at theoffice. Thomas Henkenerknew it was far moredangerous for them tobeoutafter curfew than it was forhimtobetakingastroll.Andeven if he were stopped bythe police, he could alwaystell them he’d forgotten

importantpapersathisoffice.After all, he was a doctor.Doctors worked all hours.His excuse was quitebelievable. Still, he felt thesweat trickle down his neck,evenastheicywindassaultedhisface.

He arrived at the officeand only lit a small lamp inthe hallway, far away fromany windows. The Rosensarrived almost immediately.

As instructed by Dr.Henkener, the family carriednoluggage,butDr.Henkenercould see that they woreseverallayersofclothing.

“I’m glad to see you,Zalaman.” Dr Henkenerreached out and shook Dr.Rosen’shand.

“Thankyoufordoing thisforus,Thomas.Irealizewhatariskyouareputtingyourselfat.”

“HowcouldInotdothis?Itistheonlyhumanethingtodowith a government that isresponsible for such terribleacts. Anyway, we must notloiter. Let me show you andyourfamilytotheattic.”

Dr. Henkener lit a candleand turned off the lamp. Itwasbestthattheydoasmuchwithout light as possible.Thenheputanothercandleinhispocket.

“Followme,”hesaid.Dr. Henkener led them

through a dark, windinghallway, through the back ofthe building where nooneever went as he fought thecobwebs in the way. Dustcovered the floor, and Mrs.Rosen coughed. When theygot to the end of the hall,ThomasHenkener pulled outasmallstepstoolfromunderahiddencrawlspace.

“Hold the candle for amoment, Zalaman,” DrHenkenersaid.

Then he climbed on thestepstoolandpushedhardona heavy tile in the ceiling. Itopened,pouringoutagustofdustandgrime,torevealonlydarkness.

“Come,wehave togouphere.” Dr. Henkener said ashe used his arms to pull hisbody up into the attic. Next,

Dr. Rosen followed. Thenthey reached down andhelpedthewomen,whowerenot strong enough to pullthemselves up. Onceeveryonewasinsidetheattic,theylookedaround.Althoughthey only had the light of asmall candle, it was obviousthat theroomwascovered infilth.Afewwoodencratessatin a corner, but other thanthat, the room was bare.

Minka Rosen, Dr. Rosen’sdaughter,letoutascreamasaspider crawled across thefloor.Thenshebegan tocry.Her mother cradled her. Dr.Rosen stepped on the insect,andfrownedathisdaughter.

“Shh, shh, Minka,” Dr.Rosen said. “We have to bevery quiet. If we are notquiet, wewill be discovered.And that would be bad, notonly for us, but for Dr.

Henkener. So, you mustneverscreamlikethatagain.Doyouunderstand?Itisveryimportant that youunderstand,minekind.”

Minkanodded,wipingthetears from her face. “I’msorry,Dr.Henkener. I didn’tmeanit.Itwasareaction.I’mafraid of insects. It won’thappen again though, Ipromise,”shesaid.

Minkabegantakingbitsof

food out of her clothing andlaying them on top of thecrates.

“Next time I come, Iwillbringblankets,”Dr.Henkenersaid.“I’msorryIdidn’tthinkofit.”

“We’ll be fine. Don’tworry about us,” Dr. Rosensaid. “We have plenty ofclothes.And besides you aredoingenough.”

“I’llbringasmuchfoodas

Iamable tosecure,aswell,”Dr.Henkenersaid.Helookedaround the room. He couldnot imagine what staying inthis grimy, cramped areawould be like. Years ago,before the country had gonemad, he’d been to a party atthe Rosen’s home. Heremembered it was a lovelybungalow, stylishlyfurnished, immaculate. Now,Dr. Henkener felt a deep

sorrow as he watched hiscolleague and his familyforced to endure thesehorrendous conditions. Notonlywashesorry,buthewasashamed, ashamed to beGerman, to be part of aregimethattreatedpeopletheway the Nazis treated theJews.

Chapter33ChristasatbesideManfred

in the backseat of the shinyblack car. The rich smell ofleather mingled with cigarsmoke and expensivecologne. Manfred closed theprivacy window between thecouple and the driver. Thenhe took Christa’s hand and

helditbetweenbothofhis.“Would you prefer a boy

orgirl?”Christaasked.Manfred thought for a

moment. “Oh, I don’t know.Let’s have a look and seewhat is available.” It wouldbe easier to raise a girl. Somuchlesswouldbeexpectedof her, leaving feweropportunities fordisappointment amongManfred’s superiors. If he

hada sonwhodidnotexcel,it would be a bad reflectionon him. He’d worked toohard to build a rapport withallofthosewhocouldfurtherhis career for him to allow achildtogetintheway.

“I think a girl would benice, a girl who looks likeyou,” Manfred said, and hesqueezedChrista’shand.Shesqueezed back and smiled athim.

It was warm for a day inearly May, and the flowershadjustbeguntobudoutsidethe Steinhöring home. Thefour-story country castle hadbeen newly painted sugar-white, with canary yellowtrim, the previous summer.Gorgeous green leaves hadburst from the trees incelebration of the end of thelong German winter, andemerald grass covered the

lushrollinghills.“Suchaquaint and lovely

place,” Christa said as thedriver pulled up to the frontoftheLebensbornhome.

Manfred held Christa’shandastheywalkedin.

Womenwere everywhere,inallstagesofpregnancy,allof them blonde, all of themblue-eyed,most of them tall,with athletic builds. Theywere so similar that they

seemed like living dolls,somethingcreated, insteadofreal people. AsManfred andChrista walked by, the girlsofferedwhite-toothedsmiles.

Then there were theothers, nurses and helpers.These women, some blond,but many brunette, someyoung, but some also olderand well past childbearingage, were the work force.These, too, were Aryan

women.Theirbloodlineshadbeenchecked,but their looksdid not reflect the qualitiesneededforbreeding.Sothesewomen were responsible forthewell-beingofthesuperiorblonde, blue-eyed, perfectspecimens of Aryanwomanhood.

A large mahogany deskwith intricate carvings ofTeutonic knights wascentered a few feet from the

door. Behind it sat a womanin her early forties. Herblonde hair was combedneatly into finger wavesaround her face. She haddeep-set blue eyes andfeatures so strong that theyalmostappearedmasculine.

“May I help you?” thereceptionistasked.

“Yes, my boss, Dr.Goebbels, arranged for us tosee someone here about

adoption,”Manfredsaid.“Of course, you must be

Mr. and Mrs. Blau.” Shesmiled, her teeth slightlysharp. “Please makeyourselves comfortable.” Shestood up and walked themover to the living room areawhereshemotionedforthemtositatonaplushwhitesofa.“MayIofferyouacoffeeoracolddrink?”

“No, thank you, nothing

forme,”Christasaid.“No,thankyou,”Manfred

answered.“Wait here. I’ll be right

back,” thewomansaid.Thenshe turned, her high heelsclickingonthemarblefloor.

They sat together on thesofa and waited. Manfredheld Christa’s hand; it waswet with perspiration. Heknew how nervous she was,and he wanted this to go

smoothlyforhersake.It was only a matter of a

fewminutesbeforeanelderlywoman,heavyset,withasaltand pepper bun, limped intothe room. Her hair frizzedaroundher faceandManfredcould not help noticing thethree black hairs that sprungfromamoleonthesideofhercheek.

“Welcome, Sturmann andMrs. Blau. I have heard so

many nice things about you.My name is Beatrix, and Iwillbehere tohelpyouwithanythingthatyoumightbeofneedfor.”

“Thankyou,Beatrix,butitisnowRottenführerBlau.”

“Oh, congratulations.Youshouldbesoproud,”shesaidalittletooloudly.

“Thank you,” Manfredsaid, and looked away, hisface burning with

embarrassment.“Have you decided

whetheryouwouldlikeaboyorgirl?”

“Actually we have. Wewould like a little girl,”Manfredsaid.

“As I am standing herelooking at your wife, I cansee that we have the perfectchildforyou.Infact,thereissuch a resemblance, you’renotgoingtobelieveit.”

Christa smiled. “Can youtellusalittleabouther?”

“Of course, I would bemorethanhappyto.Thechildisalittleoverayearold.Hernaming ceremony, well,Himmler performed ithimself. He gave her thename of Katja. A prettyname?Ja?”

“It is. May we see her?”Christaasked.

“Ofcourse,youmay.Wait

until you see this is abeautiful little Aryan girl.And she is so good. Hardlyever cries. Come on, followme. I will take you to thewaiting room outside thenursery, thenI’llhaveoneofthenursesbringKatjaout sothatyoucanseeher.”

The waiting room outsidethe nursery looked like acomfortable living room in aprosperous country estate.

There were large overstuffedchairs inadeephuntergreenfabric embroidered with agold thread design. On thewhitemarblefloorlayalargewool rug, mostly the samegreen color, with touches ofgoldanddeepburgundy.Twolamps stood across the roomfrom each other on similarmahogany coffee tables.Manfred and Christa sattogether. He reached for her

hand, patted it, and shesmiled. A half hour passedbefore a nurse wearing astarchedwhitecottonuniformand small head cap entered,accompaniedbyBeatrix.Thenurse carried a bundleswathed in blankets sowhitetheylookedbrandnew.

“This is Katja,” Beatrixsaid, smiling, as the nurseturned the infant so thatManfred and Christa could

seeherface.Christa stood to get a

betterlook.Katja’s miniscule

eyelashesbrushedagainsthercheekas she slept.Adustingof golden hair covered hersmallhead.

“She’s beautiful,” Christasaid, tears glistening in hereyes.

“Would you like to holdher?”thenurseasked.

“Yes.Oh,yes.MayI?”“Of course.” The nurse

placed the baby in Christa’sarms and Christa sat backdowntoholdher.

“You look radiant withthat child in your arms,”Manfredsaid.Onceagain,hewas reminded of howfortunatehewastohavewonthis beautiful woman as hiswife.Herememberedhowhehad watched her from a far,

wishing, hoping, dreaming,and eventually scheming sothat some day she would behis. And now, here he wasbesideher,RottenführerBlau,herhusband,Goebbelsfriend,andthefatheroftheirsoontobe child. Rottenführer Blau,thatwashim,themanwho’ddined at the same table asAdolf Hitler. Manfred, hethought to himself, you haveso come far from the weak

and uncoordinated boy whofailed at every sport in theHitlerJugend.Asecretsmilecrept across his face.He haddone it.He’d created the lifehe’d longed for as a child,and now things were onlygoingtogetbetterandbetter.In his mind’s eye, he sawhimself rise in the Party.Maybe someday,maybe, justmaybe, he would replaceHimmler as Reichsführer.

Dare he dream so big?Whynot, look at where he’dstarted, and where he wasnow. There was no tellinghow far he might go in hiscareer.

Manfred watched Christa.She seemed to glow as shetenderly touched the infant’scheek.

“I love her already,”Christa said,bitingher lowerlip.

“Areyougoingtowanttoseeanymoreofthechildren?”Beatrixasked.

“Idon’t. I amhappywithKatja. But, do you,Manfred?” Christa asked,sounding hopeful that hewould agree with herdecision.

He walked over andlooked closely at the baby.She was lovely, and it wastrue, there was an uncanny

resemblance to Christa: thelight hair, the soft blue eyes.Why look at any otherbabies? This child madeChrista happy, and that wasall thatmattered.LittleKatjawasperfect.

“I don’t need to see anyothers. She’s a lovely child.I’dliketobegintheadoptionprocessforthisone.”

“Her name is Katja,”Beatrixsaid.

“Yes,” Manfred said.“Katja.”

“Katja,” Christa repeated,as she looked at the perfectlittle face. “You arebeautiful.”

“Just look at how prettythat baby is.Why she is theperfectAryan child.”Beatrixsmiled. “Look at that lighthair. It looks like an angel’shalo around her head, andthose blue eyes... She will

surelygrowuptobeabeautyand make you both veryproud.”

Manfred smiled. It wouldhavebeenbettertohavetheirown, but this did make lifeeasier. Now he couldconcentrateonhiscareer.

Before they left Berlin,Manfred and Christa had setupanurseryforthebabytheyplannedtobringhome.Itwaspaintedyellow.Shelves lined

thewallscoveredwithstuffedanimals. There was a whitebear with a pink and blueribbon around its neck, a talldog with a huge black nose,and a fat little pink pig.Therewasabrownteddybearand awooden rocking horse.Thecradlewasmadeofwoodand painted white. Manfredhad it suspended from theceiling, enabling it to rockslowly back and forth. A

white wooden dresser thatmatched the cradle stoodbesidethebed

Now that they’d decideduponalittlegirl,theylefttheinstitutetowaitforthepapersto be processed. Thatafternoon, Manfred andChristawentintotown,wherethey purchased a prettyblonde-haired doll. Her eyeswere royal blue and she hadfull red lips. The doll wore

traditional German attiresimilar to what Christa hadwornatherwedding:awhiteblouse with a puffed sleeveandafullgreenskirt.

Theypurchasedblanketsinalldifferentshadesofpinktobestackedinherclosetonashelf.Beforethecouplehadgone to Steinhöring, they’dreceived gifts from all of thepeopleatManfred’sofficeforthe new baby. But since no

oneknewifitwouldbeaboyor girl, everything that theyreceived was yellow. Therewerelittleyellowundershirts,and sleepers, little yellowsocks too. Christamentionedthis fact to Manfred and hesuggested that she go aheadand buy some frilly pinkdresses for the baby becausehe knew it would make herhappy.

The following day they

went back to Steinhöring topick the baby up. All of thepapers had been signed andnotarized. After placing anenvelope filled withdocuments in Manfred’shand, thebabywasplaced inChrista’s arms. She wasofficiallyamother.

Katja slept off and on allthe way home, waking onlyto take a few sips from herbottle, and then falling back

into a peaceful slumber. Themotion of the automobilecalmedthebaby,andkepthersleepyandquiet.

WhentheyarrivedbackinBerlin, Manfred placed themanila envelope in thebottomofhisdesk.

Christa laid Katja in hercrib. The baby fussed untilChrista gently rocked thecradle, helping the child todriftofftosleep.

Manfredentered theroomandstoodbesidehiswife.

“Are you happy?” heasked,knowingtheanswer.

“Iam.Iamsohappy.”“I am,. When you’re

happy,Iamhappy,”hesaid.She turned and kissed

him. He hated to return towork. It was so lovely tospend the timewithhiswife.Manfreddecidedtobringhera dozen roses the following

day from the vendor outsidehisoffice.

Chapter34A shroud of darkness

covered the street as Dr.Henkener walked, almosthugging thebuilding, stayingcarefullyoutofthelamplight.It was nearlymidnight as hehurried towards his officecarrying a small bundle offood for the Rosen family.

Passing an alleyway, hethought he heard footstepsbehindhim.He shivered: theGestapo. If he were caughtwith the food, there was noexplanation. From now on,he would bring lunches towork and save them in hisdesk, then bring them upwhen he was sure everyonehad left. This method ofcarrying large quantities offood was far too dangerous.

He whipped around quickly,but no one was there. Thewind whistled through thetrees, and in the distance heheard a crash of thunder.ThomasHenkener jumped. Itwas going to rain. He spedup, walking as fast aspossible without running.Then he heard the footstepsagain.

“Thomas.” It was awhisper in the dark.

“Thomas, it’s me, HershelShulman.”

“Hershel?Isthatyou?”“Yes, it’s me and my

wife.”Out of the darkness, Dr.

Shulmanappeared.Heworearagged black wool overcoatand was accompanied by atiny woman with long darkhair pinned up into a messybun.

“Come, follow me.

Hurry,” Dr. Henkener said.Heglancedaround.Thestreetwas bare. There was anothercrashofthunder,followedbylightning. The storm movedcloser.

The Shulmans followedDr. Henkener into his officebuilding. “We must not turnon any lights.Come…I haveacandleinmyoffice.”

They navigated thebuildingbyholdingontothe

walls until they found Dr.Henkener’soffice.

“Waithere,”Dr.Henkenersaid.

Henkener went into hisoffice, lit the candle, andreturned.

“Followme,”hesaid.Dr. Shulman and hiswife

followed Henkener up intothe attic, theirway lit by thetiny flicker of light. Oncethey were upstairs, they saw

theRosens.“Do you know Dr.

Rosen?”“I think we’ve met. I’m

Hershel Shulman, and this ismywifePerle.”

Dr.Rosennodded.“Now,Hershel,whatcanI

doforyou?”Thomasasked.“We need your help, my

wife and I. We were inhiding. Our neighbors were

trying to help us, but theybecame afraid. People begantosuspect,wewereforcedtoleave.”

“WhereisMeyer?”“Meyer, our son, God

Blesshim…HeisinAmericawith his wife. He has beentryingtogetpapersforus,butso far, he is unable to doanything.Weneedhelp.Jewsare being arrested every day.I have heard frightening

things. I have heard that thecamps are not work camps,but death camps. There ismurder being committed atthese concentration camps.”Hershel Shulman wascovered in sweat. Theperspiration from his browwas dripping into his eyes,andhewipeditawaywiththebackofhishand.“Iamsorry,Thomas, to come to you andburdenyouwithmyproblem,

but frankly, I have nowhereelsetoturn.”

“Thereisnotenoughroomhere.Wehardlyhaveenoughfoodforourselves.Wecannottake on another two people,Thomas.” Zalaman Rosensaid.

“We must and we will,”ThomasHenkenersaid.“Thisman is my friend. He savedmy daughter. Without hishelp, shewouldbedead.My

Christa, my precious childwas born a blue baby. Dr.Shulman was the only onewho could help her. Hestays.”

“Howwillwemanage?”“Wewillmanage thebest

wecan.Thesearebad times.IamdoingwhatIcantohelpyou.But selfishness isn’t theanswer,” Thomas said. Thenhe turned to HershelShulman.“Thereisnotmuch

Icandoforyou,thereisonlythissmallroomandwhateverfood I am able to bring. Iwish it could be more. Youdeserve only the best, but Iam afraid this is all I cangive.”

“It is everything.You aregiving us our lives. Whatcouldbemorethanthat?”Dr.Shulman said. Tears hadbeguntoforminhiseyes.Heembraced Thomas Henkener.

“You are a good man. GodBlessyou,myfriend.”

Dr.Henkenerturnedawayin embarrassment. Then heopened thepackage.“Here isfood. Please share it amongyou.IwillbringmoreassoonasIamable.AndHershel…”

“Yes?” Hershel Shulmangazed at him, his eyesilluminated in the flickeringcandlelight.

“I am glad, no honored,

that you came to me. It is aprivilege to be given thisopportunity to help you,”ThomasHenkenersaid.

Chapter35“It’s all arranged. Karl

Abdenstern has foundHelen.ShesaidshewouldtakeEideluntil this is all over.At leastEidelisagirlandblondetoo.That is good. If she were, aboywewouldhave toworryabout the Nazis seeing thecircumcision. Butwith a girl

thereisnothingtodistinguishher as Jewish,” Fruma said.Then she wrapped her armaround Zofia. “Zofia, it willbealright.”

“I know. I know itwill. Itrust Helen. But I will missEidelterribly.”

“We all will,” Gitel said.“But it is in her best interesttogetheroutofhere.”

“Yes,itis.”Frumalookedacrosstheroomatthebabyin

herplaypen.“Tonight?Heistakingher

sosoon?”Zofiaasked.“Yes, the sooner the

better.Koppelisapainintheass.Idon’ttrusthim.”

“Iknow.I’vebeenholdinghim off, but soon he willinsist that we sleep together.And I don’t think I can bearit.”

“Well, no matter whathappens to us, at least Eidel

willbesafe,”Frumasaid.“Yes,atleastEidelwillbe

safe,”Zofiarepeated.Zofia could not eat. A

crevice began to open in thepitofherbellyandasthedayworeon,growingdeeperuntilit felt like a canyon. Sheknew that it was best forEidel to be as far from theGhetto and her Jewish rootsas possible. But the pain ofseparation was almost

unbearable.Every timeEidelsmiled at her, she wept. Butwhenthesundescendedfromthe sky and the darknesscovered the streets, Zofiadressed the baby as warmlyas she could, layering herclothes because Karl hadinsisted that there be noluggage. This, bringing ababytotheothersideoutsideoftheGhettowalls,Karltoldthe women, was the most

dangerous mission he’d evertaken on. At any time, Eidelmight cry and alert theguards. In fact, it wasprobable that she wouldbecause the baby did notknow Karl and would befrantic for hermother. He’dgiven Fruma a shot ofwhiskey to give the babybefore the journey began, inhopes that she might sleepthrough the entire process.

Once Eidel was dressed,Fruma gave her the whiskeythrough a dropper. Eidelmade a face of dislike, butFrumacontinued to force thealcohol intohermouth.ThensherockedtheEideltosleep.

Together Zofia, Fruma,and Gitel took Eidel to acrawlspace under anapartment building wherethey met Karl. He waswaiting his arms folded

across his chest, his eyesdarting, keen, and aware.There were only a few shortsecondsforZofia toholdherchild tightly to her breast.Then each of the womenkissed Eidel’s cheek as sheslept. Karl reached out andtook the baby. Hewas a bigmanbuteveninthedarkness,the women saw thegentlenessinhistouch.

“Shewillbeall right,”he

promised,hisdarkeyesfilledwithsincerity.

“Iwillpayyoumoneyfordoing this for us,” Frumasaid.

“It’s all right. I will do itbecause I want to do it, notfor the money, but so thatanother Jewish child mightlive,andsomedaybeapartofaJewishstate,thestatethatIseeinmydreams,thestateofPalestine.”

“You’re a Zionist?” Gitelasked.

“Yes.”“I have Zionist leanings,

although I’ve never sharedthat with anyone, exceptFruma. Without a Jewishstate, the world is bound tokeep on treating us like dirt.We need a homeland of ourown.”

“Iagreewithyou.Andsomany others feel the same

way. You see, we havemeetings. They are secretmeetingsandmustbekeptinthe quiet because of theJudenrats. But, you’reinvited. I am inviting you.However, I don’t want tostandheretalking.It’sfartoodangerous and puts the childat too much risk. I must gonow, but come tomorrowmorning to the alleywaywhereIsellmyblackmarket

goods. I might have somework for Zofia and Fruma.But I will also have time togive youmore details on themeeting.”

Withthat,Karlturnedandran,Eidelasleep inhisarms.Zofiawatchedasheheld thechild with one hand andgripped the rail with theother. Then he nimblyclimbedanironladderonthesideof thebuilding.Soonhe

was little more than a darkshadow as he sprinted like apanther across the rooftopsand out of the walls of theGhetto.

Zofia lay awake all night,staring out the window theentire time. It was hard tobelievethatwhenshegotoutof bed Eidel would not bethere waiting for her.Somewhere outside, far fromher arms and her protection,

herinfantdaughterwasatthemercy of others, notnecessarily strangers, but nother mother. It was true thatHelenhadbeenagoodfriend.And there was no doubt thatZofialikedher.But, thiswasEidel, her child, her onlychild.Helenwouldbetheoneto see Eidel take her firststeps, andhearher speakherfirst words. When shereached up and said,

“Mama,” it would Helen’sarms sheyearned for. Helenwouldbetheretocomfortherwhen she cried, and Godforbid,care forherwhenshewas sick. Helen would rockhertosleep,andteachherthealphabet. But would Heleneverfeel thesamewayaboutEidel asHelen felt about herownson,herfleshandblood?OrwouldEidelalwaysbethesecond best child? It tore at

Zofia’s insides as she wentover the answers again andagain in her mind. If thingshadbeenreversed,shewouldsurely have taken Helen’sson,shewouldhavecaredforhim,butwouldsheeverhaveloved him as much as shelovedEidel?IfonlytheNaziswould disappear from theface of the earth and shecould go home to live anormallife,toraiseherchild.

Why had the Jews beencursed to suffer like this?What had they done? Tearsspilled upon her pillow.Eidel, dear sweet Eidel. Hertender toothless smile, thesweetbabysmellofherpeachfuzz hair… Eidel, gone fornow…Perhapsforever.

Chapter36“You have to eat. It’s

essential that you eat,” Gitelsaid to Zofia. “You haven’teaten a thing for almost aweek. You are going to getverysickandwehavelimitedmedicine here. If you shoulddie, then who is going toclaim Eidel when this is all

over?”“You.YouandFruma.”“Yes, but you are her

mother. If you don’twant toliveforyourself,thenatleastlive so that you can go backandgetEidelandraiseherassoon as the Nazis lose thewar.”

“Maybe they’ll win andwe will all be exterminatedlikerats,”Zofiasaid.

“They will not win,”

Fruma said firmly. Her eyesglassed over again with thatstrange look indicating shewas experiencing anothervision. “But you are right.Manywill be lost before theNazis are defeated. But youmark my words, Hitler andhispreciousThirdReichwillbe defeated. Zofia, listen tomeandhearmegood.Itisforthat day when the Nazis aregone that you must stay

strong.Youmusteatandyoumust take of yourself as bestyou possibly can. Becausetherearegreatthingsthatyouhave yet to do on this earth,you’re not done yet. Youhave a future; don’t throw itaway. Keep believing. Youmust. And mostimportantly… you must notlosethewilltoliveyoumustlive, you must do this, forEidel.”

Thebrightlightofthesuncame pouring through thekitchenwindow.

“Where will Eidel be attheendof thewar ifyouaredead? You cannot expectHelentocareforherforever.Every day you mustrememberwhyyouareliving,for your child, and let thatknowledge be the flicker oflight that gives you thestrengthtostayalive.Doyou

understandme?”Gitelasked.Zofia turned away. But

Gitel grabbed her arm andshook her hard. “Listen tome… Look at me… Youmustnotgiveup.Youcannotgive up. You brought thatchildintotheworld.Youoweher. Live, Zofia. Chose tolive,”Gitelsaid.

Untilnow,Zofia felt as ifshewerealreadydead.She’ddied as she watched Karl

Abdenstern carry her onlychild over the rooftops andaway from her grasp. ButGitel’s words penetratedthrough the darkness in herheart, shooting like aboldofsilver bright lightening.Giteland Fruma were right. Eventhoughshewasfarawayfromher daughter, her daughterneeded her. She must live,she must survive, and shemust be there at the end,

when the Nazis weredefeated. She must be thereforEidel.

From that day forward,Zofiabegantofight.

She grew stronger. Everyday she awakened with newresolve that someday shewould hold her daughteragain. She fantasized theabout day when she woulddesignEidel’swedding dressandwalk her to the canopy.

The future would be filledwith Hanukahs where sheprepared potato latkes withthick spoonfuls of sweetapplesauce for hergrandchildren. Zofia wouldlive.Shewouldchosetolive,no matter what the Nazisthrew at her. She would notletthemtakethisfromher,orfrom her daughter. In hermind’s eye, she watchedEidelgroweveryday,putting

her trust inHelendo towhatshe could not. To be themotherthatshelongedtobe.

Meanwhile, Koppel wasrelentlessinhisemptypursuitto make her a conquest. Hecame to visit often, bringinggifts for Zofia. He was kindand affectionate, showing aside of himself that few hadeverseen.Zofiabegantofeelsorryforhim.Thentoremindherselfofwhohe reallywas,

shegotupearlyonemorningand watched him as hedirected his own people ontothe boxcars at the trains. Hedidn’t see her watching. Hewasunawareofherpresence,and so he showed the othersideofhis face, the side thathemaskedforZofia.Hiseyeslooked like glass when hespoke, his voice harsh andcommanding as he orderedthe old men, women, and

children to form lines andwalkquicklyonto the trains.Zofia shivered. Rumors flewthroughtheGhettoastowhatwas actually taking place inthe camps. Escapees hadcome back just to tell theotherswhattheyhadseenandwhathadbeendone to them.Itwashardtobelieve,butthenewsconfirmedtheirgreatestfear, that the camps weredeath camps. They were not

work camps at all. In fact,they were places wherepeople were killed by thethousands, and their bodiesburned like old rubbish. Hereyes darted from Koppel tothe old, feeble, helpless, andsick taking his directionwithout question. He had toknow where he was sendingthem. The Nazis must havetoldhim, and if not, hemusthave heard all of the gossip.

But still Koppel smiled andoffered bread with jam tothosetoohungrytoresist,andtoo hopeful to believe thatthey were going to theirdeaths.

Her feelings of pity forKoppel disappeared likevapor as she watched himwork.

Gitel had talked to KarlAbdenstern, and since thenshe’d begun to go to Zionist

meetings that took place insecret at apartments allaroundtheGhetto.SheaskedFruma and Zofia to go withher.Theyhadrefused.Butastime passed, Zofia felt theneed to find an outlet, andthis seemed a good one. Soshe agreed to accompanyGitel one evening. Theywalked in the shadows untilthey arrived at a tall brickbuilding. Then Gitel looked

around, assuring herselfthey’dnotbeenfollowed,andthey slipped inside. Therethey climbed three flights ofstairs up to a small roomcrammed with Jews. The airreeked of sweat. Gitelintroduced Zofia to over adozenpeople.Itseemedas ifshe’dmetsomanythatZofiacould not remember theirnames. They became facesthatmovedinfrontofherlike

a stream of players in aparade.

“This is Peter, andMichael. This is Judith andRuth,”Gitelsaid.

Zofianoddedandsmiled.“ThisisDovidGreenspan.

Dovid this is Zofia,” Gitelsaid. “He is new here likeyou.Wemet last time Iwasat a meeting. If I remembercorrectly you told me thatwas your first time at a

Zionistmeeting?”“Yes, it was,” Dovid

answered.Hewas slender ofbuild, and medium height.“It’snice tomeetyou,Zofia,and good to see you again,Gitel,” he said, his voicerefined. “So, Zofia, you toohave come to join us inbuilding our dream of aJewishstate?”

“Yes,Ihave.”“YouarefromPoland?”

“Yes,Warsaw.Andyou?”“I was born in Austria, a

little townoutsideofVienna,abeautifulcity.”

“I haveheard thatViennawas lovely before theAnschütz.Isyourfamilystilllivingthere?”

“My parents and sisterswere there when I left. Godonly knows where they arenow. I’ve sent letters, but Inever hear anything.” He

shookhishead.“Andyou?”“Gitel and Fruma are my

family.Myparentsaredead,Iwas an only child.” Shewasafraid to mention Eidel. Shewanted to assure Eidel’ssafetywithsilence.

“Didyouhaveatrade?Orwereyouinschool?”

“I am a seamstress. Iworked with Fruma, one ofthe ladies I livewith,Gitel’sfriend. Fruma and I worked

together before the invasion.Whatwasyourtrade?”

“Iamaviolinist. Iplayedwith the Vienna concertsociety. When news camethat Hitler planned to invadeAustria I escaped theAnschütz with the help ofmany of my non-Jewishcolleagues. It was decidedthat the best place forme togowasPoland.Then,asyouknow, itwas not long before

Hitler came here. I don’tbelieve there is anywhere toescape the Nazis. They areeverywhere like an antcolony.” He laughed aslightly bitter laugh. “That’swhyweneedaJewishstate.”

“I must agree with you.”Shesaid.“I’msureeveryJewwouldagree.”

“Not so. I have manyfriends in the Hassidiccommunityand theyhaveall

but ostracized me for mysupport of the Zionistmovement.”

“WereyouHassidic?”“No, but I knew many

Hasidim from theneighborhood where I grewup. They are difficult tounderstand.”

“I’ve seen a lot of them,even worked on weddingdresses fora few,but Idon’tknow a great deal about the

culture. Only that they dressstrangely with little care forstyleorfashion.”

“They don’t care formodern styles. Their bigconcern is modesty. In factfrom what I understand theywear their strange outdatedclothing and long sideburnsto make them look differentfrom non-Jews. I’ve heardtheydo this so thatGodwill

recognizethem.”“Godrecognizesallofus,

regardless of what we wear.Don’tyouthink?”

“Iwouldthinkso,yes.Butthey are a hard bunch tounderstand.Theydon’treveala great deal about theirculture.”

“Do you know aboutthem?I’msortofcurious?”

“A little. Perhaps a littlemore than you, but still not

much.”There was a stirring

amongstthecrowd.Ayoungmangotuponto

a wooden box used as amakeshiftpodiumhestompedhisfeettogettheattentionofthe crowd and raised hishandsintheairtoquietthem.

“Good evening. And avery warm welcome to myfellow Jews in search of ahomeland.”Everyonecheered

enthusiastically.“MynameisMordichi.”

Zofia looked at the facessurrounding her, young, old,women, men, all brimmingwith determination. Thesepeople were not like theothers, they would not godownwithoutafight.

There was discussion ofthe escapees who’d comeback from the camps withgrim warnings of what lay

ahead.Manypeopledeclaredthat they would rather diefightingintheGhettothanbeshot and thrown into a massgrave or gassed and burned.Zofialongedtobelikethem,to be strong, and unafraid.Butthetruthwasthatshewasafraid. They talked aboutforming an uprising in theGhetto, building an armoryand fighting the Germans inthestreets.“KillNazis!”they

cried out. It all soundedwonderful, as these Zionistsproclaimed their loyalty totheir dreams and to eachother. But Zofia could notimagine herself taking uparms and shooting to kill.She’d never held a gun. Infact, she’d never even struckanother person. Besides,maybe itwasall lies,what ifit was all exaggeration, andthere were no shootings or

gassings. It wasn’t logical.WhywouldtheNaziskilltheJews if they could use themas free labor?Wouldn’t it bewiser to have them workingforthewareffort?Shewouldratherworkat thecampuntilthe endof all of this thengotobattle in themiddle of thestreet andprobablydie there,nevertoseeEidelagain.

So many thoughts ranthrough her mind as the

meetingcametoaclose.Zofiaheadedforthedoor.“May Iwalk you home?”

Dovid was instantly besideher.

“I was just waiting forGitel.”

“I’m sure she won’tmind.”

“Of course I don’tmind.”Gitel came over “I will seeyouathome,Zofia.”

Dovid held the door, he,andZofiawalkedoutintothecoolnightair.

“Do you like to read? I

love books.When I was notplaying music, I was avolunteer librarian,” Dovidsaid.

She laughed.“Ido like toread, but what a change foryou…Fromamusicianandalibrarian,toastreetfighter?”

“No,Idon’tthinkIwouldbe able to be a part of thefight; I wish I could. But Idon’tknowhowtouseagun.Still, I admire those whowould fight. It takes a lot ofcourage.”

“Yes.AndsodoI,butI’mnot sure I could do it either.I’veneverevenheldagun.”

“Ikeeptellingmyself thatperhaps this will all endbefore I am forced onto one

ofthosetrains,”hesaid.“The thought is

paralyzing.”“Iknow,Iagreewithyou,

but what are we to do? Runaround with rifles? SomeonewouldhavetoteachmeandIamafraidIwouldwastemoreammunition than I’d put togood use, just because I amnot too sure ofmy aim.”Hesaid shaking his head. “Iprobably don’t seem like

much of a man to you. I’msorry. I’ve always been a bitofagentlesoul:aviolinist,areader. I paint anddraw, andsometimes even writepoems.”

She smiled. “I find youmanly. You are just not aviolentman,notawarrior.”

“That’s terribly sweet ofyou to say. But the truth is,I’m a coward, not reallymuch of a man at all, and

certainlynotafighter.”“Well…every person is

different, I suppose.Until allof this stuff with the Nazisbegan,Idon’tthinktoomanypeople realized that if theywanted to live they wouldhavetofight.

“I admire your strength.You seem to take it all instride.”

“It’s anact. Inside I amanervous wreck most of the

time. But what can I do? Ijust livefromdaytodaylikeeveryoneelse.”

“You have strength aboutyou, a presence. You knowwhatImean?”

“Notexactly,butI trynotto wear my heart whereeveryone can see it.” Shesmiledinthedarkness.

“Fair enough,” Dovidanswerednodding“So,Zofia.Tell me… what are your

dreams?Whatdoyouplantodo if by some miracle weshouldsurvivethismess?”

“Me? I don’t know. Idon’t give dreams muchthought. I would just like tobe reunitedwithmy family.”Shegaveabitterlaugh.“Youwanttohearsomethingsilly?I can’t believe I am evenrememberingthisnow,but...”She hesitated for a momentand glanced over at him in

thedarkness.“Youknow…Ialways wanted to be a jazzmusicianwhenIwasayounggirl. It was a secret dream.Not something I ever reallybelieved would come true.But it was a nice dream, ifnothingelse.”

“Do you play aninstrument?”

“Not really, a little piano,but nothing to speak of. Iwanted to take lessons, but

there was never enoughmoney. And then all of thishappened and now I can’tthink of learning anything. Ionlythinkofsurvival.IwishI did play an instrumentthough,nowthatyoumentionit. It would be wonderful tofill our apartment withbeautiful music. I think itwould lift everyone up.Perhaps, take away some ofthefeelingsofhopelessness.”

“Yes,you’reright,itdoes.Music is a fantastic release.”He turned to her and smiled.Then he took her hand andsqueezeditgently.“Believeitornot, Ihavemyviolinherein the Ghetto. I managed tobringitwithme.Icouldteachyou to play, would you likethat?”

“Iwould,actually.Iwouldlike it very much.” Itwouldn’t be lessons in the

American swing that sheloved, but still it was music.Andmusicwaslife.

“You know, sometimes Isit back and I remember somuchaboutmylife,abouttheway things were before theNaziscame,”hesaid.

“Yes, you know what’skind of strange? I neverrealized how good life wasuntil it wasn’t any more. Iwas never rich, but now we

arepracticallystarving.”“I understand how you

feel. Whenever I have beenable to find the supplies topaint,Ipaintmymemories.Inever paint or draw picturesof the ghettos, the trains, thestarving, or the dying.Instead, I painstakingly forcemyself to remember, toremember the beauty of asunset, the snow falling onVienna at Christmas time. A

concerthallfilledwithpeopleand glittering crystalchandeliers, the toothlesssmile of a baby, an oldwoman smelling a bunch offlowers…”Heseemedlostinthe tenderness of hismemoriesuntilheglanceduptoseethatZofiawascrying.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Ididn’tmeantomakeyoufeelbad.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s

alright. I guess it just mademe think. I, too, have somany memories. There is somuchthathauntsmefromthepast.Sometimesmylongingsfor what used to be are sostrongthatIalmostcan’tbearit.”

They walked in silenceuntiltheyreachedthestairstoher apartment building. Shestopped.

“ThisiswhereIlive.”

Hereluctantlyreleasedherhandandgentlysqueezedhershoulder. “Wouldyou like tocome and see my art worksometime? Perhapswe couldeven start your violinlessons.”

“I would like that,” shesaid.

“Maybetomorrow?”“Yes,tomorrowisfine.”“Shall Icomeandcall for

youtomorrowevening,about

seven?” He was gazing intoher eyes.She felt theheatofhisdesireanditmadeherfeelalive.

“Yes. Come tomorrow atseven.I’llbewaiting.”

“Seven, then.” His handwas still on her shoulder,massaging.

“I’ll see you then.” Shesaid breaking free from hiseyesandturningtogo.

“Zofia…”

“Yes?” She glanced backathim.

“Thankyou”“Forwhat?”“Formakingthisnightthe

most special one I have hadinaverylongtime.”

She looked awayembarrassed, and then wentinto her building, turningquickly just once to see himstandingandwatchinghergo.

The followingnightZofiawent to Dovid’s apartment.His artwork covered thewalls. In each piece, she feltthepowerofhisemotionsandthe yearning for the worldbefore Hitler. A canvas overthe living room sofa wasfilled with bright colors,joyful colors, surrounding acarousel at sunset. Anotherfeatured children playing inan emerald forest, and

another of lovers drinkingwine at an outdoor caféwithredandwhitetableclothsandmatching umbrellas, theirbodies leaning toward eachother in intimateconversation. Then she sawDovid’s self-portrait at theconcert hall, where he sat infront of a blur of a thousandfaces playing his violin.Overhead the twinkling lightof a chandelier, like a

thousand diamond crystalsreflected inhiseyes,his facefullyenraptured.Ifshestaredlongenoughshefeltasifshecould almost see thetrembling of his fingers andhear the haunting strains ofmelancholy notes as the bowreached its arm out to caressthestrings.

“They’re beautifulpaintings,”shesaid.

“Thank you, they tell the

story of my life beforeHitler.”

“Is this your child?” sheasked. It was a picture of avery young girl perhaps twoor three smiling with only asingletooth.

“My niece, I was therewhen she was born. Mysister’shusbandwasmybestfriend. Their family lived afew blocks away from ours.When we were growing up,

YosephandIplayedkickballand walked to schooltogether. Then as we gotolder,heandmysisterbegannoticeeachother.AndbeforeI knew it, he was moreinterested in her than hewasinme,”Dovid laughed. “Oh,at the time I was angry atboth of them. I felt sobetrayed. Of course, I gotover it by the time they gotmarried. In fact, I was

Yoseph’s best man. Thenight Issy was born, YosephandIsatsmokingallthewayuntilmorning,together,inthewaitingroom.”

Shesmiled.“It was early in the

morningthatshecame,justatthecrackofdawn.Welookedoutside at the sunrise and Iremember confiding inYoseph that I doubted myturnwouldevercome.”

“Yourturn?”“Yes,myturn.Myturnto

find that special person whomakes your heart beat just alittlefaster,andthentomarryher, and if we are both veryfortunate,tobeblessedwithahouse filled with children.Well, I was right… I neverdid get married or havechildren of my own. Hitlerinvaded before I had thechance. And then everything

changed. Now I wouldn’twanttobringachildintothismess. So, I suppose that’swhy Issy is sospecial tome.She is like my owndaughter.”

“Youmay loveher, and Ihave no doubt that you do.But, Dovid, there is nothingin this world like your ownchild. The feelings that youhave for a childofyourownblood are indescribable.”

Zofia said crossing her armsover her chest and fightingtheurgetocry.

Helookedathersharply.“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean

tooffendyou.”“I’m not offended. Just

reminded of what has beenstolenfrommebytheNazis.”hesaid.

“I’m sorry, Dovid.Sometimes I am sothoughtless. I should never

havesaidthat.Iwasselfishlythinking of my ownproblems.”

“You wanted childrentoo?”heasked

Sheconsideredtellinghimabout Eidel but decidedagainstit.Sheshrugged.

He saw the pain in herface and didn’t ask anythingmore. Instead, he got up andtook out his violin. “Wouldyouliketohearmeplay?”

“Yes… Yes… I’d loveto.” It was a good way tochange the subject, andbesides,shedidlovemusic.

“Here,sitdown,andIwillplay for you,” he said. Theysat at a small kitchen tablewithtwochairs.

Shesmiledathim.“Ilookforward to hearing you,” shesaid.

“I’m sorry. I feel like aterrible host, but I’m afraid I

don’t have much to offer. Ican make a pot of coffee ifyouwouldlike.”

“No, thank you. I don’twantanything.”Shesmiled.

Dovidtooktheviolinoutofitscase.Hehelditthewayamanholdsawomanheadores,fondlingtheglossywood.Thenhepulledthebowacrossthestingsandbegan.

Heplayedforahalfhour.Painfullybeautifulmusicfilledtheapartment.Thetendernessinhishandsandfacemovedhertotears.Whenhe’dfinished,helookedupfromtheinstrument,andhiseyeslockedwithhers.

He reached up andtouchedherface.Sheheldhishand.

“Thank you for playing

for me,” she said in awhisper, still in awe of thesoundsthathadjustentrancedher.

He nodded. “It’s beenquite a while since I’vetouched the violin. When Iplay all ofmy feelings cometothesurface.Sometimesit’stoopainful.”

“Iknow.Isawthat.”He took her hand in his

and squeezed. “I don’t want

tofallinlovewithyou,Zofia.It’s too dangerous to loveanyoneoranythingrightnow.Everythingcanbetakenawayinaninstant.”

“Do you want me toleave?”

“Yes and no…. No.” Hiseyesweresoft,likeblackoil.“I am only fooling myself. Iam falling in love with you.Eitherit’slove,orI’mjustsodamnlonely.Idon’tknowifI

cantellthedifference.”“I know. I’ve been lonely

for a very long time. But Ihave also been hurt, and I’mnot ready for anythingserious.”

“I would never hurt you,Zofia.Never.”

“Dovid, you are like alittleboy.Ican’ttakecareofyou. I have too much toworryaboutonmyown.”

“That was a cruel

statement, Zofia. I am not aboy.Sensitive,yes.ButIama man in every sense of theword.And Imight not be asstrong as some men, not thehe-man everygirl dreamsof,but I would givemy life forsomeoneIcarefor.”

“I’m sorry. That wasterrible ofme to say. I don’tknowwhat’swrongwithme.I keep saying awful things. Ididn’t mean it the way it

sounded. I’m just afraid, Iguess.Ijustdon’twanttogethurt.”

“And I supposeyoudon’tfind me attractive in thatway?”heaskedlookingdownathishands

She studied him. He wasnice looking, kind, gentle. Ithad been a long time sinceshe’d felt a man’s armsaroundher.Sometimeslateatnight she’d hungered for the

physical affection of a man.She’donlytasteditonce,andit seemed so long ago, butsomehow her bodyrememberedandcravedwhatit had once known. And,besides,sinceEidelwasgoneshe’dnotfeltthewarmthandthe much-needed touch ofanother human being. Sheyearned for physical contact.She ached to hold her child,sheachedtoholdaman,and

sheachedtobewhole.“Kissme,”shesaid.Ithad

been so long since she’d feltthe intimate touch of a man.Her body trembled inanticipation.

Dovid touched her face,his eyes brimmingwith needand disbelief. Slowly, hemoved closer to her, takingherfaceinhishands.Gently,hislipsbrushedhers.Sheputherarmsaroundhimandheld

himclose toher.Theheatofhisbodysentshockwavesofneed through hers. It was anawkward embrace at first.Clumsy.Neitherknewwhereto put their arms or theirhands. As both were tryingdesperately not to lookfoolish, their heads bumped.Then they stopped for amoment, looked at eachother,andlaughed.

“Justkissme,Dovid,”she

said. Unlike her relationshipwith Don Taylor, this timeZofia had no illusions. Shewas not searching forundying love, onlymomentary warmth andcompanionship.

This timehisarmsdrapedaround her and hers reachedup to embrace him. Theykissedseveraltimesinastateof discovery. Then she tookhis hand and led him to his

small cot. Lying back, shebeckoned him to lie besideher. He did. And for a shorthour, they forgot that theywere Jews waiting forHitler’s decision on whethertheywere to live or die. Foranhour,theywerejustamanand a woman entwined ineach other, on the precipiceoflove.

Chapter37It felt good to have

somewhere to go, andsomething to do. If only forshort periods of time, Dovidkept Zofia’s mind occupied,helping her to forget howmuch she missed Eidel. Hebeganteachinghertoplaytheviolin. Learning the

instrumentprovedharderthanshe’dexpected,and themoresheworkedwithitthegreaterher appreciation for Dovid’stalent grew. Sometimes,Dovid offered free concerts,gathering a large enoughaudiencetoforcehimtoplayoutside in the open field sotherewould be room enoughfor everyone to could comeand listen.Zofiawould sit inthe front row, beaming with

pride. In the early evening,just at sunset, she andDovidtook long walks, talking,sharing,anddaringtodream.He loaned her his favoritebooks, books he’d sacrificedfoodrationstopurchasefromthe blackmarket. Often theysat in his apartment sippingcoffee and discussing a bookhe’dgivenhertoread.Itwaswonderful to share ideas.Theyevenwenttoatheatrical

play that several of the otherghetto-dwellersputoninoneof the apartments. Zofia hadnever played cards before.Dovidpurchasedadog-eareddeck from the black marketandhetaughther.

Theweekswentby.AdaydidnotpassthatZofiadidnotmiss Eidel, but the pain hadbeguntolessenabit,andshewasgrateful toDovidfor thedistraction. She was not in

lovewithhim.Forheritwasnot the passionate, allencompassing relationshipthat it was for him. She’dbeen hurt, and she could notgiveherheartaseasilyasheseemed to. But she enjoyedhis company. Theirconversations flowed freelyandeffortlessly,althoughshestill did not feel secureenough to tell him aboutEidel.

One night they laytogether talking and sippingwine that Dovid hadpurchased from the blackmarket, his arms wrappedaround her in the sweetafterglow of theirlovemaking. In the darknesslitonlybytheradianceofthestreetlights shining throughthe window, Zofia could seehisprofile.Suddenlyshewasovercome by great sadness,

shefeltsorryforhim.“Dovid, don’t fall in love

withme,”shesaid.“What? Why do you say

that?” He reached for herhand.

“Because I’m damaged.I’ve been hurt, and I don’tthink I’m capable of loveanymore.”

“You’re too late. I’malready falling in love withyou. I think of you all the

time. You’re the only brightlightinmylife.”

“Dovid... Dovid…” shesaidandgotuptowalktothewindow.“Idon’twanttohurtyou.”

“I would rather you hurtme then try to push meaway.”

“Idon’twanttodoeither.Can’twe just be friends?Nopromises, no future? I can’tmakeanypromisesDovid…”

“OhZofia,Idon’tknowifwehavea future anyway. Itseems as if that is not for ustodecide.But fornow, can’twe just be happy in whatwe’vefoundineachother?”

“Of course it is for us todecide.Whatdoyoumean?”

“Zofia...” He choked onthewords and had to turn tothesidetablewherehehadaglass of water. “I mean theNazisplan tokillusall.And

theywillprobablysucceed.”“Onlyifweletthem,”she

said, her chin firm, but shefeltthetearswellingupinhereyes.

“You’re such a fighter. Iwish I had half of yourcourage,”hesaid.Sheturnedtoseehimsmilewrylyinthedarkness.

“Dovid, I’m notcourageous, just stubborn. Irefusetoletthemwin.Ifthey

kill me, then they do, but Iwon’tstoptrying.”

“If youwon’t stop trying,thenat least letyourself loveme.It is the leastyoucandoforyourself,Zofia.Ifyoucanhave even a little happiness,it’sworththepain.”

“Dovid… Dovid...” Sheshook her head. She had noanswer.

Chapter38EveryFridaynightKoppel

still came to Zofia’sapartment towishheragoodSabbath.He insisted that sheaccompanyhimonoccasionalwalks, when he backed heragainst the walls of thebuildings, trying to kiss andtouch her. She knew better

thantocomplain.Instead,shefended him off as gently aspossible. But he didn’t seematalldiscouraged.Infact,themore she pushed him away,themorehewantedher.

OnonesuchFridaynight,asthewomenwerepreparingfor the Sabbath, Koppelarrived, bearing gifts ofroasted chicken wrapped inwhitebutcherpaperandfreshbread,asmallboxofcookies

and three oranges.A feast insuch hard times, moredelicious food than the threewomen had seen since theyhadbeentakentotheGhetto.

“GoodSabbath,”hesaid.Gitel frowned at him, but

she answered. “GoodSabbath.”

“Good Sabbath,” Frumasaidaswell.

“Hello,Koppel, and goodSabbath,” Zofia said. She

could not help but think thatthefoodhebroughtwasagiftto him from the Nazis inexchange for the lives of somany poor Jewish souls. Heput the food on the table. Itwas already set for theSabbath.

“It’s only right that youshould invite me to dinner,”Koppel said. “After all I didbringthemeal.”

“Yes, you did,” Fruma

said.Shewasstirringapotofsoup that contained a fewbeansandpotatoes.IfKoppelhad not arrived, this wouldhave been their Shabbatdinner.

Zofia looked at the kettlethat simmered softly on thestove. At least it was notprovided by the blood of theinnocents, she thought. Holdyour tongue,she toldherself.He has the power to destroy

you and these two womenwhoyoucaresomuchabout.“Of course you are invited,Koppel,”Zofiasaid.

“Well, then…let’s havedinner…”hesaid.

Fruma covered her headwith a shawl and beganlightingthecandles.Thenshespoke the prayers as sheclosed her eyes and movedher hands, pulling the smoketowards her. With a voice

soft,butfirm,shebegan…“Barukh atah Adonai,

Eloheinu, melekh ha’olam.Blessed are you, Lord, ourGod, sovereign of theuniverse…”

At the endof theprayers,there was a chorus of“Amen.”

Zofia could not help butwonderwhatGod thought ofa man like Koppel, a manwhowould sacrifice his own

peopletosavehimself.“May I do the honors?”

Koppel asked as he stood upand began to carve thechicken.Oncehefinished,heaskedeachofthem,“Darkorwhitemeat?”Thenheservedeachofthem.

Zofia was hungry. It hadbeenmonths since she’d hadmeat, but as delicious as ittasted, it stuck in her throat.She could not swallow. She

drankwater,andstillitfeltasif it would not go down.Koppeldidn’tseemtonotice.He was busy talking, doinghis best to charm Fruma bytelling her how beautiful theembroidery was on herShabbattablecloth.

“Thank you, I made thiswhen I was a young girl. Ican’t see as well any more.Now such intricateneedlework has become very

difficult for me. It must bemyoldeyes.”

“You aren’t old, Frumayou’reinyourprime.”

“Yes, of course,Koppel,”she said with a smile,unconvincedbyhisflattery.

After dinner, the womencleared the table. Koppel satdown on the cot in theadjoining room and waitedforZofia.

Zofia and Fruma went to

the room where the otherfamily who lived with themslept.Theywerethere.Frumaknewthat theyhadnodinnerfor the Sabbath, they’d runout of rations. She offeredthemsomeof the soup she’dmade. They graciouslyaccepted.

“I’llbettheyhadnothingleftfromtheirrationsfordinner.”Zofiasaid.

“Iknow,it’shardlyenough,andwithamanlivingwiththem,itmustbeevenhardertomakeendsmeet.Menhavesuchbigappetites.Theycan’thelpthat.”

Once they’d finishedeating,KoppelaskedZofia ifshe would accompany himforawalk.

“Would you like to cometo my apartment?” Koppel

asked as they walked downthecobblestonestreet.

“Idon’tthinkso,Koppel.”“You don’t? It’s been a

long time already, that wehave been seeing each other.Itistime,don’tyouagree?”

“Koppel, I am just notready…”

“You’re ready when itcomes to that sniveling littleidiot.”

She glanced over at himquickly. What did he know?Hedidn’t lookather,buthisfaceburntredinspiteofthecoolwind.

“YouknowexactlywhatIam talking about. Nothinghappens in this Ghetto that Idon’t know about. I havespies everywhere. You thinkyou’re fooling me? I knowabout you and Dovid. Itshames me, Zofia, shames

me.”Her breath caught in her

throat. She swallowed andchokedonherownsaliva.Ashard as she tried to containherself,shebegancoughing.

“So, admit it’s true. I’mnot a jealous man. But Iwon’tbetakenforafool.Doyou thinkyoucansleepwithhim and deny me? I havegiven you and your dikefriends so much… I could

force you, and you wouldhave nothing to say about it.Worse, I could sell you toeverymanhereintheGhettoifIwantedto,andyouwouldhavenoonetocomplainto.Iam the authority, Zofia. Imake the choices. I decidewhostaysandwhogoes.Anddon’t forget it.Remember, ifyou get me angry enough, Icould put you and yourperverted little family on the

nexttrain.”Shetrembled.“Koppel…”“And don’t think I

couldn’t alert the Gestapoabout you sending Eidel outof here. They’d find her outthere. Don’t think theywouldn’t.And…Theywouldkill her. In a second, theywouldkillher.”

“No!”Zofiascreamed.He grabbed her shoulder

andswungheraroundhardto

facehim.“Thenstopplayingthe innocent, self-righteousbitch with me and act likeyouappreciateall that Ihavedoneforyou.”

She hated him. She couldhardly look at him. He wasworse than any Nazi she’dever seen, because he was aJewjust likeher,andhewasworsethanthepersecutors.

“So, enough said. Youwill come to my apartment

and you make me feel likeyou are grateful. Do youunderstand what I’m tellingyou?” his voice was filledwithwarning.

Shefeltthebileriseinherthroat, but she nodded andfollowed him as he walkedseveral paces in front of her.The wind whipped her hairinto her eyes,wetting itwithhertears.

Chapter39As she stumbled back on

shaky legs to her ownapartment, Zofia turned intoanalleywayandvomited.Shecould still smell Koppel onher skin, and the images ofwhat had just happenedwould not leave her mind.Shewanted to talk toDovid,

to feel his comforting armsaround her, to hear thesmooth soft lilt of his voice.What had happened withKoppel would hurt him, buthe would understand. Dovidknew what it was like to betoo weak and too caught intheweb to fight. It waswellafter dark, and she knew sheshouldhurryhomeasquicklyaspossible,butshecouldnot.Careful to avoid the

streetlights, she slippedthroughthealleyways,alltheway to Dovid’s apartment.Before she knocked on thedoor,shelookedaroundtobesure she had not beenfollowed. Then she enteredthe building and climbed thefamiliar stairs.When she gotto the apartment, she rappedsoftlyonthedoor.Therewasno answer. She knockedharder, andstill therewasno

answer. Fighting the realitythat slowly seeped into hermind and heart, filteringthroughherbloodlikealethaldose of poison, she poundedherfistsonthedoor.“Dovid!Dovid!” she called out,knowing he would notanswer, but hoping, prayingshe was wrong. Her voicelouder than she intended, shecalled again, “Dovid!” Stillnoanswer.“DOVID!”

Awomanwearingaloose-fittinghousedresscameoutoftheapartmentnextdoor.

“Shhhh…Quiet.Themanwho lived here was takenaway on the transport lastnight. I saw the Gestapocome and get him. Theydragged him outside andherded him onto a train thatwasleaving.Thepeoplewholivedwithhimhavenotbeenback since yesterday. I don’t

know where they are. I’msorry, but you should goaway from here. It’s notsafe.”

Zofia sunk to the floorburyingherfaceinherhands.“MyGod,Dovid,whathaveIdone to you?” Tears floodedherfaceasshewept,hergriefpouring from her in loud,gulpingsounds.

“Come in. Please, I havesome tea. You are welcome

toacup.”Zofia shook her head.

“No,thankyou.”She feltweak, and so she

held on to the handle to thedoor of Dovid’s apartmentthat she had entered so ofteninthepastandusedittohelpherselfstand.

“I’m all right,” she said.“Thankyou.”

Her hand gripped therailing and her knuckles

turned white as shedescended the stairs out intothe street. Her legs felt likejelly beneath her, and shethoughtshemightdroptothegroundanyminute.Highinatree, a black crow let out ascream. Zofia looked up tomeetitseyes.Adullpainshotthrough her chest, and shereacheduptotouchherheart.

ThiswasKoppel’swayofpunishing her. Koppel had

donethis.

Chapter40Christa changed Katja’s

diaper. Then she carried herinto the kitchen, hummingsoftly. Manfred warmed abottle on the stove, andcarefullytesteditonhisinnerwristtobesureitwasnottoohot.

“She’s so pretty, isn’t

she?”Christasaid.“She looks just like you.

Shehasyourblondecurlsandyour lovely skin,”Manfredsaid, leaning over to kiss hiswife.

“I am so happy that weadoptedher,”Christasaid.

Theysatonthesofa,side-by-side,whileChristafedthebaby.

“The doctor says she canhavemoretablefoodnow.”

“Pretty soonshewon’tbetakingthebottleatall.”

“I know. I will miss herbeing a baby. You know, Imeant to tell you that she letgoofthesofaforafewstepsyesterday.”

“Imissedher first steps?”Manfredasked.

“I’m sorry, you were atwork. Shewalked for almosttwo whole steps. Then shelooked atme tomake sure I

was watching, and itdistractedher.Soshesatbackonherlittlebum.”

They both laughed. “IwishIhadseenit.”

“Well, no doubt she willdoitagain.”

“Yes,andthenbeforeyouknowitshe’llberunning.”

Manfred reached up andtenderly caressed his wife’shandassheheldthebottle.

“It means everything tome to see you so happy,” hesaid.

She reached over andbrushedhislipswithherown.

“She’ll be asleep soon,”she said, a smile finding itsway onto her face. Anyfeelings of attraction she’dthought she had forReichsführer Himmler weregone. Motherhood suitedChristaBlau.

“Yes,andthenIwillhaveyoualltomyself.”

“Ican’twait,”shesaid.“Meeither…”Hetenderly

touchedhercheek.She glanced over at the

roses on the mantel over thefireplaceanddecidedthatshemust be the luckiest womanin the world. How manywives could say that theyreceived roses almost everyweek?

Chapter41OnKatja’s third birthday,

Christa and Manfred gave asmall house party for thefamily. The only attendeeswerehismotherandChrista’sparents. They had a nicedinner and a small cake.After they finished, Dr.Henkener stood up and

apologized.Hesaidhehadtoleaveearlybecausehehadtocheck in on a patient at thehospital.Ashewasgatheringhis coat, the familysurrounded the baby grandpiano. Manfred played aseveryone sang well-knownGerman folk tunes. Christasat cross-leggedon the floor,holdingKatja at the waist tosecure the child, who wasattemptingtostandwhileshe

was playing with the toysshe’d just received. Babygiggles filled the room,interrupting the singing, butnobody seemed to mind.They’d just enjoyed a sweetapplebirthdaycake,andevennow, the smell of an orchardlingered behind, blendingwiththeheartyaromaofrichSouthAmerican coffee. Thesun had just descended fromthe sky and the night was

enfolding the city in themysteries of her dark arms.Dr.Henkenertookalastlookaround at his family. Theywere beautiful. If onlyHitlerhad never risen to power, hewould have been a happyman. But as things stood, hecould not turn a blind eye.His senseof rightandwrongwould not allow it. And so,Thomas Henkener left thepartyandmadehiswaytohis

office, watching behind himwith every step, careful toensure he was not followed.A light blanket of snowcovered the sidewalks, and acoldwind began to blowoutof the north, freezing thesnow, turning it hard. But toThomasHenkener,thewinterwasablessing.Itenabledhimto hide the food he carriedinside the lining of his woolcoat.He’dstayeduplateone

night making pockets insidethegarment,secureenoughtoholdthepackagesheplannedto take. Tiny particles ofsnow danced in the streetlampsashehurried along.Aslipperyundercoatoficewashidden beneath the powderycover, causing the doctor tolose footing several times.His hand clutched thebuilding as he moved closertohisoffice,takinggreatcare

to stay on his feet. Andbecause his mind was sofixated on not falling, heneverheardthesoftfootstepslurkingbehindhim.Whenhearrived at the heavydoors tohisofficebuilding,helookedaround assuring himself thathe was alone, and thenslipped inside. He wiped hisshoesontherugbythedoor,and then turned to lock it.Withoutflipping,thelighton,

heheadeduptowardtheatticwith the food he’d broughtfor his Jewish friends stillhidden insidehis coat.Whenhegot to the endof thehall,he looked around again. Inthesilence,hecouldhearhisownbreathing.Itwasragged,nervous. Dr. Henkener wasgetting older; the flirtationwith danger was too taxingforhim.Yethemustdo this.The doctor removed the

ladder from its secret hidingplace and climbed up. Thenhe pushed the tile out of theway and entered the attic,where his friends waited. Itbrought a tear to his eye tosee how badly in need theyall were of the food hebrought.

They greeted himwarmlyhugging him, thanking him,blessinghim.

These were good people.

Competent doctors who’dspent their entire careerssaving lives. They had beenreducedtothis…

Chapter42Outside Dr. Henkener’s

place of work, Gestapoofficers Schweissguth andGirtz watched and waited.They had been following thedoctorforseveralweeksonatip from one of the othertenants inhisofficebuilding.Because of the doctor’s

relationshiptoManfredBlau,thatlittleass-kissingpuppyofDr.Goebbels, theyhad tobecareful before apprehendinghim. If Henkener provedinnocent, therewouldbehelltopay.Goebbelswouldseetothat. So, they’d taken extratime,followedthedoctor,andobserved his every move.And now, they were prettysure that he was up to nogood. The tenant who’d

calledtheminthefirstplace,a dentistworking only a fewdoors to the left of Dr.Henkener, had shown themaround the building,including the location of thehiddenattic.Buttheyhadnotgone up yet. They could notbreak their cover until theywere able to catch Dr.Henkener in the act. If theydid,theoldmancouldalwaysclaim that he knew nothing

about theJewsupthere.AndbecauseofGoebbels,he’dgetaway with it. They weren’tgoingtoletthathappen.Girtzknew Manfred personally.They’d gone to schooltogether. In Girtz’s mind,Manfred was nothing but aweakling, undeserving of thepositionheheld. ButmostlyGirtz despised him for howquicklyhe’dearnedthefavorofGoebbels.Mostofthemen

had to go through the armyand rigorous training to beacceptedintotheSS.ButnotManfred. Somehow he’dweaseled his way in withGoebbels.When the news ofManfred’s father-in-lawpossiblyhidingJewscametoGirtz’s attention, he wantedtomakesuretotrapManfred.The task of surveillance wastopsecret.Girtzhadbeentoldbyhissuperior,whowasalso

jealous of the snot-nosed kidwho’dgottenintotheSSandGoebbels office withoutworking for it, that he mustcatch the doctor red-handed.Otherwise, no arrest was tobemade.Ifallofthisworkedout the way Girtz and hissuperior officer planned,shamewouldsurelyfallbackon Manfred, who did notdeserve tobeworkingbesidesuch a high-ranking officer.

Not tomention thathe,Girtzmight just receive apromotion for his hardwork.Schweissguth was Girtz’sbest friend, they spent timetogether outside of workdrinking beer and dreamingof success. Just recently,Schweissguth had married.Girtz trusted Schweissguthand told him about Dr.Henkener. Schweissguthvolunteeredtoaccompanyhis

friend on the arrest, tellingGirtz that he too desperatelyneededapromotionsincehismarriage.Now the twostoodoutside in the darkness,shivering with cold andanticipation, the old dentist’skey to the building snug inGirtz’s right pocket. Hisfingers fondled the key. Thiscouldbethekeytohisfuture.BothGirtz andSchweissguthhad made arrests before, but

nothing as big as this. Bytomorrowmorning,theentireParty,possiblyHitlerhimself,would know what had takenplace.Thearrestofhisfather-in-law would cast doubt onManfred’s loyalty.Manfred… Goebbels’ righthandman.

They waited in thedarkness for a quarter of anhour to be sure that Dr.Henkener had already gone

uptotheattic.Girtz and Schweissguth

turned to each other. “Youthinkit’senoughtime?”

“Yes. I’msurehe is thererightnow.Ifwearequick,wecan catch him in that atticwiththoseJews.”

Girtz nodded. His handwasshakingasheputthekeyin the lock, turning it, andchanging everything inManfred’slifeforever.

The two Gestapo agentsquietly made their way intothe building. They draggedtheir feet to prevent themarble floor from clickingbeneath their shoes. Whenthey got to the secret doorthat opened into the attic,Schweissguth climbed theladderthenpushedtheceilingtile.

Perele Shulman saw themfirst. She screamed her hand

went toher lips“OY!Got inHimmel!”shecried.

“Gesapot!” Girtzbellowed

Guns drawn, the two SSofficers entered the attic.Perele Shulman clutched herhusband, who turned towardher, takingher intohis arms.When he saw the two men,Dr. Shulman gasped softly.“Oy,dearGod.”

Zalaman Rosen stood

gripping the small table hisknuckles white, his face apale mask. Bluma, his wife,begantocry.

Thomas Henkener stoodparalyzed, staring at the twoyoung men in long, blackleathercoats.

“You are under arrest, allof you. That goes for you,also,Dr.Henkener.Iamsureyouknewthat itwasacrimeagainst theReich, treason, to

hideJews,”Girtzsaid.The loaf of bread and

hunk of cheese that Dr.Henkener brought stood inthe middle of the table,untouched. Henkener lookedat the food; then his eyesdrifteduptothetwomen.

“You boys should beashamed of yourselves,” Dr.Henkenersaid.

Girtz took his gun andcracked it across Dr.

Henkener’s face. Bloodspurted from the doctor’snose, landingon theoppositewall.

ThomasHenkenerwinced.“Thatshouldshutyouup.

Now,let’sgo,quickly.”All five people were

loaded into a waitingautomobile. The Jews wouldbe transported to NaziHeadquarters, and then fromthere to a camp for

extermination. Henkenerwould face aworse fate.Butbeforetheywereslaughtered,Girtz and Schweissguthwould see to it thatManfredwas knocked off his pedestalandbroughttohisknees.

Chapter43The phone rang at half

past midnight. Christajumped out of bed. A latenight call could only meanoneofherparentswereill.Asshe picked up the receiver,Manfredappearedathersidepushing the hair out of hisface.

“Hello,”shesaid.“I need to speak to

Manfred. This is Dr.Goebbels.”

“One moment, please…”she said to the caller, thenturning to Manfred, shehanded him the phone. “It’sDr.Goebbels.”Goebbels? At this time of

night? “Hello, Doctor,” hesaidintothereceiver.“ThisisManfred.”

“Youmustmeetmeattheofficeimmediately.Thereisaseriousproblem.”

“Iwillberightthere.”Manfred hung up the

phone.“Whatdidhewant at this

timeofnight?”Christaasked.

“I don’t know,” Manfredsaidashedressedquickly.

“Be careful, my darling.

Don’tdrivetoofast.”Heleanedoverandkissed

her. “Go back to bed. I willbehomeassoonasIcan,”hesaid. Then he left, quietlyclosingthedoor.

Manfred’s hands trembledas he drove through thesleepingcity.Almostnocarswereon the road, andonlyafew people walked thesidewalks. For themost part,darkness surrounded him,

saveonly small illuminationsfrom the street lamps. Hismind raced. Why wouldGoebbels be calling him atthis time of night? Whatcouldbehappeningthatcouldnot wait until morning?Perhaps, it was a personalproblem. Lately, Dr.Goebbels had begun todiscuss his person problemswithManfred.Wouldhe callat this time of night for

something of that nature?Orperhaps,Hitlerwasmakingasurprise visit and the doctorwantedeverythingtogowell.Maybe something hadhappened to Hitler. Thatwould be terrible. Manfredpressed the gas, moving theautomobile faster down theroad.

Manfredparkedhiscar infront of the door and wentinside. The entire structure

wasdark,exceptforonedimlight in Goebbels’ office.Manfredentered.

“Dr. Goebbels, youwantedtoseeme?”

“Yes. Your father-in-lawwas arrested tonight forhidingJewsintheatticofhisoffice building. TheGestapoison theirway toarrestyourmother-in-law. If not for myintervention,theywouldhavecome for you and yourwife.

Thisisserious,Manfred.Thisistreason.”

Manfred sunk into thechair opposite Goebbels. “Ihadnoidea,none.”

“Iknewthat.That’swhyIintervened. But things aregoingtogetveryugly.”

“My wife? My career? Ihad nothing to do with this,Doctor.Iswearit,onmylife,onmywife’s life.Neither ofusknew.”

Goebbels lit a cigarette.“Your father-in-lawhasdonea terrible thing. He’s brokentheNuremburg laws. Iwon’tbe able to keep you here attheoffice. Iwillbe forced tofind you work elsewhere.Because of this, you mustprove your loyalty to theFatherland.”

“But you know me, sir.YouknowIamdevotedheartand soul to Hitler and the

cause.”“I do know this. Still,

there is much that is notunder my control. Chancesare good that you will betakeninforquestioning.”

“WhatcanIdo?Helpme,sir,pleasehelpme.”

Dr. Goebbels rubbed hischin. The minister ofpropaganda was lost inthought. He got up andlooked out the window. For

several moments, he wassilent. Manfred felt as if hisheart would jump out of hischest and lie bleeding on thefloor.

Finally, Joseph Goebbelsturned to Manfred. “I haveanidea.”

“Sir?”Manfredsaid,hoperising with his heartbeat intohisthroat.

“I will stand by you, butsadly, I think Imust askyou

to do something that will bevery difficult for you.”Goebbels said taking a longdragofhiscigarette.

“Anything, anythingat alljustask.”

“You must show yourdevotion to the Party byexecutingDr.Henkener.Youwill be the one to fire theshot. Your wife must bepresent to witness theexecution of the traitor.

Manfred, you must kill yourwife’s father.Hemust die atyourhand.Thisandonlythiswillproveyourloyalty.”

Manfred gasped.He hunghis head. He did not caremuch for Thomas Henkener,butheknewChristawouldbedevastated. Would she everforgivehim?Heputhishandstohistemplesandsqueezed.

“Mywife…shewillneverforgiveme.”

“She should be thankfulthat she is not being arrestedandsenttoacamp.Shemustbe made to understand theseriousnessofallofthis.Herfatherisatraitor.Eitherway,he will be destroyed. If youare the one to complete thetask, thingswill bebetter forbothofyou.You realize thatyou,too,areatriskhere.Ifitis somehow suspected thatyou are a traitor, you could

easily face executionyourself. Now, I’ve come upwith an idea that I believewillwork.ButyoumustdoasIsay.”

Manfred’s head wasspinning. He felt himselffalling, plummeting from hishigh position to a slave in aconcentration camp. Damnhis father-in-law. Damn himtohellforthis.

“I’ll do it,”Manfred said.

He’d never killed anyone.Just the idea was horrifying.And now, he had to kill hiswife’s father. There wassimplynorefusing.

Chapter44Christa was awake when

Manfredturnedthekeyinthedoor and walked into thehouse. Shewas sitting at theedge of an overstuffed chairin the living room.When heentered, she jumped to herfeet.

“Manfred, what is going

on here? My mother justcalled.My fatherwent to theoffice earlier, and he has notreturned.Sheisfrantic.”

“Yes.” Manfred said, buthe could not meet her eyes.Instead he walked to thewindowandfacedawayfromher

“What is happening?Pleasetellme.”Christarantohim and put her arm aroundhis waist. “Manfred, talk to

me.Please…”Hetookadeepbreaththen

turnedtofaceher.Shelookedat him pleading her eyesswollenwithcrying.

“Hasmyfatherbeeninanaccident?Ishe…”

“Christa” He cleared histhroat. “Your fatherhasbeenarrested by the Gestapo forhidingJewsintheatticofhisofficebuilding.Whendidyoulastspeaktoyourmother?”

“Over an hour ago, I toldher I would call her back assoonasyoucamehome.”

“She has probably beenarrested. She is most likelyalready at headquarters forquestioning.”

“Mama?Forwhat?”“It is really your father

theyare after.Theyknowhecommitted this crime. But Ibelieve your mother willprobably be released after

questioning.”“Can you help Papa?

Please? You must Manfred.You have lots of importantfriends. Do something…”Shebeganshakinghim, tearsthreatening to fall from hereyes. Her face was blotchyand he could he see that shewasterrified.

He shook his head. Hisshoulders slumped. “I can’tdoanything.Itried.Theonly

thing I can do now, at thispoint is to try and save yourmother,youandmyself.”

“AndPapa?”“I’m sorry.” He looked

away“Sorry?” she raised her

voice both in pitch and involume. “Manfred, please!Manfred,heismyfather.”

“Heisatraitor.Lookwhathe has done to me, to us?Howdare he put all of us in

this position! Whateverhappenstohim,hedeserves.”

“And what will that beManfred?” She asked hervoice cracking “What willthat be?” She grabbed himspinninghimtowardsher.

“I don’t know,” he said,turning away again. “Butwhateveritis,hedeservesit.”

For the first time sincethey were, married Manfredand Christa slept apart. He

went to the guest room,where he sat up trying todevisesomesortofplan,andshelayin theirbedstaringattheceilinguntilthesunrose.

Bymorning,Manfred feltas if he might collapse withexhaustion.Hewalkedslowlyto thekitchen.Thebabywasin her high chair, playingwith a toy. Christa did notturn to look at him as heentered.She filledapotwith

waterforcoffee,andthencuttwo thick slices of bread forhis toast. Watching her dothis everyday, common actalmost brought tears to hiseyes.Hewantedtogetupandtakeherintohisarms,tobegher forgiveness. The lastpersononthisearthhewouldever want to hurt was hisbeloved Christa. Everythinghedidhehaddoneforher,towooher, towinher, tobuild

their lives together.Butnow,should he refuse to carry outthe dreadful task Goebbelsdemandedofhim,theywouldall be sent to a camp. EvenChrista, delicate Christa…Shewoulddie in if shewereexposed to the harshconditions of a work camp.He must do as Goebbelsasked.Buthowcouldheevermakeherunderstand?

Gingerly, he walked up

behind her and put his armsaround her smallwaist. “I’msorry,”hesaid.

She turned around. “Metoo.”Therewere tears in hereyes.

Hekissedher.“Then you will help

Papa?”Sheasked.“Christa, if I could help

him I would, but I can’t hehas destroyed himself and ifwedon’tturnawayfromhim

he will take all of us rightdown with him. I can’t bearthe thought of you in acamp.”

“They would do that tous? To you? After you havebeen such a loyal Partymember?”

“TheNaziPartyishardtoexplain. It is filled withtreachery. Goebbels is myfriend,yes,butIstillmustbecareful.Everyoneisalwaysa

suspect.IftheycanprovethatI knew about your father’sactivates,wearealldoomed.”

“Butyoudidn’t”“That doesn’t matter,

Christa. If they think that Iam taking his side, in anyway, all of us will befinished.”

“I don’t care if they fireyou. I would rather that youcleaned the streets thanworkedforamanwhowould

not stand by you when youneedhim.”

“Silly girl, I wish thatwerealltherewastooit.TheNazi officials will do farmore than that. They mayeven execute all of us. Youdon’t realize what they arecapableof,”he said,wantingtoshakeheruntilshesawthetruth.

“So what will they do toMama and Papa? Dear God,

Manfred, did you know theyweresoterrible?”

“What difference does itmakewhat I knew orwhat Ididn’t know? All I know isthat your father has provenhimself a traitor to the Partyand now we must all pay adearprice.”

She struggled away fromhim. “Whowere the Jewshewashiding?”

“I don’t have any idea.

What difference does itmake? A Jew is a Jew. Andyoudon’thideJewsfromthegovernment. It’s against thelaw. Your father broke thelaw.”

“I think I know who itwas.Dr.Shulman.”

“So what difference doesthatmaketous?WhyshouldI give a damn about Dr.Shulman? He’s a Jew, andthatmakeshimaproblem”

“BecausehesavedmylifewhenIwasjustalittlegirl.Ihave a heart condition. If itweren’tforhimIwouldhavebeendeadlongago.”

Shepickedupadishtowelandbeganwipingthecounter.“Christa, I am sorry. Iunderstand why your fatherdidwhathedid.Butyoumustunderstand that if we don’tturnawayfromhimtherewillbe no way out for us. If he

must go down, then at leastyou and yourmotherwill besaved. It is better thannothing.”

She hung her head andwept.

Manfred grabbed his coatoffthecoatrack.Hecouldn’tbear to be in that house anylonger.He’dgetsomethingtoeatattherestaurantnextdoortohisoffice.

“Please Christa, try to

understand. I am going in toworknow.Letmedowhat Ican. I will check on yourmother and call you as soonasIknowanything.”

“Don’t let them hurt her,Manfred. Please. Oh, dearGod!” she cried. “My Papa!Mysweet,gentlePapa!”

Manfredleftasquicklyaspossible closing the doorbehindhim.

Chapter45

When he arrived at theoffice,hiscoworkers,usuallysoeagertowinhisfriendship,were cool but polite. Butmore importantly, JosephGoebbels did not extend hisusual luncheon invitation.Manfred sat in his officeworking quietly, feeling

disconnected from the worldin which he’d grown socomfortable.Hecouldmusterno appetite for his afternoonmeal.As the day progressed,his resentment towards Dr.Henkenergrew.All thathe’dbuilt,allthathe’dstrivedfor,seemed to be sifting throughhis fingertips like sandat theocean,andthroughnofaultofhis own.Damn his father-in-law,nomatterwhatManfred

tried to do, this crack in thefoundation of his characterwouldstranglehisformerriseto success. He’d beendrawing with a charcoalpencil and didn’t realize thathe’dbrokenitintwo.Rightatthis very moment, he couldkill Dr Henkener with hisbare hands. Everything wasgone in a single, carelessmoment. What a foolHenkenerhadprovedtobe.If

notforChrista, itwouldbeasheer pleasure to make himpay for what he’d done.Manfred imagined standingover his father-in-law andkickinghim,thenchokingtheverylifefromtheman.

At the end of the dayManfred waited, hopingJoseph Goebbels would callhim into his office for anafter-hourssipofschnapps,acommon occurrence. But

Goebbelsneverasked.Manfred walked into his

house to find his mother-in-law and his wife huddledtogetherwaitingforhim.Thebaby sat on a blanket in themiddle of the floor, playingwithastuffedrabbit.Assoonasheputhisbriefcaseonthediningroomtable,Christaranto him. She threw her armsaroundhim.

“Haveyouheardanynews

aboutPapa?”Hestoodstaringather,his

arms at his side. “I told you,wewon’thearanythingaboutyourfather.Heisdeadtous.”

“Manfred, please, youhave so many friends, youmust do something to helphim.I’mbeggingyou.”

“Christa,Ican’thelphim.Andfurthermore,nowweareall in trouble. Iwillbe luckyif I can save the three of us.

Your father was selfish andinconsiderate. What he didhas put our entire family injeopardy.” Manfred’s voiceharshandunforgiving.

Katja began to cry. Mrs.Henkenerreacheddownliftedthe child into her arms. StillKatjacried.

“Manfred, you mean tosay that we will never seeThomas again?” Mrs.Henkenerasked.

“Yes, that is exactlywhatIamtellingyou.”

“Oh, God! My husband!”Heidi Henkener got up fromthesofaandhandedthebabyto her daughter. She walkedtowards he son in law, herarms outstretched andpleading. “Manfred is therenothingatall…”

“No,thereisnothingtobedone.I’msorry.”Hesaidandwalked into his bedroom.

Thenhesatdownon thebedandputhisheadinhishandssqueezing his templesforcefullyashelistenedtotheweeping coming from thelivingroom.

Chapter46For over an hour past

curfew, Zofia walked theforbidden streets. Dovid’slove for her would destroyhim, and all because ofKoppel’s jealousy. Herfeelings for Dovid were notlove, but he was a goodfriend,andshecouldnothelp

but be touched by his gentlesoul. In fact, shemight havemarried him. It amazed herthat he lovedher asmuch ashedid.Andnowitbrokeherheart to know that he satimprisoned on a train on theway to some horrificdestination, and all becausehe’d given her his heart andsoul. She felt physically ill.And because of Dovidsfragilenature,itwasdoubtful

that he could endure whatawaited him. She was angryatKoppel,soangryshecouldkillhim,andangryatherself,angry at theworld.Helpless,shewrappedherarmsaroundherself, and looked up at thesky. IF only she could dosomethingtosaveDovid.Butwhat? She wished she couldgo to Koppel and, plunge aknife deep into his chest. Ashiverrandownherspineand

she trembled. What had shebecome?Amurderess?

AtleastEidelwassafe,farawayfromtheGhetto.ThankGodforHelenfortakingher,and for Karl Abdenstern forgetting her out. At least herchild would know peace,evenifshewouldnot.

Togohomeandtrytorestwas futile. Even though hehadthepowertodestroyher,shemustconfrontKoppel.

Thecoldair rushedatheras she ran to the buildingwhere Koppel lived. Hercheeksstainedwithtears,herface wind burned, and hernoserunningfromthechill.

Koppelansweredthedoorto his apartment in hisundershorts and whiteundershirt. With hisdisheveledhair,itappearedasifhe’dbeenasleep.

“To what do I owe this

pleasure?” He said halfsmiling.

Zofia burst through thedoor.“Whatdidyoudo?”

“Hold on a minute, youlittle spit fire. What do youmean what did I do?” Hismoodinstantlychanged.

“You know what I mean.WhereisDovid?”

“Oh, your boyfriend?” heasked, closing the doorbehind her and sitting down

on a chair. “You mean theonewho youwere unfaithfultomewith?Youlittleingrate,Igotridofhim”

“Koppel,didyouthinkwewereinaseriousrelationship,that I was not keepingcompany with anyone else?Nothing I ever said couldhave made you believe that.Nowjustlookwhatyouhavedone, Koppel, you’vesentencedaninnocentmanto

Godonlyknowswhatkindoftorture.”Hervoicecrackedasshewatchedhimsittingthereunmoved. “But then again, Ishould have expected asmuchfromaweasellikeyou.You’re a coward Koppel,nothing but a coward. Howcan you call yourself aman,when you can so easily sellyour own people to saveyourself?Youdisgustme.”

Something she said

touchedanerve.Hestoodup,grabbed her arm squeezinghard, and jerked her in frontof him. Then he pointed hisfinger right in her face andsaid “Listen to me, you arelucky I like you, or yoursweet little ass would be onthenexttransport.Don’tpushme,Zofia.I’mwarningyou.”

“And what you do youthink,Koppel?Do you thinkthatyou’redifferentfromthe

rest of us? You’re a Jew,nothingbutaJew,justlikealltherestofus.WhentheNazisare donewith you, you’ll goto the same place yoursendingall therest.Theonlydifference is that you won’tbe able to turn to God forhelp.”

“There is no God, Zofia.Haven’tyourealizedthatyet?Look around you, thestarvation, the sickness, the

death… And the Jews aresupposed tobeGod’schosenpeople. Chosen for what? Ifyou consider everythingaround you, you can’tcontinuetobelieveGod.Youcan’t believe in anything butyourself.”

“You’re a cruel andterrible man Koppel. Butyou’ll see. You will becursed. I know it. You willpayforyouractions,foryour

treatmentofothers.”“Shut up Zofia. Shut up

now.” He slammed heragainst the wall. She hit thesideofherfaceonashelfandher teeth felt as if they hadloosenedinhergums.

“Areyouafraidmywordshavearingoftruthtothem?”shesaidglaringathim.

He looked into her eyes,whichburnedwithhatredandaccusation.

“You test me, you bitch.Getoutofhere.Getoutrightnow,andnevercomeback. Ineverwanttoseeyouagain.”

Hegrabbedherarmagainand she winced at the pain.Thenheopenedthedoorandthrew her out into the street.She fell on the sidewalkskinningherkneeandelbow.

“Never come near meagain. You hear me?NEVER!” He slammed the

door.Zofialayonthesidewalk,

trembling. Her arm and herkneehurt.Shereachedupandtouched her cheek. It wastender and aching. Therewouldbeadarkpurplebruisebymorning.

She got to her feet andrealized her stockings hadtorn when she fell.Straighteningherclothes,shebegan to walk home. Guilt

haunted her. If Dovid died,she would never forgiveherself. Not that she wouldever know. How would sheknow? People got on thosetransports and were neverheard from again. KnowingKoppel’s cruel streak andabuse of power, she shouldhave kept her distance fromDovid.Wasshesostupidthatshe’d not known itmust endthisway?

Whenshegothome,Zofiawas grateful to find FrumaandGitelasleep.Quietly,shecleaned the blood from herinjuries,thenlaydownonhercot.Althoughherbodyachedwith exhaustion, she couldnotsleep.Hermindcontinuedtorace.

It came as no surprise toZofia. In fact, she wasexpectingit:theknockonthedoor in the middle of the

night. The deep voicebellowing, “Gestapo!, Openthedoor!”

But what did come as asurprise was that Zofiaexpected they would onlycomeforher.Shewaswrong.Again, shemust shoulder theburden of guilt. Those wholovedherwouldsufferforherharshwordstoKoppel.Zofiafelt the tears raindownuponhercheeks,butitwasnotfor

herself that she cried.Again,she’d brought suffering tothose who loved her. Zofiawent first. Then shewatchedGitel and Fruma as the menpushed them into the backseat of the waitingautomobile. Once they wereinside,withthedoorslocked,thethreewomensatinsilenceasthecarheadedtowardsthetransport station. The dawnbroke just as they arrived at

thecattlecars.NaziSSstoodaround the lines of people.They carried guns, pointedand ready to kill. Womenholdingbabies,menbentwithage,youngandold,maleandfemale, some crying, othersstone faced… They all juststanding, waiting, hoping,praying, and wonderingwheretheywereheaded.

Zofia looked around her,sickened at the scene. Two

womensatata tablehandingoutsingleslicesofbreadwithjam to placate the people asthey entered the cattle car.Hordes of those nearlystarvingwaitedinlineforthefood.Theythenfollowedlikesheep as they were pushedinto the closed cattle cars. Inthe corner satKoppel, eatingand watching. When Zofia’seyes met his, he smiled, andshesworeshehadcomeface

to face with the Devil.Because he’d touched her inthat way, her body nowrepulsed her. Never beforehad she felt such hatred foranother living thing. If shehad another night alone withhim in his bed, she wouldwaituntilhe fell asleep, thenshe would take a kitchenknife andplunge it deep intohisblackheart.“Mach shnell!” a guard

yelledatZofia,causinghertorealize she’d been standingand staring. He gave her ashove and she fell forwardinto the line. Fruma put herhandout and tookZofia intothefoldofherarm.Gitelheldupontheotherside.Andthethree friends entered theboxcar.

Once the cattle car wasfilled wall-to-wall, standing-room only, with wretched,

frightened people, a guardslammed the door,obliterating all light.Darkness hovered over themlike a shroud. The smell offear, mingled with vomit,filled the air as the trainrattled into motion. A babywailed in its mother’s arms.Itspiercingcries sent shiversthroughZofiaasshetriednotto think of Eidel. For days,the train chugged along the

track. The smell of humanexcrement from a small pailin the corner overpoweredZofia. It causedmany of theprisoners to vomit, whichonly added to the stench.Several times Zofia felt as ifshemight faint. No fresh airentered the stifling-hot traincar that felt like a casketalready buried. Bathed insweat, Zofia leaned againstthebackwall.Shehadnever

beensothirsty.Herthroatfeltsore and gravelly, likesandpaper. How long it hadbeensincetheyleftWarsaw?Two days? Three? That wasthe last time she’d had a sipofwater.

Afteratime,thebabywhohad been, crying grew silent.Zofia knew it was dead.Thank God, Eidel was notthere. At least, somewhere,Eidelwassafe.

Whenthesunshone,arayof light would sometimestrickle through the slats ofwood. If she had kept track,shewould have been able todeterminethepassingoftime,butshedidnot.Onoccasionshe fell asleep, and the dayspassed to night, and then today again. Still the trainrambled along noisily on thetracktohell.

Finally,afterwhatseemed

likealifetime,thetrainjoltedtoahalt.Thrownforward,thepassengers fell upon eachother,astheirheartstrembledwith the terrorofwhatmightbewaitingoutsidethedoor.

From inside, Zofia couldhear the Nazi guards yellingand commanding as theyopenedeachtraincar.

“You, to the left, you tothe right,” sheheard, but shehad no idea what it meant.

Left?Right?Then came a loud

clanging as the lock releasedand the train door opened.After so many days indarkness, the light hurtZofia’s eyes. Her limbs feltnumb from lack ofmovement. She stoodparalyzed, dizzy, lookingaroundher.

She never saw the guardas he came up behind her

hitting her across the backwithaclub.

“Move! Schnell! Get inline.”

Thepainshotthroughher,asshefellforward.Heraisedthe club to strike her againand she quickly got into theline. Fruma came up behindherwithGitel.

“My God, there you are.We’ve been lookingeverywhere for you. I was

frantic.”“I’msorry.Iwas…”“Shut up, Juden. No

talking,”aguardsaid“Left, right, left, right,”A

tallwhitehairedmandirectedtheprisoners.

“What does this mean?Some go left others right?”Zofia asked no one inparticular.

“It means that some live

and some die.” A middle-aged woman with a red rashon her face answered. “Looklike you are strong and likeyou can work. If they thinkyou are too weak to worktheywillsendyoudirectlytothe gas chambers. You seethat line? They tell everyoneinthelinethattheymusttakea shower. That line leads totheshower.Itisabigmassiveroom. Everyone is forced to

go in at once. Then just asyou think they are going toturnon thewater,water isn’twhatcomesout.It’sgas.Andeveryone that is inside ismurdered.”

ZofialookedatFrumaandGitel.Bothwerepale.

“Wheredidyouhearsucha thing? Would they reallykillus,justlikethat?”Frumaasked.

Zofia found it hard to

believe.“Don’t ask questions. I

heard it in the Ghetto fromsomeone who escaped thisplace. For now, just lookstronglookhealthy.Yourlifedependsuponit.”

“Shutup,Itoldyou.Keepmoving,”theguardsaidashecracked the club across themiddle-aged woman’sshoulder. She winced, thensilence.

“Right,”hesaidtoGitel.“Right,”hesaidtoZofia.“Left,”hesaidtoFruma.“No!” Gitel yelled. “No!

Wemust stay together!” Shegrabbed Fruma’s arm andheld on to it. “Please, havemercy,” Gitel said to theguard.Theguardclubbedherelbowandherhand released.Another SS officer pushedFrumaforwardintothelinetothe left. “I can’t let her go,

not all alone. We livedtogether. It’s only right weshould go to where ever thisline leads together.Goodbye,Zofia.IfmyFrumamustdie,then I too must die,” Gitelsaid,andsheranafterFruma,taking her hand. Zofiawatched as they were forcedatgunpointtostayinthelinetotheleft.

“Fruma! Gitel!” Zofiashouted,asloudasshecould.

Then,Zofiafeltadeepjabinher ribs; clutching herstomach, she leaned forwardin pain, only to look up andseethepressedblackuniformof anSSofficer.Tears stunghereyes.Shewantedtolieonthe ground and weep.Fruma… Gitel… She criedout like an animal that hadbeenshotbyahunterandlefttodie inpain.Shewanted torun after them, to end all of

thismisery,butshemustnot.Someday she would leavethis place and go home toEidel. For Eidel she mustfight to live. The line to theleftmovedquicklyandwithinminutes, Zofia lost sight ofherfriends.Iamalone.Noneof the women who stood inthe line with Zofia wereelderlyorcarriedbabies.Themenwereallofworkingage,therewerenochildren.Those

hadallbeenfilteredout.Onlythe young and strongremained. The others movedin the line headed quicklytoward extermination. Ayoung girl with fiery curlsthat flowed down her backbecamegrippedbypanic.Shebegan screaming and ran outof the line heading full forcetowardsthebarbedwire.

TwoNaziofficersstoodinhearing distance from where

Zofiawas.“Shoother,”theolderman

saidabouttheredhead.The younger one, a slight

man in his early thirtieslookedathimblankly.

“Shoother,Isaid.”From where she stood,

Zofia could see his handstremblingashetookaim.Hefiredashotatthegirl,buthemissed. The older man drewhis gun and fired, hitting the

girl somewhere in the leg.She fell clutching her calf.Then he turned to a lesserguard. “Bring that little sluthere,schnell.”

Twoguardspulledthegirlbyher armsanddroppedherin front of the SS officers.Herredhairspilledlikebloodaroundher.

“Beat her to death. Makeanexampleofherfortherestof these trollops so that they

don’tgetanybrilliantideasofescape,” the one in chargeordered.TheotherSSofficerlookedathim,bewildered,asifinastateofdisbelief.“Areyouaweakling,acoward?”

The younger man shookhis head. “No… Of coursenot.”

“You are a soldier inHitler’s army to save theGerman race. Now act likeit.”

The SS officer set hischin,noddedhishead,butdidnot look at the girl as heraisedhisclub.

In the line to the left,FrumaandGitelheldhands.

Over the loud speakercame a male voice. It said,“Fold your clothes and putthem into a pile before youenter the showers, rememberwhere you put them so thatyoucanfindthemagainwhen

youcomebackout.”“Yousee,iftheymeantto

killus,thentheywouldn’ttellustorememberwhereweputourclothing,”Gitelsaid.

Fruma smiled a wry, sadsmileandpattedGitel’shand.“We are together, and that’sallthatmatters.”

“Do you think theymeantokillus?”Gitelasked

“Of course not,” Frumasaid, her voice soft and

comforting. “Of course not,my love,” Again she smiledat Gitel and touched hercheek. Then Fruma lookedahead of her at all of thepeople in line all the peoplewhowouldneverreturnfromtheshowerstofindthoseneatlittlepilesofclothing.Frumahad no illusions. She knewwhere she and Gitel wereheaded,butatleasttheyweregoingtogether.

Chapter47Dr Henkener looked like

an oldman, his body bent, amass of gray, unshaven haircoveringhisface,ashestoodagainst the wall awaiting theshot that would end his life.His eyes met his daughter’s,who stood with her armaround her mother. He gave

her a wink and a reassuringsmile. Then, an armed guardescorted Manfred outside.From where Christa stood,she could see her husband’shands shaking. Goebbels’sstoodontheothersideofthefield, wearing a graveexpression.ShesawhimlookatManfredandnod.Manfredraised the pistol, his handstrembling sobadlyhealmostdropped it. Heidi Henkener

reached for her daughter’shandandheldittight,sotightthat her nails began topenetrate Christa’s flesh. Fora moment, Christa thoughtthatManfredwouldrefuse tofiretheshot.Notthatitwouldsaveherfather,sheknew.Hewoulddietoday,byeitherherhusband’s hand or that ofanother SS officer. But, heDr.Henkenerwouldnotleavethisfieldalive.Christalonged

toseeManfred’seyes,buthewould not look at her.Instead, he kept his gazeforward,firmwiththetaskathand.

The shot rang out.Manfredmissedhistarget.Helooked around franticallyuntil his eyes met Goebbels.Goebbels nodded, andManfred took aim. He usedtwo hands to steady himself.Then he fired. The second

bullet found ThomasHenkener.Hecrumpledtotheground, blood flowing fromhis chest. Christa and hermotherrantohimasManfredwas led away, the pistol stillhotinhishand.

When Manfred arrived athome that night, Christacould not bear to look at herhusband.He’dexplainedwhyhe had no choice but to dowhat he did that day. He’d

toldheroverandover that ifhe did not follow throughwith the execution, it wouldnothave savedher father, hewould have still been shot,but then Manfred’s loyaltywouldhavebeen inquestion,and the rest of them wouldsuffer as well. He did it forher, he said. Christa heldKatja close to her heart. Thewarmth of the baby againsther body gave her comfort.

Katja reached up, her tinyfingers tangling in Christa’shairasthetearsfloweddownChrista’scheeks.

There was no dinnerprepared. She had forgotten.Manfred said nothing. Helooked around, assessing thesituation: mother, child, andthe room in shambles. Therewas nothing left to say. Hewenttohisbedandlaydown.ChristasatholdingKatjauntil

well into the dark of night.The baby slept in her arms.Had she forgotten to feedher?Shecouldnotremember.Several hours later Katjastirred. Christa put her downon a blanket, and withunsteady hands she began towarmthebottle.

Chapter48“Manfred, you did what

was necessary,” JosephGoebbelssaid.

“My wife is taking ithard.”

“He was a traitor to theFatherland. She shouldrealize how fortunate she isthat I was able to help you

both,oryoubothwouldhavebeenseverelydisciplined.Allof you, your mother in lawincluded, might have beensenttoacamp.”

“Yes, I know, and I amgratefultoyou.”

TheysatinDr.Goebbels’soffice, looking out over thebusystreet.

“There is another part tothistragedy,Iamafraid.Youare to be transferred out of

this office. The orders comefrom higher up, and theymustbecarriedout.”

“Transferred? I thought Iwasdoingagoodjob.”

“Yes, but, this mess withyour father-in-law has madeyou suspect. The Partydemands that you proveyourselffurther.”

“WhereamIgoing?”“To a camp, I’m sorry to

say. It’snastybusiness there.

You are going to be theArbeitsführeratTreblinka.”

“The work boss? Why? Ihavenoexperiencewithsuchthings. Don’t these workersworkoutinthesunallday?Iwould have to bewith them,driving them forward…throughforce,Isuppose.”

“Yes, I am afraid so.Don’t try to refuse this,Manfred. I tell you as afriend. You must take this

assignment. And…you mustdoanexcellent job.Shownoweakness, no mercy.Constantly reaffirm yourloyaltytothePartyandtotheFatherland.”

“Dr.Goebbels, Iamnotaphysicalman…”

“I realize this, but youmust follow orders. We allmust. It is the only way tokeeptheReichstrong.”

“Where is this camp…

Treblinka?”“ItisinPoland.”“Poland? Where am I to

live?”“You along with your

family,will be given a smallresidence. You may take aprisonerortwoasservantstohelpyouaroundthehouse.”

Manfred sighed. He puthishandsonhistemples.

“IfIrefuse?”

“Youmust not. I stronglyrecommend that you do asyouaretold.”

“I trust you, Doctor. Youhave been a friend, and amentor to me. I will do astheyask,althoughIwillmissithere.WhenamIleaving?”

“The end of next week.You will not report to workhere anymore. Take the twoweeksandsettleyouraffairs.Pack and prepare for your

newposition.”Manfred’s face dropped.

Hewouldnever return to theoffice of the Ministry ofPropaganda.Hewould neversitinhisofficeorhavelunchwith Joseph Goebbels again.There would be no moreexciting parties to attendwhere he was a part ofsomething bigger, a part ofthe new Germany. He washeaded to some camp

somewhere in Poland, wherehehadtoherdJewsandothermonsters around like cattle.Dr.Henkenerhaddonethistohim.

“Keepintouch,Manfred,”Joseph Goebbels said as hestoodup,openingthedoortohis office, indicating that themeetingwasover.

Manfred felt as if hisentire world had justcrumbled.Hewalkedbackto

his office, dazed. Hecollectedhis things,apicturefromhiswedding, anotherofChrista holding Katja, andthen the one where he stoodbeside Goebbels as Hitlershook his hand. AnArbeitsführer, the workboss… What could thatentail? Nothing good…Manfred imagined himselfstandingoutinthehotsunorin the rain, ordering a group

of wretched prisonerssmellingofsweat.Worseyet,he would be sweating in hisuniform, filthy likeapig.Nomorewouldheenjoyluncheswith Joseph, or parties withhigh officials. No, he was tobe a part of the nasty FinalSolution, that dirty businessof blood and dead bodies.Again,hewasangrywithhisfather-in-law, but his angerwasalwaysovershadowedby

the sound that filled his earsat the frightening momentwhen he fired the shot thatended the man’s life. Atnight, indreams thatwere sovivid theywokehimupwitha start, he heard that ringingin his ears and saw Dr.Henkener fall, again andagain, in a pool of blood.Soreal, were these dreams thathe felt the cold steel of thepistol in his right hand, felt

his hand trembling, andsmelled the acrid scent of ofgunpowder.Healwaysawokeshaken. Since the day of theexecution, his mother-in-lawhad moved in. No one hadconsulted him, asked hispermission.Oneday shewasthere,underhisprotection. Ifnot, he assumed the oldwoman would probably betaken by the Gestapo. TheNaziswouldpresumethatshe

knew of her husband’streasonandhad takenpart initinsomeway.

From the first nightfollowing that fateful day,Manfred slept in the guestroom, alone. Gone were thenights wrapped in Christa’sarms, the afterglow of theirlove flowing over him.Christa had not spoken tohim. He couldn’t blame her.She’d seen what he’d done,

seen it with her own eyes.Those eyes accused him. Sohe did not look at her, couldnot lookat her.Manfred stillloved his wife, with all hisheart, but the guilt shebroughtoutinhimmadehimsick to his stomach to thepoint of an uncontrollableloose bowel. So, to avoidconfrontation,hestayedinhisroom.But soon hewould beforcedtotalktoher.Hemust

tellherthattheyweretoleaveforPoland.

Three days after his lastday at the Ministry ofPropaganda, Manfred wentinto the living room to speakto his wife. She sat on thesofa, her mother beside her,both of them wearing black,looking lost.Christa held thebaby, who sucked noisily onabottle.

Both women looked up,

withtheiraccusingblueeyes,toseehimenter.

“Christa, I must speakwithyou.”

“Go ahead.” She lookedback down at the baby, shedid not meet his eyes, as iftheverysightofhimsickenedher.“Alone,please.”

Christaglancedoverathermother. “Mama, I am sorry,mayIspeaktoManfredalone

foramoment?”Heidi got up. Manfred

watched her walk to thebedroomshenowsharedwithhiswife.Thesweetbedroom,the double bed, where somuch love had once beenmade as he and Christa hadentangled their bodies andsoulsinthedarkness.Howhehad once loved that room,andwaited anxiously all dayto lie in that bed beside the

woman he adored. Mrs.Henkenerhadagedinthelastfewdays;itseemedthatshe’dlostherwilltolive.Hehopedshe would stay in Berlin. Ifshe did, perhaps therewouldbeachance,intime,toregainwhatheandChristahadonceshared.

Before he sat down, helookedat thetopofChrista’shead. Such lovely blondehair, uncombed… His heart

hurttoseehergrieve.“Christa, I’ve been let go

from my job. Well, notexactly let go, I’ve beenreassigned.IambeingsenttoPoland, to work at a camp.”His voice was soft,apologetic.

The baby hiccupped.Christa put the bottle downonthecoffeetable.SheliftedKatja to her shoulder andbegantopatthechild’sback.

“She’s getting too old forthe bottle,”Christa said. “Iwill miss it when she stopstaking it. I love the way herlittle face looks as shesuckles,almost like she isanangelinheaven.”

“Christa,didyouhearme?We have to pack up thehouse. We are to leave forPoland in aweek and a half.Thesearemyorders.”

“Orders… Yes…

Orders… I heard,” she said.Then she glanced out thepicture window. “You seethat old oak tree across thestreet? I will miss that tree.”Her voice sounded far awayas if she’d lost touch withreality. It scaredhim.“In thebeginning of our marriage Iusedtowaitforyoutoreturnhomefromwork,andwhenIdid I’d look out the windowandtherewouldbethattree.”

He saw the tears begin toform in her eyes.Hewantedtogotoher,totakeherinhisarms to explain again andagain, until her could reachher,makeherunderstand.Hewanted to tell her that hehated the orders, but he hadno choice. He wanted toapologizeforwhathe’ddoneto say that he loved her. Hestood up, shaky, his bodytrembling, but before he

could move toward her, sherose and stepped away fromhim, regaining her grip onreality and the moment athand.

“I’ll tell Mama. We’ll bereadytogo.”

Christa left the room, thebabystillcradledinherarms.

Manfred sunk back downinto the sofa.Tears fell fromhiseyesashelaidhisheadinhishands.

Chapter49The guard began hitting

the redheaded girl with hisclub.Shecriedout,unnervingZofiawho lookedaway.BileroseinZofia’sthroatandsheswallowed hard. If shevomited, thatmanmightbeathertoo.

Then an officer wearing

thedeathheadcapandblackSSuniformwalkedover.

“Enough,” he said to theguard. Then, addressing thegirl, he barked, “Get back inline!Anddon’ttrythisagain.The next time will be yourlasttime.”

“Heil Hitler,” the guardsaid to the SS officer, wholooked drained from beatingthe girl. “You must be thenewArbeitsführer.”

“Yes,mynameisManfredBlau,”Manfredsaid.

“Welcome to hell,” theotherSSofficersaid.“ThisisTreblinka.”

Manfred looked aroundhim. He saw the buildingsthathousedthebarracks.

“What is that terriblesmell?”Manfredasked.

“It’s the crematorium.Haveyounotseenityet?”

“No.”“It’s constantly at work,

burning night and day todisposeofallthebodies.”

Manfred had heard aboutthe gas chambers when hewas working with Goebbels.Butatthattime,theyseemedfarawayandunreal.Nowhestood just yards away fromthegassings.Theashesfromthe crematorium fell likesnowflakes into his hair and

on to his black uniform.These were the ashes of thedeadandmurdered.Theverythoughtnauseatedhim.

“Iamgoingtoneedoneofthesewomentohelpmekeephouse.Mywifeisnotfeelingwell,” Manfred said. Christahad suffered some severechest pain before they left.Thedoctorrecommendedbedrest.

“Pick one. Your choice.

Tome they are all the same:Jews,goodfornothing.”Theother SS officer waved hishand, indicating the line ofwomen.

Manfred looked at thegroup, a dirty, smelly bunch,matted hair, and filthyclothes. He walked up andbackhisheelsclickingonthepavement until his eyes metZofia’s. Her dark eyesglistened with anger, defiant

for sure, but filled with life,and something else, amystery, a dark sensuousmystery. Interesting… Hehadneverreallyhadmuchtodo with Jews. Perhaps theyreally were magical. It hadbeensaid that they sacrificedAryan babies and drank theblood. Would little Katja besafe?Well, hehadno choicebut to choose one of them.After all, Christa was no

longer keeping the house.Besides, he had neverbelievedallthatnonsensethathe’dheard.Ofcourse,ifthesesillyJewshadanyrealpower,they wouldn’t be in thesituation they were in, beingled off to gas chambers andmurderedlikeaherdofcattle.HelookedatZofiaagain.Theveryideaofthisgirlintriguedhim. She was pretty. Evendirtyanddisheveled,shewas

pretty.“Her. I’ll take that one,”

ManfredsaidinGermanashepointed toZofia.ShedidnotspeakGerman; shecouldnotunderstand what he said.“Cleanherupabit first, andthensendhertomyhouse.”

“Yes, Arbeitsführer, itshall be taken care of foryou.”

Chapter50TheguardpushedZofiato

the head of the line wherewomen and men wereseparated.Whywasshebeingsingled out? The Nazi hadpointed to her, indicatingsomething, but what? Terrorcame over her in waves ofpanic.

“Take off your clothes,”theguardsaidinGerman

“I don’t understand you,”ZofiaansweredinPolish.

“Take them off now,schnell.” She knew themeaningof thewordschnell,butnothingelse.Shestaredathimblankly.

Heraisedtheclubtostrikeher. The woman guard cameforward.

“Hans, she doesn’t

understand you. Thisshipment just came fromPoland.”

“Gretta,tellhertotakeherclothes off and get into theshower. The newArbeitsführer has chosen herashishousekeeper.”

“Takeoffyourclothesandget into the shower,” Gretta,the female guard said inPolish. She handed Zofia abarofsoap.

Zofiadidas shewas told,ashamed of her nakedness,afraid of the shower. Howcould she be sure that thiswas not the shower that thewoman had spoken of, theone that was gas instead ofwater?Howcouldshebesurethat this was not the line tothedeathchamber?Shestoodnakedandshiveringinalargeroom, waiting for the water,thewater,or thegas.Adead

silence came over the area.Others had heard the rumortoo.Someoneweptsoftly;thesoundechoed.Whatwould itfeel like to die?Would it bepainful?Woulditbequick?Itwasonlyafewminutes,butitseemed like a lifetimebeforethe nozzles began to spraywater. Sighs of relief filledtheroom.

Zofia came out of theshower to find her shoes

gone.“Youshouldhavetakenthemwith you,” another prisonersaid.Howwouldshefunctionwithout shoes? She lookedaroundfrantic,hopingtofindthem.

A guard came up behindher,withalongironrod.Shepushed it into Zofia’s back.Zofiajumped.

“Keep moving, machscnhell.”

Another line. Zofia,panicky and completelynaked,wastryingdesperatelyto cover herself with herhands. At the end, a womanprisoner handed Zofia astripped green and browndress made of rough cotton.She bent over and flipped itoverherhead. Ithunglikearag but she was glad to becovered.Anotherline.

This time, as she got

closer to the end, she heardscreaming. It unnerved her.Whatcouldbecomingnext?

She would have run, butthere was nowhere to go.Gun- and club-weidlingguards ushered her into thenext room. The first thingZofia saw was the floor,covered in hair of all colorsand lengths, some curly,some wavy, some straight.Sheedgedoutofthelinejust

enoughtoseewhattookplaceat the front. Three chairs,eachwith prisoners seated inthem behind the newly-arrived,stoodotherprisoners,whoquicklyshavedtheirhairleaving them bald. Somecried, others screamed, butthe most unsettling were theones who just remainedsilent.

Zofiafeltthetearsforminher eyes as she watched the

locks of her full wavy hairfall to the ground. Theshaving took only a fewmoments.Butaspainfulasitwas to lose her hair, it feltwonderful to sit down. Herlegsachedfromstanding.

Another line. This time,the group was ushered intothe women’s barracks. Longlinesofcotsstoodinrowsona wooden floor. Each of thewomen searched for an open

bed. Zofia found one at theendof therownear thewall,where she saw a black hairyspidercrawlinguptowardtheceiling. She’d always had aterrible fear of spiders.Trembling, she tried to lookfor another cot, but nothingwasopen.

“Take that one,” the girlacross the row said. “If youdon’t findone,you’ll endupon the floor and that’s

worse.”Shewasyoung,Zofianoticed.

“I’m Thelma,” the girlsaid.

“Zofia.”“Welcome,Iguess.”“Thanks. Is it asbadhere

asitlooks?”“Worse,”thegirlsaid,and

smiled.“Butitcouldbeevenworsethanitis.Wecouldbeontheotherside.”

“You mean the gasshower?Is that trueor is itamyth?”Zofiaasked.

“It’strue.I’msorrytosayit, but it is. My mother andfather were both sent to thegaschamber.”

“Buthowdoyouknow?Maybethereisanotherworkcampontheotherside,”Zofiasaid.

“Iworksometimesinthecrematorium,sweepingup

theashes.Believeme,Iknow,”Thelmasaid.

Zofia thought of Frumaand Gitel. They wereprobably already dead, theirbodiesonthewaytobeburnt.It felt unreal that she wouldnever see them again. Howcould this be happening? Itseemed likeanightmare,andyet here she was in thisterrible place. The mustysmellofunwashedbodiesand

dirty beddingwafted throughthe room. Zofia lookedaroundher.Sheranherhandsoverhershornhead.Thetinybristles of hair felt alienagainst her fingers.Hopelessness began to creepin. The strength she’d beenfighting to maintain slowlybegan to seep away. Herfriends gone forever…Dovid…Hemightbehere,orhemightbedead.Gitel,dear

Gitel, with her warm,protective smile.AndFruma,the mother she never had.Fruma… When she thoughtof Fruma, she wanted to cryout in anguish. Her mindwent back to the time theyspent sewing side-by-side inthe shop together. Fruma…Sherememberedhowworriedshe’d been when she foundout that she was pregnant.She’d been so afraid she

would lose her job. ButFruma knew. She alwaysknew,andshehadheruniqueway ofmaking things better.DearGod,helppoorFruma.Could she really be deadalready? Could that bepossible? I must try not tothinkaboutthis;ImusttrytothinkofEidel.Whenthisisallover, Eidel will need me.Eidel, my daughter, mychild… God, please be with

her,protecther,keep…“You!”Aguardpointedat

Zofia. He spoke in German,but she understood by hisfacial expressions and handgestures.“Followme.”

Zofia felt Thelma’sworried eyes on her back asshefollowedtheguardoutofthebarracks.

Astheywalkedacrossthefield, Zofia saw that therewasabarbedwire separating

the men’s camp from thewomen’s. She looked over,hoping to see Dovid, butknowingshewouldnot.

The guard noticed thatshe’dsloweddownandedgedher side with his rifle butt.She looked forward andmovedfaster.

When they walked up tothe exit, the guard explainedsomethingtothewatchmaninGerman, and they were

allowedoutofthegate.Zofia followed the guard

to a gate that opened to theentrance of a comfortablecountry house that sat backon a quarter of an acre ofmanicured lawn.As they gotclosertothedoor,shesawanold woman peering out of apicture window in the livingroom, her face deeply lined.Her hand fisted under herchin had purple veins that

protruded from the thin paleskin.

They walked up threesteps to a thick wood doorpaintedblack,withaswastikain thecenter.Theguard rangthebellandtheywaited.

Zofia staredat the signoftheNaziPartyandshuddered.

A man opened the door.He wore a stripped uniform.His head was shaved likeZofia’s.

“Go and get theArbeitsführer,” the guardsaid.

The man nodded andwalkedaway.

Zofia and theguard stoodwaiting.Thewomanwiththepale skinwatched themfromher window seat, sayingnothing. From where shestood, Zofia could hear ababy crying. The soundbrought back memories of

Eidel. She felt tears formingin her eyes and forced thememoriesfromhermind.

Several minutes later, aprettyblondewalkedintotheroom.Shecarriedatoddlerinherarms.Assoonasthechildsaw Zofia, she smiled. Zofiafelt her heart melt as shelookedat thelovelylittlegirlwithblondecurlsjustlikehermothers.

The woman called out,

and the male prisoner whohadlettheminentered.

“Can you translate forme?” Christa asked theprisoner.

“Yes,”hesaid“MynameisChristaBlau.

My husband is theArbeitsführer. You will beworking here at our home tohelp us with the houseworkandwithKatja.”

The prisoner translated

fromGermantoPolish.Zofianodded.“This is Katja.” Christa

indicated the little girl, whosmiled again. “Do you haveany experience withchildren?”

Thebutlertranslated.“YesIdo.Ihadadaughter

ofmyown.”ShetoldChristathenreachedovertotouchthetender baby cheek “HelloKatja.MynameisZofia,”she

said, pointing to herself,smiling.

Thebabylaughed.Itbrokethe ice, and then the twowomenlaughedtoo.

“You may leave us,”Christa told the guard. “Shewillworkoutjustfine.”

Christa showed Zofiaaround the house,accompanied by the maleprisoner who translated herexplanationofthetaskstobe

done.Shewasnotwell,shetold

Zofia. She had been ill andneeded help with her dailyworkload.Asshewalked,herblonde curls bounced. Therewassomethinggoodandkindabout this woman. She wasnot cruel like the others thatZofia had encountered. Sheappearedtohaveaheart.

ItseemedtoZofiaasifallwould be well until the

Arbeitsführer arrived athome. As soon as the dooropened and he entered thehouse, Zofia could feel thetension in the air. She kepther head down, did notmeethiseyes,butwhenhe lookedthe other way she watchedhim, a slenderman,proud inhis uniform, demandingrespectashewalked throughthe house, barking orders atthe prisoner who served as

their butler. Shewondered ifthe Arbeitsführer’soverbearing manner hadanythingtodowithhissmallstature.Perhaps,heneededtoprove his manhood. He wasabrupt with his wife, andworsewithhismother-in-law.She remembered himdistinctly.He’d been the onewho’d beaten the redheadedgirlwiththeclub.BecausehespokeinGerman,Zofiacould

not understand what he said,justhistoneofvoice,andthatitmadehershiver.

At the end of the day, aguardfromthecampcametotake Zofia back to thebarracks. Soon after herarrival, she was required toattendrollcall.Theprisonersstood in line as their nameswere called, then, the deadwere accounted for, theirbodies carried out by other

prisoners and placed at theendoftheline,tobecountedand removed from the nextroll call. Then the prisonerslinedupfordinner.

“Here are your spoon andyour bowl,” a guard said toZofia in broken Polish. “Ifyoulosethem,youwon’tgetanother.”

When shegot to the frontof the line, she saw a hugesteelpotfilledwithsoup.One

of the prisoners poured thecontentsofasingleladleintoherbowlandgaveherasmallpieceofbread. Thenshesatata long tablebesideseveralother prisoners to eat. Thesoup was nothing more thanwater with a small piece ofpotato, and a bean or two.Shewassohungrythatwhenshe saw the dead fly at thebottom of her soup, shecontinued to eat anyway,

gagging a little. One of theother prisoners noticedZofia’sexpression.

“Don’t worry, you’ll getusedtoit.Thereareinsectsinthesoupallthetime.”

“I can’t believe that I amso hungry that I don’t care,”Zofia said. “Iwonderwhat Iambecoming.”

“You just got here. Wait.It gets worse,” the otherwomansaid.“Bytheway,my

name isMarsha.My bunk isjustafewawayfromyours.Inoticed you when you camein.”

“MynameisZofia.”“Dorasaid thatoneof the

guards took you to theArbeitsführer’s house. He isnew, but already he is aterror.”

“Iwas taken to his houseto help his wife. She is sickandtheyhavealittlegirl.”

“Ihavenotseenhishomeand I know nothing of hishomelife,butheiscruel,andquick to administer abeating.”

“Yes, I know. I sawevidence of that when I firstgot here. When I wasstanding in line, he washittingoneofthegirlswithaclub for trying to escape.Then, today, when he camehome, he seemed to be a

difficult man, even with hisfamily.”

“So, what can we do?Nothing.Ijusttrytostayoutofhisway.”

“What kind of work doyoudo?”

“We work in the stonequarries.”

“That’s hard work forwomen.”

“Yes. The Nazis don’t

care. We carry the smallerstones.Ifoneofusdies,thentheyreplaceherwithanotherone.The trainskeepcoming,with more and moreprisoners. It is very hardwork, heavy work. In thesummer,itissohotthatIfeelas if Iwill die of heatstroke.Then the winter is so coldthat we pray for the heat ofsummer.Still…wetrytostayaliveanotherday.”

“What did you do beforeyoucamehere?”

“Me? I was very goodwithnumbers.Iworkedatthebank.”

“Awomanwhoworkedata bank… That’s veryimpressive.”

“Yes, I suppose,” Marshalaughed. She was a tall girl,withsoftbrownhairandeyesthecolorofmaplesyrup.“Ontheside, Ikept thebooks for

the local businesses. Andyou?Whatdidyoudo?”

“Iwasaseamstress.”“I suppose you made

lovelygowns.”“Yes,Idid.”“It’s good to remember,

anditisnotsogood,”Marshasighed. “My heart breakswhen I think about the waythings used to be, and whathasbecomeofusnow.”

“I know. You’re right.Sometimes I feel as if myheartisbreakingforallthatIhave lost. Sometimes I wantto die too. But it isn’t thateasy.”

“No, it’s strange. Nomatter how harsh things are,thewill to live is strong,anditforcesyoutogoon.”

“That’s true, but if thatwereallofitthenIcouldseegivingup.Butformethereis

more.” There was somethingaboutthisgirlwiththeambereyes and sweet smile thatmade Zofia feel the need toconfide in her. “I have adaughter. Somewhere out intheworld,farawayfromthisterribleplace,Ihaveachild.And as long as my child isliving,thenIhavetheneedtofighttogoon.”

“Ineverhadchildren.Myhusband and I were only

married for two monthsbefore they arrested him. Hewasa lawyer, andhe refusedto stop practicing when theNazis took over. Besides, hewasfartoooutspokenagainstHitler.At first, I thought thathe was arrested because hecaused so much trouble.Would you believe that Iwent to the authorities,begging for his release? Doyou know what happened?

Theyarrestedmetoo.Whatafool I was. I thought theywouldbefair.”Shelaughedaharsh laugh, then looked outinto the distance and shookherhead.

“Get up, let’s go,” one ofthe guards said as hewalkedaround, gathering theprisonersintoaline.“Backtothebarracks,schnell.”

“Do you understandGerman?” Zofia asked as

theyhurriedintotheline.“Some.The longeryou’re

here, the more you willunderstand.”

“Quiet,notalking.March.Let’sgo.”

Zofia lay upon her cot. Itsmelled musty, but she wasso tired that within minutesshefellintoadeepsleep.

Most days were spenttaking care of Katja andkeeping the house clean for

the Blaus. The longer Zofiaworked at the home of theArbeitsführer the more shebecame aware of the tensionbetween Manfred and hiswife. Christa was ill weak.She grew tired easily, whileher mother seemed mentallyincompetent. Often the olderwoman would go off talkingto herself as she sat gazingout the picture window. Thelittle girl, Katja, followed

Zofia from room to room asshe cleaned, sometimesbegging to be picked up orplayed with. Zofia didn’tmind. She loved the gentle,innocent child, forgiving herthatherfatherwasamonster,which he proved at thequarries, time and again, soshe heard from Marsha.When Manfred was not athome, Christa offered Zofiafood and drink, which she

gratefullypartookof,splittingwhatwasgiventoher,eatinghalf,andbringtheotherbacktoMarsha,whohadbecomeadearfriend.

As she worked for theBlaus,Zofia learned tospeaksome German, and ChristalearnedtospeaksomePolish,making communication withChrista easier. But whenZofia and the baby werealone, she always spoke in

Polish,notrealizingthatlittleKatjawaslearning.

One morning followingroll call, as Zofia waited fortheguard toescorther to thehome of theBlaus she heardthevoiceoftheArbeitsführer.Hespokequicklymakinghiswords difficult to understandbut his tone was filled withanger. Then she heard agunshot andmoved closer tosee what happened. One of

the women, whom she hadmetbriefly,butdidnotreallyknow personally, lay in apool of blood at ManfredBlau’sfeet.Shesawhimkickherandthenwalkintheotherdirection. The guards forcedtwo prisoners, using riflebuttsintheirribs,tomovethebodyoutof theway.Once itwas done, the women begantheir daily march to thequarries. Zofia tried not to

look at the body, but shecouldn’t help herself. Theyoungwoman laydead, eyesopen, with a track of bloodleading to a large pool. Thedark blood, combined withthe terror of what she justsaw, made her gag. Zofiacould not stop dry heaving,evenastheguardapproachedto take her to the Blau’shome.

“Let’s go. March.

Schnell.”Why did everything have

tobedonefast?Schnell: thatwas the first German wordshelearned.

Now she feared Manfredeven more. Once she’d seenhis cruelty first hand andknewhowheartless he couldbe, her fear of him grew sostrong that she tried to avoidbeinginhispresence.Somenights he returned late, and

she was relieved to be gonebacktothebarracksbeforeheentered the house. But whenhe came home and she wasstill there, Zofia noticed himalways watching her. Sheheard arguments, raisedvoices, coming from thelivingroombetweenManfredand Christa. Although shecould not understandeverything they said, sheheard the yelling and the

slaps, followed by Christaheart wrenching weeping.Once the weeping began,Manfredwalkedout,andthenwent into another room.slammingthedoor.Thissamesituation occurred at leasttwiceweekly.Andalwaysonthe following day, Christawould have a black eye or abruised cheek. Zofia saidnothing, but she knewManfred hit his wife. Once,

Zofia arrived, early in themorning, and Manfred wasalready gone, but Christa satat the kitchen table, her eyesswollen, and her nosewrapped in white bandages.Katjaplayedonthefloorwitha stuffed fabric doll. Whenthe child saw Zofia, thechild’s chubby arms reachedup.

“Up,”KatjasaidinPolish.Zofialiftedthegirl.

“Please, take her out ofhere…” Christa said inbrokenPolishandGerman.

“Yes, ma’am.” Zofia wasbeginningtoestablishagoodunderstanding that enabledher to communicatewith herGermanemployer.

As Zofia swept the floor,Katjapretendedtosweeptoo,toddling around on her shortlegs. Zofia’s heart grewwithlove for this little girl, who

hadbegun to call herMama.Zofia was afraid that ChristawouldhearKatja referring toher as mother and becomeangry, but Christa’s illnessseemed to be getting worse,and she spent most days inbed.

The grandmother neverleft her window seat. Atnight, she slept on the samesofa where she sat all day.Before Zofia returned to the

barracks,shewoulddeliverameal to the older woman,then lay out the sheets andblankets for her to sleep.Allthe while, Christa’s mothercontinued to stare out thewindow, neveracknowledging Zofiastanding right beside her.Once a dayZofia helped herto change her clothes, andsometimes even to bathe.When the fights ensued

between Manfred andChrista, the old woman sangsoftlytoherself.Zofiatriedtopity her. Instead, she was alittle jealous that Christa’smotherhadlosthermindandthereforesheknewnothingofthepainallaroundher.

When Zofia left at night,Katjawouldcryandreachherarmsoutas if tosay,“Pleasetake me with you,” so Zofiabegantofeedthechildearlier

andputhertobedbeforesheleft.

Winter was on its way.There was no heat or fire inthebarracks.

The weather grew colder.Zofiashiveredinherbunkinwith just a thin woolenblanketforcover.Everynightwhen everyone seemed to beasleep, Marsha crept intoZofia’s bed. She brought herblanket and the twogirls put

the two blankets on top ofeach other making one thickcover. Then Zofia gaveMarsha the food she broughtfor her. The two womenhuddled beside each other tokeep warm. They told fairytales that they rememberedfrom their childhoods.Sometimes they sang songsand even giggled overmemories.Marshareminiscedabout her husband and her

wedding day, telling Zofiaabout the dress she’d wornand the wonderful meal thathad been served. She eventold Zofia about the boy shedated and slept with beforeshe’dmethertruebeshert.

Zofia told Marsha aboutKatja, and how much thechild reminded her of Eidel,theybothagreedonhowkindChristawas togiveZofia theextra food. But Zofia bit her

lowerlip,shakingherheadindespair when she spoke ofFruma and Gitel, her dearfriends, and of Dovid, thegentle boywhose only crimewas loving her. SometimesZofia allowed herself theindulgence of tears, herslender body rocking whileMarshaheldher.

One cold night, afterMarsha gobbled the thickcrust of bread that Zofia had

brought, they lay shiveringundertheirtwoblankets

“Whatishelikeathome?”Marshaaskedonenight.

“TheArbeitsführer?”“Ofcourse.Whoelse?”“Idon’tknowhim,really,

but I hear him fighting withhiswifeallthetime.Hebeatsher.”

“That’s not surprising.He’s very cruel. I think he

hateswomen.I’mterrifiedofhim.”

“Iknow.SoamI.Onceina while he comes homebefore I leave to come backto the camp, and he looks atme.”

“Looksatyou,how?”“I don’t know, actually.

Helooksatmewithastrangelonging,kindoflikehewantstosleepwithme.”

“Oh,no!.”

“So far he has donenothing that I could say wasunacceptable. He leaves mealone.Mostofmyfearofhimis from how I see him treatothers. I just hope he nevertouchesmeinthatway.”

“Yes, so do I. Oh, myfriend, what a terrible placethis is. We are in constantfearofeverything.”

“Iknow.The terror is thehardestpart.OftenIthinkitis

harderthandying.”“It’slikedyingeveryday,

everyminute.”“At least we have each

other.”“Yes, at least we do.”

Marsha was silent for amoment. She smoothedZofia’s hair out of her eyes.“Haveyoueverthoughtaboutwhat we might be doing ifHitlerhadnevertakenover?”

“Itrynotto.Theyearning

is too painful. For me theonlythingthatIallowmyselftothinkaboutisEidel.WhenI leave here, I will go andfindmychild.”

“And that keeps yougoing?”

“Yes.”Ice and snow covered the

groundasZofiawalkedtotheBlau’s home. She’d beenfortunate to find a pair ofclogs that had been

abandonedbyaprisonerwhodied during the night. Theywere slightly big on her, andnow,asshewalked,theyslidon the ice. Her uniform,although of thick cotton, didnothing to shield her againstthe cold. Onemorning whenZofia arrived, she foundChrista in bed. She knockedsoftlyuponthedoor.

“Can I bring youanything?”Zofiaasked.

“Sometea,bitte…”“Yes, ma’am.Would you

likesomebreadandjamwithit?”

Christa did notunderstand. SoZofia held animaginarypieceofbreadandspread it with an imaginaryknife. Then she cocked herhead and waited for theanswer.

“No, thank you.” Christashook her head. “I’m not

hungry.”Christa looked at Zofia.

Her skin was red from thecold.

“Ohdear,lookatyou.Doyouwalkoutside all thewayfrom the camp without acoat? How stupid of me. Ofcourse you do. You have nocoat,” Christa suddenlyrealized. She was talkingmoretoherselfthantoZofia.

“Here.” Christa got up

fromherbed.Shewenttohercloset and removed a thickblue gray wool coat. “Thisshould fit you.” Christa heldituptoZofia.“Itlookslikeitshould be about the rightsize.”

Zofia looked at Christa,unsureofwhatshewanted.

“Here,trythison,”ChristasaidasshehelpedZofiatofither arms into the coat.“Perfectfit, this isforyou.It

is a gift from me,” Christasaid, pointing to Zofia, andthentothecoat.”“For me?” Zofia hugged thewarm garment to her body.Then she took Christa’sslenderhandandputittoherlips. “Thank you. God blessyou.”Zofia fell toherknees.Shefeltthetearsfalluponherfaceasshestillheldthethin-skinned hand lined withpurple veins, just like her

mother’s.A coat! A coat! How

wonderful to be warm. Thatnight Zofia and Marsha putthecoatontopoftheblanketswhere they slept. It felt likeheaven. Both women heldtight to the coat, even insleep.Zofiaknewbetter thantoeverletthecoatoutofhersight. Shoes, hidden food,anything at all that couldmake life even a little more

tolerablewasat constant riskof being stolen. The guard,who escorted Zofia to theBlau’s residence eachmorning, asked Christa ifZofiahadstolenthecoat.

Christa told him it was agift, then scowled anddemandedthatheleave.

As the months passed,ZofiabecamealmostfluentinGerman. She understoodmostofwhatwassaidtoher.

Andastimewentby,ChristafoundZofia to be a friend toconfide in.Manfredstillkeptwatch on Zofia. His eyes,hungrywithdesire,unnervedher,buthedidnothing.

One morning, just as theweather was beginning tobreak. Zofia straightened theliving room.Shenoticed thatChrista’smotherhad lainherhead down in an unnaturalposition. Itwas only an hour

since Heidi Henkener hadfinished her breakfast andZofia assumed that she’dfallen asleep gazing out thewindow. So, Zofia took ablankettolayitacrosstheoldwoman’sbody.Butwhenshedid,Zofia realized thatHeidihad passed away. Quietly,while watching the birds flyfrom tree to tree, the flowersjust beginning to bud, andmother earth embracing

anotherspring,Heidihadleftthe confinesof a cruelworldand risen with the angels tomeetherhusband.

The old woman hadalreadyturnedcold.

Zofia hung her head. Itwould fall upon her to tellChrista the bad news. Shewalked slowly into thebedroom where Christa layunderathincottonquilt.

“Ma’am.”

Christa turned to her.“What is it Zofia?” Her lefteyewasfilledwithbloodandsurrounded by a watercolorpurpleandyellowbruise.

“Ma’am,I’msorrytohaveto tell you this, but yourmother,haspassedaway.”

“What?Areyousure?”Christagotoutofbed.She

walked stiffly into the livingroom. When she saw hermother, Christa fell to her

knees and took her mother’scoldhandintoherown.

“Mama…OhMama,howam I going to go onwithoutyou?”

Shewept.Zofia stood there, not

knowing what to say or dountil Katja came racing intotheroom,adollinherarms.

“My dolly sick. Makebetter.Youbedoctor,”Katjasaid in her broken baby

language.“Shhh. Quiet, your mama

is having a hard time rightnow. Come with me. We’llgotoyourroomandtakecareofyourdoll.Allright?”

Katja nodded and put hertinyhandintoZofia’s.

Forseveraldays,theguarddid not come to the camp totake Zofia to the Blau’shome. Instead, she wasshuffled out to work in the

quarries with the otherprisoners.Alldayshecarriedstone. Manfred was there.She sawhimandwished shecould ask him why she’dbeen taken away from thehouse, from Katja, who shemissedterribly,butshedarednotspeaktohim.

“You over there,”Manfred said to a womanwhowasprobablyonlythirty,but hard work hadmade her

look at least twice her age.Sheslumpedoverandmovedslowly as she carried heavypiles of rocks. “You’re tooslow.Ithinkyouaretryingtoavoidworking. Letme showyou what happens whensomeoneavoidswork.”

He pulled her up by thebackofherdress.Shewassothin she was almostweightless.Thenhecalledalloftheprisonersover.

“Here we have a lazywoman. That is just notallowed. Laziness must bepunished.” Manfred slappedthe prisoner across her face.One of the others, a girl ofabouttwelvewinced.

“That is her daughter,”MarshawhisperedtoZofia.

“Oh, so you think I amwrongtopunishthiswoman?Well, let’s see…Would yourather I punish you?”

Manfred said to the younggirl who looked around interror.

“Please,” themother said.“Iamtheonewhowaslazy.Iam the one who was wrong.Please let herbe.Punishme,nother.Ibegyou.”

“Oh, she must be yourfriend…”

“Come here, friend…”Manfred said. Zofia saw thecruelty glittering in his eyes

andsheshivered.“So, who should take the

punishment?Shallwemakeagameofthis?”heasked.

“Would you like to takethe punishment for yourfriend?”

“Sheismymother.Please,Arbeitsführer. Please let herbe…”

“Your mother? Thatexplains everything. Womenand their mothers: a

disgusting lot.” He smiled.“Well, I have an idea,Mother…Watch this. I’llbetyouwon’tbe lazyanymore.”Manfredpulled thegun fromhis waist. He held fixed onthedaughter’shead.

“Please, have mercy…”the older woman cried out.She ran to her daughter andlayontopher.“Please…Itismyfault…”

With his black leather

boot, Manfred kicked themother out of the way, andthen fired a shot. Thedaughter’s brains splatteredacrossthegroundandintothemother’s face. The olderwoman screamed in agony.She wept. Loud heartwrenchingcriesfilledtheair.

“Shut up,” Manfred said.“Shutuprightnow.”

But the woman could notbesilent.Noonedaredgoto

her to comfort her, lest theybenext.

Manfredseemedsomehowfrightenedbythewailing.Heturned,gun still inhand, andfiredintothemother’shead.

Zofia’s throat was dry.She felt as if she mightcollapse.

“Don’t look. Turn away.Just go back to work. Andwork quickly,” MarshawhisperedtoZofia.

Itwasseveraldaysbeforethe guard returned to escortZofiabacktothehomeoftheBlaus.Aftertherigorous,hotdays of working in thequarries, she was relieved tosee him. She had begun tofear that she would neverreturntothehouseagain.

Zofia arrived to findChristainbed,herskinwhiteand thinned like parchment.Although she’d always been

frail, the loss of her motherseemed to age her further.Her once-golden curls hadthinned, and now lay likestraw on the pillow. Theroom was dark, except for athin ray of light that seepedthroughthecurtains.

“Good Morning, ma’am.Can I get you anything?”Zofia asked, keeping hervoicesoft.

“No, thank you,” Christa

said,barelyaboveawhisper.“Wherewere you?”Katja

asked, angry and accusing.She’d been lying beside hermother.

“I couldn’t come,” Zofiasaid.

She picked the child upintoherarmsandputherfaceinto the baby’s soft hair,taking in the sweet smell ofher.

“I’m mad at you,” Katja

pouted.“I’m sorry,” Zofia said.

“Forgive me and I promisewewillplayagame.”

Katja smiled and huggedZofia’sneck.“Whatkindofagame?”

“It’s a surprise. First youshouldeatsomebreakfast.”

“DoIhaveto?”“Yes,youdo, ifyouwant

toplay.”

“All right…” Katja said,reluctantlyagreeing.

“Thankyou,Zofia.I’msoglad you’re here. I need torest.”Christasaid,hervoiceacroak.

“I’ll take her out of hereandclosethedoor.”

“Thank you, so much.”Christa turned on her side asZofia took Katja out of theroom.

When Katja had finished

her breakfast, Zofia peekedinto Christa’s room to see ifher employer was all right.Christa lay facing the door,eyeswideopen.

“Ma’am, can I get youanything?”

“No,nothing.”“Yes, ma’am.” Zofia

turnedtoleave.“I’m so tired of all of

this,”Christabegantospeak.Although the roomwas dark

and Zofia could only seeshadows she could tell byChrista’s tone of voice thatshewascrying“I’mnotwell,andsometimesIfeelthatitisall just toomuchforme, thiscamp, with its murder andtorture.IammarriedtoamanI don’t even know. Worseyet, I am soweak. I havenofightleft.SoonIwilldie,andwhat will happen to poorKatja? Manfred has changed

so much since we weremarried.Icannottrusthimtocare for a child when I amgone.Heisfartooangry,andhas turned so vicious andcruel. My life is a terriblemess,”Christasaid

Zofia did not answer. Ifshecould,shewouldpromisethis woman who had beenkind to her that she wouldcarefor thechild.But,as thelast few days proved, the

decisionwas not hers. So allZofia could do was standsilently in the doorway andlisten.

“Zofia, where is yourmother?Whereisyourfamilyfrom?”

“My mother is dead. Ihave no living relatives,”Zofiasaid,butshethoughtofEidel

“Iamsorry,Iamsosorryforyou.”

Zofia realized now thatChristawas somewhat awareofthegoingsonatthecamp.She longed to tell her aboutFruma andGitel, even aboutEidel, but she could not takethe risk. If Christa turned onher,Zofiawouldbesentbackor worse. It was best to juststandthereandlisten.

Finally, that afternoonChrista agreed to try to eatsometeaanddrytoast,which

Zofia brought to her. Shenibbled a bit, and then laydown and fell asleep. Zofiatookthetrayandcoveredthewoman. She wondered how,even in her ownmisery, shecould feel so sorry forsomeoneelse.

Christa was asleep whenManfred arrived early fromwork. Zofia had just givenKatjaherafternoonmealandputherdownforanap.

When the door creakedopen,Zofiaturnedquickly.Ashiverranupherneck.ItwastheArbeitsführer.

“Hello,”hesaid,hisvoicecivil,almostwarm.

She cast her eyes down.“Good afternoon, sir,” Zofiaanswered.

“You look quite lovelytoday,”Manfredsaid.

Zofiadidnotanswer.

“You aren’t afraid of meareyou?”

Sheshookherhead.“Well, good, although it

would do, you well tomaintain a healthy respect, ifyouunderstandwhat Imean.So…then…”hesaid,smiling.“Come to my office. I havesomething to talk to youabout.”

Zofia followed him,wishing somehow that she

mightescape.Hesatbehindhisdeskand

motioned to her to take theseatoppositehim.

“Do you like it here?Working in my home?” Hesmiled.

“Yes,Arbeitsführer.”“You realize of course,

thatIcouldsendyoubacktothequarriesatanytime.”

“YesArbeitsführer.”

“Speak up, I can’t hearyou.”

“Yes, Arbeitsführer.” Sheclearedherthroatandtriedtospeaklouder.

“I am a very powerfulman. Your very life lieswithin my hands. So in away, to you, that makes meGod.”

Shekeptherheaddown.“Whatdoyouhavetosay

tothat?”

“Yes,Arbeitsführer.”“Well, I would like to

keepyouhereworkinginmyhome.Mydaughterlikesyou,and you provide much-needed help for my invalidwife.”

“Thankyou,sir.”“However, I expect more

of you. This job you have…It is a very comfortable job,plenty of food. I know mywifefeedsyouwell.Irealize

shegivesyoumore thanyoudeserve. I don’t care. Butthereissomethingyoucandoforme.”

“Yes,Arbeitsführer.”“Comehere,”hesaid.She

did not move. “Come on…”he said, his voice suddenlygentleinafrighteningway.

Zofiagotup.Herlegsfeltas if they were about tobuckle underneath her. Shegaspedforbreath.

“Don’t be so scared. Iwon’t hurt you,” Manfredsaid.

Shewalkedover.“Closer,”hesaid.Shemovedcloser.Heputhishandunderher

dress.Sherecoiled.“Ech…don’t do that. You

must pretend you want me.Youmust convinceme of it.Do you understand? I don’t

liketofeelasifIrepulseyou.I get enough of that fromChrista.”

“Yes,Arbeitsführer.”He pulled the blinds shut.

Theroomwastotaldarkness.“Say it,” he said. “Say...I

want you! You are apowerfulman!.”

“I want you,Arbeitsführer. You are apowerfulman.”

“Use my name, call meManfred.TellmethatIamagood husband. Say that youloveme.”

“IloveyouManfred.Youareagoodhusband.”

“Tell me more, Christa.Tell me that you are happyyoumarriedmeand thatyouwantmeallthetime.Makinglove to me is your greatestjoy.”

“I am happy I married

you. Iwant you all the time.You bring me joy,” Zofiasaid. Her knees giving way,she had to grip the desk tokeep from falling on to thefloor.Shewantedtorunawayfrom the hands that searchedunder her uniform, touching,gently groping, fondling, andprying,hisfingersfindinghermostprivateplaces.“STOP!”she cried out in her mind.Tearstrickleddownherface.

“More…TellmeChrista.Do you love me? Do myfingersbringyoupleasure?”

Shenodded.“Answerme!.”“Yes,Arbeitsführer.”“You ruined it. Manfred.

CallmeManfred.”“Yes,Manfred.Yes.”“Get down on your

knees.”Zofiadidashetoldherto

do. He unbuttoned his pantsandundidthezipper.

“Touchme.”Sheplacedherhandonhis

erectpenis.”“Your hands are so cold.

Take me into your mouth,”Manfredsaid.

Zofia thought she mightvomit as she put her lipsaround him. She felt herselfgag and hoped he did notrealizeit.

“Christa…”Manfredsaid.“I loveyou. I am sorry.Youforgivemedon’tyou?Ihavealways loved you. You aremylife.”

Zofiacouldnotmove.“Suck me harder! Make

mebelieveyoulikeit!”Zofia gagged, but she

continued,whileManfredranhis hands through the shorttufts of hair that had grownbackonherhead.

Finally, it was over. Shewanted to vomit the slimysnotintothewastebasket,butshe dared not. Instead, sheforced herself to swallow.Uncontrollably, she gaggedloudandhard.

“I forgive you this time.Don’tgagagain.”

Shenodded.“Remember next time,

you will tell me how youhave forgivenme. Youwill

tell me that you understandwhyIhadtodowhatIdid.”

Zofia had no idea whatManfred was talking about,andshedarednotask,butshenoddedherhead.

“Youmaygonow.”The rest of the day

Manfredstayedinhisstudy.When Katja awoke from

hernap,shecamedashingoutof her bedroom and ran toZofia, who was still shaken

fromtheafternoon’sevents.“Snack?”Katjaasked.“Yes, sweetie,Letmeget

youasnack.”Whentheguardarrivedto

escort Zofia back to thecamp, she was relieved toleave.

Zofiastoodatrollcallhershoulders slumped. Eventhough she was hungry, shecould not eat her dinner.Marsha watched her friend

withakeeneye.“Something is wrong.

Whatisit?”“Nothing,”Zofiasaid.“Can I have your food, if

you are not going to eat it?”one of the other prisonersasked.

Zofiahandedherthebowlofsoup.

ThatnightMarshabroughther blanket and curled into

Zofia’scot.“You’ve been so distant

today.Pleasetalktome.”“Christa is very ill. I am

afraidthatsoonIwillbesentback to the camppermanently.”

“Ifindthatdoubtful.Evenifshedies,theywillneedyoutocareforthechild.”

“Perhaps…Ihatetothinkshemightdie.”

“You care for her?”Marshaasked.

“I do. She is kind to me.As you know, she is goodenoughtogivemeextrafoodandawarmcoat.Sheisnotabad person, just an ordinarywoman caught in a terriblesituation.”

“She is still a Germanmarried to a Nazi. ThatmakesheraNazi.”

“Idon’tbelievethat.”

“Don’t you, Zofia? Deepinyourheart,don’tyou?”Chapter51

It became a pattern.Zofia

dreaded the daily fondling,prodding and poking, thedarkness.ShehatedManfred.Thesoundofhisvoicemadeherwanttospit.

“Tellme,”hesaid.“I love you, Manfred.”

Pretendyouarenothere,shetold herself. Pretend this isnothappeningtoyou.

“And?”“Iforgiveyou.Everything

thathappenedwasneveryourfault.Thereisnooneelseforme.Thereneverhasbeen.”

“Christa…” he said asZofia took him into hermouth, her knees aching asshe knelt on the hardwoodfloor.

After several months,Zofiawasabletodetachfromherbody.Shedidnotfeelhishands, nor did she feel theslime of his desire run downherthroat.

Then one afternoon, hewantedmore.

“Leave the light on,” hesaid.“Takeoffyourdress.”

Shedidasheasked,neverlookingintohiseyes.

“Youhatemedon’tyou?”

heasked.Shedidnotanswer.“Does any of this please

you?”Shedidnotanswer.“Tellme. Iwant to know

the truth. Does any of thisgive you pleasure? I promiseI will not be angry at youranswer.”

“No, it does not. I wishyou would stop.” She could

notbelieveshe’dsaidthat.Henodded.“Andwhatdo

you think of me? Come on.The truth. I want to knowwhat it is about me thatoffendsyou.”

Sheknewhedrank.She’dcleared away the emptybottles.Couldhebedrunk?

“Please…tellme.”He seemed almost tender,

almostbegging.

“Youarecruel.Youflauntyourpoweron thewomen inthe camp, on your wife, andonme.Iamafraidofyou.”

“Hmmm…” he said.“Afraidofme…”

Manfred got up andpushedheroutoftheway.Hewalked around the office forseveralminutes,pacinglikeapanther.

“I’m a horrible man,Zofia.”Hesaidthenhetooka

swigfromabottleofwhiskeythatsatontheshelf.

Without warning, hewalked over to Zofia andthrewheronto the floor.Herhead hit the ground with athud.Thenhe stared intohereyes.

“You’re afraid of me? Idon’twantyouafraid,Iwantyouterrified.YOUandeveryother woman will learn torespect me, if you know

what’s good for you. I amsickandtiredofwomen.Sickandtireddoyouhearme?”

He took his gun from thesideofhiswaist.

“Youseethis?”Zofia lay naked on the

floor,trembling.“AnswermewhenItalkto

you…”Shenodded“yes.”“Spreadyourlegs…”

She gazed at him,dumbfounded.

“DoasIsayorIwillshootyou dead. I can you know. Ihave no one to answer to.Youwill be swept away likethe piece of trash that youare… No one will care, ortakenoticeofyourdeath.”

She spread her legs. No,please…Hermindraced.Shewas sure he planned to enterher.

Instead, he took the gunand shoved the barrel insideofher.

Zofia couldnotdisengagefrom her body. She felt thecold steel inside of her mostprivateplace.Tearsfellfreelyfromhereyesandranoffhercheeksontothefloor.

“I beg you, please havepity,Arbeitsführer.Please…”Shefeltherlegsquakingwithfear.“Ibegyouplease…”

Hekneltoverher.Shewasso terrified that she felt shemight urinate on his gun.That, she knew,wouldmakehim angry. He jabbed theweaponharderintoherbody.She cried out in pain andhorror.

“Yousee,yousee,what Icando toyou if Iwant to? Ican do this anytime I wantto…Icanpullthetriggerandsend a bullet right up inside

ofwhatmakesyouawoman.WOMEN!” His body wasshaking;hisfacewasredwithrageandalcohol.

“I beg you, Manfred…”shesaid.

Perhaps it was the soundofhisname.He removed thegun, stood up, and placed ituponhisdesk.

“Get up, please. Put yourdress on, and leave me.Quickly!”

Shedid.It was almost a week

before Manfred botheredZofia in a sexual manneragain.

“Comeintomyoffice,”hesaid one afternoon in earlyautumn.

She had almost allowedherself tobelievethathewasdone with her, she’d hopedandprayeditwastrue.

“Iwantedtoapologizefor

mybehavior,”hesaid.She nodded, knowing she

couldnottrusthim.“Wewill begin our game

again.However,youmustnotshowmeanymoredisrespect.Doyouunderstand?”

“Yes, Arbeitsführer,” shesaid, feeling the sweat begintorundownherback.

Andso,hebeganthedailyritual again. Zofia remainedsilent,andjustcompliedwith

hiswishes, disengaging fromherbody, feelingnothing.Atleast he’d never used hispistol in that horrible wayagain.“I’ve decided that you willnot go back to the campanymore,” Manfred said.“You will sleep in thebasementandbeavailableformewheneverIwantyou.”

Shefeltthebileriseinherthroatandswallowedhard.

“Arbeitsführer,” she saidthewordscroakingout.“MayI please ask a favor?Please…”

“Afavor?Youarealreadyreceiving a favor. You willsleep in a bed, in a cleanroom.Youhaveenoughfood.What more could you want?Look at your peers. Theywouldgive anything tobe inyour position. And you haveafavortorequest.Hmmm…”

he said walking around her.“All right, I am feelinggeneroustoday.Goaheadandask me. Perhaps I willindulgeyou.”

“Arbeitsführer, please, Ihave a friend at the camp. Iwant togoand tellher that Iamnotgoingtobereturning.I alsowould like to give hermy coat so that she will bewarm.”

“Generous of you…

Sometimes you Jews amazeme with your human-likequalities.Youwanttomakeagift to your friend...” Hewalked around her nodding.“Oh,verywell…Isupposeitwould be all right.When theguard arrives this afternoon,I’ll havehim takeyou to thebarracks. You can spend tenminuteswithyourfriend,andthenyouaretoreturn.”

“Thank you, thank you,

Arbeitsführer.” She bowedher head, hoping that hewould not see that she hadstartedcrying.

AsManfredpromised, theguard waited outside thebarracks. Zofia had tenminutestoexplain.

“I will not be back. Ibroughtyoumycoat.Keepitsafe.Youwillneed it for thewinter,”ZofiasaidtoMarsha.

Bothwomenwere crying.

Zofia hugged her friend. Shewas glad she’d never toldMarsha what theArbeitsführer did to her. Itwould only cause her moreworry.

“Besafe…Iwillmissyousomuch.”

“Iwillmissyou,too.”“I don’t know how I will

go on without you,” Marshasaid.

“But you must, because

thewarwillbeoversoonandsoon we will be free. I willfindyouagain,myfriend.Wewillsipteaatanoutdoorcaféunderanumbrellaandwatchthepeoplewalkby.”

Marsha hugged Zofiaharder.

“Don’t stop fighting.Please, don’t give up,” Zofiasaid.“Youtoo,keepfighting.Stayalive,”Marshasaid.

The guard entered. “Timeisup.Comeonlet’sgo.Machschnell.”

Zofiagotupandfollowedthe guard to the door. Sheturned and looked back. Thetwowomen’seyesmet.

“Goodbye,” Marsha said,as the guard pushed Zofiaout.

Except for memories ofEidel and time spent withKatja, Zofia had lost all

emotion. When Manfredtouched her, she felt blessedthatshecouldnolongerevenfeeltheheatofhishand.Shemissed Marsha, but sheforced thoughts of friendfromhermind.

Zofia had been given aroom in the basement of theBlau residence. She’d neverseen it before the day shemoved in.Overhead a singlebulb dimly lit the area to

reveal a cot with real sheetsand a pillow. Two woolblanketslayfoldedatthefootof the bed. Adjacent to theroom Zofia saw a bathroomwithatoilet,asmallsink,andashower.Thewallshadbeenpainted grey to complementthegreyconcretefloor.Itwassafe. It was clean, and farmore comfortable than thebarracks. Still, she wouldmiss her friend, and here,

Manfred had constant accesstoher.ButsodidlittleKatja.She wondered how it waspossible to love a child somuchandhatethefather thatcreatedher.

The seasons came andwent. Christa grew weaker.Her eyelids, nails, and lipsturned blue as a robin’s egg,an indication that the heartcondition she was born withhadresurfaced.

OnthemorningofKatja’sfourthbirthday,ChristaaskedZofiaifshecouldtrytobakeacake.

“Have you ever done anybaking?”

“A little… I will try tomake something nice forKatja.”

“You care for Katja agreatdealdon’tyou?”Christaasked. She sat up in bed herback propped up against the

pillows.“Yesma’am,Ido.”“Sitdown,Zofia.”Christa

patted the bed. “Here, sitbeside me. There issomething that I must tellyou.’

Zofia ran her hand overtheblanketsmoothingitoverChrista, and then she satdown.

“Ihavenever toldanyonethis.ButIfeelthatImusttell

you. But, as long as I amalive, you must promise tokeep this a secret. Can youpromise? I don’t know why,Zofia, but I trust you, and Itrustyoutokeepyourword.”

“Ipromise.”“Zofia, my condition is

gettingworse. I suppose youcan see that. I am not surethatIwillsurvivethewinter.And soyoumustknow.Youmust be aware of what I am

abouttotellyou.”“Go on, please,” Zofia

said.Christa tookZofia’shand.

Zofia felt how cold Christawas.

“You are so cold. Wouldyoulikeanotherblanket?”

“No,Imusttellyou…”“I’msorry.Yes,youmust.

Goon,”Zofiasaid,squeezingChrista’shandgently.

Christa sighed taking adeepbreath.Thenshebegan.“Katja is not my daughter,not by blood, anyway; nor isshe Manfred’s. Katja isadopted.Shewasborn in theInstitute for the Lebensborn.Doyouknowwhatthatis?”

“I’veheardof it. Isn’t itabreeding hospital for Aryanwomen?”

“Yes, it is. It is a placewhere children are bred to

build Germany’s new Aryanrace, and then they areadopted by Aryan couples.Manfred and I had to bescreened before we wereallowed to take the baby,”Christa said. She coughed alittle; then she reachedbeneath the sheets. “Here, Ihave been waiting to showyouthis.”

Christa handed a fewpapers toZofia.Zofia looked

atthembewildered.“I’m sorry, they are in

German. I can’t read them,”Zofiasaid.

“They are Katja’s birthand christening papers fromthehomefortheLebensborn.It was called Steinhöring. Itwas in Munich. I wanted totell you, because I am notwell, and if I should die…Well, a day will come whenshe will want to know the

truth. I am hoping, Godwilling,thatyouwillbetheretotellher.”

Zofia folded thedocuments and handed thembacktoChrista

“I will do my best forKatja, you know that. She isan innocent child. But youmust not think about dying.Youmusttrytogetwell.”

“I am not going to getwell,Zofia. It’s just amatter

oftime.Itcouldbeaweek,oritcouldbefiveyears.Idon’tknow. Nobody knows. For along time my illness wasunder control. I almostbelieved I would live a longlife…but then…” Again,Christa coughed. “Zofia, youhave been very kind to me,and you don’t know howoften I’ve felt terribly sorrythatallof thishappenedwiththe Jews and the Nazis.

However, there is one goodthing that came from all ofthis. And, I suppose, I amselfish,butIamgladtohavehad the opportunity to knowyou. You are strong kindwoman,andwithoutyouandyourhelp,Idon’tknowwhatwould have become ofKatjaandme.”

“Thankyou.Ithasbeensolong since I’ve feltappreciatedinanyway.AndI

know that all that is takingplacehere in thecamp isnotyourfault.”

“OhZofia,Ifeelsoguilty.Not that there is anything Ican do, but when I wasyoungerIjustdidn’trealize.Inever realized. I was excitedby the music, the flags, themarching, and Hitler’sspeeches.Ihadnoidea.Iamso ashamed. You have beenmy rock. You’ve held me

when I was vomiting, andnever asked for anything. Inmy heart, I believe that it isbecause you are a goodperson,notbecauseyouareaprisoner. To me you werenever a prisoner. You havealwaysbeenafriend.”

Zofia smiled and movedthehairoutofChrista’seyes

“Oh Zofia, there is somuch you don’t know. Somuch I am forbidden to tell

you.” Christa said. “When Iadopted Katja I wanted achild more than anything. Iwas young and strong. Andbelieveitornot,ManfredandIwereverymuchinlove.Hewasn’t the same man he istoday. You see, somethinghappened,something terrible.Hechanged.Hewasseducedby the power of the Party.This man who I live with isnot themanImarried.AndI

suppose it was the death ofthatlovethatsuckedtheverylife out of me.” Christa’svoicebroke.

Zofia cast her eyes down.She knew that Christa wascrying.

“Yousee,whenIfirstmetManfred, Iwas a younggirl.Hewas an importantman intheParty.It impressedmesomuch. Of course, then, Ididn’tknowwhat itmeant to

be a Nazi. I had no idea. Iwas taken inby theglamour.YouseeManfredworked forGoebbels at the time. AndwhenImethim,helookedsohandsome and important inhisuniform.Iwasignorant.Ididn’tthinkabouttheJewsoranyoneelse.Ionlythoughtofthemoment. Forgiveme.OhZofia, forgive me. He tookme topartieswithall the topofficials. I even met Hitler.

Yes,itwasallglitterinthosedays.Butastheysay,allthatis glitters is not gold, andthat, my friend, is true.”Christa stopped for amoment. She labored forbreath to continue. “I knewnothingofthecrueltythattheNazis stood for. I suppose Icould have known if I’dlooked more deeply. But Ididn’twanttoknow,Iwantedtoenjoythegoodlife.Butmy

father, God rest his soul, heknew. I had no ill feelingstowards Jewsoranyoneelse.IsupposewhatIamtryingtosay, is thatIamsorry,Zofia.Iamsorryforhowmypeoplehave treated you and yours.”Shewassobbing.

Zofianodded.“Please, be there for my

child. I know that I have notbeenable todomuchtohelpyou. But, I’ve done what I

could. Katja loves you. Shethinks of you as a mother.Manfred hardly has time forher,soonceIamgonehewillkeepyouheretocareforher.Pleasecareforher.”

“Iwill.Idoloveher.”Zofiasaid.

“Iknowyoudo,andthatiswhyIamcountingonyou.”

Zofia saw Christa’s

struggle for a breath, howdifficultandtaxingitwasforhertotalk.

“Shhh, now, get somesleepandIwillbakethecake.All right?” Zofia moved thepillowsandhelpedChristatoliedown.

“Yes, but you will notforgetyourpromise?”

“Iwillnotforget.”“Itrustyou,Zofia.”

Zofia went to the kitchenand began to measure theflour and sugar. Katjasquatted,playingquietlyonablanket thatZofiahadspreadon the floor. Zofia watchedher and thought of Eidel.Onceshe,too,hadtrustedthesafetyofherpreciouschildtoanother woman. With God’shelp, Helen was caring forEidelthewayshewouldcareforKatja.

“Mama?”Katjasaid.“Yes,”Zofiasaid“Mydollyisgoingtobea

Jewjustlikeyou.”Zofia felt the hair on her

neck stand at attention. Shebent down beside the littlegirl,huggingherandsmiling.

“Katja, you must neversay that to your father, allright?”

“Whynot?”

“Because I asked you notto. Will you do that for me,please?” Zofia gentlysqueezedKatjaandkissedhercheek.

“All right. It will be oursecret.”

“Yes, our secret,” Zofiasighed.

Three days prior, Zofiahad been cleaning the housewhenManfredandseveralofhis coworkers were in his

study having a drink. She’dover heard them talking.From their conversation, shegatheredthatNaziconfidencein Hitler’s ability to win thewar against Allies waswaning. They spoke quickly,and she was not fluentenough in German to followeverything they said.But shedid gather that Berlin hadbeenbombed,and thatHitlerhad made a mistake by

dividing his army andfighting on two fronts at thesame time. The SS officersfeared that the Allies wereclosing in on Germany, andthere was great concern thattheFatherlandmight lose thewar.

Quietlyas shewentabouthertasks,Zofiaprayedthatitwastrue,thattheAllieswereon their way, coming to therescue.Hownearwere they?

How soon might thisnightmare end? Just thethought of such a miraclemade her toes tingle withanticipation. To be freeagain… To find Eidel, andholdheragain….Coulditbetrue? Dare she allow herselftobelieve?Forso longZofiahad wiped all emotion fromher heart for fear of anotherdisappointment. But shecouldnothelpbutfeeljoyous

as she listened to theworriesoftheSSofficers.

Now, standing in thekitchen, her mind went backto that conversation she’doverheard. If thecampswereliberated,thenshemustleaveKatja or take her, if Christawere able to grant such athing.Itwouldbedifficult toleaveKatjabehind.Shelovedthechild.Zofiaglancedatthelittle girl with the golden

curls and marveled again athow much she looked likeChrista. With the newinformation that Christa hadjustgivenher, itwashard tobelieve that Christa was notKatja’sbirthmother.

It would be a difficultdecision to leave Katja, butwhen the timecame,andshewas able, God willing, shewould leave this terribleplace. She would run as fast

as she could to find Eidel.Eidel…thechildofherblood,whowaitedsomewhereoutinthe world for her mother’stouch…

That evening after Zofiahad served Manfred andKatja their dinner andbrought a bowl of soup toChrista in bed, she helpedChrista out into the livingroom. Zofia placed her armsunder Christa’s and helped

her into the plush chair nexttothesofa.Thenshebroughtout the cake adorned withcandles. Katja squealed withdelight,meltingZofia’sheart.Manfred watched Zofia withanintenseeye.Shecouldnotfullyreadhisexpression,onlythathe fixatedhisgazeuponher like a threat. Perhaps heworriedthatshemightrevealthe secrets of his desire forher to his wife. Perhaps he

worried about breaking theNuremberg laws by spillinghisseedintoherunacceptablewomb. When her eyesaccidently met his, his cold,heartless glares made hershiver, knowing he had thepowertosendherbacktothebarracks,orworse,tothegaschamber.Athinlayeroffrostcovered the windows. Itwouldbecoldinthebarracks,and she would be hungry

again. Part of herwanting tobeexiled,longingtobeawayfrom him, and yet anotherside of her did not want toleaveKatja.Andstillanotherpartofherwishfordeath,andyetshewasafraidtodie.

“Help me, Mama,” Katjayelled, as she tried to blowoutthecandles.

Zofiafeltachillrundownher back. She cast a quickglance in Manfred’s

direction.Butbeforehecouldrealize that Katja had calledherMama,Christasteppedin.

“Katja, let Zofia helpyou,” Christa said, “Can youpick her up for me, please,and help her to blow out thecandles?”

“Yes,ma’am,”Zofiasaid,lifting Katja to stand on thechair so she would be highenough to reach the cake.Zofia held the little girl’s

waist, so she would not fall.Katjaleanedover.

“Now make a wish…”ChristasaidtoKatja.

Katja squeezed her eyesshut.“Ready!”shecalledoutinherbabyvoice.

“All right, then.Blowoutthecandles.”Christasmiled.

With all of her strength,Katja blew and blew, whileZofiaheldhertight.

Finally, all the candleswere extinguished and tinytrickles of smoke drifted upfrom the cake. Katja smiled,turning to kiss Zofia on thecheek. The little girl wasproudofheraccomplishment.

“Good job,” Manfredoffered, sipping a snifter ofbrandy.

“I love you, Mama…”Katja said, but she waslookingatZofia,notChrista.

Zofia smiled at the child,and then her eyes darted toManfred, hoping he wouldnot take offense and punishher.Heseemedunaware.Shebitherlowerlip.

“Can you cut the cakeplease,Zofia?”Christaasked.

“Yes,ma’am.”Zofia took the cake back

intothekitchenandcutitintopieces. She delivered theservings on Christa’s china

plates.“Mama, you have some

too,”Katjasaid.“Iam,”Christaanswered.“No. You too, Mama,”

Katjasaid,pointingatZofia.“That is not yourmother.

That is a servant. She doesnot eat here in our diningroomwithus;”Manfredsaid,histoneofvoiceharsh.

Katja began to cry. Zofia

longed to pick her up andcomfort her, but the look onManfred’sfaceunnervedher.

“Gotothebasement.Yourjob here is done for today,”hesaid.

Zofia turned and left. Asshe descended the stairs, sheheard Katja crying, “I wantmymama!Iwantmymama!”Dear God, please soften

Manfred’sheart.Pleasedon’tlethimhurtthebaby,ortake

thisoutonChristaorme.Zofia sank onto her bed.

“And please, God,” shewhispered aloud, “let theAlliescomequickly.”

Chapter52The summer of 1943was

exceptionallyhot.Fortunatelyfor Zofia, heat rises, and thebasement where she sleptremained the coolest part ofthe house. Christa’s healthseemedtobetakingaturnforthe better. Due to Zofia’sinsistence, Christa agreed to

allow Zofia to take heroutsidewhereshesatunderatree for an hour each day.Zofia brought Katja andstayed with Christa in caseshe should need anything.The child loved to playoutside.Zofiataughtherhowto make necklaces out ofdandelions, and although shecouldnotquitegraspthehandcoordination, Katja loved torun through the grass

collecting the weeds. ThenshewouldsitbesideZofiaherface determined as sheattempted to make the tinyconnectingholesinthestems.

“You’re getting better atthiseveryday,”Zofiasaid.

Katjagiggled,andChristaleaned back to let the suncaressherface.

“I’m glad you convincedme to come outside, Zofia. Ineededthesunshine.”

“I’m glad you’re feelingbetter. Your color is muchbetter.”

“Iwasverypale.”“Yes, you were, quite

pale. I was worried aboutyou.”

“Zofia, sometimes I thinkyoumight be an angel.Howcan you not hate me for allthatyouhavebeenthrough?”

“BecauseIrealizethatyouhad nothing to dowith it. In

manyways, youare avictimtoo,” Zofia watched Christaleanbackandliedowninthecoolgrass.She longed to tellher what she endured fromManfred’sphysicaladvances,but she could not. Notbecause she thought thatChristawouldturnonherandtake her husband’s side, butbecause Zofia realized thatChrista also endured pain atManfred’s hand. Yet, he

loved her. Every time heforced himself uponZofia, itwas Christa that he yearnedfor,Christa’s name he calledout. Something hadhappened,something terrible.Shewishedshecouldask,butfelt that she might beoverstepping her bounds. So,Zofia accepted her life, thebadwith thegood.Andevenwith all that Manfredsubjected her to, she knew

shestillhadabettersituationthan those people who wereatthecamp.

Sometimes she thoughtofMarsha,inspiteofhereffortstowipethepainoflosingherfriends from her mind. Shehoped that Marsha was stillaliveandhadfoundsomeoneto share her burden, anotherfriend.

“Blow the fuzz off thisone for me,” Katja said

handing Zofia a grey fuzzydandelion, and interruptingZofia’sthoughts.

“Youwouldlikemetodoit? Or would you like me tohelpyoutodoit?”

“You help me.” KatjahandedZofiatheweedwithasoftfurrytop.

“All right, now, getready.”

“I ready!” Katja said,laughing.

“Blow as hard as youcan.”

Katja blew and Zofiahelped. Then, as the flufffloated away in the breeze,Katja crumbled into Zofia’sarms,laughing.

She needs me, She needsmesomuch,Zofiathought.

Atnoon,thesunhadrisenhigh in the sky, and the heatboredownuponthem.

“I’m tired,” Christa said.

“Shallwegoinside?”“Ifyouwouldlike…Yes,

let’sgoin.”Zofia prepared a light

afternoon meal of bread andcheese.

“It is so hot in here,”Christasaid.

Zofia increased the speedonthefan.“Doesthathelp?”she asked, bringingChrista awetclothtoputonherhead.

“A little,” Christaanswered. “I’d love to godownstairs in the basementwhere it is cooler and liedown in your bed until thesun sets. But I am afraidManfred wouldn’t care fortheidea.”

Zofia said nothing. ThethoughtofpoorChrista lyingupon her bed, the very placewhere the awful thingshappened with Manfred,

madeherfeeldisgusted.Shewas glad that Christa haddecided not to sleep in herbed.

That night, like mostothers, when it got lateenough for the darkness tocover the earth, Manfredcamedownstairs.

“I have a special treat foryou,”hesaid.“Ibroughtyousome chocolate. That’s verygenerous of me. You realize

chocolate is hard to comeby.”

“Yes, thank you.” Shetookthecandy.

“You have become quitespecial to me. Like a goodloyalpet.”

Zofia didnot answer.Sheplacedthecandyonthesmalltablebesideherbed.

“Do you pity me?” heasked,lookingaway.

Trick questions. Nazi’salways asked trick questions.She smelled the alcohol onhisbreath.

“My wife hates me. Doyouknowthat?”

Shedid answerordare tomeethiseyes.

“I love her. I’ve alwayslovedher.Ialwayswill.ButIwant to take this moment totell you something. I willnever say this again, so you

mustlistenclosely.”Hiswordsslurredtogether

assuringherhewasdrunk.“Youhavebeenacomfort

to me. I know that you takegood care of Christa and thebaby.Thismeansagreatdealtome.IalsowanttosaythatIfeel badly aboutwhat Imustdotoyou.Butsadly,Icannotseem to stop. Iwill try togofor several days withoutcoming to you, but then it is

almostlikeadrug.Imustseeyou.Wemustplayourgameof pretend. Do youunderstand?”

He took a flask from hispocketandputittohislips.

Shedidn’tanswer.“Ihavesomebadnewsfor

you. Your friend died today.Youshouldbehappythatyouare nowhere near thosebarracks. We have had anasty outbreak of typhus.

Thosewhowereinfectedhadto be eliminated in order tostopthespreadofthedisease,amessybusinesstobesure.”

Shefeltthebileriseinherthroat.Marshahaddied,sick,andalone,while sheatewelland slept in a comfortablebed.EventhoughshecametothehomeoftheArbeitsführeras a prisoner, and not of herown choice, she still feltoverwhelmingguilt.

“I am tired, too tired forour game tonight. So, Isupposeyouarepleasedtoberid of me. Ahhh, well,tomorrow Iwillmake up forit. Sleep well, Zofia. Sorryabout the news, but yourfriend has surely gone to abetterplace.”

She listened to his heelsclickon thewoodenstairsasheascendedbacktothemainfloor.

Onceshewasalone,Zofiaallowed herself the luxury oftears. She cried into herpillow, remembering all ofthe people she’d loved andlost, Marsha, Dovid, Fruma,Gitel,herparents.Theywereall gone now. How easy itwould be to join them. Allshe need do was take akitchenknifeandrunitacrosstheblueveininherarm.Thenit would be over, but what

about Eidel? Eidel was stillalive.AndforEidel,shemustcontinue to live. Then shethought about Katja. Whatwouldbecomeof thechild ifshe were to end her life?Poor, innocent baby… Shehad not asked to be broughtinto this terrible Nazi-ruledworld. She had not asked tobebredtobeaperfectAryanchild. Katja, although they’dbred her to have golden hair

andeyesthecolorofthesky,and they tried to teachher tohate, even in her youth, shedefied them. Instead, shegrewintoachildwithaheartas big as a lion’s, filledwithlove. A child, not of theNazis,butachildofGod.

Zofia had come this far.Shewouldnotquitnow.Theallies were coming. Theymust be coming. And DearGod, please let it be soon. I

don’t have the strength toholdoutmuchlonger.

Relieved to be left alone,Zofia fell into a fitful sleepfilled with vivid, frighteningdreams. At 3:45 in themorning, she heard acommotion coming fromupstairs. She wasn’t sure ifshewasawake,orasleepanddreaming. There wererunningfootstepsontheflooraboveher.Manfredbellowed

ordersinGerman,andChristaanswered in a tearful voice.Anotherfight?Atthistimeofnight? Then Zofia heard thedoor slam. She smelled thethick, heavy smoke of anearbyfire.Perhapsthehousewas burning. If it was, shemust go upstairs and getoutside. But dare she riskgoing upstairs? What ifManfred was there? She hadno idea who slammed the

door, orwhy.WouldChristanotcomeandtellher if therewas a fire? The smoke grewthicker. Zofia felt her lungschoke up with it. She musttaketheriskandgoupstairs.

Gingerly she opened thedoor to the basement. Therewas no sound, but the lightsinthehousewereallon.Shetiptoed toChrista’s room.Asshe did, she looked in onKatjatoseethatthebabywas

still asleep. Turning thecorner in the hallway, Zofiapeeked her head in thedoorway of Christa’sbedroom.

“Ma’am,areyouallright?I’m sorry. I heard a lot ofnoise,and it’sverysmoky inhere.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Come sitdown,” Christa said, pattingthe edge of her bed. “Therehas been an uprising in the

camp. One of the buildingshas been set to fire.Manfredwenttheretotrytosetthingsto order. However, I amterrified. I am so afraid thatthe prisoners will come hereand set fire to the house. Iftheydo,wewon’tbeable togetout.ButManfred insistedthatwestayhereandwaitforhim.”

Zofia nodded. Anuprising?A part of her heart

swelled with pride. Theprisonershadfinallybeguntofight back. If they were todie,atleastthey’dnotgonetotheirdeaths like lambs to theslaughter. Well, good forthem! But, still, she did notwanttoseeKatjaandChristakilled in the wake of theiranger… She had so manymixedemotions…

“Ma’am,mayIbesoboldas to make a suggestion?”

Zofiaasked.“Ofcourse,Zofia.”“Let’s go outside into the

forestnearby.Wecanleaveanote for the Arbeitsführer tolethimknowwhereweare.Itiscoolerintheforest,andwewillbesafeuntilthingssettledown. Besides, I am afraidthat the smokyair ishardonKatja,andyouaswell.”

“There are wild creaturesin the forest. I am afraid for

Katja.”“I know. So am I.

However,ifwestayhereandthe house is raided, whoknowswhatwillhappen.”

Christa tookZofia’shand.“Youwill helpme, please? Iamweakandtired.”

“Yes,ofcourseIwillhelpyou.”

“Then, yes, you are right,Zofia.Hurry, go, and get thebaby. Try not to scare her. I

will write the note forManfred,”Christasaid.

WhentheywalkedoutsideZofia looked across the yardto see orange flames leapingin a fiery dance inside thecamp. From where theystood, she could hear theshouts of the prisoners andthe guards. The booming ofloud gunfire assaulted theirears,andKatjabegantocry.

“Shhh, it’s all right…

shhh…”Zofiasaid.“Up”Katjasaid,tearsstill

covering her face as sheraisedherarms.

Something exploded, andthe sound shook the trees.Katjascreamedinterror.

Zofia lifted the little girlintoherarms.

Katja snuggled intoZofia’s chest, weeping softlyasZofiacarriedher.Withherother hand, Zofia wrapped

her arm around Christa,helping her to walk. Theground shook beneath themas the two women and thelittlegirlheadedintothedarkwoods.

“I’m scared,” Katja said,her voice trembling. “Mama,Iamsoscared.”

“No,don’tbeafraid.Thisisgoing tobe an adventure,”Zofia whispered into Katja’sear as she hugged the baby

tighter. Katja was gettingheavier, and it was hard tohold her with one hand. Butin spite of the pain in hershoulder,Zofiacontinuedon,untilshefelttheywereasafedistancefromtheconflict.

Itdidprovetobecoolerinthe forest. They could smellthe smoke,but itwasdilutedand not as hard to breathe.The three sat down. Zofiapropped Christa up against a

treeandthendidthesameforherself.Katja,usuallycuriousabouteverything,satstillandquiet. She did not try towander. Instead, she stayedclosetothetwowomen,wholistened to the hooting ofowls combined with themysterious sounds of theforestatnight,andthedistantuproarofarebellion.

Katja laid her head onZofia’s lap. Zofia patted her

back as the child curled upandfellasleep.Neitherofthetwo women slept during thedark of night. They watchedthe sunrise in silence. Zofialonged for freedom, not onlyforherself,butalsoforalltheothers who suffered in thecamp.Butshewasconflicted;she couldn’t care less whathappened to Manfred.Whatever ill befell him waswell deserved. However,

Katja and Christa had neverhurt her or anyone else, andshe couldn’t bear to think ofwhat might happen to themshould the prisoners havetaken charge once themorninglightcameflickeringthroughthetrees.

Christa had begun to nodoff as dawn broke, but Zofiastayed wide-awake. Sheconsidered running away.This was her chance; she

could be free of thisnightmareatlast.Butitcamewithahighprice:thepossiblesacrificeofaninnocent,childwhom she had come tocherish, and who called herMama. Her limbs ached torun. They trembled with thedesire to stretch and godashing off deeper into theover grown trees. She wassure that even if Christaawoke, she would not give

her away. In fact, althoughChrista needed Zofia, Zofiaknew shewould turn a blindeye, let her get away, andthenprayforhersafety.

And that was why Zofianeverleft.

Sometime late thatafternoon, stillness settledover the camp. Both Christaand Katja were awake now.Katja was hungry andcontinuallyaskingforfood.

“We have to go back,”Christa said. “Do you thinkit’ssafeyet?”

“Idon’tknow.”“Mama, I’m hungry,”

Katja said again tugging atthehemofZofia’suniform.

“I know, my Sunshine, Iknow. You will havesomething to eat very soon.”Zofia had taken to callingKatjaLittleSunshine.

ThiswouldquietKatjafor

a few minutes and then shewould remind Zofia of herhungeragain.

“We have to take ourchancesandgoback,”Christasaid.“Doyouagree?”

“Yes. We have no food,”Zofia said. She stood up,brushedthebranchesanddirtoff her clothes. Then shehelped Christa to her feet,gatheredKatja intoherarms,and the three headed back to

thehouse.Everything was just as

they’d left it. Manfred hadnot returned since thepreviousnight.Zofiasecretlyhoped he might have beenkilled in the uprising. Shehoped that all of the Nazishadbeenmurderedduringthenight. That would makeeverything easier, if only theprisoners never raided thehouse. She would care for

Christa and Katja. Theywouldstayinthehouse.Andas soon as it was safe, Zofiawould find Eidel and bringherbacktolivewiththeothertwo. Zofia would explain toChrista, shewas sureChristawouldunderstand.

But that was a daydream.The door opened andManfred entered. His eyeswere bloodshot, and wildwithfearandexhaustion.His

clothingreekedofsmoke,andhis hair stood on end,disheveled.

“The prisonerswentmad.They destroyed the entirecamp. It’s in shambles. Theywerewildanddangerous.It’sbeen a terrible night. I’mwaiting for orders from mysuperiorofficers.”

“Are you all right?”Christa’s skin was pale andher eyes puffy from lack of

sleep.“Isitsafeforustostayhere?”

“For now, I think so. I’mtired. I’m going to bed.” Hetookaflaskoutofhispocketandtookaswig.

Christa looked over atZofiawithworriedeyes.

“Hungry,”Katjasaid.“MayIgivehersomething

toeat?”“Of course, and please

have something yourself. Ihavetoliedown.Iamfeelingterriblyweak,”Christasaid.

Chapter53On August 18 and 19,

1943, in a bold attempt toresist the treatment they’dendured, the prisoners atTreblinka, emaciated, diseaseridden and weak, staged anuprising.Followingthismostunexpected display of force,mostof the inmateswhohad

not escaped were transferredto Sobibor (a death camp),where they were executed.Approximately twenty tothirtybravesoulsremainedatTreblinka. They too weremurdered.TheninOctoberof1943, the Nazis shutTreblinkadownforever.

Chapter54In the weeks that

followed, Zofia sensed thetensioninthehouse.Manfreddid not come to her in thenight, and she was glad thathe didn’t, but also afraid shemight be sent back to thebarracks.At night,while shewas in the basement, she

could hear raised voicescoming from upstairs.Althoughshecouldnotmakeout what they were saying,Zofia knew that frequentargumentsbrokeoutbetweenChrista and Manfred, whereshe heard her namementioned, but she couldnothear theentire conversations.It unnerved her. What weretheyplanning?Shewantedtoask Christa, but she was

afraidtooverstepherbounds.Christahadbeenkind toher,butshemustneverforgetthatshe was little more than aslave, and at any time couldbe returned to the camp orworse.

It had been weeks sincethey’d sat outside under thetree.

“Ma’am, would you liketoget some fresh air?”Zofiaasked one morning in late

September. The weather hadcooled and she thought itwouldbegoodforChrista.

“Sitdown,Zofia.”Zofia sat on the edge of

the bed. Katja came rushingin.

“Play with me Mama,”KatjahandedZofiaadoll.

“In a minute, LittleSunshine, I am talking toyourmotherrightnow.”

“Up”ZofiapickedKatjaupand

proppedheronherlap.“I should not be telling

youthis.IfManfredknew,hewould never forgiveme.ButyouhavealwaysbeenhelpfultomeandsoImustgiveyousomeadvancednotice.WhatIam about to tell you is topsecret.”

Zofiafelt thehairsprickleon the back of her neck, and

sheshivered.“Zofia, we are leaving

here, Manfred, Katja and I.Thecampisbeingdestroyed.That isprobablyaverygoodthing. However, I will missyou terribly. I cannot takeyou with me. I’ve begged;believe me, I have begged.Manfredwanted to have youtransportedtoanothercamp.Ipleaded with him not to. Hehas finally agreed. Instead,

weare justgoing tomove inthemiddleofthenight.Ifyoustay here at the house, theotherNaziofficerswillcomeand findyou.Theywill sendyou to another concentrationcamp. However, since thishouseisoffthecampgrounds,on the night we leave, youcould easily slip into theforest unnoticed. Take somefoodwithyouandgo.Getasfar away from here as you

can. Iwish I couldofferyoumore,butIcannot.Ihavenomoretooffer.Whenthisisallover, please, try to come tofind Katja and me. She willneedyou.”

Katja reached up, andplayed with the hair thatZofia had regrown. Her tinyfingers curled into the darklocks.

Zofia looked at the baby,thenbackatChrista.

“She will be all right, atleast fornow. Ipray thatmyhealth won’t give out untilyoucantakeher.Iknowyouwillmissher.Butthingshavetakenabadturnandwemustgo. Manfred insists. Again,pleasepromiseme thatwhenthewarisoveryouwilltrytofind Katja. She will needyou.”

Zofia’s head was reeling.She felt slightly dizzy. “I

don’tknow…Whataboutherfather?”

“Promiseme youwill trytofindher.”

“I promise. I will do mybest. I don’t know what thefuturebrings.”

“Oh,Zofia,nordoI”“WhenshouldIleave?”“We are going tonight.

Listen closely after it getsdark.Assoonasyouhearwe

are gone, take what you canandrun.Nooneshouldcomebythehouseuntilmorning.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank youforhelpingme.”

“Zofia, if circumstanceshad been different,wemighthavebeentwofriendshavinglunch at each other’s homes,but the Nazis and the war,andmyhusbandmade thingstheway theyare.Allwecando is try to cope with what

hasbeengiventous.”Zofia held Katja a little

tighter. She closed her eyesand inhaled Katja’s babyscent. Tears threatened, butshedidnotcry.Zofianoddedherhead.

“God be with you, Zofia.Please…Don’tforgetus.”

That night Zofia listened.She heard the movementupstairs. Katja was crying,calling out for her mama.

Shewantedtogotothechild,tocomforther,but shecouldnot. There were footsteps onthe flooraboveher,whispersin the darkness, and thensilence.

Zofia waited for almosthalf an hour to be sure thatthe Blaus were gone. Thensheranupthestairs,gatheredas much food as she couldcarry, and wrapped it in atowel.Shetookthelargestof

the flasks from the cabinetandfilleditwithwater.Thenshe added a large butcherknife from the drawer to thethings she would take withher. Next, she ran to thebedroomwhereshehadcaredfor Christa these last years.Christa had left severaldresses and under garments.Zofia quickly changed herclothes,abandoningthecampuniform.Herhairhadgrown

back to just touching hershoulders,sothetell-talesignoftheshavedheadwouldnotgiveheraway.Still,shetookascarffromChrista’sdrawerto cover her hair. Now shewould look like any otherPolish woman, and no onewouldsuspectthatshewasanescapedJew.Zofiagazedintothemirror.Ithadbeenalongtime since she studied herappearance. She’d grown

older since the days of lifewith Fruma and Gitel. Finelines had begun to formaroundhereyes,eyesthathadseen far too much misery.Herdarkcurlyhairfellabouther face. Her figure wasslender. All in all, she wasnotunattractive.Infact,somemight even call her pretty.She sighed. Once, long ago,being beautiful seemed to bethe most important thing in

the world to her. How littleall of that mattered now…As she passed through thekitchen, she took anotherhunk of bread and beganeating. Then she stepped outof the house, never lookedback, and headed as quicklyas she could, going forwardintotheunknown.

Darkness hovered overher, but the moon shed justenough light for her to find

her way. And quietly, like ashadow in the night, Zofialeft the home of theArbeitsführer anddisappeared into thedarknessonthewayintotheforest.

Her heartwas heavywitha jumble of emotions. Shewas free, and for the longesttimeithadbeenherdreamtobeawayfromthecampawayfrom the horribleArbeitsführer…at last to be

free.Butshewasalsoonherown,inthedark,intheforest.Fromnowon, shemust fendfor herself. She must takegreatcarenot tobecaptured,for if she was there was notelling where she might endup. Zofia knew that she hadbeenluckytobesenttoworkin the home of theArbeitsführer, even with allshe had to endure. She hadseen enough of the camp to

know what could havehappenedifshehadnotbeenchosen as a house servant.She’d spent those firstmonths in the barracks withthe dirt, starvation anddisease before Manfred haddecidedsheshouldstayatthehouse.Ifshehadremainedatthecamp,shewouldprobablyhavegottentyphoidwhentheepidemic broke out. Christahadallowedhertobathe,and

she’d been so grateful to beclean. But she knew that herfellow Jews were much lessfortunate.And should she becaptured, she would knowtheir fate first hand. Theforest buzzed with life. Awolfhowledinthedistance,anightbirdcawed.Thehootingof an owl came from aboveher. A thick odor ofvegetation mixed withflowerssurroundedher.Dear

God,helpKatja,andChrista,watchoverthem.Shewalkedquickly, thebrush sometimesscraping against her legs,until she was well into theprotective thick blanket oftrees.Thenonceshewassureshe was far away from thehouseandthecamp,Zofiasatdown. A small rodentscamperedacrosstheground,startling her. Taking a deepbreath,Zofia leanedherhead

against the rough bark of anoak tree andclosedher eyes.Katja… The tiny faceappeared inhermind. Soon,she would start asking forZofia. Katja, her onlysunshinesinceshe’dcometothis place. Where were theytaking her? Would she besafe? Why do I care? Somany Jewish babies havesuffered; why should I carefor this spoiled little Aryan

girl? This child who hasnever known pain or loss…Why,whydoIcare?Butshedid care. With her wholeheart,shecared.Katjawasaninnocent, a victim too,althoughshedidnotknowit.The child had been bred likeapuppytobewhattheNaziswanted her to be, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed Aryan.They’d decided before Katjawasbornthatshewouldgrow

up to hate the Jews, butthey’d not counted uponZofia. Katja, her tiny fingerslost in Zofia’s curls. Hergiggles when Zofia tickledherchubby little tummy.Thewayshesat,herfaceserious,eyes glowing, as Zofia toldher a fairy tale in Polish.Would the little girl evenremember her? Probably not;she was far too young toremember.

Zofialookedupattheskyfilledwithstars.Afullmoonwinkedather.Shepulledherknees up to her chest. Somuch loss… Everyone andeverything she’d ever lovedhadbeentakenfromher.Yes,I am alive, but I am alone,except for Eidel,myEidel. Imust find her. Then sherealizedthatshemuststayfaraway fromEidel, at least fornow. If she showed up in

Eidel’s life, she wouldendangerherbaby,Helenandherfamily,andherself.Rightnow, Eidel was safe. Shemust not threaten that safetyin any way, even if shelonged to see her more thananything in the world.Eidel… At least Eidel wassafe.

The unfamiliar noises ofthe forest frightened herkeeping her awake through

thenight.She couldnothelpbutrememberthenightshe’dspent under the umbrella ofthe trees holding little Katjaasshewatchedthesmokerisefrom the camp in thedistance.Therewasnodoubtin hermind, she wouldmissthatlittlegirl,andsomeday,ifitweresafe,she’dfindawayback to the child. Wrappingher arms around herself,Zofia’s thoughts drifted to

Fruma, Gitel, and Marsha.She’d tried for so long tosuppress her feelings ofsadness and loss. Itwashardtobelievetheywerealldead.AndDovid?WhatofDovid?She’dneverbeeninlovewithhim, but in a way, she’dloved him. And his onlycrimehadbeenfallinginlovewithher.Itwasbestnottoletthe guilt consume her. If shedid, she might just lay her

tired head down in the coolgrassandsleepuntilshedied.She was so tired, soexhausted, so utterly spent.No,shemustfindthestrengthtogoon.Soon,thiswouldallend.Soon,itwouldbesafetogotoEidel.

When the sun peekedthroughthetrees,Zofiastoodup. Her head ached, and herthroatwasparched.Shemustlook for water. It took a

moment to stretch thestiffness from her back andlegsafteranightlyingonthehardground.

Zofia looked around her,assessing the situation.Where she stood, the treeshad grown so thick it wouldtake effort to find a paththrough them. She had noidea which way to go whichway was north or south, notthatitmatteredtoher.Allshe

knewwas that shemust findwaterinordertosurvive.Forhours, she walked pushingher way through the brush,butfoundnopondorstream.Rays of hot sun filteredthroughthetreesandtheheatof thedaymixedwitha lackof sleep caused her to feelexhaustedagain.Sherationedthe food and water she’dbrought with her from thehouse, but it would not last

verylong.It took almost a week of

wandering in the woods forZofiatoexhaustherfoodandwater supply.She couldhearher stomach grumbling, andevery so often, a pain shotthrough her belly doublingher over. It became hard toswallow; her mouth was asdryasasandybeach.Andshegrew even more tired andlistless.Adull achepersisted

behind her eyes, and whenthe sun was high in the sky,shefounditdifficulttomoveat all. I am dying. I’m dyingofthirstandlackoffood.Butshe was too tired to care.Sometimes her legs crampedup until she could notstraighten them, causing hertofall totheground.Ashardas she could, she massagedthe tender skin until itsubsided. But still the

relentlesssuntrickledthroughthe trees and found her,pulsing over her with life-sapping heat. She wasdrained. Too tired to keepwalking, Zofia sat downundertheshadeofatree.Herminddriftedagain.This timesheremembereddancingwithDovid.He’dhummedawaltzand the two of them dancedinthesmalldarkroomwherehelived.TraaLaa,TraaLaa.

Shecouldseeit inhermindseye. Gentle Dovid... TraaLaa, Traa Laa…. If I die, Iwill see everyone I’ve lost.Eidel will be all right. Shewon’t even remember me.Traa Laa…Dovid’s hand atthe small of her back… Hisotheroneholdinghers…Hertongue felt thick, like agiantsnake, filling her throat andchoking her. She tried toswallow, but couldn’t. She

laidherheadagainst the treeandclosedhereyes.

She felt a tiny drop, thenanother.Godknewwhereshewas,HewasnotreadyforhertocometoHim,notjustyet.Then a light rain trickleddownfromthesky.Itfilteredthroughthetreesandcoveredtheground.Thesoundof thedropshittingtheearthwasthemostexquisitesoundshehadever heard. Zofia opened her

flask to refill her watersupply. The raindropscaressedherskinandshe laydown where she saw a largeopening in the trees thatwould allow lots of water tocome through. She openedher mouth wide, andscrumptioustinybitsofwaterfound their way to hertongue.Reliefcameoverher;she laughed aloud. She laythere long after the rain

stopped,justlookingupatthesky. Along the west side ofhervision,shecaughtsightofa rainbow. t shone brightagainst a sunlit background.The loveliness of it took herby surprise, and she wassuddenly aware of all of thebeauty surrounding her. Shetookinthegreenoftheforest,the flowers that grew wild,spreading their sweetperfume, the crisp ice-blue

skywithitssugarclouds,anda sense of well being settledover her, as if God werewatching. From where shelay, she observed as a spiderspun a web in a tree acrossthepath. Itworkeddiligentlytobuilditsfuture.Onceshe’dfeared spiders. Today shewould learn from that spider.Shetoowouldworkhardandbuildafuture,andsoon,verysoon, shewould reunitewith

her daughter. If God hadmeant for her to die, shewould have died. This shortrain was a sign, a sign thatshe hadmuchmore to do inthis life. Zofia closed hereyes; a relaxed smile cameover her face. ThenExhaustionovercameherandshedriftedofftosleep.

Chapter55Zofiaawokewithastartto

findtwoburly,unshavenmenstanding over her, oneshirtless, and the otherwearing aNazi uniformwithall of the adornmentsremoved. Deserters. Hermind, still cloudywith sleep,raced at the thought of

danger.Would they rape andkillher?Quitepossibly.Whynot? There was no onearound formiles,andeven ifthere were, she was a Jew.Theycoulddoastheywished.Shescampered togetup,buther legs gave way with fearand she fell back to theground.Herheartthumpedsoloudly thatshewassure theycould hear it. Then, one ofthemspoke.

“Zofia? Is that you?” hesaid.

Shedidnotrecognizehim.“It’s me, Isaac

Zuckerman. We went toschool together in Warsaw.It’s not surprising that youdon’t recognize me. It wasmany years ago, and I’vecertainlyaged.”

Isaac?Shefaintlyrecalleda boy, a chubby little boy,weak and shy, bearing no

resemblance to themanwhostood in front of her now.This was a man, bold andunafraid, muscles swellingacross his bare chest. He’dgrown tall, and the goldencurls his mother had keptshort in his youth were nowlong, framing his face.Hunger and hard work hadchiseled his features, leavinghim with a strong jaw andhigh cheekbones. He smiled

at her, his luminous browneyesglowing

“I certainly rememberyou. Now, how couldsomething like a Nazitakeoverhavemadeyouevenprettier than I remember?You tell me; how did thathappen?” he asked, and helaughed.

She looked away,embarrassed by his forwardcomment.

“Sorry if I embarrassedyou. I’m only trying to helpyoutorelax.”

Shenodded.“Youhavebeenhidingout

intheforest?”“Yes.Areyou?”“Yes, there is an entire

groupofus,abandofHitler’sescapees,” he smiled. “Wehave learned how to survivein the wild. Can you believeit? Would you like to come

andmeet theothers?”Again,he smiled at her, a warmwelcomingsmile.

Shenodded.“By the way, this is my

friend, Shlomie. He is a Jewtoo.IguesstheNaziuniformprobably threw you off. Hetook it off a dead officerbeforeheleftTreblinka.Thatofficer had been histormentor for years. Thenthere was an uprising and

Shlomie killed him. As atrophy, he took the uniform.Right,Shlomie?”

“Yes, right. Nice to meetyou,Zofia.”

“IwasatTreblinkatoo.”“Weneversaweachother

because you were on thewomen’sside.”

“Yes, I know. But I wasalso chosen to work at thehomeoftheArbeitsführer.”

“That son of a bitch!ManfredBlau,right?”

“Yes,right.”“Once I saw him kill a

man by castrating him. Thepleasure I saw in his facewhen he cut the man mademe sick. He’s a real deviate.Maybe he is a latenthomosexual.”

She turned away feelingbile rise in her throat andwishinghewouldchange the

subject.“It’s too bad that I didn’t

seehimduringtheuprising.Iwouldhavereturnedthefavorby doing the same to him,”Shlomiesaid.

“Enough of this talk. It’supsetting. We’ve just foundZofia, why don’t we try tomake her feel welcome?Come on, Shlomie; let’s tryto take our focus off theNazis, at least for a little

while? All right? What doyou say Zofia? Would youlikethat?”

“Yes, good idea,” Zofiasaid.

“Come,followme.I’llbetyou’re hungry. We havefood,”IsaacsaidashehelpedZofiatoherfeet.

At first, she was a littlewobbly.

“Steady there.” Isaac saidtaking her arm. “I’ll help

you.”Isaacslippedhisstrong,musculararmunderhersandguidedZofiaforward.

Isaac led her through athick growth of trees to ahouse thathadbeenbuiltoutof logs. There was no glassforwindows,justopenspace,but it offered some shelterfromtheelements.

“Didyoubuildthis?”“We all built it together;

for now its home. With the

helpofGod,wewillbehereand be safe until the warends. I don’t know if youhave heard the good news,but Germany is falling. Wehad a guest the other day, aJewpassingbyonhiswaytofindhis family inRussia.Hetold us he’d heard this overthe BBC, on the radio. Hesaid that soon theAllieswillcome marching in and thewarwillbeover.”

“From your mouth toGod’sears,”Shlomiesaid.“Itshouldonlyhappensoon.”

Zofiasmiledatthem.“I’mglad you found me. I wasbeginning to feel like I wasgoing to go crazy wanderingthe forest alonewith nothingbut my thoughts andmemories.”

“The memories are thehardest part,” Shlomie said.“I avoid them whenever

possible.”Isaacknockedonthedoor

to the little cabin. “It’s IsaacandShlomie.”

“Iftack,isthatyou?”“Yes,” Isaac said, then

turningtoZofia“IftackismyYiddish name. I thought Ishouldexplain.”

“Ilikeit,Iftack.”He blushed as he opened

the door. Inside the cottage

was a single unfurnishedroom. Horse blankets laystrewnabout thefloor.Inthecorner, two rifles stoodagainst a wall and beneaththem lay a small pile ofhandguns and ammunition.Three women and four menother than IsaacandShlomiewere scattered around theroom.

“So, who is this?” one ofthe women asked. She

appeared to be around thirty,a pretty woman, tall andslender,withdarkhaircaughtinabraiddownherback.Herskin was tan against herbrightblueeyes.

“Sarah, this is Zofia. I’veknown her since we werechildren. She went to schoolwithmeinWarsaw.”

“Hello,Zofia.”ZofianoddedtoSarah.“Shlomie and I found her

intheforest.Ithinkshemightbehungry.”

“Yes, I would think so,”Sarah said watching Isaac.She seemed uncomfortablewith the way he looked atZofia, andZofiawondered ifthetwowerelovers.

“Here, sit down.” Sarahmotioned to a blanket thatwas curled up on the dirtfloor.

Zofiasatdown.

“Let me introduce you toeveryone.” Isaac said.“You’vealreadymetShlomieand Sarah. Sarah is like asister to me. You’re reallygoing to like her.” Isaacsmiled, at Sarah. Zofia sawSarah return the smile, onlytohave it fade fromher facequickly. “This is Rivka, andthatishersisterEsther.”

Zofianodded.“Over here isMosihe and

Ben. They are friends whoescaped from Auschwitz.AndthisisAaron.”

“Nicetomeetallofyou,”Zofiasaid.

“Iftack, I can understandyourkindnessandgenerosity,but we hardly have enoughfood for us. Imean, yes, wecan offer her a meal. But Ithink after she has finished,your friend should go on herway,” Sarah said, handing

Zofiaanappleandapieceofmatzo,whichhadbeenmadefromstolenflour,mixedwithwater thancookedonastoneoveranopenfire.

“We were all in herposition once, how can weeven think of turning heraway? Seriously, Sarah,sometimesyousurpriseme.Irefuse to even listen to that.Zofiastays,”Isaacsaid.

“I agree with Isaac,”

Shlomiesaid.“Let’s take a vote?” Ben

offered.“Fair enough,” Isaac

nodded.“All in favor of Zofia

staying here raise yourhands,” Ben said. Everyoneexcept Sarah raised theirhands.

“It’s decided. If youwantto stay, you are welcomehere,”Bensaid.

Zofia smiled. “Thankyou.”Shefelt thetears tickleher eyes. Bowing her headshewhispered,“Thankyou.”

“Think nothing of it,”Isaac said. “It is as it shouldbe, Jews helping other Jews,isn’tthatrightShlomie?”

“Ofcourse it is,”Shlomiesmiled.“Iamgoingouttodigupthebagofvegetables.Canyouhelpme,Isaac?”

“Yes,ofcourse.”

“Dig up vegetables?”Zofiaasked.

“Yes,” Isaac smiled.“We’velearnedtoplantthemin theground in theseburlapbags thatwe found inoneofthebarnsweraided.Infact,itwas Shlomie’s idea. He’s ascientist,youknow.Anyway,we plant them during thewinter,sothattheystayfresh.Whenwedig themupagain,sometimes during the winter

when the ground is not toohard, or the beginning ofsummer, they are perfect.That way, if we can get itduring the summer orautumn, when it is mostplentiful, we have a smallhoard of food to carry usthrough.”

“That’s brilliant,” Zofiasaid.

“Thank you,” Shlomiesaid,grinningfromeartoear.

“Itworks,anyway.”

Chapter56Over the next several

days,Zofialearnedthestoriesofhercompanions.They’dallbeen in camps except forIsaac. When the Germansbegan rounding up Jews fordeportation, his father hadinsistedthathegotolivewitha Gentile family. They’d

takenhim,forapriceandforawhile,allwaswell.Butoneof the neighbors turned themin, and the entire familywasarrested,alongwithIsaac.

As they were herded intothebackofalargeopentruckfilled with people, Isaacgrabbed the gun from theguard. Then he hit the guardacrossthefacewiththepistoland ran. As he raced acrossthe street and through the

crowds, he could heargunshots behind him. Henever looked back. He justkeptrunning.

“Godwaswithme,”Isaacsaid. “And I also believe theghosts of my parents werewithmeasmyangels.Therewerebulletsflyingallaroundme.But somehow, Iwas nothit.”

“Wheredidyougo?”“I hid in abandoned

buildings. At night, I mademywayoutofthecity,untilIreachedtheforests.”

“Then?”“Then Ihad to surviveon

my wits. I stole food fromlocal farms at night, when Icould.SometimesIdidn’teat.The winters were the worst.Theystill are,even forallofushereinthecabin.”

“I’m sure. I assume foodismorescarceandthecold…

Well… Where did yousleep?”

“Barns, mostly… Toolsheds. A cellar sometimes. Imet some very kind peoplealong the way too. Theysheltered me for a night orgave me a heel of bread. Ithelped. I couldn’t expectthem to let me stay. If theywere caught hiding a Jew,theywouldriskdeath.Buttheamazing thing is that there

were people out there whowere kind and brave enoughtotakethatrisk.”

“You were lucky to havefound the rest of these Jewshereatthiscabin.”

“Yes, Iwas,andIcherishtheir friendship. Together,things are much easier thantheywerewhenIwasalone.”

Shlomie walked over. Heplaced the bag of vegetableson the table. “Now, I am

going outside to gatherberries.Eitherofyouwanttocomealongandhelp?”

“Yes, of course,” Zofiasaid.

“Whydon’tyoustayhereandhelpmecleantheguns?”Sarah said to Isaac. “Thepicking of a few berriesdoesn’ttakeanarmy.”

Isaaclookeddisappointed.“Yes,allright.”

ZofiaandShlomiewalked

through the forest. “Now,here, letme showyouwhichones we can eat and whichwe can’t.” Shlomie showedZofia what was edible andwhatwaspoisonous.

“Youlearnedallofthis?”“I was going to major in

science. I planned to findcures for diseases, if I hadbeen allowed to attendcollege. I had big plans. Butnow I am just happy that I

knowa littleaboutbotany. Ithelps the group. I makemedicineswhenIcan,too.”

“Youliveontheplantsforthemostpart?”

“No,we live onwhateverwe can get.We steal a littlefood from a local farm.Sometimes people are kind,and they give us food. Isaachas learned to fashion a bowand arrow. He hunts. Wenever use our ammunition to

hunt because we might needit to fight if the German’severfoundus.”

“A bow and arrow?Really? I remember Isaac asbeingthisshylittleboy.”

“Yes,well,theNazishavemanaged to change all of us.I’ve learned to fish with mybarehands.Canyouimagine?TherewasatimewhenIwasafraid ofwater.Now I swimlike I was born to be an

Olympicswimmer.”“You are right about that,

the Nazis really changed mylifetoo,”Zofiasaid.

“You want to talk aboutit?”

“Noandyes…Ijustcan’t.It hurts too much to talkaboutthelosses.”

“Yes, I know. I lost myparents, my sisters, and myfiancé.”

She nodded.Theywalkedin silence for a while,gathering berries and greenplants.

“Shlomie?”“Yes…”“IsaacandSarah, theyare

acouple?”“She would like them to

be.Heisdistant.It’sstrange.I mean, Isaac is one of thekindestpeopleIknow.Butheis hard to get close to. He

keepshisdistancefromallofus. I guess it is his way ofsurviving.”

“That make sense. If younever let yourself loveanyoneoranything,youcan’tget hurt. Still, you’re right.Heisverynice.”

“Yes, he is. And you’reprobably right. That isprobably why he doesn’tallow anyone in, not really.Hekeepstohimself,goesout

alonetohunt.Heisgenerousand always shares his killwith the group. But I thinkthat a part of himdiedwhenhe had to leave his family,and then when he had tocomeoutintotheforests.”

“Doeshetalktoyou?”“Alittle…Notmuch.You

are going to see that here inourlittlegroup,nobodypries.Every one of us has a pastthat is unpleasant.Peoplewe

loved, gone, disappeared,dead.Weeachsharewhatwechose to share, but no oneasksquestions.”

“Can I ask you aquestion?”

“Yes, if you would like.”Hehad been kneeling over agreenleafyplant.Hestoppedandlookedup.

“You were in Treblinka,yes?”

“Yes.” Shlomie nodded,

lookingupather.“Did you know a man

namedDovidGreenspan?HewasfromWarsaw?”

“Yes,Iknewhim.”“You did?” She felt her

heartjumpinherchest.“Ishe…alive?”“No, I’m sorry. The

Arbeitsführershothim.Isawitwithmyowneyes.”

“Dovid?”Shesatdownon

theground.Itwastoohardtotakethisnewsstandingup.

“Yes.”“Hewasafriendofmine.”“Yourboyfriend?”“Yes and no. Just

someone I once knew.” Shefelt her heart sink. Dovid…Poor Dovid… Fruma…Gitel…Dovid.

“I’msorry.”“You knew the

Arbeitsführer?”sheasked.“ManfredBlau?”“Yes.ManfredBlau.”“Oh yes, I knew him. He

wasasadist.Ahorribleman,one of the worst…He hatedthe men, had some sort of asexual problem with them. Iamnot surewhat itwas.Buthe did terrible things.Castrated them, torturedthem.Itwashorrible.”

“I knew him too. But he

was no homosexual. Youmentionedthatbefore.Buthewasn’t;Iassureyou.”

Shlomie nodded. “Ibelieve you.And…I’m sorryfor your suffering. I guessthatisallIcansay.”

“Yes, and I feel the sameforyours.”

“You like Isaac, don’tyou?”

Sheshrugged.

“Icantell.Heisadifficultman, a loner. I wouldn’twanttoseeyougethurt.”

“Idon’tthinkIlikehiminthatway.Iamjustimpressedwith how he has grown upintosuchastrongandcapableman.”

Shlomie nodded his head.“All the women have aspecial place in their heartsfor Isaac. I wish I knewwhy.”Zofia thought she saw

alonginginhisgazewhenhelookedather.

Chapter57As the winter cold began

to descend upon the forest,the men took wooden slatcoversmadeof treebranchesthatthey’dbuiltandbegantocoverthewindows.

“It gets a little dark anddepressing here during thewinter. Still, we must

remember that we are thefortunate ones. We are stillalive,” Shlomie toldZofia ashe hoisted a large square ofwood slats over thewindow.Isaac came and held theheavy wood while Shlomiehammered nails into thecorners.

“Where did you fellowsget all of these tools?”Zofiaasked, lookingat theaxeandthehammers,thenails.

“Stolen,” Isaac said,smiling.

“Fromwhom?”sheasked.She watched Isaac his smilewasinfectious.

“Localfarms,mostly.Theguns were taken off of deadNazis.”

“I’mimpressed.”“Andwell you should be.

We have set up a palace foryou here, my lady,” Isaacsaid.

Shelaughed.“I’m sorry to say that the

winter will be rough. Wedon’t always have enough toeat. But we are lucky. It’strue. At least we are alive,and we’re not in camps,”Shlomiesaid.

“Atleastwearetogether,”Sarah said, and she walkedovertoIsaac.

“Yes, and of course,ladies,IwilldowhatIcanto

see to it that you do notstarve.Infact, Iwill takemytrusty bow and arrow andcatch you both your ownrabbit. How does thatsound?”

“OhIsaac,youarealwaysbeingsilly,”Sarahsaid.

“What good is life if wecan’tstayhappy?”

“He never takes anythingseriously,”Sarahsaidshakingherhead.

“No,Idon’ttakeanythingseriously, not after all that Ihave seen. I live for themoment. And right in thisvery moment, I am happy. Iamsurroundedbymyfriends.There isakettleoutsidewithanice stewsimmering.Whatmorecouldamanaskfor?”

“Love?”Sarahsaid.“Love, yes. It is the

greatest gift. It can make alldarknesslight,”Shlomiesaid.

“Thatitcan,butitcanalsomake you very vulnerable.That’ssomethingthatnoneofus can afford right now,”Isaacsaid.

“I would take the risk; Iwould be willing to pay theprice,”Shlomiesaid.

“You’resucharomantic,”Isaaclaughed.

“Have you ever lovedanyone?” Sarah asked, herglaredirectedatIsaac.

“My family, but if youmean romantically, no. Ididn’t have a chance. I wastoo young to think of thosethings when all this started,”Isaacsaid.

Once the windows weredone, the four friends satdown to eat a small meal ofmatzoandapples.

“After we are finishedeating, I amgoing outside tochop wood. Would you like

to help me, Shlomie?” Isaacasked.

Shlomienodded.“I’d like to help too,”

Zofiasaid.“YouandSarahcangather

thewoodandputitintopiles.Thatwouldbeveryhelpful.”

“Of course - I would behappy to,” Sarah took a biteofapple.

Isaac was shirtless, his

back tanned from the sun,rippled with muscles andglistening with sweat as heliftedtheaxe.Zofiacouldnothelpbut feel a tinglingwhenshelookedathim.Hisgoldenhair, his dark eyes - he waslikethepicturesof theGreekGods she’d seen in bookslongagowhenshewasstillinschool. For a second sheremembered Mr. Taylor.Whatafoolshe’dbeentofall

for him, and then to quitschool because of herembarrassment. If only she’drealized thathewasn’tworththe effort. Then again, ifshe’d never quit school shewould never have beenblessedwiththefriendshipofFruma andGitel, two peopleshe would remember for therest of her life. ShlomiewasthinnerthanIsaacwas.Itwasobvious to Zofia that the

heavy labor was harder forhim, but Shlomie choppedwoodbesideIsaac,whomadeit look effortless. In fact,Isaac amazed her. Theoverweight little Jewish sonofthebakerhadgrownintoaman who seemed able toovercome almost everyobstacle. He hunted, usuallyreturning with a rabbit orbird. Sometimes he andShlomie fished. Shlomie

would bring back a catch ortwo. But Isaac always cameback with a big smile and apile fish in his hands.Occasionally at night, themen raided the neighboringfarms. They took as little aspossible, just enough tosurvive, in hope that thefarmerswould not notice thefoodmissing. Itwaseasy tofind apple trees with rottingfruit that had fallen to the

ground. They cleared theground, collecting the applesin buckets they’d stolen. Inthe summer, at night, theywalked for miles until theywere far enough from thecabin to feel safe. Then theydug up potatoes, carryingthemback tobury themnearthe cabin for the lean wintermonths. Several times in thefall during their hunt forpotatoes, they found corn

growing along the edge offorest, which they took andhorded.

One night Isaac walkedfor almost ten miles to stealextra horse blankets. Heexplained before he left thathedidnotwant to take themfrom the barns nearby, lestthey come in search of thethieves. All night long Zofialaid awake, listening andwondering if he’d been

caught. Nobody else seemedconcerned,andshewonderedhowoften he did this sort ofthing.Butnomatterhowhardshetried,shecouldnotsleep.Her mind raced withfrightening possibilities. Bythe time Zofia heard Isaac’sfootsteps outside the cabin,thesunhadbeguntorise.Shelay squeezing her eyes shut,pretending to be asleep, notwanting him to know how

worried she had been abouthim.

Thedoor flewopen.Withher eyes cracked just a little,she watched him lay a hugepile of horse blankets in thecorneroftheroom.Heturnedquicklytocatchherwatchinghim. A broad smile cameoverhisface,andforthefirsttime Zofia noticed that Isaachaddimples.

“Good morning to you,

princess,” he teased. “Yourhumble servant was outsecuring your needs for thewinter.”

“Yes,Icanseethat.Thankyou. I’m sure that everyoneherethanksyou,”shesaid.

She sat up, and he satdownbesideher.

“Comeonlaughalittle.Itdoesn’thurt.”

Shesmiled.

“There you go. You lookeven prettier when yousmile.”

“Oh,Isaac,aren’tyoueverserious?”

“You want I should beserious,huh?”

“Yes,sometimesIdo.”“All right then. Winter is

onitswayandIhavetomakeuse of the time I have now,while the weather is stillgood, to be sure we have

enough food and blankets tokeep us all from freezing orstarvingtodeath.”

Zofia thought about thecoat that Christa had givenherlongago.Shewishedshehaditnow.

“Whataboutmakingfires?We gathered all that wood,won’tthathelp?”Zofiaasked.

“Yesofcourseitwill,butthen again, fires send smokesignals and we have to be

careful.We can’tmake themtoo big. In fact, they cannotbemuchbiggerthantheonesweuseforcooking.”

“It is going to be rough,”Zofiasaid.Shefelttheheatofhis body next to hers. Hesmelled fresh, like the airoutside,mingledwith a littleperspiration. She inhaleddeeply, not realizing that shehad.

Isaac saw her face and

laughed. “I guess I mustsmell terrible after that walklast night. I’m going to thepond this afternoon to take abath.”

Shelookedaway.“And by the way… I

broughtyouapresent.”She turned her head to

meethiseyes.“Oh?”“It’s not much, but I

thought you might like it.Here,”he tookabarofplainbrownsoapoutofhispocket.“Ofcourse,it’snotdiamonds,but considering our presentsituation it was the best Icould do. Anyway, when Isaw this soap in one of thebarns, I thought you mightliketohaveit.”

Soap was a luxury. Andeventhoughithadbeenusedprobably on a farm animal,

Zofiawasgenuinelytouched.“Youthoughtofme?”

“Actually, yes, I did. Thewhole time I was gone.” Heputthesoapintoherhand.

“Thankyou,Isaac.Thisisverykindofyou.”

Heshrugged.“LikeIsaid,itwasthebestIcoulddo.”

“Well, itwasveryniceofyou to bring me anything,”shesmiled.

Sarah stirred where shelayacrosstheroomandZofiarealized that she was awakeandlistening.

“Nothing for me Isaac?”Sarahsaid.

“I brought blankets foreveryone,”heanswered.

She nodded, her facescrunched in disappointment.Thenshestoodupstretching.“Well… You should eatsomething. You’ve been out

walkingallnight.”The rest of the group

begantoawaken.“Wehavesomecornmeal

left from last week. I amgoingtomakesomeporridge.Ifyouwantit,helpyourself,”Sarah said, not lookingdirectlyatIsaac.Shetookthekettleandfilleditwithwater,thenheapedahandfulofmealinto the pot. With her backstraight and her head high,

shewalkedoutside.Zofia watched Sarah. She

felt bad. Sarah’s feelings forIsaac were obvious toeveryone.Zofia didnotwantto come between them. Yet,when she looked into Isaac’seyes,whenhetalkedtoherinhis cavalier style, as if theywerelivinganormallife,notstuck out in a cabin in theforest hiding from theNazis,he made her feel good and

light,sometimesevengiddy.Over the next several

weeks, everyone did whatthey could to build thestockpileforthewinter.Theyworked hard, well into thenight,while theweatherwaswarm enough to do so. Fornow,theyhadwater,butoncethe stream froze, they wouldhave tomelt thesnowoveralowfire.

“I hate the winters,”

Shlomiesaid“There is nothing we can

do.Wemustmakethebestofwhatwehave. IwillhuntasmuchasIcan.”

“Yes, but sometimes thesnow gets so high that youcannotevenwalk.”

“I’llmanage,”Isaacsaid.“I’malittlescared,”Zofia

said“Don’t be. I’ll do what I

can. I’ve learned to ice fish.That should help too. We’llgetbyjustfine.”Hesmiled.

She smiled back, a littlenervous

Chapter58The winter was brutal. It

came on with a blast offrozen air and gusty winds,carrying enough snow toreach up to the middle ofZofia’s calf. The group ofsurvivorsstayed in thecabin,all except for Isaac, whoinsistedongoingouttohunt.

He was fortunate enough tocatch a rabbit. Isaac skinnedthe rabbit. It was cold anddifficult to make a fire, butthe group watched as Isaacbuilt a small one andcookedthemeat.

Once the sun went down,it was even colder. Zofiashivered on the bare groundinside of the cabin. Theblanketshelped,butsheneverseemed to feel warm. On an

exceptionally cold night,Isaac offered her one of hisblankets.

“Buteveryonehasthree.Ifyou give me one of yoursyou’llfreeze,”Zofiasaid.

“I’llbeallright,I’mwarmblooded.” Isaac smiled andlaidtheblanketontopofher.

It did help. She feltwarmer. But as she watchedIsaactremblingfromthecold,herheartbroke.Zofia looked

over, Rivka and Esther werehuddled and sharing theirblankets together, and sowereMoisheandBen.

“Isaac, would you like tocome in and share all of ourblankets, I mean together? Itwouldbeagoodwayforbothofus tostaywarm.”Itwasabold statement, Zofia knew.Andshewasglad that itwasdark because she knew thather face had turned red. But

after all, it was bitter cold,and she meant nothing by itother than that it would helptokeepthembothwarm.

Heclearedhisthroat.Shewaitedinsilence.The

room was small. She knewthatSarahandShlomieheardher.Noonesaidaword.

“Yes,”Isaacsaidinasoftvoice. “That would probablybeagoodidea.

“You will be a

gentleman?”“Zofia, I would never be

anythingthingelse.”Clumsily Isaac slid under

the blankets beside Zofia. Itfelt uncomfortable to be soclose to him, but thewarmthof another body and theadditional blankets providedenoughheattokeepherfromshivering. At first, they layside by side withoutspeaking. But somewhere

before the break of dawn,Zofiadriftedofftosleep.Sheawoke to find Isaac asleepbeside her. He’d kept hisword.Hewasagentleman.

SarahcouldbeartolookatZofia, but when their eyesmet, Zofia saw the hurt anddisdain in Sarah’s face. Shewanted to apologize, butnothing had happened.Therewasnothing toapologizefor,perhaps just the stirring that

hadbeguninherheart.Everyone had been right.

Itwas true; foodwas scarcerin the winter. In fact, thegroupwasclosetostarvation.Isaac tried to hunt daily, butbrought back very little. Thestreams had frozen. So themen took the axe they’dstolen andwent out to breaktheice.Zofiawaitedwiththeother women, shivering asthey sat against the cabin

wall. Esther had beguncoughing. Her small, slenderbody hacked until she laydown exhausted. Zofianoticed a bloody cloth thatEstherhadbeenspitting into.It was filled with blood-tainted mucus. She watchedthe two young girls, and herheart broke with sadness. Itwas doubtful that Estherwould live much longer. Ifthe Nazis had never taken

power, these two youngwomen would be attendingparties, school, and dances.Instead, theywere strugglingforsurvival.Zofiafeltasenseof overwhelming sadness asshe watched Rivka patEsther’sbacklovingly.

It was almost dark whenthemenreturned,theirbeardsand eyelashes coated withtiny icicles. Their bodiesshookwiththecold,butIsaac

heldupafewsmallfish.“It was a success!” Isaac

said, a smile breaking on hiswind-burned face and hisvoicecrackingwithcold.

“Yes, we almost froze todeath,butwehavesomefoodanyway.” Ben said sinkingdownonthefloorandpullingan extra blanket over hisshoulders.

Isaacbegantocutthefish.The snow was so thick,

coveringalayerofice,thatitprevented them frommakingafire.

“We will have to eat thisraw,” Isaac said, slicing thefish thin. Then he burst outlaughing. “Zofia, you shouldseeyourface.”

“I’ve never eaten rawfish,”Zofiasaid.

“Come over here. Letmegiveyouapiece.”

She walked over to him.

He held a sliver of whiteslimyfleshinhishand.Eventhough she was starving, herstomachlurchedalittle.

“Idon’tknow if Icaneatthat.”

“Trust me?” Isaac said,smiling.

Zofianodded.“Openyourmouth.”Shedidasheasked.Heputthesliveroffishin

her mouth. At first, shegagged.

“Think of the wonderfulsmells when my motherbaked bread. Do yourememberhowtheyfilledthestreets?”

She nodded. Her mindbegan to embrace thememory.

“Everyone for milesaroundrushedintobuyit,assoon as the bread started to

bake, because of the smell.Remember?”

She nodded, and he putanotherpieceofrawfishintohermouth

“And the cookies… Ah,do you remember thecookies? The ones with theapricotjam?Andthestrudel?The raisin and vinegarstrudel…”

“Yes, I do,” she said.She’dswallowedthefish.

“Come on, open up yourmouth,” Isaac said, speakingto her as if she were a littlegirl.

Zofia opened her mouth,andIsaacputanotherpieceoffishinside.

Thistimesheswallowed.“Thinkofotherfoodwhile

you are eating this. It willhelp.” Isaac smiled. Then heputanotherpieceof fish intohermouth.

Shegagged.“Challah, think of thick,

braided challah on Fridaymorning for theSabbath,”hesaid.

Shenodded.When she’d finished

eating a few thick pieces ofthe fish, Zofia looked intoIsaac’s smiling eyes. “Iwanttothankyou,”shesaid.

“Noneed,”heanswered.

“Youhelpedmetogetthatdown.”

“I know. It was hard forme at first too.But themindisverystrong.Youcanmakeyourself believe that whatyou are eating is somethingelse.”

“Itworked.”“I’m glad. And I will do

what I can to help youanytime you need it,” Isaacsaid. Their eyes locked. The

warmth she saw in his deepbrowneyesmeltedherheart.

Everyone tried to keepmoving as much as possibleto avoid freezing to death.They walked in circlesaround the cabin withblankets wrapped aroundtheir shoulders, watching astheir breath turned the airwhite.

“I know this is hard onyou. It’s true that thewinters

are rough, but if we cansurvive, we’ll be all rightoncespringcomes.Youhaveto think that spring is justaround the corner,” Isaacsaid. His beard had grownthick.

“You look like a rabbi,”sheteasedhim.

“DoI?”“No,youlookmorelikea

caveman.”He laughed, “Now that I

canbelieve.”Shlomie watched them,

andshesawthe loneliness inhis eyes. If only she coulddivide herself and becometwo people, one for ShlomieandoneforIsaac.

“Asterribleasthesnowis,it is beautiful. Don’t youagree?” Isaac asked, pullingherattentionbacktohim.

Shegazedoutthewindow.Itwas likeawonderland that

she’dreadaboutinfairytaleslong ago - so long ago, inanotherlifetime.

“Yes,it’sbeautiful.Likeafairy tale, except if yourememberinfairytales,thereisalwaysanevilforce.’

“Well,we certainly aren’tlacking there. We have awhole group that is an evilforce - in fact an entirecountry.Germany.Nowthereis one evil force. They top

any monsters in any fairytalesIeverheard,”hesaid.

“Do you believe that allGerman’sarebad?”

“Ido.”“They aren’t. I promise

you this. I’ve known someverywonderfulGermanswhoaren’tNazisatall.”

“Idon’tbelieveit.”“You should believe it. I

would never lie to you,

Isaac.”“But lookwhat they have

done to us. If they weredecent people why couldn’tthey stand up to Hitler andstophismadness?”

“Maybe theywereafraid?Maybe they were victimstoo.”

“Perhaps.”Henodded.“Without even taking

muchtimetothinkaboutit,Iknow at least two wonderful

women who are both non-Jews. One is Polish and theother is German. Neither ofthemwereNazis.”

“I wouldn’t trust eitherone.”

“I’ve had to trust both ofthem, each of them withsomething very important tome.”

“Do you want to talkaboutit?”

“No,Ican’t.Notyet.”She

thought about Eidel andKatja.

“Someday you will tellme?”

“Yes, someday,” Therewas a spark in Isaac’s eyesthatmadehimdifferent fromany man she’d ever known.How could he stay sooptimistic against the oddstheyfacedeveryday?Buthedid.Yes,somedayshewouldtellhim.

The following morningEstherwasdead.Rivkaweptsilentlyasthemencarriedthebody of the beautiful younggirl out of the cabin anddeeper into the forest. Noone, mentioned it, buteveryone knew that thegroundwas too hard to buryher.Estherwouldbeeatenbywild animals that were alsotryingtosurvivethewinter.

Chapter59“Another filthy camp full

offilthyJews…Ithoughtthatwhen we left Treblinka, IwouldbesenthometoBerlin.Willthisblackmarkthatyourfatherputonmynameneverbe erased? How long,Christa?HowlongmustIpayforhiscrimes?”

Christa lay in bed, Katjacurled up beside her. Thesound of her laboredbreathingfilledtheroom.

“You have no answer? Itried to telephone Goebbels.He was in a meeting withOtto Detrich, that good fornothing. Do you rememberhim?”

“No.I’msorry,Idon’t.”“He was a bastard.

Anyway, the secretary

promisedJosephwouldreturnmy call. But he hasn’t. I’vebeenwaitingallday.Do youknowwhyhehasn’t? I’ll tellyou why. Because I amconsidered bad news. Tobefriend me is to join thetraitors. And of course,Josephwants no part of that.Whywouldhe?”

Christa shrugged, tooweak to answer, tooweak toendure another argument.

Christa was recovering froma recent heart attack. She’dspenttheprevioustwoweeksin a hospital connected totubes, worried because she’dbeen forced to leaveKatja inManfred’scare.

KatjawastooyoungtotellChrista what had happenedwhile she was away.However, since Christa’sreturn home, she’d noticedthat Katja was quiet when

Manfredentereda room,andsheseemedtomakeanefforttostayoutofhisway.Christawas afraid that Manfred hadbeen physically violent withthe child; it was so easy forhim to lose his temper.NowwhenManfred calledKatja’sname be it for dinner orotherwise, she trembled andhid under the sheets in hermother’sbed.

“Look at you. You’ve

become an invalid. I amashamed that my wife is asicklyweakling.As if thingsare not bad enough…”Manfred stomped around theroom, speaking more tohimselfthantoChrista.

“I’m sorry Manfred, foreverything.” Christa saidwishingthatZofiawerehere.She trusted Zofia, cared forher. If Zofia were here,Christa would devise a plan

for her to takeKatja and runaway.Itwasamatteroftimebefore Germany would beforcedtosurrender.Whenshewas born, the doctors hadsaid shewouldnot live long.Foralongtime,she’drefusedto believe them. Now sheknew it was true. Her lifewould be cut short, andwhowouldtakecareofherchild?She could not trustManfred.Oh Zofia, Zofia, where are

you?“This house is a filthy

mess.I’llhavetogetanotherJewess to help you aroundhere. I hate having them inthe house for somany damnreasons.Yourealizethattheycannotbetrusted.Theysteal,they lie… But still, we needone. Somebody has to doyourwork.”Manfred left theroominahuff.

Christa looked away, and

gazed out the window. Solong ago, she’d loved thisman, loved him with all herheart. It was hard to believethat Manfred was the samemanshe’dmarried.Whathadhe become? Where was theshyly gentle lover she’dfallen in love with? Gone -power hungry, and goneforever. Tears trickled downherface.

“Mommy, don’t cry.

Pleasedon’tcry,”Katjasaid.Since Zofia, left Katja, hadstarted to call herMother. Itmade her heart ache everytime she heard theword.Ohhow she had once longed tohearthatveryword.Nowshefelt as if she’d made amistake taking a child shewouldneverlivetoraise.

“I’m all right.” Christamanageda smile and ranherhand over Katja’s head.

“Why don’t you go and getyour baby doll and we cangive her a bottle? I’ll betshe’shungry.Icantell.”

“I think you’re right. I’llbe right back. It is time forherdinner.”

“Yes,itis…”Christasaid,using all the effort she couldmuster to lift her body to situp in bed. Even though shewas tired, she would playwithKatja.The child had no

oneelse.The phone rang. Christa

saw Katja jump at the loudsound. Something hasterrified her. Oh Manfred,whatdidyoudo?Didyouhitthis little girl in my place?Please,God,letitnotbetrue.

Katja returned with herdolltuckedunderherarm.

“You were right Mama.She told me she is veryhungry.”

“Well, let’s not keep herwaitingthen.Let’sfeedher.”

About a half hour later

Manfred brought bread,cheese, and fruit to Christaand Katja on a tray, alongwithatalldecanterofwater.Hesetitdowninfrontofhiswife.

“I’m sorry. I don’t meanto be so harsh with you,”Manfredsaid.

“Thank you for bringingour dinner,” Christaanswered, tears filling hereyes again. SometimesManfredwoulddosomethingso kind, and it would touchher so deeply. Katja curledintohermother’sside.

“I have excellent news.Goebbels called,” Manfredsaid.

“Oh?Whatdidhesay?”“Hewantsme to come to

Berlin. There is to be ameeting in Hitler’s bunker. Iam invited.Maybe this curseisfinallylifting.MaybeIwillfinally be forgiven. I amelatedrightnow.”

“Whenmustyouleave?”“Nextweek. Iwillhavea

Jewesshere tohelpyouwitheverything. I’ll see to itbeforeIleave.”

Chapter60The newwomanManfred

found to take Zofia’s placeturned out to be nothing likeZofia.Shewasprettyenough,and he thought she wouldmakea finesubstitute forhisneeds,butManfredcouldseethat she just didn’t have thecompassion for the child or

his wife that Zofia hadshown. In fact, if he’d hadtimebeforehistriptoBerlin,hewouldhavesentherofftothe gas chamber and gottenanotherone.Buthewas in ahurry. His mind focused onBerlinandthemeeting.

Manfredpackedcarefully.Inthemorninghe’dbeonhisway, perhaps thiswould turnouttobetheroadbacktothelife he’d cherished. What

wouldn’t he give to be awayfrom the camps? The smellsof blood, feces, sickness,vomit, and death hauntedhim. The looks on the facesof the prisoners tormentedhim at night robbing him ofhis much-needed rest. Oftenhe’d awaken feeling that hewas face-to-face with Godand forced to answer for hisactions, his body bathed insweat. Even so, the strange

thing was that somehow, asmuch as he loathed theprisoners and all they stoodfor, he’d come to enjoy thepower, to thrive on it: theknowledge that he was Godtothepoorsoulswhoworkedunder his command. At anytime, he might chose to endtheir lives.Or,shouldhefeelbenevolent, he might handthemacrustofbread. Itwasall in his hands. Ultimately,

whether they lived or dieddepended upon little morethanhismood.Sometimesthedepthofhispowercouldsendhimintoastateofecstasy.Atother instances, all of thedecisions forced upon himwere nothing butannoyances.Itwasastrangemixture of emotions; he feltthatwascertain.

“Behave yourself,”ManfredtoldtheJewessashe

carried his luggage to thedoor.“IfIreturnandmywifehas any complaints aboutyou, I will see to it that youare made to be very sorry.There will be a guardwatchingyoureverymove,soI suggest you do as you’retold.Doyouunderstandme?”

Theyoungwomannoddedherhead.

Manfred lifted her chin,squeezingtightlytomakehis

point. “Answer me when Italk to you.” His voice wassoft and controlled, but theunderlying threat was verypresent.

“Yes, Arbeitsführer, Iunderstand.”Shesaid.

“Good, then we shouldhavenoproblems.”

Manfred peered intoChrista’s room. The sun hadjustbeguntorise.Christalayinbed,withKatjabesideher,

herarmswrappedaround thechild. Manfred gazed at thelittle one. How pretty she’dgrowntobe,herblondecurlslying across Christa’s arm,herthumbinhermouth.Suchabeautifulchild. Christa,ontheotherhand,waswitheringaway.Manfred felt a pain inhis chest as he looked at hiswife. Once, they’d been sohappy. Once, they’d been soin love. He wanted to go to

her and leave her with atender kiss, but somethinginsideofhimwouldnotallowhim to. He stood for severalmoments just gazing at thewoman who still, somehow,after all they’dbeen through,held his heart in her hand. Ifonlyhecouldtellher.But,hecouldnotletherknow.Why?He could not forgive herfather. He could not forgiveher. There were no clear-cut

answers, only a millionquestions. If, nonot if,whenshe died, he knew he wouldbedevastated;yet,shehadnoidea. Somewhere he’d losthimself.

Manfred hung his head,then lifted his suitcase andheaded outside, where thedriverwaswaiting.

Chapter61Three days later,Manfred

wasonhisway tomeetwithGoebbels at a pub a fewblocks away from the officeof the Ministry ofPropaganda.Althoughhehadacarathisdisposal,Manfredchosetowalk.Heneededthetime to sort out his thoughts.

As he meandered down thefamiliarstreets,theemptinessthat constantly plagued himfeltlikeablackholegrowingdeeper in thepitofhischest.EventhoughChristawasstillhis life, and the onlywomanhe’deverloved,hecouldnotfind a way forgive her. Hisresentmentforherfather,andthe fact that she’d taken hisside, had swallowed theirmarriage,leavingnothingbut

an empty shell. If onlyvisions of her father’sexecution didn’t come tomindeverytimehelookedather.Ifonlyhecouldtakeherinhisarmsthewayheusedtoand tell her how much shemeant to him. “Christa,Christa…Itwasallforyou,”he found himself speakingaloud. “Everything was foryou, and now I am buried.I’vetastedpower,andonceI

did, it became an addictionthat I could not livewithout.Then, it was wonderful tofindacceptance.I’dneverhadthat as a boy, but Goebbelsgave that to me. I becamesomeone,someoneimportant.Can’tyousee,Christa?Yourfatherstolethatfromme,andnow every day I am fightingto regain what I’ve lost.Without the Party, I amnothing; I am no one. I am

just the old Manfred: weak,helpless, pathetic. Nothingmore than a small,uncoordinatedlittleboyintheback of the room at themeetingoftheHitlerJugend,hearingtheotherslaughatmewhen they chose their teams,always knowing I wouldnever be chosen. You know,atnight,sometimesIawakenand I can still hear thelaughterandteasingfromthe

other children. Those boys,thosenaturallygiftedathletes,would never have believedhow far I’ve come. Theywould never have thoughtthat Manfred Blau would bemarried to the beautiful andpopular Christa Henkener.And how I loved you,Christa… How I still do…”Quickly he took ahandkerchief fromhispocketandwipedhiseyes.Howsilly

for him to bewalking alone,talkingtohimselfandcrying.Heforcedhisshouldersback.He wore the uniform of theSS; he must look a fool,shouldanyonebewatching.

Still, his mind drifted tohiswife.Atanytime,itcouldall end. Christa was dying,and he could not save her.When he considered herdeath, pangs of anxiety torelikethebladeofaknifeathis

insides. I am going mad, hethought.Imustgetcontrolofmyselfandquickly.Hetookadeep breath, inhaling thefreshair.Iamsohaunted,hethought, and then he thoughtabout the upcomingmeeting.What if this meeting meantthe end of his work for theNazi Party? Perhaps theymeanttodischargehimofhisduties. One could never besurewherehe stood,orwhat

theNaz’smightdo.Theveryidea terrified him. Hadsomeonebeguntorealizethathewasnot thepowerfulmanhepretended tobe?Did theyknow he was a fake, that hewas not really strong at all?In fact, every day he hidbehindhisuniform.

Everyday.The child… He thought

about Katja. That child hadneverhadthechancetotouch

his heart or to mean a greatdealtohim.Itwasn’tKatja’sfault, but she’d arrived intheir lives just as things hadturned.When he’d agreed toadopt a baby, it had beenmore for Christa andHimmler’s approval than forhis own needs. Perhaps ifthings had gone differently,he might have come to careabout the little girl. But as itstood, she was little more

than a burden, and he had tostifle the desire to hit herwhen she interrupted histhoughts or his work. WhenChrista had been in thehospital, he’d beenoverwhelmedwithworryandwork, leaving him tense andunable to control himself.He’d beaten Katja. Then hefelt terrible. Manfred knewthat both his wife and childfeared him, and it saddened

himinmanyways.Infact,heknew that all the prisonerstook great care to stay clearofhisflare-upsofanger.Andthen, therewas that girl, thatJewess, Zofia. Those dark,broodingeyesofherscametohim in dreams, haunting andtauntinghim.Sheepitomizedthe guilt he felt for all he’ddone to her people. But howcould he feel so guilty, andyet still need the feeling of

power that he held over thestarving Jews who workedunderhim?Whenhe thoughtofthem,thesmellofdirtanddiseasetheybroughttomind,the lookof their sunkeneyesand emaciated bodiessickened him. He longed tobeawayfromthecamp,awayfrom them. And yet, if hewere, he would never havethat god-like feeling thatburned within him when he

decided who would live andwhowoulddie.

As he approached thetavern, he took ahandkerchief from his backpocket and wiped the sweatfromhisbrow.

“Manfred!” JosephGoebbels called to him fromthebackof theroom.“Comeover here. It’s been a verylongtime.”

Manfred headed to the

tablewhereGoebbelssat.“HeilHitler.”“Heil Hitler,” Goebbels

said. “You’ve lost someweight,Manfred.”

Manfred thought of howdifficult the smells at thecampmadeitforhimtoeat.

“Yes, I have. You’relooking well, sir,” Manfredlied. Dr. Goebbels lookedstrained. He’d always beenskeletally thin, but now his

clotheshungonhim.“We have much to

discuss, but not here. Thereare toomany people around,and with times as they are,you just cannot be sure whoyoucantrust.Letmepaythischeck andwe can be on ourway.”

Dr. Goebbels left tworeichmarks on the table andmotioned for Manfred tofollowhim.

“How have you been?”Goebbels asked as theywalked.

“I’vemanaged.”“Dirty business, those

camps.”“Yes.”“Unfortunately, they are

necessary if we are ever toachieveourgoalsofaperfectAryanworld.”

Manfred nodded, but he

wondered how JosephGoebbels would feel in hisposition,how theMinisterofPropagandawould copewiththe daily doses of death anddisease he’d been forced toput up with. It was a nastybusiness.

“Anyway, this meetingthatwearegoingtoattendistop secret. You must neverreveal anything that is saidhere to anyone. Do you

understand?”“Yes,Doctor.”“Good.Ittookagreatdeal

of convincing on my part tosecure your invitation. Thereis still greatmistrust for youintheParty.”

“You realize that it wasnever me. It was my father-in-law.Ihadnoidea.”

“I know that. But theothers…”

“Yes, and no matter howhard I work for the Party,theyneverseemconvinced.”

“Things have becomerather ugly. Party membersare constantly looking forreasonstoturnoneachother.Manfred…we are losing thewar.”

“I know.” And eventhoughheknewit,therealityofwhatGoebbelssaidhithimlikea slapacross the face. If

Germany lost the war, whatwouldbecomeofhim?

Theywalkedinsilenceforseveral moments. Anautomobile honked, as adriveryelledanobscenityoutthe window of his car atanotherdriverwho’dcuthimoff.

“ThismeetingisabouttheParty’s plans for the future,”Goebbels said. “There was ameeting a couple of years

ago. I’m sure you receivedthememo.Distastefulstuff…LiketheFinalSolution.Thatwasthebeginningofwhatwemustdiscusstoday.”

“Youaretalkingaboutthememo to step up theexterminations?”

“Yes. We must try tocomplete this mission asquicklyaspossible.”

“Yes,Igotthememo,andwe have increased the

gassings. The ovens areworking at full capacity.Didyou attend the meeting? Theone concerning the FinalSolution?”

“No, I wasn’t invited,”Goebbels frowned. “I wastold it was given byHeydrick. Took placesomewhereinWansee…”

“Ithas certainly increasedthe work load at the camp.The guards complain about

theiradditionalhours.”“First you were at

Treblinka,andnowyouareatAuschwitz?”

“Yes. You heard whathappenedatTreblinka?’

“Of course I heard. Wewereforcedtocloseitdown.Inmates got out of hand. Itdidnotreflectwellonyouortheotherofficersincharge…losingcontrollikethat.”

“Yes.Iknow.Iamsorry,”

Manfred turned away.Another catastrophe he wastobeblamedfor.

“HowisAuschwitz?”“It’s run well. I am in

charge of work details.However, because of theeliminationprocess, therearefewer and fewer prisonersavailabletowork.”

“Well,wemustfinishthisFinal Solution businessbeforetheendofthewar.”

“Is this what the meetingisabout?”Manfredasked.

“No. That has alreadybeendecided.Enoughtalkonthe street.Wewill talkmorewhen we arrive at ourdestination.” Goebbelsseemed jumpy. He keptlooking in all directions.Manfred worried thatsomeone at this meetingmight decide to rehash hisfather-in-law’streason.

Silently the two menwalked down the dimly litstreet. It was dusk. The sunhad left the sky, and with itmost of the light of day.Following Goebbels’ lead,they turned downWilhelmstrabe and into thegarden of the old ReichChancellery Building.Manfredcastaside-glanceatGoebbels. He could notimaginewhytheyhadentered

a garden at night. Goebbelsdidnotlookback.Hewalkedto the back of the building.Manfred followed. ThenGoebbelslookedaroundhim.

“Come,”Goebbels said toManfred.“Followme.”

They entered the back ofthe old Reich Chancellerythrough a hidden door. Asingle light bulb lit the dark,damproom.

Manfred followed

Goebbels down a longmetalstaircase, theirheelsclankingas they went. It seemed likeanendlesswalk.Manfredwasfrightened. Even though hetrusted Goebbels as much ashe could trust anyone in theParty, he could not be surethat his demise was not athand.

Twenty-eight feet belowthe garden of the old Reichbuilding,theyenteredaseries

ofroomssurroundedbythickconcrete.Theroomswerelitwith lamps and wellfurnished. Other Partymemberswalked through therooms, greeting each otheranddrinkingschnapps.Itwasactuallyameetingandnothisexecution;Manfred had beenworried. He breathed a sighofrelief.

Hitler’s secretary, aslender woman with dark,

wavyhairgreetedthem.“HeilHitler.”“HeilHitler.”“Good evening, Dr.

Goebbels. Would yougentlemencareforadrink?”

“Yes. Would you like adrinkManfred?”

“Yes, that would be verynice,” Manfred said. Thealcohol would calm hisnerves.

“This is my old friend,Manfred Blau. Manfred, thisis Truadl, our Füehrer’ssecretary.”

“I recall your name.Didn’t the Fuehrer attendyourwedding?” the secretaryasked.

“Yes. You have quite amemory.”

“I have to. It’s my job.”Shesmiledathim.

The woman took a

decanterofcarvedcrystalofftheshelf.Thecrystalsparkledin the light where a largeswastika had been etched onthe side. She poured thembothadrink.

“Make yourselvescomfortable. The meetingwillbegininafewminutes,”She said as she handed themtheglasses.“Rightoverthere,intheFuehrer’sstudy.”

“Thank you, Truadl,”

Goebbelssaid.“Verynicetofinallymeet

you,”TraudlsaidtoManfred.“Likewise,” Manfred

smiled.“Come. Let me introduce

youtoeveryone.”It was warm in the

underground bunker, verywarm.The airwas thick andstifling. Manfred felt thesweatbeneathhisuniformasGoebbelsmadeintroductions.

“ThisisDr.Claubrerg.Heis doing some fascinatingwork with some of thesubjectsfromthecampwhereyouareworking,Manfred.”

“HeilHitler.Nice tomeetyou,Dr.Clauberg.”

“You work atAuschwitz?”

“Yes, IamManfredBlau,theArbeitsführer.”

“Very good. I have beencomposing a museum of

sorts.Yousee,oncetheJewsareextinct,therewillbelittleleft to showour peoplewhatwewereforcetoeliminateinorderfortheworldtobeasitshould.So,I’veputtogetheraskeletalcollectionfromBlock10 at Auschwitz. I haveapproximately 115specimens. From thespecimens, you can see foryourselfwhy theJewsareaninferior race. If you are ever

in the area, drop by. It’s ondisplay at the university inStrasburg. Fascinating stuff,ifImaysaysomyself.”

“Sounds fascinating,”Manfredsaid.

“Yes. You see, the Jew’shave a different skullstructure than the regularperson. In fact they are notlikeusinanyway.”

“I am aware of this,although I’ve never seen an

actual comparison of skulls,”Manfredsaid.

“Doyouthinkthisiswhatmakes them so cunning anddangerous?”Goebbelsasked.

“Possibly… They arethat… Cunning anddangerous, I mean. Theycertainly cannot be trusted. Isuppose the bottom line isthattheyareinferiors.”

“For certain,” Goebbelssaid.

“The meeting is about tobegin.” Traudl entered theroom. “Gentlemen, please, ifyou would, make your wayintothestudyandbeseated.”

“We will talk later… Apleasure to meet you,Manfred,”Dr.Claubergsaid.

A large oil painting of

Fredrick theGreat, framed incherry wood, hung on thewall behind a well-

constructed desk made fromthesamewood.Aplushsofa,upholstered with fineembroidered fabric of greenwithgold trim,andmatchingchairs had been set up toaccommodate the guests. Anashtray made from a humanpelvissatonthemarbletable,with cigars placed along theedges.Onlyahandfulofmenwere present. As Hitler’ssecretary clapped her hands

tobringthemeetingtoorder,thementookseatsaroundtheroom.

“It was a feat for me toobtain permission for you toattend this meeting,”Goebbels whispered as heleanedintoManfred.

Manfred turned to thankhim. But before he couldspeak, the entire group roseupastheFuehrerenteredtheroom.

“HeilHitler.”They raisedtheir hands and voices inunison.

Hitler walked through thegroup and stood behind hisdesk. He raised his hand inanswertothegroup.

“Thank you forattending,” Hitler said, hisvoicecalmerthanusualwhenheaddressedacrowd.

“I’ve gathered you heretonight because, I am sad to

say, that thereisapossibilitythat we may be facing somerough times ahead. I deeplyregretthis,buttheReichmaylosethewar.”

A gasp came fromsomewhereinthebackoftheroom.

“However, we mustremainfirminourbelief thatweare the superior race, andthat we will rule the world.We may just need to

restructureabit.”A roar of applause

followed.“In the near future, we

may be forced to fleeGermany and regroupelsewhere, where we willrebuild. I’ve madeagreements with severalcountries in South Americawho are willing to allowformerSSofficerstomigratethere in order to restructure

theReich. Once theReich isstrong again, we will returnandreclaimGermany.”

There was another roundofapplause, lessenthusiastic.The men glanced around theroom meeting each other’sfrightenedgazes.

“Iamafraidthattheworldwill not understand what wehave done here. There is agood possibility thatwemayfaceprosecution.Therefore,I

have discussed ourpredicament with severaldoctors who have proventhemselvesloyaltoourcause,andwhoareableandwillingto reconstruct the faces ofthose who will be going toSouth America. Your hairwill be made dark brown orblack. Photographs will bekept as records of youroriginal faces with photos ofyour newly constructed faces

so that there is no confusionas toyour true identitywhenyou arrive at your newhomes. You will look likeJews, and thereforewill passeasily as survivors of thecamps.Only top SS officialswho have been cleared forthisworkwillhaveaccess tothe original pictures andinformation, so your securitywill be safe. I have alsobegun having papers forged

foryou thatwill identifyyouasJewishrefugees.Donotbeoffended. This, I feel, is thebest way for us to hide.Wewillhideinplainsight!Now,I am planning to join you. Iwill not be having my facereconstructed until I am surethat we cannot recoverGermanyat this time.Then Iwill do what must be done.Once you are relocated, youwillreceiveacontactthatwill

askyou tomeet at a specificlocation. Remember thesewords for they are the passcode, letting you know thatthecontactislegitimate.Thisis the beginning of themessagethatyouwillreceivein South America: “Won’tyou please joinmywife andme for a glass of wine tocelebrate our weddinganniversary?” It will besigned, “Julio,” which is a

common name among ourSpanish- and Portuguese-speakingfriends.Thisisyourindication that the messagehas come from the Naziorganization.Youwillfollowtheinstructionsastotimeandplace. Once you arrive, youwill find thatweare togetheronceagain.Andthenwewillbegin to make plans to re-establish our control of ourcountry.Isthisunderstood?”

“Yes, my Fuehrer,” themenanswered.

“Whatwedo,wemustdofor the preservation of theFatherland,”Hitlersaid

“Yes, my Fuehrer.” Theroomvibratedwiththeecho.

“Close your mouth,”Goebbels whispered toManfred.“Youlooklikeyourtryingtocatchafly.”

Manfredglancedsidewaysat Goebbels; his face could

notconcealtheshockatwhathe’djustheard.

“You should see yourexpression,” Goebbels said,“It’salmostlaughable.”

“And you’re notastonished?”

“Iam,inaway,Isuppose.But I’ve known for a whilethat wewere losing the war.AndIwasjustwaitingforourbrilliantFuehrer to come upwitha solution, away forus

toregainpower.Ithinkthisisgenius.Don’tyou?”

“Oh…yes.”“You don’t sound

convinced.”“Iamstunned.Imean,it’s

a lot to absorb: SouthAmerica, reconstructivesurgery to make ourselveslook like Jews…Overwhelming…”

“Yes,Isupposeso.Butatleast,withmyinsistence,you

have been selected to joinus.”

“I thank you for that.”Manfred smiled. “I amgrateful for all that you’vedoneformeDr.Goebbels.”

“I know you are. I knowyou have always been.”Goebbels patted Manfred’sshoulder. “Now, don’t lookso bleak. I am saddened too.None of us wants to seeGermanyfall.Andofcourse,

whowouldwant to takeonaJewishappearance?However,we must carry on. We mustmake plans, just in case weshould be left without anychoice but to act and actquickly.Iamgoingtosetupanappointmentforyouwithaqualified surgeon. His nameis Dr. Schmidt. Then, eitherhe or Iwill send you furtherinstructions,shoulditbecomenecessary to put this plan be

putintoaction.”“And you, Dr. Goebbels?

Whatwill you do?”Manfredasked,genuinelyconcerned.

“I am going to wait untiltheverylastminute.Becauseofourclosefriendship,Hitlerhas asked me to bring myfamily and join him here atthebunker. I supposehewillhave arranged everything. Iwill follow his plan fromthere. I don’t know for sure,

butIamassumingwewillbethe last to be surgicallyaltered. Then, I suppose wewillmeet upwith the rest ofyouinSouthAmerica.”

“SouthAmerica?Where?Doyouknow?”

“I don’t know for sure.Adolfhashadgoodreceptionfrom Argentina. Perhaps wewillgothere?”

“This is a lot to absorb. Iwillhavetotellmywife.”

“Hmmm, I don’t knowManfred. Your wife… Herfather…Canshebetrusted?”

“Yes, she has no contactwith anyone other than meand the child anymore. Hermother is dead, and she hasnooneelse.”

Goebbelsnoddedhishead.“Don’t tell her quite yet. Iwill let you know when thetime is right. Wait until Icontact you for further

instructions.”“I’ll wait until I receive

clearancefromyoutoinformher of everything,” Manfredsaid.

“Yes, make sure that youdothat.”

Chapter62When the cold became

unbearable, the entire groupbegan sleeping packedtogether with all of theblankets covering them tostaywarm. Isaac sleptbesideZofia.She’d come to relyonthe warmth of his body nextto hers, although there had

beennosexualadvances.Often the entire group

would lie on the frozenground in the dark of nightand reminisce about thingsthey’d done before the Nazitakeover.Shlomieoncetoldastory about how he’d won asciencefairandtraveledwitha group of ten-year-oldchildren across Germany toexplain his project to otherschoolchildren. Sarah

described how excited shewasashermotherhadcurledher hair for her first dance.Shewent on to recapture thethrill she’d felt as sheputonher new lavender dress. Thiswas the first time she woulddance with a boy. Each ofthem told a story. One nightasSarahlayontheothersideof Isaac, she cleared herthroat.

“Isaac, tell us about your

mother’sbakery.”“Ahhh… Mama’s

bakery,” Isaac said with asigh. “The best bakery intown, by far. My mamacould twist a Challah inseconds. And she baked themost wonderfulHamantaschen.”

“I remember,” Zofia said.“Iusedtogotopickupbreadand cakes for my mother.Yourmotherwasawonderful

baker.”“She was. I miss her. I

miss my father too.” Isaacsaid as he reached over tofind Zofia’s hand. Once hefound it, he took it into hisown and squeezed gently.“Youremembermyparents.”

“Ohyes,Isaac.HowcouldI forget? I even rememberyou.Youwerethelittleblondboywith the round face, andthe big smile, always eating

bread with butter,” shelaughed. “I remember somany people from the oldneighborhood.Ioftenwonderwhathasbecomeofthem.”

“Doyouthinkwewillfindanyone we knew still aliveafter the war?” Shlomieasked.

“I don’t know,” Sarahsaid.“Iamprayingeverydayformyfamily.”

“We should not dwell on

this stuff from the past,”Rivka said from across theroom. “Talking about thebakery and family onlymakes us sad. Maybe weshouldsing.”

“That’s an idea,” Zofiasaid

First they sang familiarYiddishfolktunes

“Does anyone know anyAmerican music?” Zofiaasked

“I do,” Shlomie said. “Iloveit.IusedtolistentoitasoftenasIwasableto.Ilovedthebigbands”

“This song is not swing;it’sAmericanfolkmusic.Doyouhappentoknowthesong,“YoureMySunshine?”

“I do. I know it inEnglish.”

“Yes,metoo.IlearneditalongtimeagowhenIwasstillinschool.”

Shlomie and Zofia beganto sing, “You are mysunshine, my only sunshine.You make me happy whenskiesaregray…”theirvoicesthe only sound penetratingthefrozendarkness.

Theysangitthroughonce,then again. The second time,the entire group joined inwiththewordstheywereabletorecall.

“You aremy sunshine…”

Zofia remembered Katja.She’d called her Sunshineandsecretlysungthatsongtoheratnightwhensheputhertobed.

“You make me happywhenskiesaregray…”My Eidel, my Katja,

Fruma, Gitel, Dovid,Mama…

“Please don’t take mysunshineaway.”

She heard Isaac’s deep

voicestruggling to rememberthe words. His hand stillclasped Zofia’s, and shesqueezedalittletighter.

Littlebylittle,theweatherbegantobreak.Theiciclesonthe trees melted and tinysproutsofgreenpushed theirway up through the thawingground. Even though it wasstill chilly, Zofia insisted ongoing to the stream andbathing. The water had just

defrosted, and it shocked hernakedbody.Butshetookthesoap Isaachadgivenherandscrubbedherskinandhairasquickly as she could. Thenshe dried herself with ablanket,dressed,andreturnedtothecabin.

“You smell likespringtime, itself,” Shlomiesaid.

“Why, thank you. It feelswonderfultobeclean.”

“Yes, I am sure it does. Iamgoingtothepondassoonas it gets a little warmer.Getting into thewater in thisweatherisnotforthefaintofheart.”Helaughed.

“Well, Iamgoing today,”Isaacsaid.

Zofiasmiledathim“Me too,”Sarah said, and

sheglancedoveratIsaac.“Come for a walk with

me,Zofia.”Isaacsaid.

“I’dlikethat.”The birds had begun to

return to the forest, and theirsongs filled the afternoon asthe sun filtered, golden,throughthetrees.

“Did you know that backbefore all this Nazi stuffbegan,Ihadacrushonyou?”

“Really, Isaac, I neverknew.”

“You never paid muchattention to me. But I

remember watching you andyour friend walk to schooland thinking how pretty youwere.”

She laughed. “HowprettyIwas?”

“Yes and how pretty youstillare.”

She blushed. “It’s funny,we’vesleptbesideeachotherformonths; yet,when I lookintoyoureyes,hereandnowin the light of the day, I am

shy.”“Me too,” he said. “Me

too. I cannot court you thewaythatIwouldliketo.Ourlives don’t permit it. If Icould, I would ask you todinner, maybe dancing aswell,thentomeetmyfamily.But as it stands, I have nofamily left, and the dinnerthat we share, well, I mustadmit, it isn’t quite the waythatIwouldlikeittobe,with

wineandsoftmusic. Instead,IamsorrytosaythatallIcanoffer you is wild game andfish, and that we share withtheentiregroup.Stillandall,I am incredibly attracted toyou.”

“Isaac… I don’t knowwhattosay.”

“You have never beenwithaman?”

“IfItoldyouthatIwouldbe lying. Although I would

like to lie to you, to tell youthatIamavirgin.Iguessthetruth is I was a free spiritonce.”

“Iunderstand.”“Thereweretwomenthat

I chose to take as lovers andthen there was one I did notchoose.”

“Youwereraped?”“I was forced by the

Arbeitsführer when I was atTreblinka.”

“I’msorry. Iwish Icouldkillhimwithmybarehands.”

She shrugged. “I had itbad. Many others had it farworse. At least I am stillalive.”

Hesaidnothing,butinhissilence, she knew he felthelpless.

“I have not told anyoneelse this since I left theWarsaw Ghetto, but I musttellyou.”

“Tellmewhat?”“Isaac,” she sighed, and

turned to facehim.“Ihaveachild, a daughter. She isliving with a non-Jewishfamily. Before the invasionbegan, the woman who tookher for me was my friend. Ihad someone from the blackmarket contact her while wewere in the Ghetto. Sheagreed to take Eidel into herhome and pretend Eidel was

herchild.Therewassomuchdisease in the Ghetto. I wasafraid for my daughter. So Isentheraway.”

He smiled at her andtouched her face smoothingthelinesofpain.

“Menwantawomanwhois pure. I amnot pure. ImetEidel’s father when I wasyoung and not very smart. Ithought I was in love, but itturned out that I was just a

fool. Then later, when I wasliving in the Ghetto, I met aboy.Hewaskindandgentle,and although I was not inlove with him, I learned tocareforhimdeeply.Wewereboth so lonely and so afraidofwhatthefuturemightholdthat we grasped on to eachother.Ibelievehewasinlovewithme.”

“You will search for himwhenthewarisover?”

“He’s dead. I was thecause of it. I will blamemyself forever. ” Her voicechokedinherthroat.

“Do you want to tell mewhathappened?”

“Ifyouwanttoknow.”“I want to know

everythingaboutyou.”Andsoshetoldhimabout

Koppel and Dovid, aboutFrumaandGitel,andmostofall,aboutEidel.

“So you see, I am notpure, not virginal, andprobably not worthy of youraffection.”

“I don’t want you to bepure. I just want you, justwho you are. That’s enoughforme.”

He put his arms aroundher. She allowed herself tofall into his embrace, to loseherself and hermemories fora moment. His lips brushed

hers. Theywere face to facetheireyeslocked.

“I’ve never done thisbefore. I’ve nevermade lovetoanyone.”Isaacsaid.

Shenodded.He took her face in his

hands and gently pressed hislipstohers.Tearscametohereyes, and she felt them falluponhercheeks.

“I thinkIamin lovewithyou,Zofia.”

She had never felt thisway before, not with Dovid,not with Don Taylor, notever.Zofiawanted to protectIsaac like a mother, to laywith him like a lover, and tostand at his side no matterwhat they might face in thefuture.

“I thinkIamin lovewithyou,too,”Shewhispered.

He took his shirt off andlaid it down on the ground.

Then he sat and reached forher hand, pulling her downbeside him, laying her headgently on his shirt. Zofiasighed, trembling.Afterwhatshe’d endured with theArbeitsführer, shewas afraidshe’dlostallsensationsinherbody. For so long, she’dforced the death of anyfeeling. She was wrong. Herbody tingled and sang to themusic that Isaac’s body

played. The warmth of skinagainstskinmadehertrembleand realize the need she’dsuppressedforsolong.

Whenitwasover,heheldher tightly in his arms,kissing the top of her head.She took a deep breath andmarveled.Howstrangethingswere. Zofia had feared thatafter the Arbeitsführer shewouldneverbeable toenjoythe touch of a man again.

After all of those yearsputting up with his repulsivegroping,all thewhile forcingher mind to kill anysensationsherbodymightberequired to tolerate, she wassure that somewhere alongthe line her ability to sharelovehaddiedtoo.Andthen,amiracle happened. Zofia wasblessed. She’d found truelove. Every cell in her bodyresponded, dancing with

heightened ecstasy, tingling,andembracingthepleasure.

“How can I be so happywhenIshouldbemiserable?”he laughed, holding hergentlyinhisstrongarms.

She laughed too. “I thinkloveislikethat.Itmakesyouhappynomatterwhat else isgoing on around you. Youjustcan’thelpbutsmile.”

“I can’t help but smile,”he repeated. “You are

everything I want in thisworld.”

“AndIamrighthere.AndIwillberighthere.”

“SomedayIwillbuyyouabighouseandthethreeofus:you, and Eidel and I, willhaveawonderfulfuture.”

“Do you think you couldlearn to loveachild thatwasnotyourown?”

“She isyoursandyouaremine. That makes her mine

too. I’ll adopther ifyouwillallowme to.And Iwill loveher as if she came from myloins,”Isaacsaid.

She smiled, and shethought of Katja. She hatedtheNazis,butshecouldneverbring herself to blame thechild. The poor child, who’dbeen bred by the SS to bewhattheythoughttobeideal,hadfooledthemallbecominga beautiful and loving little

girl in spite of their efforts.Zofia believed that Christawas responsible for Katja’ssweetnature.Although,ZofiaknewnothingofKatja’sbirthmother, the child had grownto be just like her adoptedmother.

“Of course I will allowyou to adopt her.” Zofiasmiled at Isaac. How couldshehave failed tonoticehimwhen they were growing up,

with his golden curls andamberbrowneyes?

They lay under theumbrella of an oak tree andwatchedafamilyofantswalkin a line along the bark. Itwas still slightly chilly, butneither wanted to return.They embraced, shiveringslightly.

“Do you remember Lena,myfriend?”

“Ofcourse,thetwoofyou

were always together. Butyouweretheprettierone.”

Zofia smiled and tickledhissideuntilhelaughed.

“I wonder about hersometimes.Iwonderhowsheis,ifsheisallright.Ihavesomany memories. There wereso many people that I thinkabout in the oldneighborhood,”shesaid

“Yes, I know what youmean.DoyourememberMr.

Zeitlman, theshoemaker?Hewas somean. Hewould yellat us as we walked homefromschool, “Stayoffof thegrass! Stay off! You andyou…and you!” Remember?Alltheboysusedtorunoverthe small patch of grassoutsidehisshopjusttoirritatehim.”

She laughed aloud. “I dorememberhim.Hewasanoldgrouch.Were you one of the

boyswhotormentedhim?”“But of course. He set

himself up for it. Every timewewalkedby,justwalkedbythefrontofhisshop,he’dcallout in that booming voice ofhis.“’Remember…thegrass!’So of course, we wouldremember. We wouldremember to walk on hisgrass,”helaughed.

“How about Mrs.Applebaum? Remember her?

She could have been a newsreporter. Every time I sawher, she would say, “So,Zofia, what have you got totell me?” I’d cringe. Thatwoman made it her businessto know everybody andeverythingaboutthem.”

“Yes, crazy old Mrs.Applebaum. What a gossip.She would come to thebakery and I’d hear mymother groan. Then mom

would say, ’Oy vey herecomesMrs.Applebaum.’”helaughed. “She’d come in andstay for at least a half hour,questioning every customerwho came in to buy. ‘So,what’s new?’ she wouldsay…and everyone knew shewas just prying into theirlives, looking for somethinginteresting.” he said, shakinghishead.

“It’s a little painful to

remember, but it is also kindofwonderful.Isupposethat’sbecause I have you toreminisce with. What ablessing to have found youagain, Isaac. We share somuchbecausewewereraisedin the same little town, andwe remember all the samepeople. It’s almost as if wecan make believe thateveryone is still alivesomewhere and we are only

away on a holiday. Sort oflike when we returneverything will be normal…asitoncewas,beforeHitler,”shesaid.

“I like to think that way.Even though it is impossiblethatnothinghaschanged.Weknowithas,but it isgood toremember. If we forgetpeople, then they will reallydie. As long as we keepmemoriesalive,thentheylive

inourmemories,”hesaid.““Yes,you’reright.Arabbi

toldme thatwhen I attendedafuneralyearsago.”

“It’strue.Butwemustnotdwellonthesadness.Instead,we should remember thegood times and the funnythings that happened. Thatway the good memories aretheonesthatstayalive.Oncethis war is over you, and Iwill startover.We’llpickup

the pieces of our lives, andknowweareblessedbyGodbecause we have survivedandwehaveeachother.”Hesmoothed her hair thencontinuedtospeak,“Ifyou’llhave me I would like to getmarried,andthenbringEidelhome to live with us.Togetherwe’llrebuild.”

“Have you ever thoughtabout leaving Europe?” sheasked

“I’venever given itmuchthought. Where would wego?”

“ToPalestine.”“Of course, someday

Palestine will be a Jewishstate…Isn’tthatthedreamofevery Jew?”He ranhishandover his chin. “Palestine. Aland of our own. Can youimagine?AplacewhereJewscan live in safety. Do youthink it’s possible? Do you

think it could ever cometrue?” He looked over intoher eyes. The sun had begunto move and it was shiningbrightly into her eyes. Shesquinted up at him. “I do. Ibelievethatthedaywillcomewhen we have a land of ourown.”

He nodded, squeezing hershoulder.

“Yes, yes…if you werewith me…I would go to

Palestine.”hesaid.She reached up and

smoothed his wild curls.“Isaac,Iwillbewithyou.”

“Then you will marryme?”

“Of course I will marryyou,”Shesmiled

“Iloveyou,Zofia.”“I love you too, very

much,” she said, her voicechokingwithemotion

He leaned down andkissed her. Her entire beingswelledwithjoy.How can I be blessed to

have such happiness whenthere are so many otherssuffering? But even guiltcould not quell the bliss shefeltinherheart.

Chapter63As winter loosened her

graspand the forestbegan tocome alive with the spring,food became more plentiful.Isaac hunted, returning withrabbits, or squirrels. Thewomen gathered ediblegreenstostewoverlowfires.The dreaded winter had

passed.ThemoodZofiaandIsaac

spread through thecabinwasone of pure happiness.Nothing could stop theconstant flow of romanticelectricity.

“Here, taste this. It’s araspberry.” Isaac put a smallhard green ball into Zofia’smouth.

“It’s bitter. It’s not ripe,”shelaughed.

“Notyet,butguesswhat?I’ve found a bush, and it’sfilled with fruit. Soon I canfeedyouraspberriesassweetas the sugar in my mom’sbakery.”

Shegiggled.“But of course, not as

sweetasyoursmile,”hesaid,touchingthesideofherface.

Theireyesmetandshefeltthe current run through herbody.Zofiahadneverbeenin

love before. What she’d hadwith the teacher was littlemore than an adolescentcrush.Dovidwasaniceman,butherfeelingsforhimwerebroughtonbyaneedtoafilla mutual loneliness. Neverhad she felt like this before.Isaacmadeherlaughandcry,and bless everyone andeverythingonthisearth,allatonce.Yes, sheknew that shewas stuck in a cabin deep in

thewoods,with limited foodand resources for survival.Yes, she’d almost frozen todeath this past winter. Yes,she’d lost her friends andfamily, and shemissed themterribly. Yes, she had adaughter somewhere out inthe world whom she longedtosee.Yes, therewasa littleGerman girl whose well-being she worried about.And, yes, she should have

been miserable. But she’dneverbeenhappierinherlife.

Ben and Moishe wereannoyed.

“You walk around herelikeyou’reonsomesortofahoneymoon. Quite frankly,it’s getting on my nerves,”Bensaid.

Zofia looked over at theothers and realized thatperhaps their suffering wasmadeworsebyherjoy.

“We could walk aroundhere like the walking dead,but why? We are the luckyones,allofus.Wearealive,”Isaacsaid.

Sarah sunk down againstthewallandsaton the floor.Zofiasawthelookinhereyesandwassaddened.

“I’malone. Ihavenooneleft. I saw my parentsmurdered, shot, right in frontofmy eyes. Sowhat is there

to be happy about? I amlucky you say? Ha!” Sarahsaid

“And I’ve been beaten toless than a man. I couldn’tevendefendmywifeandtwochildren.Iwatchedasaguardforced themaway into a lineto a gas chamber. And whatdidIdo?Istoodthere.Iwastoo afraid to do anything.Now I am overcome withself-hatred,” Ben said, the

words like venom camespittingoutofhismouth.

“Iwas forced to burymymother.Isawthemshootherand they made me dig thehole,” Moishe said, his eyescold,likeglass.

“Stopthis.Doesitdoyouany good to wallow in selfpity?” Isaac said. “We haveall lostsomeone;wehavealllostagreatdeal.Idon’tknowwhere my family is. I don’t

know if Iwill ever see themagain.ForallIknow,theyarealldead,andchancesaretheyare dead. Now, I have onlytheirmemories to keep closeto my heart.” He lookedaround at them, scanning theroom, meeting each person’seyes before he continued.“Butwearealive…wehaveachance for a future, a chanceto rebuild and start again. Ifyouwant to honor those you

lovedandlost,honorthembyhonoring God’s greatest gift:life.”

“Easy for you to say,Isaac,you’vefoundsomeone.You’ve managed to fall inlove in the worst possibleconditions. My hat is off toyou. But for me, it is justanother day, filled with painandmemories,”Shlomiesaid,and he got up and walkedoutside. The others followed

leavingZofiaandIsaacaloneinthecabin.

“Isaac” Zofia said, “Itmakesmesadtoseewhathasbecomeofallofus.”

“Yes, itdoes.ButZofia,Icannotbesadwhen I lookatyou,andIknowthatGodhasblessedme.”

She felt the tears forminginhereyes.Hetookherinhisarmsandforseveralminutes,theywere lost in thewarmth

ofeachother’sembrace.

Chapter64The Nazis watched in

horror as the Allies camecrashing in on them fromboth the east and the west,their dreams of a thousand-year Reich bursting intoflamesrightbeforetheireyesasthebombsfelluponBerlin.Hitler’s pride kept him from

admitting that he’d made afatalerrorbyinvadingRussiawhile the country wasembroiled in a war with theBritish. But Manfred knew.He could see the writing onthewall.Itwasonlyamatterof time before Stalin camemarching into his belovedcountry with a vengeance.The previous summer theAllies had landed on theshoreofNormandy.Manfred

sat inhisoffice,glued to theradio listening to the updateson the bloody battle.Germany had given it theirall,but theywerewarweary.And, the Allies just keptcoming. America had joinedwithGreatBrittan,givingtheSSofficersevenfurthercausefor concern. Although theyriskedaccusationsof treason,many privately admitted toeach other that they had lost

faith in their great Fuehrer.On the Russian Front, thesoldiers starved and froze todeath all winter at analarming rate. Hitler hadbeen so confident thatGermany would take Russiaas quickly as it had takenPoland that he sent his armyeast unequipped, withsufficient food or warmclothing to face thedevastating cold of the

Russianwinter.In March of 1945,

Goebbels telephonedManfredathishome.

“The time has come,Manfred.Wouldyou likemeto make arrangements withthesurgeon?”

“Yes.”“Then you will be going

south, with the rest of ourfriends?”Goebbels chose hiswords carefully revealing as

little as possible over thephonelines.

“Yes.”“I will discuss the matter

with the correct parties andgetbacktoyouastothedateofyourappointment.”

“I’ll wait to hear. May Italktomywife?”

“Yes, but explain that shemust not discuss this withanyoneelse.”

“Yes,Dr.Goebbels.”“I will be in touch,

Manfred.”“Thankyou,sir.”“HeilHitler.”“HeilHitler.”

Chapter65Christa lay upon her

mattress, her skin white, andthin as parchment paperagainstthecornflowerblueofher lips and eyelids.Manfred’s heart felt as if itwere ripping apart as helooked at her, Katja’s headresting on her stomach.

Christawasdying.The mother and daughter

had fallen asleep together asChristareadtoKatjafromherbookoffairytales.Thebookhad fallen to the floor.Manfredpickeditupandheldit to his chest for amoment.Everything had gone sowrong, so terribly wrong.Tears welled in his eyes.Soon,thefacehe’dlivedwithallofhis lifewouldbegone,

replaced by one that he hadgrown to hate, the face of aJew.His hairwould be dyedblack, a big hooknosewouldbeckon likeacrookedfinger,and frighteningdeep-set eyeswouldlookbackathimfromthemirror, reminding him ofthe innocent lives he’d takenin the camps. His paperswould reflect the name of aJewish refugee. He woulddress, act, and speak like a

Jew. And to everyone whowas not an elite member oftheParty,hewouldbeaJew.The plan was brilliant, butnauseating,too.Oncethewarended, there would bedisplacedJewseverywhere.Itwouldbeeasytoposeasoneof them and to leaveGermany,buttheprice,ahhh,the price. Now, he wouldwear a face he’d come tohate, and all of his power

would be gone. Yet, Hitlerhad said thathemustdo thisfor the Fatherland. So, hemust. Because of what he’dwitnessed with his Nazibrothers,therewasasparkofdistrust. Were they possiblyplanning to murder all thelower-ranking officers, tokeep their secrets hidden?Manfredwouldnotputitpastthem. He noticed thatGoebbels, Himmler, Göring,

Eichmann, or Mengele hadnot been scheduled for thesurgery. Only the lesserofficers had been registeredfortheprocedure.Perhapshewouldneverawakenfromtheanesthesia. The thought wasboth frightening andcomforting. There was nodoubt in his mind that theAllieswouldpunishtheNazisforwhattheyhaddone.Howcould they begin to

understand, to see the biggerpicture,aGermanyruledbyasuperiorrace?No,theywouldnot see the big picture, thegoal. Instead all they wouldsee were the piles of bodiesand the ovens. They wouldsee the gas chambers, andthey would condemn theThird Reich forever. Thesecrets of what had beentaking place in Germanywould circulate throughout

theworld.Hefeltashiverrunup his spine. If he were notkilled by the operation, thenhe might be caught by theAllies, which would mostassuredlybeworse.How diditfeeltodie?He’dwitnessedso much death, yet he’dalways pushed the questionsfrom his mind. Would it bepainful? Afterwards, whatwould happen? Was theresimply nothingness? Or was

there aGod?And if so, howwould that God feel aboutwhathe’ddone?

Manfredfeltclammyashewatched the Jewess preparethe evening meal. She stoodinthekitchen,acrossthehallfromChrista’s room.He hadnodesireforher.Shewasnotas pretty as the one they’dhad working for them atTreblinka, Zofia. Now thatone was very attractive, in

that Jewish, evil sort ofway.But hehadnodesire for anywomanrightnow.In fact,hedoubted that his maleapparatus would workproperly. The smell of thefood wafting through the airsickened him. Soon he musttalk to Christa, explaineverything. He glanced backat her lying, asleep on thebed.If theywerebothtodie,who would take the child?

Did it matter? Did he evencare for the little girl? Notreally.That hadnever turnedoutthewaythathe’dthoughtit might. Once things wentbad, it had never been thesameashavinghisownfleshand blood child. The childwas just a child living in hishome;hecouldnot find it inhishearttoloveher.

Christa stirred under hisstare. Her eyes opened

slowly.Hewasstunned,evennow,byherdelicatebeauty.

“Manfred,whatisit?”“Imustspeakwithyou.”“Ofcourse,sitdown,”she

said as she moved her feet,makingroomattheendofthebed.Thesoftinandoutofthechild’s breathing lent a quietrhythm to the semi-darkenedroom as Manfred explainedHitler’splan.

Chapter66Zofia had not seen her

menstrual blood for twomonths. She had beenpregnant before, and sherecognized the symptoms. Itwashardtobeunhappy,eventhough she knew that sheshouldbe.Withoutahometobring the child to, without

anyguaranteeofafuture,sheshould be miserable, butinstead she was filled withpurpose, light, and joy. Anew life had formed withinher.Itwastinyrightnow,hertinysecret.ApartofherandIsaac,areflectionof thelovetheyshared.AgiftfromGod,eveninthedarkesthour,herein the middle of the forestwith the Allies coming fromboth sides, a small flicker of

light had been ignited in herwomb:achild,adearlife.AsIsaacsleptonthefloorinthecabin, she gazed at him andsmiled. For the first time inher life, she knew what itmeant to loveanotherhumanbeing. It was the mostrewarding, wonderful feelingimaginable. Nothing she’dever known before couldcompare to the sheerblissofit.Whenthewarended,they

would be married. The childthat grew within her bodywouldbeabrotherorsistertoher precious Eidel. Eventhough she’d been throughhell,she’dfoundheaven,andZofia felt truly blessed. Heronly concern was food,havingenoughfoodtoensurethe baby would be healthy.This worried her. When shewas pregnant with Eidel,she’dhadmeatandmilk.Not

a lot, but enough. Now shecould never be sure of thefood supply. Still, even withall the challenges, she couldnot help but smile. Shecarried, Isaac’s child. Theseed of the man she loved.Herhandcaressedherbelly.

“Oh,littleone,withGod’shelp you will be born into aworld without Nazis. Yourfather and I will take you toPalestine, a land of our own,

a land where you can beproudtobeaJew.”

Isaac walked over andleaneddowntokissthetopofZofia’shead.

“Whoareyoutalkingto?”heasked

“Noone,justmyself.”“So, this living in the

forest has finally driven youmad?”

Shelaughed.

“Isaac?”“Yes,love?”“I’m going to have a

baby.”He gasped. Then a big

smilecameoverhisface,andeven though his eyes werefilledwithworry,hecouldn’thelpbutsmilewithjoy.

“Zofia…”Hewaschokedwithemotion

His hand caressed her

face.“Iwishwecouldmarry,here,now,underthesky.”

“Me too. But we aremarried,Isaac.We’remarriedin the eyes of God. Godknows how much we loveeachother.”

“Yes,Ibelievehedoes.”She saw tears run down

his cheeks, and she wasmoved by the sight of thisstrong man, whom she’dcome to love, made soft by

hisemotions.“Mywife,” hewhispered,

then caressed her belly “Mychild.Iwilldowhatevermustbedonetoprotectyouboth.Iwillmakesureyouare takencare of, no matter what ittakes…”

“I know that, Isaac. I’vealwaysknownit,”Zofiasaid.

Chapter67BenandMoishehadgone

out togatherun-ripened fruitthat had just blossomed onthe nearby farmer’s appletree. They returned in lessthan an hour with a man.Beaten and bleeding he stillwore the stripped uniform oftheconcentrationcamp.They

brought him back to thecabin.Theyellowstaronhisarmband told them that hewasaJew.

Theman’s bald headwascovered in bloody bruises.The bones jutted out of hisface, and his eyes wereclearly frightened. His bodyshivered, although theweatherwaswarm.

“He’slosta lotofblood,”Moishesaid.

Zofia looked at the holetornintotheman’sshirt.

“He’s been shot,” Isaacsaid,andrushedovertohelp.

The man trembled andpulledaway.

“It’s all right,” Isaacwhispered, his voice soft,gentle, kind. “We are Jews,too. I am not going to hurtyou.”

The man’s eyes wereblack pools of fear and pain.

He stared at Isaac but hedidn’t move. He allowedIsaactoopenhisshirt.

“It’s not a gunshot. Iwaswrong. He’s been stabbed,”Isaac said hismouth twisted.“Zofia,wouldyoupleasegetmesomewater?I’llalsoneedsomerags.”

Zofia got up, andwithoutspeaking she took the bucketto the pond and filled it.When she returned, Isaac

began cleaning the wound.From where Zofia stoodacross the room, she couldsee that thickdarkbloodstilloozedfromtheopening.

“Theywill be looking forme,” the man said his eyeswild, scanning the room. “Ishould leave here. I will putallofyouindanger.”

“Isaac, maybe he’s right.Maybe he should leave,”Sarahsaid.

“Wecan’tsendhimoutofhereinthiscondition.Hewilldie.”

“But if he stays, we willalldie,”Sarahanswered.

“Sarah’s right,” Shlomiesaid.

“Yes, she very well maybe right. But we cannot justthrow him out,” Isaac said.ThenhelookedoveratZofiaand remembered the baby.Zofia knewhimwell enough

to understand the dilemmathat he faced. She saw theconcernasitcrossedhisface.

“Isaac, Iwouldn’t hear ofputting him out. We are allrunningawayfromtheNazis;we are all in the sameposition.Hemuststay.Thereis no other humane choice.”Zofiasaid.

“If it were just me, Iwould have no qualms aboutyou staying here. But, I

cannotputtheothersatrisk,”Isaacsaid,hanginghishead.

The man nodded, “Iunderstand.”

“He’ll die, Isaac,” Zofiasaid. “If they don’t find himand kill him, he’ll bleed orstarvetodeath.”

Isaac continued to cleantheman’swound.“Ithinkthefairestthingtodowouldbetotake a vote.” Isaac took adeep breath. Then he

continued, “Does everyoneagree?”

Theallnodded.“Allinfavorthathestays,

raise your hands.” EveryoneexceptSarahandIsaacraisedtheir hands. Even Shlomiedidn’t have the heart to puthimout.

“It looks like youwill bestayingwith us,” Isaac said.“Whatisyourname?”

“Seff.”

Isaacintroducedtheothersas he continued to bandageSeff’schest.

“It looked worse than Ithought. If we can avoidinfection,you’llbeallright.”

“Ithankyou,”Seffsaid.“Ifeel terrible about putting allof you in danger. But thismight help… I have news. Iwas staying with a friend inthe neighboring village for awhile. She had a radio. At

night,wetunedittotheBBC.Listen to this… Last month,the Allies landed atNormandy. From what Iunderstand, it was a bloodybattle. But they are here: theAmerican’s the Canadians,the British, they are here!God be with them! And,praise God, Germany islosingthewaragainstRussia,as well. So the Russians aremarching towards Berlin.

Any day now, ifwe can justhold out, this will all beover.”

“From your mouth toGod’s ears,” Shlomie said,takingadeepbreath.

“Well,Germany is on thedefensive. They are in badshape.Hitlersenthismenill-equipped to face a winter inRussia, and Stalin beat thehelloutofhim.”Seffsmiled,even though the pain of his

injuries still showed on hisface.

“Yes,andtheRussiansareascruelastheGermans,”Bensaid. “Maybe the Nazis arefinallygoing togetadoseoftheirownmedicine.”

“So, as far as we areconcerned,wecanonlyhopethat theWestern side gets tous first, the British and theAmericans. You know theBrits have been bombing

Berlinlikecrazy.”Isaac had finished his

work on Seff’s wounds. Hetook the bucket ofwater andemptied it outside the cabindoor,andthenhecametositbeside Zofia. He took herhandinhisandraisedittohislips,kissingitgently.

“I know you don’t wantmehere,”SeffsaidtoIsaac.

“It’snot that I don’twantyouhere.Formyself,Iwould

gladlykeepyouherefacetheconsequences. But, this isZofia, my wife. I cannot, Iwillnotputherindanger.”

“They are not reallymarried. Today, out of theblue, from nowhere, they’vejust decided that they aremarried,”Sarahsaid.

“We are married in ourhearts.And,Zofiaisgoingtohaveachild.Mychild”

Sarah gasped. Shlomie

turnedpale.“Isaac…”Zofiasaid.“Everyone might as well

know. It’s just a matter oftimebefore theywill be ableto see what is happening. Iwant them to know that youcome first to me, Zofia,beforeeverything.Beforemyown life. And that is why Iamuncomfortable taking thispoormanintoourcabin.TheNazis are chasing him. We

don’t know if he has beenfollowed.Wearetakingabigrisk.”

Shlomieclearedhisthroat.“That changes things,greatly.” He glared at Isaac.“How could you be sothoughtless? She will beready to give birth in themiddle of the winter, nofood…bittercold.Whatwereyou thinking, Isaac?Shewillsurely die.” Shlomie got up

and paced like a tiger in acage. Then he slammed hisfistintothewall.

“Yes,Iknowthebabywillcome in the winter. Believeme, I think about itconstantly.ButIwon’tletherdie. I will provide food andwarmth.Shewillsurvive,andsowillourchild.”

“You are a selfish man,”Shlomiesaid,glaringatIsaac.ThenShlomiewalkedoverto

where Isaac sat and kickedhisleg.

Isaac rose and punchedShlomie in the stomach.Shlomie fell backwardsagainst thewall of the cabin,clutchinghisbelly.

“Stop! Stop this rightnow,” Zofia said, getting upand standing between them.“This won’t solve a thing.”She glanced back and forthbetween the two men, who

werebreathingheavily.“Seffwill stay. He will heal, andthen decide if he wants tostay or move on. We willmanage. If the Nazis arehuntinghimandtheyfindus,then that is justour fate.Butwecannotturnhimaway.HeisJew,justlikeweare.”

Isaac nodded inagreement.

Shlomiecontinuedtoglareat Isaac. “You stupid selfish

fool,howcouldyoudothistoZofia? How?” he said underhis breath, and folded hisarms across his chest. Hefoughttokeepfromcrying.

Chapter68Despite their

disagreement, Shlomie wasthebestfriendIsaachadever,had and he regretted theirfight. Isaac knew hewas thestronger man, the moreattractive man, the morecapable man, and moreimportantly, the one Zofia

had fallen in lovewith. Forthis, he felt he must makesome concessions. Later hewouldtalktoShlomieandhewouldapologize.Hetookhisbow and arrow, and wentoutside to see if he mightshootarabbitorabird.Overtheyearshe’dspent living inthe forest, he’d become agood shot. It was hard toimagine that the little boywiththedoublechinswhosat

on thewoodenstoolnibblingoncookies in thebackofhisparents bakery was the samemanhe’dbecome.Well,he’ddone what must be done tosurvive.

Isaac walked through thewoods, his clothes drenchedwith sweat in the heat ofsummer. The smells of theflowering plants and thesongsofthebirdssurroundedhim.Godhadsurelycreateda

beautiful world for man tolive in. It was too bad therewerepeoplefilledwithgreedandhatredtospoilit.

Abovehim,twobrightredbirds took flight, followingeach other in an age-oldmating dance. Isaac smiled.Hecouldn’thelpbut thinkofZofia. Her lovely blacksausage curls caressing herback,hersmilethatlituphisworld. Her eyes, those

eyes… When Isaac lookedinto Zofia’s eyes, he sawGod, thebeautyof true love,but when he looked deeper,he knew she hid the pain oftheterriblethingsshe’dseen.Every part of him wantednothing more than to shelterher from ever knowing anymore tragedy. But would hebeabletodothis?Hewasaman, only one man, againstan entire army of demons.

Howcouldhekeephersafe?And, now, shewaspregnant,and yes, it was a trueblessing, but he also felt thatShlomiewasright.Itwashisfault. The woman he lovedwouldbringhischildintotheworld in the dead of winter.Would she survive? Wouldthechildsurvive?Theymust.Hemustbesurethattheydid.He sawa squirrelmoveupatree and pulled the arrow

back in his bow. Isaac sentthe arrow flying through theair,buthemissed.Hewasfartoo lost in thought to hunt.Theyneededthefood,buthecouldn’t seem to focus.Perhaps he would askShlomie to go fishing withhim. That would be a goodtime to make peace, toapologize. Together they’dalways been able to bringback something, even if it

was only a few small fish.Yes, he would talk toShlomie.Theideafeltright.

Isaac found Shlomiegatheringwoodforafire.Hewalkedovertohim.

“I’m sorry,” Isaac said.“I’msorryforwhathappenedearlier.”

Shlomie nodded notmeetingIsaac’seyes.

“Wecouldusesomemeat.I went hunting today, but I

didn’tdowell,didn’tcatchathing,infact.Wouldyouliketogofishing?’

“Isuppose,”Shlomiesaid.“Wecouldusethefish.Zofianeedsmeat.Andmilktoo.”

“Wewillhavetogotooneof the farms and steal themilk from the cows for her,”Isaac said. “I mean I willhave to go. You don’t haveto. It’s not yourresponsibility.”

“I want to go. We’ll gotogether.”Shlomiehadneverstopped loving Zofia, eventhough he knew she hadgivenherhearttoIsaac.

“Thank you, Shlomie. Iappreciateeverything.”

“I know you do. And Iknow how much you loveher.”

“Ido loveher,Shlomie. Ido.”

“Yes,Iknow.”

And so do you, Isaacthought.

Chapter69Seff healed quickly and

turned out to be an asset tothe group. He was a fastlearner. When Isaac showedhimhowtohuntwiththebowand arrow,within aweek hewas able to reach his target.Hewasnotacomplainer,andfor that Isaac was grateful.

The more Isaac knew him,themorethathefoundthatheenjoyedSeff’scompany.Thismade him feel guilty forwanting to turn the manaway. But he still felt thatZofiawashismostimportantconcern, and the thought ofputting her at risk still madehim anxious. Zofia matteredmore to Isaac than anythingelse. Everything he did, hedidwithZofia’swelfare first

and foremost in his mind.When he went hunting orfishing,Isaac’sthoughtswerealways to bring back enoughfor Zofia. So far, shemaintainedherslenderfigure.The only time he could seeany evidence of herpregnancywaswhenshewasnaked. And then he was sostruck by her beauty and bythis wonderful gift that Godhad given him, he found it

hard to catch his breath.Zofia… Even the thought ofher brought a smile to hisface.Helethisminddriftfora moment to her long hairfloating across her back, herskinthecolorofwhiteroses.

“Thank you, God,” hewhispered to the earth andskyashewalkedthroughtheforestalonecarryinghisbowandarrow.Thiswashis timefor deep thought. This was

his time for planning.Someday, as soon as thisended,hewouldfindawaytobuildawonderful life forhiswife and child. If he had towork twenty-four hours aday, he would to make surethey were comfortable. Isaacsawa largeharemove in thegrass.Quietlyheadjustedhisbowandarrow.Thenheshot.Zofia would have meattonight.

Isaacreturnedcarryingtherabbit.When Zofia saw him,her eyes lit up like theeveningstarsasasmilebrokeacrossherface.

“Youbroughtmeat?”“Yes.Ihadagoodshot.”“That’s wonderful. Why

don’twetakeawalkandseeifwecan’t find somecarrotsand onions to make a stew.Then therewill beplenty foreveryone.”

“Youmeanthefarmdowntheroad?”

“Yes,wecouldwalkthereandgathersomevegetables.”

“It’s riskyduring theday.I’d rather wait until night,”Isaacsaid.

“Butthenwecan’tmakeastewtonight.”

“I don’t think it’s a goodideatostealvegetablesoutintheopen,Zofia.”

“Well,I’mgoing.Youcancome with me or not. It’syourchoice.”

He lookedather;shewassopretty,andsostubborn.Heshook his head. “I won’t letyou go without me. It’s justtoodangerous.”

“Then you’d better getmoving, because I’m going.”Shesmiledathim,andhefeltas ifa light fromheavenhadcome to light up this small

cabininthewoods.“You win. All right, let’s

go,” he said and laughed athow easily she could swayhim.

Zofia took the basketdownfromtheshelfthatBenhad built in the cabin just asShlomiecameincarryingtwosmallfish.

“Where are you going?”Shlomieasked.

“Isaac and I are going to

the farm down the road togather some vegetables for astew tonight. Isaac caught arabbit.”

“I’ll come with you,”Shlomiesaid.

Isaac leaned back andstretched. When Zofia andShlomie had walked outside,hetookoneofthegunsfromthe small pile and put it intohispantspocket.Hestrappedhisbowandarrowacrosshis

back. I’ve become such amountain man, he thought.Then,hethoughtagainofhislife before, of his parents.“Oh, Mama, I miss you andPapa. I wish you could haveknownmyZofia.Sheissucha special girl. You wouldhave loved her.” He foundhimself talking aloud to noone.He smiled, and itwas asad smile. He missed themboth. If only thingshadbeen

different. Right now, hismother would be helping toplan the wedding for him tomarry Zofia. And, Zofiawouldnotbepregnant, that’sfor sure. He laughed a littlealoud.Heprobablywouldnothave touched her until theirwedding night, when shewould have worn a modestwhite gown, and he wouldhavegingerly removed it.Ofcourse, there would have

been naysayers because ofher previous pregnancy. Infact, if he were honest withhimself,hismotherwouldnothave approved. Ah, well,thingshaveawayofworkingthemselves out. It’s God’swillthatwebetogether,andIamthankfulfor that. It ismygreatestblessinginlife,butIcannot help but miss myparents even though I knowthat if you were both here,

Zofia and I would have amore difficult time beingtogether. There is good inbad, and bad in good.Nothing is ever all black orwhite,hethought,shakinghishead.Thenhewenttojoinhisfriends.

Zofia kissed him full onthe lips when Isaacapproached her. The warmthofthesunshiningonhisfaceand thesweetnessofherkiss

madehimsmile.“Come on you two love

birds, let’s get going,”Shlomiesaid.

“Areyousureyouwanttodothis?Thiscouldbedangerous.Idon’tliketoleavetheforestuntilnight.”Isaacrepeated,hopingZofiawouldseereason.

“Wewillbequick,Zofiasaid.

Isaacnodded.

There was no sign ofanyone when theyapproached the farm. Isaacstood guard, looking in alldirections,hishandunderhisshirt, gripping his pistol,while the other twobegan togather vegetables. A truckwentbyandthethreefriendslooked at each other withfright in their eyes, but thevehicledidnotstop.

“I think we should go,”

Isaac said, a little annoyedthat he’d allowed Zofia toconvince him to do thisperilous thing. He’d allowedher to put herself at risk. Atany time, the truck couldreturnorsendotherstocomefor them.Thiswas just plainfoolishness.

“All right, Shlomie and Ihave gathered enough fornow,” Zofia said, her voicesoft. She sensed that Isaac

was on alert, his tone hadbeencurtandcaustic.

“Come on. Let’s moveswiftly,”Isaacsaid.

The three friends walkedquickly away, heading backto the safety of the forest.Isaacthoughtthattheylookedlike three children walkinghomefromschool,exceptfortheir age, their tattered anddirty clothes, and moreimportantly, their terrified

expressions.Zofia smiled at Isaac. It

was a timid smile, but as italwaysdid,itlitthefireinhisheart.Hecouldn’t stayangrywithher.Hewrappedhisarmthrough hers and kissed thetop of her hair. But hecontinued to be on edge andwatchinguntiltheyweredeepintothewoods.

Itwasalmostamilewalkback to the cabin. But under

the protection of the trees,Isaac’s tension lifted and hebegantorelax.

Chapter70Zofia was giddy. She felt

almost child-like walkingthrough the sun-filtered treeswith Isaac, the man who’dbrought purpose to her lifeand her best friend, Shlomie.True, it had been a scarewhen the truck chugged by.Butitwasonlyafarmer.The

back of the truck was openand filled with hay. Ofcourse,therewasreasontobecautious,butshewassotiredof caution. It was summerand she was in love. Zofiawanted to be careless, to befree, and to be young. Sillythoughts these were,especially with all thedangers that surroundedthem. Isaac was right; theywere so close to the end of

this war. Any day this couldall be over, why take anyrisks now. Play it safe. Sheshiveredatthethought.Whyhad she wanted sodesperatelytotakethechanceofbeingcaught?Whatwasitinherthatwantedtotakethatstep over the edge? Thejoyous feelings of summerbegan to disappear, beingreplaced with self-reproach.Zofia shuddered at her own

stupid actions.Maybe it washormonalimbalancefromthepregnancy, but she began tothink of what could havehappened.Iamsoluckytobealive,tohaveIsaac,andallofourfriends.Tobesafe.Tearssprung to her eyes. Shewouldnottakearisklikethisagain.

Isaac saw that Zofia wascrying.Hestoppedandturnedtotakeherinhisarms.

“What is it, sweetheart?”heasked,confused.Justafewmoments ago, she’d beenlaughing and squeezing hisarm.Heliftedherfacesothather eyes could meet his.“You’re crying.” He wipedthetearsfromhercheekwithhisthumb.“Zofia?”

“I’m sorry. I put us all atrisk. Iamsosorry.”Shewassobbing.

“Women get very strange

when their pregnant,”Shlomie said, “one minutehappy,thenextsad.”

“Quiet, Shlomie,” Isaacsaid. “Now, darling, talk tome,” Isaac said, sitting downon a rock and pulling Zofiagently to sit on his knee.“Don’tcry,please.”

“Iamreallysorry.WhenIthink of what could havehappened… I don’t knowwhyIdidn’tthinkofitbefore

we left. I am so confused,Isaac.”

“Shhhh…” He patted herback like a baby and cradledherinhisarms.“It’salright.”

Shlomie shook his head.“I’mgoingbacktothecabin.Thisisalittlenauseating.I’llsee you two love birds in alittlewhile.”

“Go,” Isaac said, Zofiastillemotionalinhisarms.Herocked her gently until she

calmeddown.“I don’t know what got

intome,”shesaid.“It’s all right, nothing

happened.Weareallfine.”“Yes.” She nodded and

swallowed hard. “But wewon’t do that again.” Whywasshesoirrational?ShehadneverbeenthiswaywhenshewaspregnantwithEidel.Yet,with Eidel, she’d beenterribly sick. This time, at

least, she’d not experiencedthat awful nausea. Everypregnancy must be different.Still, from now on she mustmake a conscious effort tocontrolherrashbehavior.

“Iagree.Let’snotdo thatagain,” Isaac said as a smallsmile came across his face.He’d tried to tell her this inthe first place. Now he wasglad that she’d realized it onherown.

Shestartedtocry.“Shhhh… It’s all right,”

hewhisperedintoherear.“I love you so much,

Isaac.Youcame intomy lifeandmademerealizesomanythings I’d never knownbefore. I mean, there wereother boyfriends and all.OnceIeventhoughtIwasinlove, but I didn’t knowwhatlove really was. I do now.You…you are my true

bashert.”“And you are mine. Do

yourememberwhenyouusedto come to buy bread and Iwould be sitting in the backofmymom’sbakery?”

“Idoremember.Youweresofat.”

“Yes, Iwas,” he laughed.“I couldneverget enoughofthat warm bread with butterfresh from the oven.” Hewiped the tear from the side

ofhercheek.“Butyouknowwhat?I’mgoingtotellyouasecret.”

“I love secrets.” Shesmiledthroughhertears.

“I loved you even then. Iwould look out through theback door and watch you. Ithoughtyouweretheprettiestgirl in the whole world, atleast in Warsaw, which wasourwholeworldatthetime.”

She smiled, her eyes

lightingupwiththememory.“We did believe that

Warsawwastheentireworld,didn’t we? When I was achild I could never haveimagined all that hashappened.”

He nodded watching abutterfly light on a yellowflower.Thenhesmoothedherhair with the palm of hishand.

“Iknewyounevernoticed

mewhenwerechildren,butIused to go to sleep at nightwishing that somehow Iwould grow up to behandsome. And somehow,someway, God would blessmeandyouwouldmarryme.Of course, I hardly expectedit to turn out the way that itdid. Still, this may soundcrazy, but even with all thatwe have gone through Iwouldn’tchangeit,becauseif

thingshadbeendifferentyouwould probably never havebeen mine. And I wouldgladlysufferanypainintradefor the joy of having you asmywife.”

She felt shivers run downher spine. Then she huggedhimclose toher.She felthisheart beat against her chest,through his shirt, and thetendernessofitbroughtfreshtearstohereyes.

“Oh, Isaac, you say thedearestthings.”

“Well, in a way, Godgranted my wish, even if hedidn’t make me handsome,”Isaacsaid,winking.

“Oh but you are,handsome,”Zofiasaid,takingablondcurloutofhiseyes.

For a moment, their eyeslocked. Then he gently puthis hand on the back of herhead and drew her towards

him.Justas theywereabout to

kiss, Shlomie appearedrunningthroughthetrees.Hewas shaking. His face wasflushed with angry redblotches and perspiration randownhisforehead.

“They’ve been to thecabin. The Nazis have beenhere.Everyoneisdead.”

“What, Shlomie? Slowdown,” Isaac said. Zofia got

off his lap and Isaac stood.“What’sgoingon?”

“Iwentbacktothecabin.”Shlomie’swords caughtwithhis ragged breath. “They areall dead. Everyone. Shot.Their bodies are all over theinside of the cabin. Sarah,Ben, Moishe, Rivka, Seff…allofthem.Dead,dead,Itellyou.Itwashorrible.”

Isaac took a deep breath.“I’llbettheywerelookingfor

Seff.” He glanced aroundhim,instantlyalert.“Wemustgetawayfromhere,asfaraspossible. They are probablystill somewhere nearby. ButfirstIhavetogobackandgettheweapons.”

Zofia looked into Isaac’seyes.“I’mscared.”

“Iknow,darling.Iknow.”He looked at Shlomie.“Watchher.Stayhidden.Youunderstandme?”Isaacsaid.

“Yes.”Shlomienodded.“Isaac, please don’t leave

me.”“I will be right back. I

have to go, we need theweapons.”

“Iwanttogowithyou.”“No.Iforbidit.Waithere.

Please Zofia, just this onetime,doasIask.”

Shesawhowfirmhewas,andshenodded.

“Watchher,Shlomie.”Isaac ran through the

opening in the trees, towardthe cabin. He kept turningbacktowatchthespotwherehe’d left Zofia to see it ifShlomiehadbeenfollowed.Itlooked safe. The Nazis musthave thought that they goteveryone. With God’s helptheywerelonggonebynow.Still he must hurry. Therewas no telling what would

come next. They could bewaiting, or worse they couldhave followed Shlomie, andthat would bring them toZofia.Buthedoubtedthat.Ifthey’d seen Shlomie, theywould most likely have shothimonthespot.

Isaac’s heart thundered inhischestasheapproachedthelog cabin. He looked aroundquicklyfromhishidingplacein the trees. Then he took a

deepbreath and entered.Thebodies of his dearestcompanions, the only friendshe’d known, and come tolove,laystrewnlikeragdollsdrowning in pools of theirownblood.Hewantedtocryout to God, “Why?” toscream, to question, to kickdownthewalls,tokillaNaziortwo,ormore,withhisbarehands. He shook with rage,his face flushed with anger.

Stop looking, stop thinking,he told himself. There is notime for this. Find the gunsandthefood,andgetbacktoZofia.Youcan’tdoanythingfor these poor souls now.They have left this earth.Hewent to the corner of theroom where the group hadkept theweapons. The entireareahadbeenclearedout.Hestared in disbelief at theempty dirt floor as a spider

sprinted under the wall. TheNazishadtakentheguns.Allhehadlefttodefendthethreeof them was the single gunhe’dtakenwhenhe’dleftandhisbowandarrow.

Then Isaac raced to thetiny workstation where theyhad kept the food. Nothingleft.Eventherabbithe’dshotearlier that morning wasgone, no vegetables, norotting fruit, nothing. They

tooktheblankets.Andall that theNazis left

in their wake was the deadbodies.

“I’m sorry, Ben” Isaacsaid aloud as he went toBen’s side. Quickly heundressed him and took hisclothes.Thenhewhisperedaprayer for the dead, walkedout of the cabin, and closedthe door on that segment ofhislifeforever.

Chapter71“Put these on,” Isaac said

to Zofia handing, her Ben’sclothes. “You’ll be able tomovebetterinpantsthaninaskirt.”

“Theyarealldead?Allofthem, dead?” she asked,unable tokeep theshockandhorrorfromhervoice.

Isaacnoddedslowly.She knew her face had

gone pale, she’d felt theblooddrainoutofherearlierwhen Shlomie’d told themwhat he saw. And she knewby the look on Isaac’s facethat he was worried abouther.“It’s all right, sweetheart,”Isaac said, giving her anencouraging smile. “Comeon…putthemon.”

“Ben’s clothes,” Shlomiesaid aloud, but mostly tohimself.

Ben was the heaviest ofthemenexceptforIsaac,andIsaac hoped that Ben’s pantswould be large enoughwhenZofia grew into herpregnancy.

She took the pile ofclothing with a lump in herthroatandwentbehindatree.A few minutes later, she

emerged wearing the pantsand shirt. For some reasonIsaac had overlooked thelarge spot of blood on theshirtandnowitbotheredhimto see it on Zofia. However,hesaidnothing.

“You look adorable.” Hegave her a smile. Be strong,Zofia, he thought. Itmust behard for her to wear theclothes she’d seen Ben wearforall thosemonths. Ifonly

he could take the strengthfrom his own body andtransfer it into her, hewouldgladlydoso.

“Isaac, how are we evergoing tosurvive thewinter?”Sheasked.

“We’ll manage. You’llsee. Don’t you worry aboutanything.Justletmehandleitall,allright?”

“Should we try to buildanothercabin?”Zofiasaid

“I don’t think we haveenough manpower,” Shlomieanswered “And we don’thave the axe. Isaac did youlookfortheaxe?”

“Yes, it was gone. All ofthe weapons except for asingle gun and my bow andarrowaregone.”

“Oh, Isaac, I think we’redonefor,”Zofiasaid,andshesank down onto the ground,almost as if she could no

longer find the strength tostand.

“Silly girl, we are notdone for.” He lifted her upinto his arms. “Do you trustme?HaveIeverliedtoyou?”Again,he tried tomake lightofthingsforhersake.

“Noandyes.”“No, yes, yes, no.” He

tried to laugh, hoping hislaughterwouldsoundsincere.He didn’t want her to know

the truth, to know howworried he actually was.“Trust me, please.” Hetouched her face. She couldseehowhardhewastryingtoassure her, and for his sake,shemusteredasmallchuckle.

“There now, that’s mygirl,” he said. “Now, let’sbeginwalking.”

“Whatdirection?”Shlomieasked.

“Idon’tknow.Let’stry

goingwest.FromwhatSeffsaidtheAllieslandedsomewhereinFrance,theyshouldbecominginthroughthewest.”

“And the Russians willcomefromtheeast.”Shlomiesaid.

“Yes, but I think I wouldrather be rescued by theAmericansand theBrits thanbytheRussians.Ihaveheardthat they are not too crazy

aboutJews.”“You are probably right.

Let’sgowest,”Shlomiesaid.Then he walked over to athick-trunked maple tree andlooked for the green moss.Once he spotted it, heindicated with his finger.“That’s north, so it’s this isthewaywewanttogo.”

“I realize that we are allsaddened by what happened,butwe shouldgive thanks to

Godthatwewerenotthereatthe cabin with them. Wecould be dead.We could allbe lying on the floor of thatcabin right now. Butsomehow, for some reason,Godsawfitforustobealive,and so we are alive, and wearehereandweare together.Itisablessing,”Isaacsaid.

The other two nodded inagreement.

Again, Isaac smiled at

Zofia.Hetookherhandinhisand kissed it. Then hewrapped his arm throughhers,andthreeofthembegantowalk.

Chapter72“How long is the waiting

list? How many monthsbefore I can expect to havethis surgery done?” ManfredaskedDr.Schmidt.

“Everyone seems to wantit, and all of you want itimmediately,especiallyallofthe lower-ranking officers.

I’vecommitted todoing this,but I can only perform one,maybetwoperday.Sowearelookingataboutayear.”

“Awholeyear?IthoughtIwas coming to have it donenow,today.”

“No, I sent for you toexplain exactly what youshould expect once Iperformed the surgery. Howlong the recovery will be,what kind of pain you will

experience, and also, howstriking the change will bewhenyouseeyournewface.”

“You called me all thewayheretodiscussthis?”

“Thisisbestnotdiscussedon the telephone. It is topsecret, as you know. Now,please understand that whatyou are considering is a life-alteringexperience.”

Manfrednodded.Thenforthe next two hours, he

listened as Dr. Schmidtexplained the procedure.Whenhe’dfinished,Manfredasked if Goebbels, Hitler, oranyof theothershadmadeareservationtobeoperatedon.

“I’msorrybutIamnotatliberty to disclose thatinformation, even to you,”Dr. Schmidt said, stretchinghisarms.

“Now,onceitisdone,youwill stay at our makeshift

clinic until you haverecovered sufficiently totravel. As soon as I removeyourbandages,youwillbeonyourwaytoSouthAmerica.”

“Where exactly will I besenttoinSouthAmerica?”

“I don’t know. I amassuming, due to securityissues,youwon’tbetolduntilthe last minute. This is atoughtimeforus,Manfred,atough time indeed. We must

alldowhatwecantosavetheReich, even if it meanspersonalsacrifice.”

Manfred nodded, taking adeep breath. The surgerywould be painful and life-changing in every way. Hewould have to learn to livewithhisnewface,thefaceofa Jew, his new name, thenameofaJew.

“Doyouthinkthereisanypossibility thatGermanywill

pull herself back up andrecover?”Manfred asked thedoctor, although he alreadyknewtheanswer.

“Wehavealready lost thewar. We are just holding onnow, but I don’t know forhow long,” Dr. Schmidt saidlighting a cigarette. “Wouldyoulikeone?”

Manfred shook his head.“No,thankyou.”

“This is going to be very

bad for all of us. We aregoingtohaveahellofatimeoncetheFatherlandfalls.”

Manfred nodded, he sawtheworrylinesinthedoctor’sface.

“Doyou thinkwewill beabletogetoutofGermanyintime?”

“Idon’tknow.Ifyouwantthe truth, I am afraid. TheAmerican’sarepowerful,andthey are coming at us full

force. It’s hard to say.However, I can tell you this,they won’t understand whatwehavetriedtodo,andifwearecaptured,itwillbeadarkdayfortheAryanrace.”

“Perhaps I should leavethe country now, withouthavinghadthesurgery…”

“I expect that theAmericans or the Russianswill find you. There are justtoomanyprisoners still alive

who’ve seen your face.They’ll probably hunt youdown.”

Manfred nodded. He feltthe anxiety rise in his chest.His heart skipped a beat andthe pain shot through him.What the doctor said wastrue. He’d earned the hatredof the prisoners he’d lordedover, and once the war wasended,iftheywereable,theywerelikelytoretaliate.There

was little choice left to him.Hewouldarrangetohavetheoperation.

Chapter73SurgerytoalterManfred’s

face, a new life in SouthAmerica…it wasoverwhelming. Christa wastooweaktocopewithallthatwascomingather.Forjustamoment she closed her eyesandherminddriftedtoaballshe had attended with

Manfred before things hadgone wrong. Withoutthinking about where shewas, she began to hum awaltz.

“Mama,areyouallright?”Katjaasked.

Christahadbeenlayinginbed with Katja at her sidereading from a book of fairytales.

“Yes,dear,Iamfine.”“You scared me. You

were reading, and then all ofa sudden you just startedsinging. It was very strange.And your eyes were closed.Are you sure you are allright?” Katja squeezedChrista’sarm.

Christa saw the alarm inKatja’slittlefaceandshefeltsobadtohavecausedit.

“Yes, I’m sorry.Something in the book musthave jogged my memory,”

Christa said and hugged thelittle girl to her side.Christa’s felt the warmth ofKatjabesideher.Whatwouldbecome of this child whenshedied?Everydayshegrewweaker. Every day the childgrew older. Sometimes shebelievedthatshestayedalivepurely out of love andconcern for her little girl,who’dbeenheronlyglimpseofhappinessforyears.Could

she trustManfred to care forKatja? He’d never reallytaken to her the way Christahad. She hated to reminisceabout the man she hadbelieved she’d married. Ithurt far too much toremember the dreams they’dsharedwhentheyhadgonetoMunich to adopt a child.Thosewerethedaysof light,she thought. Those were thegoldendays.

If only she’dbeenable tokeep Zofia with them whenthey left Treblinka… She’dbegged Manfred, but herejected the idea, becomingangryandrefusing todiscussit further. However, she hadinsisted that he did not sendZofia to thegaschamber.Asweak as she’d been, she’dfoughthimonthatpoint.Sheknew what was going on atthecamp.She’dheardtheSS

men talking. It sickened her,horrified her, that herhusband was a part of all ofit.She’dyelledandscreamedwith every ounce of energyshe had in her broken bodyuntil, finally, he’d agreed.Zofia could go free. Christahadkissedhishand,thankinghim. She couldn’t bear thethought of Zofia’s murder.But if only Zofia were withher now, Zofia would have

caredforKatja.ChristaknewshecouldtrustZofia.Shehadcome to love her. Shewas agoodwoman.Sadly, fatehadnot favored Zofia. She hadbeen born a Jew in Hitler’sGermanyandfor that reason,andthatreasonalone,shehadsuffered a terrible fate.Christa had done what shecould to make Zofia’s lifebetter,buttherewaslittlethatshe could do. Sadly, Zofia

hadprobablydiedbynoworbeen captured and sent toanother camp. The poorwomanhadbeensetfree,butshe had no place to go.Chances were good that theGestapo had found her.Christa sighed. A deepsadness and guilt came overhersheclutchedherchestandthought of her father. Howangry she’d been at him inthebeginning.Allhe’dhadto

dowasremainquietabouthisopinionsandfollowtherules.That is what she’d told him.But he was not one to beintimidated, not the gooddoctor.Hehadtoldhermanytimes that a man’s characterwas his most prizedpossession. And he’d provedit. He’d died because he’dstood up for his beliefs. Herfather had ruined hermarriage, but she’d realized

later that her fatherhadbeenright. If only she’d beenstronger, healthier, shemighthave found the courage tostand up and fight for Zofia.Shewishedshehad.

Chapter74Evennow,severalmonths

after the event, Isaac refusedtodiscusswhathe’dseenthatdayinthecabin.Zofiadidn’task, but she knew it hadaffected him deeply. Hisusualoptimismwasclouded.

Winter had invaded theland, her frozen heart

destroyingallevidenceoftheprevious summer’sabundance.

Isaac, Zofia and Shlomiefound warmth in tool shedsand barns, but they neverstayed more than a night,settling in after dark andleaving before the sun rose.They’d stolen winter coatsalong the way. Isaac hadmade sure thatZofia had thefirst one. But still, the cold

and lack of food took theirtoll.Withintwoweeksoftheonset ofwinter, Zofia turnedweak and pale, and she hadbegun tobleed.Shewassicktoherstomachandvomiting..Isaacwasterrified.

He said nothing, but heldher tenderly in his arms,blaming himself for herpredicament. Zofia trembled,and her teeth chattered withthecoldandlossofblood.

“Wehavetostoprunning.I know it’s a risk. But wemust. The farm we passedthismorning has a large toolshed.We’llsettlethere.WithGod’shelp, the farmerwon’tbe going out to use his toolsany time soon,” Isaac said.God how he loved her… Ifonly he could take her pain,he would gladly do it. Hersuffering was worse to himthandying.

“It’s risky,”Shlomie said,shakingwithcold.

“I don’t care. We can’tkeep going. Zofia needs torest.”

Shlomie nodded. “It’strue.Let’sstop.”HelookedatIsaac accusingly out of thecornerofhiseye.

All day they hid in theforest across the road fromthe tool shed. Zofia lay inIsaac’sarms.Whennightfell,

he lifted her and carried herlike a baby, and the threeentered theshed.Even insideZofia still shivered, and herskin had turned the color ofchalk.

There was no light in theshed, no windows. Shlomietripped over something, butregained his balance withoutfalling.

“It’s better in here thanoutside,but it’s still sodamn

cold,” Isaac said, taking offhis coat and laying it overZofia, who was too weak tospeak.

“There is nothing elsewecan do,” Shlomie said. “Atleastwehavesomeshelter.”

Isaacnodded.“Iwonderifthereareanyextrablanketsinthebarn.”

“I wouldn’t take them.That would only alert thefarmer. In the morning you

andIwillgotoaneighboringfarm and try to find someblankets,”Shlomiesaid.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,but why don’t we take allthreecoatsandputthemoverthe three of us. Ifwe huddletogether we will be warm,”Isaacsaid.

“You’re worried aboutZofia?”

“Yes,ofcourse Iam.Sheis bleeding. I am very

worried.”“You did this to her,”

Shlomie said. “How couldyou get her pregnant in thepositionwearein?”

“Shut up,” Isaac said,angrier with himself than atShlomie. “I’m sorry. You’reright. I should never havedone this. If she dies, I willnever forgivemyself. ” Isaacbegan to cry. God, take meinstead.Ididthis.Itisn’ther

fault. It’s mine. Please, takemeinstead.Iambeggingyou.

For several moments, theroomwasdarkcoldandsilentexcept for the sobbing thatcame from Isaac’s torturedsoul.

“It’sallright.She’llbeallright,” Shlomie said. Theycould seehiswhitebreath ashespoke.

Zofia was drained. Hereyes were closed, but she

could hear them. It wasdifficult to speak but, sheknewthatshemust.

“Isaac…” Her voice wasbarely a whisper. “Isaac, mylove, don’t blame yourself Iwouldn’t tradeoneminuteofwhatwe had. I am not sorryforwhatwedid.”

He leaned his body downbeside her and took her intohis arms. The tears still fellfreely on his face, dripping

ontohers.“Iloveyou.”Itwasallhe

could say. “And I’m sorry. Iam so sorry.” There was nowaytochangethepast.

“Iloveyoutoo,Isaac.AndIamreallynotsorry…”

All through the night,Isaac held Zofia, watchingher sleep. And in themorning, he breathed a sighofrelief,asthesunburstlikeabouquetof ribbons through

the slats ofwood in shed, tofind shewas still alive.Nowwiththelight,Isaaccouldseeeverythingintheroom.Itwasfilled with useful tools,matches, and horse blankets.Isaac put the entire pile ofblankets on top of Zofia. Hetook his coat and put it on.The strapped his bow andarrowtohisback

“You’re going hunting?”Shlomieasked.

“Yes. Staywith her. I amgoingtoseewhatIcanfind.”

Several hours passedbeforeIsaacreturnedcarryingabird,asquirrel,andabunchof soft, brown apples. In hisother hand he held a steelbucketfilledwithwater.

Heputtheapplesdown.“Itook these from the farmdown the way. I turned thebushel over. The farmer willthink that the horse got to

them. And I was blessed. Icaughttwoanimalsforus.”

Shlomie nodded. “Wheredidyougetthewater?”

“Iwalked toanother farmandstolethehorse’swater.”

“Youmustbetired.”Isaac shrugged. He was

tired, exhausted in fact.He’dnot slept a wink the entirenight. “How is she?” IsaacbentbesideZofia.

“She’sweak.”Isaacnodded.“I’mgoingtostartafire,”

Isaac said, spyinga fifty-fivegallon oil drum, a small canofkerosene,andasaw.

“It’s too dangerous. Wecan’t start a fire inside of abuilding.Areyoucrazy?Thewindows are all boarded up.We’lldieinhere.”

“I’ll knock the windowsout. Look there’s an axe on

thewall.”“No, this is madness,”

ShlomiesaidZofia lay shaking on the

ground tooweak to voice anopinion.

“Leaveifyoudon’tlikeit,butIamgoingtodoit,”Isaacsaid.“I’llbeback. I’mgoingtogathersome treebranches.Watch Zofia. I won’t belong.”

Isaac returned with a pile

ofbranches.He laid themontheground.Thenheshiveredashesawedthetopoftheoildrum off. There was almostno oil left. He placed thebranchesinsidethenpouredasmall amount of keroseneover them.Next, he took theaxeandpunchedthewindowsout. A rush of frigid airflooded into the shed. Isaactook a match and lit thecontentsofthedrum.Thenhe

quicklyopenedthedoor.Thefirebeganslowlybutquicklyitcaughtandtheroombeganto grow warmer. Then hecleaned the fur and feathersfromtheanimalshe’dcaught,andbegantoroastthem.

The smell of food filledthe shed and evenZofiawasstirredbytheodor.Whenthemeat was cooked, Isaac toreoff tiny pieces and put themintoZofia’smouth.Themeat

wasdryanddifficulttochew.She gagged. Seeing this,Isaac realized that she couldnot eat thiswithout his help.Hechewed tinypiecesof thefouluntiltheyweresoft,thenhe put them into Zofia’smouth. She swallowed. Hecontinued until she lay backand fell asleep. Every nightas the sunset, Zofia couldhear Isaac as he prayed inHebrew,onhiskneesbeneath

the moon. And once he’dfinished the prayers, hebeggedGodtospareZofia,totakehiminherplace.

Then, in the morning,Isaac would go out to hunt.Some days he returned withnothing, but most days hecaughtatleastasmallanimal,enough to get them through.Shlomie offered toaccompany Isaac ice fishing,but Isaac wanted Shlomie to

staywithZofia.Asthewinterbroke,Zofia

grew stronger. She’d lost thebaby, she knew it by theamountofbloodshe’d shed.But at least God had sparedherlife.Zofiawasabletoeatbyherselfnow,andeverydayIsaac insisted that she walkaround the shed for a whileforexercise.

“We need to think aboutmoving on. The farmer will

be coming out to begin hisplanting work soon. Wecertainly want to be gonebeforethen,”Shlomiesaid.

“Yes, I know. I hate tomove.Zofiaisthrivinghere,”Isaacsaid.

“Next week? I am notsure, but I think, if mycalculations are right, it isnearly the endofMarch.Wearetakingabigchancebeinghere,” Shlomie said, “I’ve

beenkeepingalogtohelpmeknowwhatmonthwe are in,ever since I escaped fromTreblinka.”

“What year is it?” Isaacasked.

“If my calculations arecorrect,it’s1945.”

Chapter75Shlomie proved to be

right. It was three days laterthat themanwho owned thefarmcametotheshed.Whenthedooropened,Zofiafeltasifherheartwouldburstinherchest. Isaac immediatelystood up, his hand on thepistolinhisbackpocket.

“What is this?” A manwithweathered skinblotchedwith red looked at themhorrified. “Who are you?Jews?”

Shlomienodded.Zofiagotup and stood beside Isaacwho moved her away justenoughtokeepcontrolofthesituation.

“Jews? Inmy shed?Howlong have you been here?”the farmer didn’twait for an

answer.“Ifyou’dbeencaughtI would have been blamed.How dare you? How dareyou?I’mgoingtoinformtheauthoritiestoday.”Theman’sface grew red with anger.“You have put me and myfamily in danger, you filthy,miserable Jews. Don’t youmove!” He looked at theirfaces then began to cry out“Alex, Alex come quickAThereareJewsinthe…”

Before he could continue,Isaac had pulled the gun andshot him in the head. Bloodspurted all over the walls.Zofia gagged and turnedaway.

“Come.Let’s go!Hurry!”Shlomiesaid.

Isaac stood, stunned,looking at the gun. “I’vekilled a man. God, forgiveme. I’ve committed theultimatesin.”Hishandswere

shaking.“Stop it, Isaac, come on.

Wecanpraylater.Rightnow,we have to get out of here.Zofia, are you all right towalk?”ShlomieshookIsaac’sshoulder.

Zofia nodded still inshock.

Isaac still stared at thegun. Shlomie slapped himhard across the face. “Comeon!Let’sgo.”

The slap brought Isaacbacktoreality.

The three ran from theshed, Isaac gripping Zofia’sarm to help her. It was lessthan half a mile until thewelcoming treesof theforestbeckoned with protection.Once they’d ventured farenough away from the road,the three stopped to catchtheirbreath.

“I killed a man back

there,”Isaacsaid.“You had no choice.”

Zofia touched his armtenderly

“I took the lifeof anotherhumanbeing.”

“If you hadn’t, we wouldbeonourwaytoacamprightnow. Isaac, you’ve neverbeen in a camp, thank God.Youhaveno idea,whatgoeson there. Just be glad we’vemade it through the winter.

Youdidwhatyouhad todo.Enoughsaid,”Shlomiesaid.

Isaac prayed every nightasking God’s forgiveness.Zofia listened as he kneltsinging the Hebrew prayers.He refused to make love toher out of fear of anotherpregnancy. But they lay ineach other’s arms, rubbingeach other’s backs tenderly,kissing, caressing, andtouching. The passion

between them burnedconstantly,andtheylongedtoallowittoconsumethem,butIsaacfoughttheneedwithallof the strength he couldmuster.Zofiameanttoomuchtohimtoputheratriskagain.

Onenightas Isaacprayedunderthefullmoon,Shlomiecalledout tohimfromwherehewasseatedagainstthesideof a tree.A light drizzle hadbeguntofall.

“Bar-Mitzvahboy,enoughalready,you’regettingonmynerves.”

Isaac paid no attention.Instead,hecontinuedtochantinHebrew.

“You can be the Bar-Mitzvah boy. You didn’tsuffer,andyou’veneverbeeninacamp.Whatdoyouknowof what it means to be aJew?”

“Shlomie, please,” Zofia

said.Isaacfinishedandcameto

sit beside Zofia, taking herhand.“I’dappreciateitifyouwould mind your ownbusiness,Shlomie.”

“ThereisnoGod.If therewas God he abandoned uswhen Adolph Hitler cameintopower.”Shlomiecrossedhisarmsoverhischest.

“You’reentitledtobelieveanythingyou’dlike.”

“Look at our people, lookat us…and you still believethereisaGod?”

“Ido.IbelieveeverytimeI look at the sky and see thestars,everytimeIcatchafishthatfeedsus.Wesurvivedthewinters against great odds.Who do you think washelpingus?Butmostof all Iknow there is a God everytimeIlookatZofia.”

“Echh,Ithinkwesurvived

by sheer luck.Andof courseyou believe, you’re like aschoolboy in love. I don’tknow why I bother to talkintelligentlywithyou.”

“Shlomie, that’s not fair.Isaac is entitled to hisreligion,”Zofiasaid.

“It’s not somuch religionfor me, it’s God. I don’tbelieve that any one religionis better or worse thananother. For that matter,

religion itself isn’t evenimportant. Ibelieve thateachmanknowswhatGodexpectsofhim.”

“Oh, and what is that?And how did our entire raceof people fail God so badlythat we ended up underHitler’s thumb, marching offto death camps?You tellmesmart boy. You have all theanswers.”

“I don’t have all the

answers. I wish I did. But Iwill tell you this. I believethat God expects us to standbyhimandtoknowthatheisthereforus.”

“Andwashe there for thepoor souls as they walkedinto the gas chambers atTreblinka? I watched themIsaac. I saw it with my owneyes,” Shlomie said, “Icleaned the ashes from thecrematorium with bits of

bone and teeth mixed in. Isaw little children tortured…Why was that, Isaac? WhydidGodallowthat?”

“I don’t know,Shlomie, Idon’t have the answers. Ican’t tell you. All I know isthat I believe. And I don’tthink that God wasresponsible for whathappenedinTreblinka.ItwastheNazis.”

“Ech, isn’t your God

strongerthanHitler?”“Yes, andhemusthave a

reason for allowing this tohappen. I don’t know thereason.MaybesomedayIwillbut I don’t know it now. IonlyknowthatthereisaGod,andHeisherewithusinthisforest,andregardlessofwhatwe have lost. We three areblessed because we arealive.”

“Please, let’s try to get

along. I realize that it’sdifficult, because we aretogetherall thetime.But,wehave to try to make the bestof it, all right? This arguingand fighting is not good foranyofus,”Zofiasaid.

Bothmennodded.“Then we are all in

agreement”Shesmiled.

Chapter76Inthemorning,Isaactook

his bow and arrow andwentout to hunt. He needed thetime alone. Sometimes itseemed as if he had toexercisealltheself-controlhehadnottobeatthehelloutofShlomie.Obviously,Shlomieharboredfeelingsofjealousy.

He’dbeen in lovewithZofiatoo, but she’d chosen Isaac,andnowhe constantly foundreasonstopickoneverythingIsaac said or did. The sunbroke through the trees inmid-March.Theweatherwasstill cool, but not nearly asbad as it had been a monthearlier. Isaac was lost inthought. He wished that hecouldmakelovetoZofia.Heyearned to feel her body

pressed against his own, tofeel theheatofherbreathonhis neck. How he loved herwith every beat of his heart.Alargeblackbirdflappeditswings as it took flight abovehim. Isaac looked up. Whenhe looked back down fourGerman soldiers stood infront of him with their gunsdrawn.

Chapter77Isaac did not return that

afternoon or that evening tothelittlecampsitewherehe’dleftZofiaandShlomie.Zofiakept watching for him toappear through the trees,wearing his big smile,carryingakill he’dmade fordinnerthatnight.Butastime

passed, she began to panic.Darkness began its descentupontheforest,bringingwithitthedreadfulfearofdisaster.

“Shlomie, Isaac is nevergone this longwhen he goesouthunting.Somethingisnotright.”

“Ihopehewasn’tshot,orcaughtbyaGerman.”

Zofia was already pacingtheforestfloorinpanic.

“Oh, dear God, no. Not

my Isaac!” she cried,reaching her arms up to thesky. “Please, God, pleasesendhimbacktome.”

Shlomie had been sittingwith his back against a tree.He toohadbegun to fear theworst. He walked over andhugged Zofia. “He’ll be allright. It’s Isaac. He’s strong.The strongest man I know.He’ll be back soon.” But hedidn’t believe it himself.

Isaac never stayed away foran entire day without tellingthem that he planned to begoneforalongtime.

All through the night,Zofia sat awake, tremblingwithfear.

“I have to go and see if Icanfindhim,”shesaid.

“In the morning. Youcan’t see anything at night.It’s too dark. Stay here withme, and as soon as the sun

comes up I’ll go with you,”Shlomiesaid.

Zofia waited for dawn,barely able to contain hernerves.Aseachhourpassed,shegrewmorealarmed.Whatcould have happened? Washe killed? Would she andShlomieevenfindhisbodyinthemorning?Washehurtandalone in the darkness? Shewrapped her arms aroundherself. “Isaac,” she

whispered, “I love you.Whereever you are, I hopeyou can hear me.” Tearsstreameddownherface.Andshe rocked back and forth,until finally the light of themorning broke through thedarkness.

Shlomie had not slepteither. He‘d sat through thenight without speaking, notknowingwhattosay.Nowhegot up and took her hand to

helphertoherfeet.“Come, we’ll go together

andfindIsaac,”hesaid.All day they searched.

First they walked in onedirection and then another.Then they went back to theoriginalareawherethey’dsetupcamptoseeifhereturned,buttherewasnosignofhim.

Everydayforaweek,theycontinued to look for Isaac.Zofiabegantoloseheart.She

could not eat or sleep.Shlomie went fishing andbrought back two small fish,but when he cooked themoveranopenfireandofferedthem to her, she shook herhead.

“If something hashappened to him, then youmust accept it. You have nocontrol over this. And Zofia,so many people have lost somuch. You can’t just stop

living now. You can’t justgive up, and there must besomeone waiting for youonce thewar is over…Yourparents, perhaps?” Shlomiesaid trying to offer somecomfort.

“No, my parents aredead,” Zofia said. “But thereissomeone,mydaughter,myEidel.Shewillneedme.”

“Yes. And for her sake,youmusttrytostayalive.”

Zofia nodded, her heartheavy with grief, with asadnessdarkerthananyshe’dknown before. There was nodoubtZofiahadsufferedloss,terrible loss, but no lossmatchedthisone.Shewantedtodie, longed to justgiveupand die. But she’d come sofar, and soon, very soon, shewouldbereunitedwithEidel,who needed her mother. Atfirst, the food would not go

downherthroat,andmuchofit was regurgitated, but littleby little Zofia began to eatsmall amounts, chewingslowly, and with every bite,shethoughtofherchild.

The days passed intoweeks as the weather grewwarmer.OneafternoonZofiaand Shlomie were crossingthe road to steal strawberriesfrom a neighboring farm.Since Isaac had disappeared,

Zofia had become lesscautious. Just then, an armytruck came barreling downthe dirt road. Shlomie andZofia were paralyzed withfearuntiltheylookedfurther.Hanging from the sideof thetruck was a sight that madethem both gasp: the red,white, and blue Americanflag. Americans! The Allieswerehere.Righthere,infrontof them, right this minute,

rightnow.Shlomie cried out to the

soldiers, waving his arms inthe air. The American’spulled over and stopped thetruck.

“Help us… Please, helpus… We are Jews runningaway from the Nazis,” Zofiesaid in the English she’dlearnedfromDonTaylor,andboth she and Shlomie rantowardthetruck.

A tall, handsome,athletically built man in hisearly twenties wearing theuniform of the Americanarmy jumped with ease offthebackofthevehicle.

“We are Americans,” hesaid.“Thewarisover.Hitlersurrendered lastweek. Comeon,getin.We’lltakeyoutoarefugee campwith a hospitalwhere you can get yourselfsomefoodandmedicalcare.”

Shlomie turned to Zofia.She told him what the manhad said. He began to cry.She patted his arm, stunned.TheAmericanshadarrived!

The American extendedhishandtohelpZofiaupintothe truck, then again toShlomie.

As the vehicle rockedalong the dirt road, Zofiathought of Isaac. She wouldhave given her own life to

have him sitting in the backof this army truck, safe andalive. They drove past theforest and the farms whereshehadspent the lastseveralyearsofherlife.Itallseemedlike a dream. She folded herhands together inher lapandsqueezed, trying to grasp therealityofit.

“Where are we, whatcountry are we in?” Zofiaasked. They’d walked so far

andforsomanymonths.“You’re inGermany. In a

fewminuteswe’llbeenteringBerlin,” one of the soldiersanswered. She turned toShlomie and gave him thenews. “Don’t worry. I willtranslateeverythingforyou.”

“I am lucky to havelearnedEnglish.Itwillmakethings much easier whendealingwith theAmericans,”she said to Shlomie. “Don’t

worryAs they drove through

Berlin they were surroundedby bombed-out buildings.Russian troops filled thestreets, as well as AmericanandBritishtroops.

They arrived at a largemakeshift camp. A few RedCross trucks sat parked,surrounding a tented area.Nurses in white uniformsscurried about, carrying food

and medicine. Men andwomeninconcentrationcampuniformswandered aimlesslyorsatagainstthewallsofthebuildings. Even though thecamp had been liberated andthe prisoners set free, manyof thesurvivorshadnoplacetogo,nofamilies,nofriends,nohomes.TheRedCrosssetup hospitals for the sick orinjured insidewhatoncewasthe Nazi officers’ quarters,

but there were so manypeople in dire need thatcaring for all of them was aconstant struggle, and manywaited in line forhelp.Zofialooked around. She saw agroupofmen,dirtyandhalf-naked, sitting against abuilding,with their rib cagesso pronounced that theyprotruded from their bodies.Their arms and legs were soskinnythattheywerethesize

of a normal wrist. Deadbodieslayincorners,coveredwith masses of flies, theirnumbers increasing daily.The stench of death, urineandfeceshunglikeacloudofmiseryoverthearea.

At the front of the tentstoodafoldingtablewithtwochairs occupied by twovolunteers, one was asurvivor, the other a RedCrossworker.A long line of

people waiting for help hadcircled around the tent. TheAmerican soldier who hadbroughtShlomieandZofiatothe camp pointed to the lineofpeople.

“Yououghttogetintothatline right there.That’swhereyougottagotofindoutifanyof your family have come inand registered at this camp.They have a list of folkscome lookin’ for their

families.Maybesomeoneyouknow came through herealready.” The well-fedAmerican looked at Zofiawithcompassion.

Zofia’s heart leapt. CouldIsaac be on that list?Was itpossible he might be aliveand searching for her? Oh,dear God, anything could bepossible.

“You might want to getsomething to eat first. The

line looksprettydamnlong,”thesoldiersaid.Zofiasawthesympathy in his eyes. Sheknew she was dirty andpainfullythin.

“Thank you,” she said.“Thank you so much forbringing us here, to thiscamp.”

Shlomie nodded. “Yes,thank you.” He knew thatmuchEnglish.

“We’veseensometerrible

things comin’ over here toEurope, the likes of which Iain’tneverseenbeforeinmylife.” One of the othersoldierswithaslighttwangtohis voice said. “We liberatedone of them concentrationcamps.Was the first ones inafter the Nazi’s tucked theirtails between their legs andran.Well,I’lltellyou,Iain’tneverseennothin’likeit.IfIliveforahundredyears,them

horriblesightswillstayinmymind.” He shook his headand looked as if he mightvomit.

The other soldier jumpedoff the truck and liftedZofiaby the waist, then put herdown on the ground. HehelpedShlomieoffthetruck.

“There’s food right overthere,” he indicated with hishand.

“Thank you again,” Zofia

said.The soldier nodded, got

back into the truck, and thetruckpulledaway.

“Let’s get something toeat,”Shlomiesaid

“I can’t eat. I have to getinto the line first to see ifIsaac has been here. Maybehe has put his name on thelist.”

“You can do itafterwards.”

“No,yougoahead.Ihavetodoitnow.”

“HowaboutifIbringyousomething and you can eatwhile you wait in line?”Shlomiesaid.

“Oh yes, that would bewonderful. Thank you,Shlomie.”

“I’llgoandgetinlineforfood. You get in line overhere. As soon as I getsomethingtoeat,I’llfindyou

andbringittoyou.”Hourspassed.Zofia stood

in line. It seemed as if theremight be a million lost andfrantic people in search ofloved ones, hoping thatsomehow, someone theyknewhadsurvived.Refugeescontinued to pour into thecamp every hour, it seemed.And the lines continued togrow.Thesmellofunwashedbodies and perspiration

mingled with the smell ofdesperation, as people criedout in anguish when theylearned that their loved oneshad not registered, or worse,werelistedasdead.

IttookShlomieoverthreehourstoreturnwithahunkofbreadandabowlofsoupforZofia. She ate it while theystood in line,Shlomiebesideher, the two of themwaitingto find out if there had been

any news of Isaac. The listsgrew constantly: one list ofthose who’d been displaced,and the other a list of themurdered. Because of theever-growing crowds, it washardtomaintainorganization.So, many people returned tothelinedayafterday,incasea loved one had been foundsince the last time they’dchecked.

Finally, it was almost

eightthateveningwhenZofiacame to the front of the lineand stood before the twowomen who’d been workingalldaylookingupnames.Shecould see that they wereweary, ready to retire for thenight. This made her doubthow thoroughly they wouldcheck the endless lists ofpapers.

“Who are you lookingfor?”thewomanasked.

“Zuckerman,Isaac.IsaacZuckerman,” Zofia’s voicecracked.

“Let’sseewhatwehave.”“Please,may I look too?”

Zofiaasked“Sure,” the woman said,

her accent clearly American.She handed Zofia a pile ofpapers.

Zofia scanned the lists ofnames. For the most part,they were written in English

making themdifficult forherto read. Still, she had to try.Andsadly,sherecognizedtheword ‘deceased’ even inEnglish, written over andoveragainnexttomostofthenames.

“I’msorryIdon’tseeanyIsaac Zuckerman. But youcan feel free to check backtomorrow.”

Zofia nodded, defeated.She turned to walk away.

Thenshegotanidea.“Missus?”Zofiasaid.“Yes,” the American

volunteeranswered.“Can I help you here at

this desk? I can read inPolish,andalsoa littlebitofEnglish. Perhaps, I can helpwith the language when youhave Polish refugees comethroughthisline,”Zofiasaid.

“Wearenotpaid.”

“That’sallright.Iwanttohelp. And who knows? My,Isaacmaycomethroughheretoregister.”

“Yes, it’s very possiblethathemight. Ifyouwant tohelp,youarewelcometo.Weare closing thisbooth for thenight in a few minutes. Butcome in the morning, if youwould like. We couldcertainly use the extramanpower. I warn you,

though. It’s demanding andheartbreakingwork.”

“I’llbehere,”Zofiasaid.Andshewas.

Chapter78Zofia worked tirelessly.

She put her heart and soulinto helping, with adetermination andunderstanding for thesurvivors that the Americansand the British could notmatch. They tried, but theycould not really comprehend

thehorrorsforceduponthesepeople. Zofia knew themfirsthand.

Sheroseearlytobeginherwork, and did not rest untilwellaftersundown.Sheateatthe registration table, notleaving to take a break. Thisgave her purpose and moreimportantly,itgaveherhope.She planned to continuevolunteering, but first shemustfindaridetoWarsaw.It

wastimetogotoEidel.“Please,”Zofiasaidtothe

young nurse, Marion, whoworked with the Red Cross,and who’d been kind andbefriendedher. “Ifyouknowof anyone who is going toWarsaw,Imustgothere.Nottostay,buttoseesomeone.”

“Oh honey, I doubtanyone you knew is still inWarsaw.I’msosorrytohavetotellyouthat.”

“Noyouarewrong,sheisthere. It ismy daughter. ShewaslivingasagentilewithaGentile family. They wereprotectingher,caringforher,Godblessthem,untilIcouldreturn.”

“Hmmm,thatdoesmakeadifference. She justmight bethere inWarsaw.Letme seeif any of the fellas are goingthat way. If they are youcouldgoalongwiththem.”

“IwouldliketofindEidel,and then bring her back herewithme. I want to stay hereatthecampanddowhatIcanto help others find their lostloved ones, for a whileanyway, until all of this issettled. And maybe, withGod’s help, my Isaac willshowup.”

The nurse nodded. Thehumanity Zofia saw inMarion’seyesmadeher look

away.Itwashardtofacesuchkindnesswithouttears.

“Verywell,givemeadayor two and I’ll find you asoldierheaded thatway.Andwe’llseeifwecan’tgetyouaride back here with yourdaughter when you’re alldone in Warsaw.” Marionsmiledandwinked.Thenshewalkedaway.

“Next,” Zofia said aloud.She was speaking to the

peoplewaitinginline.Aboyof fifteen, covered in filth,wearing a ragged, torn,striped uniform walkedforward.

“Please, ma’am,” he saidinbrokenEnglish“I lookformy parents. Their names areGretchen and HymieMikelsky. Also, you canplease add my name to thelist of people searching fortheir families. My name is

Yankel Mikelsky.” Tearsthreatened to fall from hiseyes.“Youcanhelp,please?”

“YouspeakPolish?”ZofiaaskedinPolish.

“Yes,”heanswered.“Iamgood for speaking Polish. IamborninLodz.”

Zofia nodded, answeringinPolish.“I’lldowhatIcan.Let me check the lists.” Shebegan to scan for TheMikelskys.

Chapter79The following week

Marion, the nurse, with herpressed white uniform,blonde finger-waves, andperky little hat approachedZofia as she sat at her table.“I’vegotgreatnews.Twoofthe fellas are going toWarsaw next week. They’ll

betherefortheday,andthenthey’ll be heading right backhere.Thatwouldbeaperfectopportunityforyoutogoandget your little girl.” Marionhad a pretty smile, withperfectwhite teeth.Her eyestwinkledlikestars.

“Oh, that’s wonderfulnews,MissusMarion.Iamsohappy. I will finally see myEidel. I cannot thank youenough for arranging this for

me,”ZofiasaidinherbrokenEnglish

“Would you like to bringyour boyfriend along withyou?”

“My boyfriend?” Zofialooked at her confused. “Oh,youmeanShlomie.Heisnotmy boyfriend, just a verygood friend.But, yes, if it ispossible, Iwould like him toaccompany me. And thankyousomuch. It issokindof

youtodoallofthisforme.”“I’ll arrange everything

foryou.Zofia,youhavebeensuch a help to us that this isthe least I can do. They aregoingonThursday.”

“Just tell me where Ishould go to find thesemen,and what I should do, and Iwill be there on Thursday,”Zofiasaid.

“I’ll get youall the info.”The young American nurse

squeezedZofia’sshoulder.“Iwish you the best in findingyour little girl.And I’mgladthat I can be of a littleassistance,anyway.”

“Oh, yes, you are a greathelp.”

Zofia’s heart leapt withanticipation. It was difficultforhertoconcentrate.Allshecould think of was Eidel.She’dwaitedforsolong,andthrough so much. She’d

dreamed, hoped, and prayedfor her child. Now, withindays Eidel would be in herarms. She asked one of theothervolunteers towatch thedeskforafewminutes.Zofiahad told someone, someonewhoknewher,someonewhowouldunderstand.Sheran tofindShlomie.

He sat under a treereading, a book. Before sheapproachedhim,shewatched

fromacross thepath, smilingathowpeacefulhelooked.Ofcourse, she knew his innerdemons continued to haunthim, and probably wouldforever, as her own demonswould walk with her for therestofher life. Itwaspartofsurviving this, a part everysurvivorwould have to learntoaccept.Shlomiemissedhisloved ones, and told her asmuch. Worse, although they

onlydiscusseditbriefly,bothof themfelt tremendousguiltat having survived while somanyothershadperished.

“Shlomie!” Zofia calledout. He looked up from hisbook and smiled. “I have totalktoyou.”

“Yes, of course. Pleasecome and sit down.” Hepattedtheground

Shesatbesidehim.“One of the American

nurseshasarrangedformetogo to Warsaw next week tofindEidelandbringherbackhere.Wouldyoubewillingtogowithme?”

He took her hand in his.“OfcourseIwillgowithyouZofia. I wouldn’t let you dothis alone.”His eyes showedgenuineconcern.

“Whatisit,Shlomie?Whydoyoulooksotroubledallofasudden?”

“Zofia, I don’t think youhave given thismeetingwithEidelagreatdealofthought.”

“Ihave, Ihave thoughtofit everyminuteofeveryday.Eidel has kept me alive…”Hervoicecracked.

Hesqueezedherhandthenpatted it. “Yes, I know that.But, Zofia…you realize thatwhenyou last sawher,Eidelwas just a baby. She isn’tgoingtoknowyou.Itwillbe

hardforhertojustgetupandleave her family, the familyshe has come to know andlove,andgowithyou.Zofia,toEidelyouareastranger.”

Zofiastaredoutinfrontofher. Shlomiewas right.Howcould she not have realizedthis?Whatwasshethinking?She would rather die thanhurtEidel.Yet, thatwas justwhat she was about to do.Still, how could she not go

backandseeHelenandEidel,see how Eidel reacted.Maybe, just maybe, Shlomiewaswrong.Nottotrytofindtoher childwasunthinkable.She must go, she must see.Maybe Eidel had been aburden on Helen’s family,andHelenmightbeglad thatZofia had finally come toclaim her.Butwhat ifHelenwas attached to the child?Zofia’spresencewould serve

tobreakupafamily.WoulditbebetterforEidelifshegrewup with Helen and herhusband? Was it better ifEidelneverknewhermother?If she did not return, Helenwould assume she had died,and their lives would go on.But,what if,Helenwasonlyhanging on and waiting forZofia’s return?What ifshe’dtold Eidel about hermother?Zofia was filled with

questionswithoutanswers.“Oh, Shlomie, what am I

going to do? I don’t knowwhattodo…”

“Give it some seriousthought. If you decide to gotoWarsaw, Iwillbe there atyoursidetohelpyou.”

“I must go, Shlomie, Imust know how Eidel isdoing. Imust know if she isalive,ifHelenisalive.WhenI get there, and I see things

formyself,Iwillknowbetterwhattodo.”

Zofiawassilent theentireridetoWarsaw.Shesatintheback of the open army truckbeside Shlomie, her slendershoulders hunched in worry.He held her hand as theymovedalongwiththerhythmofthebumpyroad.

“We’ll meet ya’ll backhereinfourhours.Nowdon’tyou be late ‘causewe got to

be getting back, and we justwon’t have time to wait foryou,” An American soldierwith gold stripes on hisshouldertoldthem.

“Yes, thank you.Wewillbe here on time,”Zofia said.Zofia and Shlomie, bothsilent, began to walk downthe old streets so familiar toZofia.Thestreetsshe’dtakento school, strolling besideLena, young, carefree, and

giggling… The same roadsshe’d meandered along withFruma and Gitel, talking asthey pushed Eidel in herbuggytothepark.Zofiafeltachill run down her spine asshe passed the old bakerywhere Isaac’s mother hadonce sold her bread andhamantaschen. So long ago,so many ghosts… Now thebakery was a general storeowned by a man with a

Gentile name. Zofia sighed.Isaac,mylove,andmyfriend,how I miss you, how I wishyouwerebesideme.Zofialetout a small cry of pain, thenshe lookedatShlomie.“Eversince that man, Karl, tookEideloutoftheghettoandtoHelen’s house in the middleofthenight,adaydidnotgoby when I did not think ofher. Sometimes, I wanted todie, I wanted to kill myself

and end the misery, but Ithought, ‘My Eidel needsme,’andsoIfoughtbacktheurge to give up. And now,that this isalldoneandover,I can’t believe how afraid Iam to see her. How afraid Iamofwhatliesahead.”

Shlomie said nothing. Henodded and squeezedZofia’sarm.

The apartment buildingwhere Helen lived seemed

exactly as Zofia rememberedit. Somehow, it had gonethrough the war untouched.Exceptforasubtledifference,a small change that no onewould notice, unless ofcourse theywere looking forit as Zofia was. As her eyesscanned the bells andmailboxes inside the door,Zofia saw there were noJewishnamesofoccupants.Itwas as if Jews had never

livedinPolandatall.They stood in the lobby.

Helenwouldhavetopressthebuzzer to let them into theentranceofthebuilding.

Zofia could hardly steadyher finger to ring the bellunder the name “Dobinski.”Her hand was trembling sohard that she needed to useherotherhandtoholditfirmenough.Shepressedthesmallgraybutton.

“Yes…” It was Helen’svoice,avoicesofarawaysofar in the past that Zofia felther heart pounding in herears.

“Helen.”“ThisisHelen.”“Helen,” her voice

croaked, barely a whisper.“Helen,it’sZofia.”

There was a longhesitation. Then the buzzerrang and Shlomie pulled the

door to the apartmentbuilding open. Zofia couldnotbreathedeeply;shecouldonlyinhaleshallowbreaths.Itwas as if her lungs hadshrunk and would not allowthe intake. Her legs felt likejelly. She was afraid theymight collapse beneath her.She was only a few stepsaway from Eidel. After allthis time, after all she’dendured. It she was still

alive…God,pleaseletherbealive.... Eidelwas here, righthereinthisbuilding.

“Theapartmentnumber is302. We have to walk upthreeflights,”Shlomiesaid.

Zofianodded.“You remember this

place?”Zofia nodded again,

unable to speak. It wasstrange thatevenwithall themiles that she’d walked. and

all the hills she’d climbed inthe forest, these three flightsof stairs seemed like thehighestmountainintheentireworld.

When they reached thethird floor, Zofia gasped forbreath, and then shesmoothed her hair andknocked.

Anolder,lesslighthearted,and far less beautiful Helenopenedthedoor.Thewarhad

taken its toll on the prettyblondewho’dhadsuchakindandgentleheart.

“Zofia?” Helen huggedher. “Thank God you arealive.”

Zofiawatchedtheastearsfilled Helen’s eyes. But shecould not cry. She could notspeak.

“Eidel is here,” Helensaid.“Iamsorry,Zofia,Ihadtorenameher…itwasforher

ownsafety.”Zofia nodded her head.

Eidel was alive. She wasalive.

“Youwanttoseeher?”“Yes.”“Ellen, come here/ I have

someone who wants to meetyou.” Helen called, and thensheturnedtoZofia,“Shejustgothomefromschool.Sheischanging into her playclothes.”

Ellencame into theroom.“Yes,Mama?”She smiled atHelen and tucked herselfunderHelen’s,armshyinthepresenceofstrangers.

“ThisisZofia.”“Hello,ma’am.It’sniceto

meetyou.”“Hello, Ellen,” Zofia

almost choked on thewords.The child was beautiful. Inmany ways she resembled ayoung Helen, more in her

mannerisms than in herphysical appearance. Shewore a golden cross aroundherneck.

“Mama,will you helpmewithmyhomeworkplease?”

“Yes, in a little while,Ellen.Whydon’t you go outandplayfornow?”

“Before I finish myhomework?”

“Yes, today it’s all right.When I am finished talking

with my friends, I will callyou in, then we can makesuppertogether.”

“I want to bake. Can webaketonight?”

“Perhaps… I have someflour and sugar, so we willsee. Alright then, run alongnow.”

Ellen smiled up at Helen,andthenshelookedatZofia.“Will you be staying forsupper Miss Zofia? We

would love to have you,wouldn’twe,Mama?”

Helennodded. “Ofcoursewewould.NowgoonEllen,go, and play with yourfriends.” Helen’s eyes werepleading as she watchedZofia’s face.Shedidn’twantto lose the child she’d cometolove,thislittlegirlwhohadbecome her own, especiallyafterhersondiedofinfluenzathe previous year. But Zofia

was her real mother and shewas Helen’s friend. Had thetime really come to saygoodbye?

Zofia studied the tallslender girl with the goldenbrown curls cascading downherback.Ellen.

Eidel,myEidel.Thischildwas not Eidel. Eidel was ababy wrapped in a blanketwho’dbeenrippedoutofherlife many years ago. The

lovely young girl who stoodbefore her now was Helen’sdaughter. As she watchedthem together, she saw theaffection and love betweenthem. Helen’s arm aroundEidel’s neck, the smile theyshared. Helen was hermother; she’d raised her.Shlomiewasright;Zofiawasnomorethanastranger.

“I don’t think so, butthankyoufortheinvitation.”

Helen cleared her throat.“Go outside now and play.Mama and Zofia need totalk.”HelenkissedthetopofEllen’shead.

“Yes, Mama,” Ellen said,andleft.

“I don’t knowhow to tellher. It is going to be hard. Imean, she has no idea. Shebelieves I am her mother. Itwassaferforhernottoknow.I was afraid if she knew the

truth, it might slip out whenshewastalkingtosomeone.Icouldn’ttaketherisk,Zofia.”Helen hesitated for amoment. “Do you plan totakeherwithyoutoday?”

Zofia stared out thewindowandwatchedasEllenmetwith her two girlfriends;they all carried dolls in theirarms.Shesawthemlaughingas theyput thedollsdowninthe middle of a circle, then

they joined hands and begantosing.

Zofia watched in silence.Itwasseveralminutesbeforeshe spoke. The children’svoices drifted up through thewindow, but otherwise therewasnosound.

“No,” Zofia said. “No. Iam not going to take hertoday.”

Helen breathed a sigh ofrelief.

“She loves you. You aretheonlymother shehas everknown.Doyouwant tokeepher?” Zofia asked, turningaway, hoping Helen wouldsay no, but knowing shewouldnot.

“More than anything inthe world, but I understandthat you are her motherand…”

“Iamnotgoingtotakeheraway from here Helen. Let

herliveherlifebelievingthatyou are hermother, and thatthis is her home. She hasgrown up to believe this. Totell her the truth now wouldonlyhurtandconfuseher.”

“Are you sure? Are yousurethisiswhatyouwant?”

“Yes,I’mverysure.Iloveher. But sometimes love isabout sacrifice. This is whatisbestformyEidel.”Itfeltasif a hole had opened in her

heart, another hole, one thatwouldneverclose.

“Ilovehertoo.SheisallIhave now. My husband isdead,mysonalso.Sheismylife. Iwillalwaysbegood toher,”Helensaid.“I know that, and God blessyou for all you have done,andforalltherisksyouhavetakenforus.”

“You are welcome tocome back to see her any

time.”“Iwillnotbeback,Helen.

ItisbestthatIleavehereandnever return. But, from thebottom of my heart, I thankyouforeverything.”

“Zofia, are you sure?Areyou sure this is what youwant?”

Zofia nodded. Her skinhad broken out into redblotchesfromnerves.Shegotup to leave, and Shlomie

followed,out thedoor,downthethreeflightsofstairs,andout into the streets ofWarsaw.

They walked silently tothe truck, where they waitedfor the soldiers, withoutspeaking, for almost an hourbefore the American’sreturned.

The entire ride back toGermany, Zofia gazed at thesurrounding landscape with

unseeing eyes. She knewshe’ddonewhatwasrightforEidel. And that was all thatwas important. If only Isaacwere here. If only she couldfeel the strength of his armaround her. Shlomie reachedoverandtookherhand.

“Zofia,” he whispered.Thenwipedthetearsthatshedidn’t even realize hadcovered her face. “I’m sorrythat things turned out this

way.”“I know, Shlomie. So am

I.”“But you did what was

bestforyourdaughter.”“Oh Shlomie, I have lost

somuch, and thepain inmyheartissodeep.”

“Zofia, I know that youare in pain. But you mustrealize that we have allsufferedgreat loss.Life goeson.Itmust.”Hesqueezedher

hand.“I have nothing left. No

reasontogoonliving,”ZofiasaidinPolish

The two Americansoldiersthatsatinthebackofthe open truck were quietwatching with seriousexpressions on their youngfaces, they must haveunderstoodthelanguage.

“You have me,” Shlomiesaid,hisvoiceunsure,almost

pleading.“Yes, I have you, my

dearest friend.” Zofiamanagedasmileforhim.

For a fewminutesnoonespoke. Then Shlomie clearedhisthroat.

“Marry me, Zofia. I willmake you a good husband. Iwillworkhardtotakecareofyou. We will have children.Youwillhavemorechildren,and I promise I will do

everythingtogiveyouagoodlife.”

She looked into his eyes.Theyshinedasifthey’dbeencoated with oil. She couldlook deep into them and seethedepthofhisemotion.

“Shlomie… Oh,Shlomie…” she reached upand touched his face. “I amsorry. You are a dear friend,and you always have been,but I can’t. I can’t marry

you.” His eyes glassed over.“I hate to see you hurt, andbelieve me Shlomie, I loveyou.Butnot in thatway,notinthewayawifeshouldloveherhusband.Iloveyoulikeabrother, like a preciousbrother. And it wouldn’t befair to you. You deservebetter. You’re a wonderfulperson, one of the kindestpeople I know, the smartest,too. You deserve to find

someone who will love youwithallherheart,andbelieveme, this woman that yousearch for is out there. Youjusthavetofindher.Shlomie,you deserve to have whatIsaacandIhad.”

“And what do youdeserve,Zofia?”

“I don’t know anymore.I’ve had great happiness inmylife.Ithink,forme,thosedaysareover.”

“Let me try, at least justletmetrytomakeyouhappy.Give me a chance. You’venever really given me achance.”

“Oh Shlomie…” Shereached up and ran her handdown his cheek. “I am sotiredoffighting,oftrying...”

“Please?”heasked.She swallowed hard. His

eyes looked so hopeful thatshecouldnotanswer.

“Zofia, think it over, Iknow I am asking a lot. Butyou and I, we have beenthrough somuch together. Intimeyouwill forget Isaac; ifnot forget, at least you willlearn to go on without him.Maybe you could even cometo loveme.Please, don’t sayathingjustthinkitover.”

Chapter80Allwas lost. The beloved

Fatherlandstoodonthebrinkof disaster. Manfred’s headached and he’d vomitedseveral times over the pastweek as the news circulatedamong the remaining Partymembers. Stalin’s troops hadmarchedintohisbeloved,but

bombed-out Berlin. Manfredwas in the back of a car onhis way to the secretoperating theater where hewouldmeetthedoctorandgoforward with his cosmeticsurgery. News spread fastamongst the Party members.Manfred had been told thatwhen the Russians haddescended upon Berlinwithoutpity,theonlyGermanforceslefttomeetthemwere

oldmenand littleboys. Thebattle that ensued wascatastrophic for Germany.From what Manfred hadascertained, they’d raped thewomen, murdered them too.German citizens were takingtheir own lives by thethousands to avoid anuncertain future without theleadership of their preciousFüehrer.AlthoughHitlerhadmadeaspeechtotheGerman

people telling them that theymust never surrender, thattheymustfighttotheend,hehad gone down into hisbunker with his long timelover,EvaBraunandthetwohad committed suicide.Worse, yet he had lost hisbest and only friend Dr.Goebbels. Not only hadGoebbels gone to the bunkerand killed himself, but he’dalso killed his entire family.

ManfredwonderedifperhapsHitler and Goebbels hadescaped to South America.Perhaps they’d beensurgicallyalteredandplannedto reconnect with the others,butdecided tokeep thisplantop secret. With Hitler andGoebbels, anything waspossible. Cyanide pills hadbeen distributed among theSS officers, giving them theoption of suicide, rather than

a trial, if theywerecaptured.The idea of suicide terrifiedManfred.Hecringedwhenhethought of death, and whatjudgmentmight await him ifthere by some chance was aGod.Althoughhetriedtoputthe fear of his own demiseoutofhismind,itcontinuallyhaunted him. Now, he hadless than twenty-four hoursbefore his surgery was to beperformed, and then his face

would be altered forever.He’d been warned to becareful on his way to thehidden bunker where thedoctorwasworkingdiligentlyon his fellow SS officers.Manfred must be cautiousand sure that he’d not beenfollowed.Ifhewerecaptured,he knew he could expect tobe hanged. If he werefollowed, he would exposethe entire operation. With a

heavyheart at the thoughtofthe loss of his friend, Dr.Goebbels, and terror mixedwithanxietyshootingthroughhim, he, Christa, and theirlittle girl headed towardsBerlin.

Katjalaidherheadonhermother’slap.Withherthumbin her mouth, she tried tosleep. Christa did not speak.It was one in the morning,and an eerie darkness

surrounded them, relievedonly by an occasional red orgreenlight.

Inlessthanaweek’stime,they would be on a planeheaded to a foreign land.Manfred had no desire to bein Argentina. In fact, he stilllonged for the days when helived in Berlin and workedwith Dr. Goebbels. It washard to believe that both theFuehrer and Goebbels were

dead. Who was going torebuild all of this once theygot to South America? Hewanted to believe that HitlerandGoebbelswerenotreallydead, thatallof thiswaspartof the plan. It was just asecretary, a name he didn’teven recognize,who’dcalledto inform him that he mustleaveimmediatelytohavehissurgery performed. PerhapsHitler suspected that the

phones were tapped, and theinformation of his death wasgiven to him to confuse theenemy. His mind raced. Itwas very possible that Hitlerand Goebbels had alreadyundergone the face changingoperation and were nowliving under new identities.Manfredcouldonlyhopethatonce he arrived at theunderground hospital Dr.Schmidt would tell him that

his friendswerealiveandontheir way to South America,or already there waiting forhim.

Anhourlater,theyarrivedinBerlin.

Thevehicle inwhich theyrode killed its lights as itslowlymoveddowntheroad,turningintothepark.Eveninthe darkness, Manfred couldsee the rubble everywheredue to the bombings. The

driverpulledthecaroverandlet themout according to theinstructions Manfred hadgiven him as to where hemust go to find theundergroundhospital.

“Thank you, Rolph.You’vebeenagoodfriendallthese years. Best of luck toyou, Manfred said to hisdriver.“HeilHitler.”

“Heil Hitler. And best oflucktoyoutoo,sir.”

“Come, sweetheart,”Christa said, waking Katja.“We are going on anadventure.”

“I’m scared, Mama.”Katja said, her thumb still inhermouth.

“Hurry. Let’s getmoving,”Manfredsaid

“Shhh, it’s all right,”Christa whispered, takingKatja’s hand. They walked,hiding in the shadows of the

trees and buildings, Katjacrying softly, until theyarrivedata smallbuilding inthebackofthepark.

Manfred found the trapdoorinthegroundbehindthebathroom, just where he’dbeen told it would be. Withsome effort, he moved thethickpatchesofgrassthathadbeenplacedovertheopening.Then he pulled the door anddescended into the

underground hospital. It wasdarkexceptforcandlelight.

Katjabegantocrysoftly.“Shhhh,it’sallright…It’s

all right,” Christa whisperedas they went down a narrowironladder.

Katja slipped and almostfell. Manfred moaned,annoyed.

“Watch the child,Christa,”hesaid.

Manfred reached thebottom.ThenhehelpedKatjaand Christa down off theladder.

The threeof themwalkedthrough the silent hall untilthey reached a room whereseveral oil lamps were lit.But instead of Dr. Schmidt,theyweregreetedbysoldierswearingGreenberets.

“Hello Manfred Blau,we’vebeenwaitingforyou,”

one of the soldiers said.“Your buddy, Doc Schmidt?We already arrested him.After a few minutes ofcoaxing, he told us to expectyou.”

“You are Americans? OrRussians? Or British?”Manfredstammered.

“Americans.Andyou,Mr.Nazi concentration camptortureman,areinahellofalot of trouble,” theAmerican

said, taking a puff of hiscigarette, throwing it on theground, and stamping it outwithhisfoot.

Manfred stared at him indisbelief.Theflameintheoillampgrewlarger.

“Manfred Blau,” theAmericansoldiersaid, takinga pair of handcuffs andplacing them on Manfred’shands while another soliderheld him at gunpoint. “You

are under arrest for crimesagainsthumanity.”

Chapter81Zofia threw herself into

herwork.At least shemightfeel useful if she could helpothers in someway.Shlomieremained at her side, hopingthat time would change hermind about marrying him.She’dfoughtsohardtogoonliving, and now it seemed as

if she’d fought for nothing.Theendlesslinesofdisplacedpersons in desperate needwere the only thing thatforced her to keep going.Most of them still wore thetattered striped uniformthey’d worn in the camps.One after another, they cameto the front of her line, theireyes hopeful, and their facesthinandtortured.Mostofthetime she had no luck finding

theseekers’lovedonesonthelist of names and so all shecoulddowas add their nameto the endless list of thosewho searched. However, onrareoccasionstherewouldbea connection; two peoplewho’d been separated wouldfind each other again. Whenthis happened, the look ofgratitude on the faces of thepeople was enough to keepher going. Day in and day

out, she sat at that tablescanning the lists over andoveragain.

One afternoon as the sunbeat down on her, she calledout, “Next in lineplease,” asshealwaysdid.

A woman approached,dressed in a dove-gray suitwith a cream-colored blouse.At her neck, she wore abrooch of gold and pearls.Her dark hair was caught up

inatwistandpinnedtightly.“Hello,” she said in

Polish. “My name isBernadette Holland. I am anattorney. Are you ZofiaWeiss?”

“Yes,ma’am.”“Did you know a man

calledManfredBlau?Hewasthe Arbeitsführer atTreblinka.”

“I knewhim,”Zofia said,lookingaway,notwanting to

remember.“Ineedtospeakwithyou.

Canwegosomewhere?”“Yes,wecantakeawalk.

Letmeasksomeonetowatchthetable.”

Zofia walked beside thebeautiful attorney andlistened.

“Manfred Blau has beenarrested for crimes againsthumanity.HeistobetriedinNuremberg. We desperately

need witnesses. If we don’thave anywitnesses, he couldget away with everything hedid.Weneedyourhelp,MissWeiss.Wouldyoubewillingtotestifyagainsthim?”

Shethoughtforamoment,rememberingManfredandallhe’ddonetoher.Thethoughtofseeinghimagainmadehersick to her stomach, but thethoughtofhimwalkingawaywithout punishment for all

he’d done to her andeveryone else made her feelevenworse.

“Yes,Iwilldoit.Andmyfriend,Shlomie,heknewhimtoo. Perhaps you would liketospeakwithhim?”

“Yes, I would,” theattorneysaid.

Zofia introduced MissHoland to Shlomie. Sheexplained what she neededfromhim.

Shlomieagreedtotestify.That night after dinner,

Shlomie and Zofia talkedaboutthetrialtocome.

“The thought of seeinghim again makes me sick,”Zofiasaid.

“Yes, I know, but wemust. He must be made topayforwhathedid.”

“I am ready to put all ofthisbehindme,Shlomie.Iamready to leave this camp and

find a place to live. And tofindajob.Iwanttobeginmylifeover.Afterthetrial,Iamgoing away from here. I amgoingtotrytoforget.”

“Have you given anyfurther thought to myproposal of marriage?” Hewaswringinghishands.

“I have given it greatconsideration, Shlomie. Ican’t marry you. I told youbefore.Nothinghas changed.

Icareforyouverymuch,butIdon’t loveyou in thatway.Not in the way that youdeservetobeloved.”

“I will take your love inanyway that you arewillingtogiveittome.”

“No,Shlomie,don’tsettlefor this, to be loved like abrother, rather than to belovedlikeaman.That’sall Icangiveyou.Andthat isnotenoughforeitherofus.”

“This is what you want?You are sure this is yourdecision?”

“Yes, I am. Sorry,” shesaid.

He nodded, keeping hiseyesshiftedawayfromhers.

“Perhaps it is best if Ileave this camp now. It willhelp you to heal, if we areseparated. I will not see youagainuntilthetrial.”

“Are you sure Zofia?

Wherewillyougo?”“Iwillgoandbeginagain.

My friend, my dear friend,Fruma, taught me a trade. Iwill finda job.Iwillwork.Iwill liveandsavemoney.Assoon as I can, I will leavehereandgotoPalestine.”

“You still have thatdream?”

“Oh yes, There will be aJewish state. You mark mywords, Shlomie. There will

beahomelandfortheJewishpeople,aplacewherewearesafe. And when I can find away,Iamgoing.”

“A Promised Land, yes?Well,Ihopeso,Zofia.Ihopeso,foryoursake.”

“It will come to pass,Shlomie, you’ll see. I onlywish Isaac were here to seeit,”shesighed.

Henodded,unconvinced.

Chapter82For Zofia, the time to

leavehadcome. Itwas timeto begin living a normal life.Zofia talked to Marion,explaining that shemust quither volunteer work with theRed Cross and start over.Marionwasdisappointed,butunderstood her need to go.

She insisted that Zofia takesome money to help her getsettled. Zofia reluctantlyagreed.

“AnAmerican attorney, awoman, is going to comelookingforme.Iwillforwardan address where I can bereached as soon as I find aplace to live.Willyousee toit that she receives theinformation?”Zofiaasked.

“Of course,” Marion

replied.Itwasalmostdawnwhen

ZofiagazeddownatShlomiesleeping on his cot, hisbreathing steady and even.Onlyinsleepdidheeverlookatpeace.Sheleanedoverhimand gently kissed hisforehead. He stirred but didnot awaken. Zofia took abrief moment to take in hismemory. She would misshim. They had spent the

equivalent of a lifetimetogether. But after the loveshe’d shared with Isaac, sheknewthattheloveshefeltforShlomie was not enough tosustain a marriage. Zofialooked down at Shlomie onefinal time; a tear formed inthe corner of her eye. Thenshe turned, and walkedthroughthecampandoutthegate, into the real world. Itwastime.

Thank God for Marion.She’d given Zofia enoughmoney to find a small flat inthebasementofaburnedoutapartment building. Therewasnoworkforaseamstress.Not even a good one. ButZofia was a quick learner,andwillingtodoanything,sowithin a few days, shesecured a job baking at alocal bakery. She swept andwashedtheflooronherhands

andknees.Shecleanedtoiletsand scrubbed pots and pans.Her day began at two a.m.and ended at five in theafternoon. It was hard work,butshehadplentytoeat,andasafeplacetosleepatnight.The smell ofbreadmadeherthink of Isaac when he wasjustachild,sittinginthebackof his mother’s bakery, abittersweet memory. Isaacwas the one true love of her

life.ZofiasentwordtoMarion

with her address, and threedayslater,MissHolandcameto the shop where sheworked.

“I will see to it that youhave a paid round-trip trainticket to Nuremberg fromhere.”

“I am afraid to go. I willlosemyjobifItakethetimeoffofwork.”

“I will give you enoughmoneytoholdyouoveruntilyoucanfindanotherpositionwhenyoureturn.

“Buttherearesofewjobsavailable.”

Miss Holand looked atZofia. She needed hertestimony. Without hertestimony, another warcriminalmightgofree.

“PerhapsIcanhelpyoutofindworkinEngland.Doyou

have any skills?” MissHollandasked.

“Yes,Iamaseamstress.Ican make beautiful weddinggowns. I can doembroidery…”

“That is very good.”Bernadette Holland bit herlowerlipinthought.“IthinkIcan help you. I have friendsin England who should beable to give you a job. Just,pleaseshowupatthetrial.”

“Miss Holland, I am apoor woman. Please… Thisjob is all I have right now.Are you sure that you canhelpme?IfIleavehere,Iamgoing to be in trouble. Iwillhave nomoney and no placetolive.”

“I give you my word. Iwillhelpyou.”

“Then I will be there. Itrustyou,MissHolland.”

“And I will keep my

promise.”The weeks passed, and

finallyitwasthenightbeforeZofia was to leave forNuremberg. When she toldher employer that she musttake a leave of absence, shewas discharged, just as sheexpected.Hernerveswereonedge.Bytheendoftheweekshe would be face to facewith Manfred and all of hermemories.Zofiawondered if

shewerecrazyforagreeingtodothis.She’dlosther jobona promise, and now she washeaded to Nuremberg, andback into the nightmare ofManfred Blau, a terror she’descapedfrom.Yet,sheagreedwith Shlomie, theArbeitsführer must pay forwhat he’d done. If no onestoodupagainsthim,thenhemightgofree.

Chapter83When the war ended and

the Allies liberated theconcentration camps, whatthey found sent a cry ofhorror echoing around theworld. There were heaps ofdead bodies, piles of humanashes, lampshades made ofhuman skin, pillows stuffed

with human hair, huge gaschambers built to kill peoplein large quantities, massiveovenstoburnthebodies,andthe prisoners that were stillalive were emaciated to thepoint of being walkingcorpses.Someof thesoldierscried, others vomited, butthey all witnessed whateveryone had been trying sohard to ignore. Now thenations who, during the war,

closed their doors to thehelpless people who beggedthem to let them in whiletrying to escape Hitler’styranny would demandvengeance.TheyinsistedthattheNazispayfortheircrimesagainsthumanity.

It was decided that therewould be a trial. A tribunalconsisting of the Soviets, theFrench, the British, and theAmericanswould be created.

Thistribunalwouldbecalled“The International MilitaryTribunal.” They would standin judgment of the warcriminals.

Due to the destructionfrom the bombings Germanyincurredduring thewar,veryfew courthouses remainedintact. However, thecourthouse in Nuremberg,known as the Palace ofJustice, was in perfect

condition. This was ironicbecause itwas inNurembergthatHitlerhadputhislawsofracial purity, which strippedthe “lesser humans” of theirhumanrights,intoeffect.

It was decided that thereshould be two sets of trials.The firstwould be formajorwar criminals. The secondwouldbefordoctors,lawyersandjudges,andthethirdwasfor the Einsatzgruppen, also

known as the death squads.These were murderers whohad killed the co-called“inferior” civilians in largenumbers.

TwelvetrialstookplaceinNuremberg,conductedbytheInternational MilitaryTribunal. On October 11,1946, the first set of trialsended,andverdictsof the22accused Nazi leaders werehandeddown.Elevenofthose

leaders received the deathpenalty; threeweregivenlifeimprisonment; four receivedprison sentences of 10 to 20years, and three wereacquitted.

Sadly, Hitler was neverbroughttojustice.Instead,asthe Soviet army began toadvanceonBerlin,Hitlerandhis newlywedded wife, EvaBraun, went down into theunderground bunker and

committed suicide. It isrumoredthatbeforetheytookthe cyanide capsules. Theytested them on Hitler’sbelovedGermanSheppard tobe sure they were effective.The dog died. Dr.Goebbelschosetokillhimself,hiswife,and his children rather thanface trial. Heinrich Himmlertook a cyanide capsulewhilebeing examined by a Britishdoctor, and died within

seconds. Herman Goeringtook cyanide on the day hewastobehanged.Still,manyNazis managed to concealtheir identities and escape toEurope or South America.Some were never found.Others, likeAdolfEichmann,wereperusedbyMossad, theIsraelisecretservice.Mossadeventually found Eichmannliving in South America.They captured him and

brought him to Israel, wherehewas tried and executed in1962.

Most of the Nazis whowere tried, convicted, andsentenced to prison terms atNuremberg, never servedtheir entire sentences; mostwerereleasedearly.

Chapter84Nuremberg1945

Theprosecutingattorney’s

openingstatement:MR. JUSTICE

JACKSON:May it please Your

Honors: The privilege ofopening the first trial in

historyforcrimesagainst thepeaceof theworldimposesagrave responsibility. Thewrongs, which we seek tocondemn and punish, havebeen so calculated, somalignant, and sodevastating, that civilizationcannot tolerate their beingignored, because it cannotsurvive their being repeated.That four great nations,flushed with victory, stung

with injury, stay the hand ofvengeance, and voluntarilysubmit their captive enemiesto the judgmentof the law isone of the most significanttributes that Power has everpaidtoReason…

Zofia, dressed in a simple

black shift, sat alone in theback of the overcrowdedcourtroom. She held a smallhandbag on her lap, the

leather handle of which shecouldnotstoptwisting.Itwasdifficult to breathe, here inthis courtroom, once againamongst the persecutors ofher race. Shlomie was notthere; he never came. Sheknew it was because hewouldrathernotfaceher,andsheunderstoodhisfeelings.

A long table where therepresentativesofthetribunalwereseatedstoodatthefront

oftheroom.Aguardescortedeach defendant into thecourtroom to be triedindividually. Zofia watchedand listened in horror as thewitnesses told their stories,andtheperpetratorsdefendedtheir actions. For three days,she heard unnervingtestimony, until finally, onthe fourth day,Manfred wasbrought into the courtroom,his hands cuffed, his face

linedwithworry.Ithadbeenyears since she’d last seenhim,butfearshotthroughherlikeahotironbladeashecasthis troubled eyes over thecourtroom. Manfred, theArbeitsführer. Now shemusttell the world the terriblehumiliations she suffered athis hand. Nausea bubbled inher stomach as sherememberedhishandsonherbody,hisdrunkenwords,and

thefoulsmellofhisbreathinherface,ashedemanded...

Her thoughts wereinterrupted.

“Zofia Weiss” Theprosecuting attorney calledhername. Shefelt thesweatforminginherarmpitsandonherforehead.Ifshecould,shewouldrunaway,outthedoorand into the freshair…away.But, for the sake of thosewho’ddied,andcouldnotbe

here to speak for themselves,shemustdo this.Zofiastoodup and smoothed her dress,and then she took a deepbreath, feeling all eyes uponher as she walked to thewitness chair at the front oftheroom.

“Do you promise to tellthe truth, the whole truth, sohelpyouGod?”

“Ido.”“Is your name Zofia

Weiss?”“Yes.”“Were you a prisoner at

the Treblinka concentrationcamp?”

“Yes.”Zofia looked around the

room and her eyes caughtthoseofChristaBlau,whosatwith her little girl Katjabeside her. Christa had beengood to her. Zofiawanted toleave the witness stand, to

stopwhatshehadstarted,forChrista’s sake, but she couldnot.Shemustspeakforthosewho would forever silent.Zofia did not look inChrista’sdirectionagainuntilshe’d finished telling herentirestory.

Zofia told the courteverything she’d seen andeverything she’d enduredbecause of Manfred Blau.There were gasps of horror

from the audience, andalthough she didn’t evenrealize it, there were tearsrunningdownhercheeks.Butshe continued until she’dspoken her piece, told herentire story. Then Manfred’slawyer cross-examined her,trying tomake her seem likea liar, but the defenseattorney was ineffective.Everyone, the audience, theattorneys, and the Tribunal

knew that Zofia spoke thetruth.

“Wasn’t Mrs. Blau verykind to you, Miss Weiss?”Manfred’s lawyer triedanothertactic.

“Yes,shewasalwayskindtome.”

“Anddidn’tshetrytohelpyouineveryway.”

“Shedid,butMrs.Blauisnot on trial here. I was toldthatthiswastobethetrialof

the Arbeitsführer, ManfredBlau. He is the one that isaccused of Crimes againsthumanity. Is that notcorrect?”

“I will ask the questions,MissWeiss.”

But in the end, Zofia’stestimony stood strong, andwas very damaging toManfred.

When she was excusedfrom the witness box, Zofia

leftthecourtroom.Outsideinthe hall, Miss Holandawaited.

“Would you like to comebackforthesentencing?”

“No, I’ve done my part.There is nothing more I cando. I want to put all of thisbehindme,”Zofiasaid.

“I can understand. I willarrange train fare for you toEngland.”

“You are going to keep

yourpromise?’“Ofcourse.Didyoudoubt

me?”“A littlemaybe, but I am

verygrateful.”“Give me a couple of

days? I will arrangeeverything.”

“Yes, of course. Then Ishouldstayatthehotel?”

“At the hotel, yes. I willpay the bill, you needn’t

worryaboutthat.”“That’sverykind. Thank

you. I’ll wait to hear fromyou,”Zofiasaid.

Chapter85Zofia brought a hunk of

breadandcheeseback toherhotel room that night. Thenshe took a hot bath andwashedherhair. Itwasover.At last. She would carry thememoriesforever,butatleastshewouldneverseeManfredagain. She sat gazing out the

window at the city ofNuremberg. The destructionfrom the bombingssurrounded her. England hadsuffered a similar fate, andsheknewthatshewouldfacethe same bombed outreminderswhenshegotthere,but at least shewould be farfrom Germany and Poland.Asshesat,lostinthought,thephone rang. Zofia trembled,who could that be? Brrring,

the loud buzzing unnervedher. It might be one of theNazis coming after her fortestifying. A shiver climbedupZofia’sneck.Butwhatifitis Miss Holland withinformationonmydeparture?Perhaps she has alreadysecured tickets?Brrrrrrrrrrrring!Itrangagain.Imustanswer.

“Hello.”“Zofia,” It was a familiar

femalevoice.“Zofia?”“Christa?”“Yes, it’s me. I need to

speakwithyou.”“Christa. I am sorry. I

neverwantedtohurtyou,butI had to testify. It was notagainstyou…”

“Iknowthis,Zofia.Idon’tblameyou.Iheardyouonthestandtoday.IknownowwhatManfreddidtoyou,andfromthebottomofmyheart, Iam

sorry.”“Please, don’t blame

yourself.”“I must see you, Zofia.

Willyou letmecome toyouatthehotel?”Christaasked.

Zofia trusted Christa, butthiscouldbeatrick.Shewasafraid,unsure.Still, shemustoblige.

“Howdidyoufindme?”“Thiswastheclosesthotel

tothecourtroom.Icalledandasked for you, and by thegrace of God, I’ve foundyou.”

Zofia was silent for amoment.

“Yes,come,”Zofiasaid.“Now?Isnowallright?”“Now is a good time,”

Zofiasaid.

Chapter86Zofia dressed in a simple

housedressandpinnedupherwet hair. For the half-houruntil Christa arrived, sheagonizedaboutwhethershe’dmade a mistake. What if agroup of former Nazisappeared and took her, orkilled her? Nevertheless, she

couldnotbelievethatChristawould ever do anything tohurt her. Still, she’d givenvery damaging testimonyagainst Manfred. WouldChrista trick her out ofvengeance for her husband?She refused to believe thatChrista would act that way,but who knew? Blood wasthicker than water, wasn’tthatright?Thatwaswhathermother had always said. A

womanwill standbehindherhusbandnomatterwhat.

There was a knock at thedoor.

Zofia jumped to her feetand opened it. Christa stoodlookingdownattheground.

“MayIcomein?”“Ofcourse.”Zofia indicated the chair

by thewindowforChrista tosit in, and then Zofia sat on

thebed.“You look well,” Christa

said.“Iamdoingallright.”“Zofia,I’venotcomehere

to make small talk. I havesomething important I mustdiscusswithyou.”

Zofianodded.“Do you remember my

littlegirl,myKatja?”“Yesofcourse.Shewasin

the courtroom today. It washardformetosayallofthosethings I had to say with thechildlistening.”

“I know. That was whyManfred insisted that I bringher.Hewas hoping it woulddeter the witnesses frommakingtheirtestimony.AndImust admit yours wasshockingtome.Ineverknewwhathewasdoingtoyou.”

“I knew that you didn’t

know. And I am sorry. Itmusthavehurtyoutoday.”

“Itdid.Butthat’snotwhyIamhere.IamherebecauseIamdying.Asyouknow,I’vebeen sick for a long time. Icould linger for another fiveyears or I could dietomorrow. The problem isthat I keep getting weaker,and I can’t care for Katjaanymore.”

Zofiatiltedherheadtothe

side and studied Christa,“Yes,Iknowyouare ill,andI’msorry.”

“It’s all right. I’ve knownthat Imust take someaction;I’ve know it for a while. Icouldn’t trust Manfred withKatja, and now that he willprobablybeconvicted,itisn’tevenanoption.Inaway,thistrialwasaGodsendforme.Iwanted to find you, and itbecause of this trial that I

have. Zofia, I want to askyou…” Christa took a deepbreathandtookZofia’shand.“I want to ask you to takeKatja. I saw you with herwhen you lived with us. Ibelieveyoucareforher.Andalthough she may haveforgotten, once you aretogether again, she willremember that she lovesyou.”

“I never expected this…”

Zofiaturnedawayandlookedout the window. “I don’tknow…”

“Please,Zofia.Ibegyou.Iknow you will love Katja.And I know you believe inyour heart that whathappened was no fault ofhers. She is just a child onlyfouryearsold.Shewillneverremember any of this. IknowyouandIknowthatyouwouldneverblameorpunish

her for what you wentthrough. Yes, Zofia, I knowyoutoowell.”

“No, I would never dothat.Itisnotherfault.”

“DoyourememberwhatItold you about her birthmotherandtheLebensborn?”

“Iremember.”“Katjaisavictimtoo.She

was taken from her rightfulfamily. She will probablynever know her birth

mother.”“Yes,Irealizethat.”“Here…” Christa with

trembling fingers fishedseveral papers out of herpurse and handed them toZofia “These are thedocuments of Katja’s birth.They are from theLebensborn. Katja’s realmother’s name is HelgaHaswell. I don’t knowanything about her, but

somedayyoumightchoosetotell Katja everything. I willleavethatdecisionuptoyou.Thatis,ofcourse,ifyouwillagreetotakeher.”

“I don’t know…” Zofiasaid, suddenly rememberingthe tender and loving childshe’d once sung to sleep.“You’resurethisiswhatyouwant,Christa?”

“I am sure. I am beggingyou,Zofia.”

ZofialookedintoChrista’seyes. Then she nodded. “Iwilltakeher.”

“May I bring her heretonight?”

“No, I need the night tosort everything out in mymind. I will meet you infrontof thecourthouseinthemorning. Try to talk to hertonightandexplainwhatyouare about to do to help easethe transition for her. Then I

willtakeherfromthere.”“God bless you, Zofia.

We will be outside thecourthouse in the morningwaitingforyou.”

Zofianodded.Christa tookherhandand

kissed it. “God bless you,Zofia.”

“I will take good care ofKatja.”

“Iknowthat.AndZofia,I

am sorry for all that, whatyou went through. I wish Icouldhavedonemore.”

“Christa, you always didrightbyme.Putyourmindatease.And you don’t have toworryaboutKatja.”

“I always knew that if Icould findyouagain, I couldcountonyou.”

Chapter87Assheturnedthecornerto

the street leading to thecourthouse, Zofia saw KatjastandingbesideChrista.KatjaheldChrista’shand.Sheworea blue velvet dress, and hergolden curls glistened,illuminated by the brightsunlight.

“Zofia…over here,”Christacalledout.

“Hello,Katja.”“Good morning, ma’am.

My mother says I must gowithyou.”

“Yes, that is right.” Zofiasmiled.

“Mama?” Katja saidsuddenlyalittleshaken.

“It’salright,Katja.ThisisZofia. You will be going

away with her for a while.Now, be a good girl, and doasMamatellsyou.”

Zofia took the child’shand. “Do you rememberme?”

The little girl shrugged,unsure.

Christa silently slippedaway.ButKatjaturnedtoseeher go and cried out“Mama…Mama...” ButChrista did not turn around.

Instead, she disappearedaroundthecorner.

Katja began to cry inpanic.

“It’salright,Sunshine.It’sgoing to be just fine.” Zofiasaidsmoothingherhair.

“I’mscared. Idon’tknowyou.”

“I knew you when youwere very little. Perhaps youmight remember me singingthis song to you?” Zofia

begantosingsoftly“Youaremy sunshine, my onlysunshine….” Zofia’s eyesfilled with tears. “You makeme happy when skies aregrey.” Zofia’s mind driftedback to the night she laybeside Isaac on the floor ofthe little log cabin in thewoods, when she andShlomiehadsungthissong.

Zofia bent until she waseye to eye with Katja. “Do

youremember?”“I remember. I think I

remember…” Katja said.“Singsomemore.”

Zofia liftedKatja intoherarms,her arms that hadbeenempty for so long. “You aremy sunshine. My onlysunshine…” She whisperedintoKatja’searasshetookinthesweetchildlikefragrance.Then she hugged her tightly.“Don’t be afraid, little one. I

will be here for you, fromnowon.”

Katja smiled but the tearsstill stained her face “Wherearemymamaandpapa?”

“Theyhad togoaway forawhile.IamgoingtobeyourMamafornow.”

Katja began to sob again.“Iwantmymother.”

“Shhh, I know. I know.”ZofiafeltthepapersfromtheLebensborn inside her bra,

they was stabbing into herflesh.Thispoor childhadnoideawhoherrealmotherwas.Someday, Zofia would helphertofindout,butnottoday.Today, and from this dayforward, she would comfortandloveherasherown.

Zofia rockedKatja in herarms. Katja moaned, butZofia continued to rock hersmoothing her hair from herforehead and kissing her

cheek. Finally, the child puther thumb in her mouth andgrewquiet.

“Come, let’s go home,”Zofia said, putting Katjadownonherfeet.

“What shall I call you?”Katjaasked.

“What would you like tocallme?”

“May I call you Mama?Cansomeonehavemorethanone?”

“You are a very specialgirl. You can have as manyMamasasyou’dlike.”

“I would like to call youMama,” Katja said, wipingher eyes and nose with thesleeveofhersweater.

“Very well, then,” Zofiamanaged a smile. “I have anidea.Howwould you like totakeawalkthroughthepark?I’ve heard there is a lovelypark right down the street.”

Zofiahadseenanentrancetoa park not far from the hotelwhereshewasstaying.

“Yes, I would! Do youthink there might be aplayground? Do you thinktherewillbeducks?Ilovetowatchtheducks,”Katjasaid.

The mention of the parkbrought a nice distraction.Zofiawasgladshe’d thoughtofit.Katjaseemedexcited.

Zofia smiled. “I don’t

know, but why don’t we gothereandfindout?”

Katja nodded. Theywalkedtogetherinsilence.Asthey turned the corner,Katjatripped on a piece of stonethat had fallen on thecobblestonewalkfromoneofthe bombed-out buildings.Before the child could fall,Zofiacaughther.

“Areyouallright?”“Yes,butmyanklehurtsa

little.”“Why don’t you hold my

hand? That way I can keepyou steady if you lose yourbalance?”

“No thank you…” Katjasaid.

“Please, do it for me? Icould fall over one of thesebig rocks, and then whowould be there to help? If Iam holding your hand, thatwill keep me from falling,

too. We can steady eachother.”

“Really? I would behelpingyou?”

“Yes, you would. Youdon’t realize how much youreallywould,”Zofia said herheartaching.

“Then, of course, I willtake your hand.” Katjasmiled. “You should havesaidso.”

“You’re right. I should

have.”Avendorcartstoodatthe

opengateinfrontofthepark.The old woman was sellingcookiesandsausages.

“Are you hungry?” Zofiaasked.

Katjashrugged.“Don’t be shy.” Zofia

nudged her, “How about acookie?”

Katja nodded her head

enthusiastically.Aftersheboughtthetreat,

Zofia handed the little girlwith her cookie wrapped inwhitepaper.

“Thankyou.”“You’re very welcome,”

Zofiasmiled.The two ducked through

thecanopygateentranceandinto the park. Then hand-in-hand they walked along anarrow sidewalk through an

overgrown garden of lushgrass, thick green trees andsprinkled with flowers andweeds in vibrant shades ofpurple, pink and yellow. Itwas obvious that there hadnot been much manicuringlately but the result wasmagnificent. Occasionallytheysawatreethathadfallendue to the bombing, butotherwisetheparkwaslikeaGarden of Eden, filled with

God’snaturalabundance.“Look,thereisabridge…

Is that the ocean?” Katjaasked, pointing to a sunlitbodyofwaterbeneathanironbridge that had somehowbeen spared by the bombsthat had destroyed so manybuildings.

“No,Sunshine,it’snottheocean.It’sjustapond,”Zofiasaid,lookingoutatthewater.

“Isn’t it pretty? I think I

see ducks swimming inthere.”

“Yes,itisverypretty,andIthinkyou’reright.Thereareducks in the water. Do youlikeithere?”

“Idolikeit,butitkindoffrightensmetoo.Thatbridge,it looks like the bridge thatwas in a story my motheronce read to me. It was astory about a mean troll thatate billy goats who crossed

hisbridge.Doyouthinkthereare mean trolls hidingunderneath?”

“No, I don’t think so.Would you like to walk upontothebridge?’

“No,I’mscared.”“You can’t see the ducks

verywell fromherenowcanyou? I’ll tell you what. Ipromiseyou thatyouwill besafe.Iwillkeepyousafe.Putyour trust in me, all right?”

Zofia knelt down until hereyes were level with thechild’s and squeezed Katja’shand. “When I was a littlegirl,”Zofiasaid,“Weusedtogo to Shul on Yom Kippur.That is a very importantJewish holiday. And on thatday,ourrabbiusedtosaythisprayer. It was called “TheNarrow Bridge.” Would youliketohearit?”

“Yes.”

“All right then, now youmustlistenclosely,andIwilltellyou.”Zofiasmiled.Katjareturned the smile. “Are youready?”

Katjanodded.Zofia nodded back. Then

she began her voice soft andsoothing.

“The world in which welive can be a narrow bridge.The most important thing isnot to fear. Keep moving

straightaheadandyourheartwill be led by God. Don’twasteyourdayindread.Helpisnear.

Anarrowbridge,anarrowbridge, but every step acrosswillleadyouhome.

So many things havechanged; nothing near thesame. Is it the way youthoughtitwouldbe?Hangonevery hope. I climb theburningrope.Suspendedfree,

Ifloatlookupandsee.Anarrowbridge,anarrow

bridge, but every step acrosswillleadyouhome.”

“Idon’tunderstandwhatitmeans, but I like the way itsounds,”Katjasaid

“Well, it means don’t beafraid. God is with you, mylittleSunshine.”

“Idon’tknowmuchaboutGod,butmypapausedtosaythat Jewswere bad, and you

said that this was a Jewishprayer.”

“Well, I am Jew. Am I abadperson?”

“No,Idon’tthinkso.”“Katja, you are very

young. Keep your mind freeandyouwilllearnalotintheyears to come,” Zofia, saidkissing Katja’s forehead.“Now, do you trust meenough to climb the bridgeholdingmyhand?”

Katja nodded, her eyesclear and bright with faith.Zofia felt tears form in herown eyes. From this dayforward Katja would be herown child. She would loveherandraisehertobeagoodperson. She would doeverything in her power toerase any evil planted in thisinnocent child’smind by theNazis. And, most of all, shewould take this little

vulnerablepersonandprotecther with her life if need be.Zofia bent down, took Katjain her arms, and hugged herwarmly as she vowed this toherself.

They walked across thebridgehand-in-hand,stoppingin the middle to look acrossthepondthatappearedgoldenfromthelightofthesun.

“WearegoingtoEngland,leavingtomorrow.Itwillbea

great adventure.” And thenZofia continued speaking,more toherself than toKatja“And in the future we willhave another, even greateradventure, God willing.Someday, I cannot tell youwhen, but someday, a shipwill leave for Palestine. Thisis a very special place. YouandIwillbeonthatship.Wewill go together. There isnothing left forushere, little

one. Our lives will beginagain in Palestine… thePromisedLand.”

Katja squeezed her hand.“I’mnotafraidanymore.”

Zofia bent down andhugged the little girl, kissingthetopofhergoldenhair.

Chapter88Before the war, ended

BritishhadpromisedthelandofPalestine tobeawarded tothe Jews. The Zionists heldfast to thatdream throughouttheentirewar.Thiswastobethe long-awaited Jewishhomeland. Now that the warwas over, Great Brittan was

not sure that they wantedkeeptheirpromise.

After their liberationfromthe Nazi terrors, Jewishrefugees worked, saved, andwaited, in hopes ofembarkingonthevoyagethatwould carry them far awayfrom Europe and all thememories they wanted toleave behind. Far away, toPalestine,thePromisedLand.

On July 11, 1947, a ship

christened Exodus departedfrom a port located nearMarseille, France. Aboardthis ship destined forPalestine, 4,515 immigrantssailed with hope in theirhearts; 655 of the passengerswere children. Theywere ontheirway toPalestine,a landwhere Jews could livewithout fear, a PromisedLand.

Watchingthisshipsailout

into the open sea, onewouldbelieve that this was the endof the Jewish struggle. Theywould be wrong. This wasonlythebeginning…

Chapter89July11,1947The harbor in Site, SeteFranceThe boarding of the shipExodus, on its way toPalestine.

Onahotmorninginearly

July, with the sun beatingrelentlessly on their heads,

Zofia stood holding Katja’shand at the dock in Site,France,nearMarseilles.Zofiawatched Katja look aroundwith excitement and wishedshe still had enoughinnocenceleftinsideofhertofeelsomeofthatawe.Allsheknew was that she wasleaving Europe forever, andwithitthebittermemoriesofthe Nazis and the war. TheEnglish were not pleased

about surrendering the landthey promised to the Jews,andZofiaexpected that therewould be problems ahead.She gazed at the boat, amassivevesselwiththewordExodus shining in blacklettersonherside.Therehadbeen much speculationamong her friends aboutwhether this boat would beallowed to go all the wayacross the seas to Palestine,

orsomehowbedivertedbackto dreaded German soil.Passage had cost hereverything she’d saved, butfor Zofia, it was worth therisk. Through discussionsabout Palestine with Isaac,she’d come to yearn for aJewish homeland. They’dtalkedofitoften,anditwasadream that they shared.Nowshe would embark upon thatdream with a precious child

who was just as much avictimofHitler’smadnessasshe had been.A child not ofherbody,butachildshehadcome to love fully andcompletely.

The lines to board thevessel were long. Everyonestood waiting holding his orher papers, and anybelongingstheyhad.

Asailorstrolledbywithatiny puppy. The dog barked

and Katja turned around.Then,Katjaloosenedhergripon Zofia’s hand, and wentrunningoutof line tosee thelittlegoldendog.

“Come back, Katja!”Zofia cried out. “I cannot goafter you. We will lose ourplaceinline.”

Katja caught up with theman. She was playing withthe dog and giggling as thelittle mutt licked her hand.

There were toomany peopleand too much chaos at theport that day for Zofia toallow Katja out of her site.She left her place in the linetogoafterthechild.

Zofia ran, pushing thecrowds out of her way untilshereachedKatja.

“Look,Mama, isn’t she abeautiful puppy? Can I haveonewhenwegettoPalestine,please?”

“Katja, I don’t know. Idon’t know what things willbe like when we get toPalestine. If it’s possible, Iwill get you a dog. For rightnow, youmust not leavemysideunderanycircumstances.We talked about this lastnight.Itwouldbefartooeasyforyoutogetlosthere,oronthe boat, and then anythingcould happen. Do youunderstand me?” Zofia

reprimanded Katja voiceharsher than she would haveliked due to her nerves atalmost losing sight the childatthecrowdedport.

Katja looked up a Zofia,her lower lippuffedout.Herfeelings were hurt, and shebegantosob.

“I’m sorry, Sunshine.Don’t cry. I’m sorry I yelledat you. I know you onlywanted to see the dog, but

please, you must not leavemy side. You are far tooprecious tome. I don’t wantto lose you… All right?Promiseme.”

Katjanodded.“Nowgivemeyourhand.

Wewillhavetogototheendof the line. We’ve lost ourplace.”

Zofia and Katja walkedtogetherpast thecrowdswhowaited to board the Exodus.

Thesmellofsweatpermeatedtheair.

“Zofia!”Avoice rangoutfrom somewhere within theline of tattered refugees.“Zofia…” Itwas a voice sherecognized, in fact, one shecouldnotmistake.Thebrightraysofthesunonthatcrystalbluedaystunghereyesasshesurveyed thecrowdinsearchof the voice who called forher,theonewhoknewherby

name.And then, her breath

caught and her lungstightened, her hand went toher throat. She was shockedwith recognition as shelookedrightintotheeyesofaveryfamiliarface.

“Zofia…”“Oh my God, it’s you,”

shesaid.“Yes,it’sme…”

Zofia felt dizzy, as if shemight faint. Her heart beattoo fast. Could she believeher eyes, or were theydeceivingher,blindedby thesun’sbright rays?Allaroundher Zofia heard the buzz ofconversations, and in eachonesheheardwordslike“…the Promised Land…” “…aplace of safety, a home forour people…,” “…a Jewishhomeland at last, where our

childrencangrowupwithoutfear…”

The crowded line ofhopeful, tattered, and brokenrefugees moved forward. Alight sunshower fell from thesky.

“Theendofoursuffering,finally the end of oursuffering,”someonesaid.

Zofia could hardly catchher breath. “You’re here?”She said knowing it sounded

foolish, but she could notbelieve her eyes.”Is it reallyyou?” The words caught inherthroat.

“Perhaps we will finallyhavealandwherewecanlivein safety, a place to call ourhome….” a man said toanothermanwhowore a tallblackhat..

“Yes, we have surelywaited a long time, and oy,how we have suffered for

this.Butnow,praiseGodweare on our way to Palestine,to the Promised Land,” awoman answered the manwith the black hat, tearscoveringherbonycheeks.

The Promised Land. Yes,soonallofthem,wouldboardthe boat called the Exodus,and be on their way toPalestine, a land that theEnglish had promised tothem. A dream had come

true, at long last. A dreamthat had kept so many aliveduring the horrors theyendured in the concentrationcamps. Surely the Jews hadsuffered enough. Surely theirsuffering would end now, asthey boarded the vessel soontosailoutintotheocean,outofEurope,andawayfromthememories of all that hadhappened there. Soon all ofthat would be behind them.

Yes,soon….soontheywouldstep aboard the boat andnever look back. Soon… Ifonly it had been that easy, ifonly… But the Jews,although they didn’t know itat the time, the ChosenPeople, had a long roadahead. A road filled withchallenges, and danger, withlies and false promises, withunseen enemies, and a fightfor a dream that would cost

themdearly.Andcontinue tocost them, forever. But theywouldgoforward,forwardtoa barren desert on the otherside of the world, and fromthe dry, unproductive land,they would find a way toproducefertilesoilcapableofgrowing food.Andhere theywould strive to build ahomeland, a homeland forJews, a place where Jewscould turn if the world ever

turneditsbackonthemagain,a place they would one-daycall“Israel.”

Coming soon, “ThePromisedLand…”

WhowasitthatZofiametup with on her way toPalestine? Was it Shlomie?Was it Manfred? Was itIsaac? Was it Eidel andHelen? Was it Christa? Orperhapsitwassomeoneelse?Read the PromisedLand and

findout.

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AllMyLove,DetrickDetrick was born with everyquality thatwould ensure hisdestinyasaleaderofAdolphHitler’s coveted Aryan race.But on his 7th birthday, anunexpectedeventchangedthe

courseofhisdestiny forever.As the Nazis rose to power,Detrickwas swept into a lifefilled with secrets, enemies,betrayals, friendships, andmostofall,everlastinglove.

The Voyage: AHistorical Novel SetduringtheHolocaust,Inspired by True

EventsOn May 13, 1939, fivestrangers boarded theMSSt.Louis, Promised a future ofsafety away from NaziGermany and Hitler’s ThirdReich, unbeknownst to them,they were about to embarkupon a voyage built onsecrets, lies, and treachery.Sacrifice,love,life,anddeathhung in the balance as eachfought against fate, but the

voyage was just thebeginning.

AFlickerofLight

Hitler'sMasterPlan...

In 1935, the Nazisestablished a program called"TheLebensborn."

Theiragenda:togeneticallyengineerperfectAryanchildren.

Thesechildrenweretobethenewmasterrace,onceHitlerhadclearedallundesirableelementsoutofEurope.Withinayearthefirstinstitutionwasbuilt.“AFlickerofLight”

Theyearis1943...

TheforestsofMunicharecrawling with danger underthe rule of the Third Reich,butinordertosavethelifeofher unborn child PetraJorgenson must escape fromthe Lebensborn Institute.Alone, seven monthspregnant, and penniless,avoidingthewatchfuleyesofthe armed guards in theoverhead tower, she waitsuntil thedeadofnight.Then,Petra climbs under the flesh-

shredding barbed wiresurrounding the institute, andat the risk of being capturedand murdered, she runsheadlong into the terrifyingdesolatewoods.

Even during one of the

darkestperiods in thehistoryof mankind, when horrificacts of cruelty becamecommonplace and Germanyseemed to have gone crazyunder the direction of a

madman, unexpected heroescame to light. And althoughthere were those who wouldtry to destroy it, true lovewould prevail. Here, in thislost land ruled by humanmonsters,Petrawilllearnthateven when one faces whatappears to be the end of theworld, if one looks hardenough, one will find thatthereisalways"AFlickerOfLight."

TheHeartofaGypsyIf you liked “IngloriousBastrds,” “Pulp Fiction,”“Django Unchained,” you’lllove “The Heart of aGypsy!”DuringtheNazioccupation,bandsoffreedomfightersroamedtheforestsofEastern

Europe.Theyhid,whilewagingtheirownprivatewaragainstHitler’styrannicalandmurderousreign.AmongtheseResistanceFighters,therewereseveralgroupsofRomanypeople(Gypsies).“TheHeart of aGypsy” is aspellbindinglovestory.Itisataleofamanwithremarkablecourage and thewomanwholoved him more than life

itself.Thishistoricalnovel isfilled with romance, andspicedwith thebeautyof theGypsyculture.Withinthesepagesliesa taleofapeoplewhowouldratherdie than surrender theirfreedom. Come. Enter into alittle-known world, whereonly a few have traveledbefore… The world of theRomany.

Ifyouenjoylove,romance,secretmagicaltraditions,andrivetingaction,youwilllove“TheHeartofAGypsy.”Pleasebeforewarnedthatthisbookcontainsexplicitscenesofasexualnature.

A Nazi on Trial inGod’sCourt

Thisisaveryshortstory.Itis1,235 words. Himmler,Hitler's right hand man, hascommitted suicide to escapepersecution after the fall ofthe Third Reich. What hedoesn'trealizeishemustnowface a higher court. God'scourt. In this story he willmeet Jesus and be tried inheaven for crimes againsthumanity, and the final

judgmentmaysurpriseyou..