Another Breath, Another Sunrise: A Holocaust Novel (Michal's Destiny Book 4) Read online

  Berni never said who the father was and Lotti didn’t pry. But Lotti knew that if Berni was sure she wanted an abortion, she could have probably found a doctor willing to put in a claim that either she or the child’s father had a genetic disease. That would have made aborting the baby legal, and although Lotti didn’t approve of the abortion under any circumstances, at least Berni could have avoided a back street butcher. Abortions were legal for anyone who had any disorder that could taint the German race. Still, Lotti looked at Berni lying in her bed breathing softly and Lotti shook her head. Lotti just couldn’t imagine any woman in the world not wanting to have a baby.

  What a strange girl Berni was. She was secretive and hard to understand. There were unspoken boundaries with Berni. Lotti was always afraid to ask too many questions about Berni’s past. She was afraid she would push her away. And, Berni rarely volunteered any information about herself. Lotti first met Berni when Lotti worked on a switchboard at a hotel. Berni was working in housekeeping. Rumors spread among the hotel employees that Lotti had been married to a Jew, and so very few people wanted to befriend her. Berni was different. She hardly spoke, and never discussed her past, but one day she befriended Lotti by joining her in the cafeteria. After a couple of weeks Berni had agreed to come to dinner at Lotti’s apartment. Lotti had gone out of her way to help Berni move from her job in housekeeping to a position on the switchboard. It wasn’t a wonderful promotion, but it was easier to answer phones than to scrub toilets. The two women were far apart in age. Berni was in her early twenties while Lotti was in her late thirties. Still they became good friends. Sometimes they would have lunch together in the park. . Then one afternoon as they were walking through the park Berni passed out. Lotti called for help, which resulted in Lotti finding out that Berni had had a botched abortion. After Berni’s hospital stay, Lotti asked Berni if she wanted to come home with her and Berni said yes. Berni needed help, and Lotti was lonely and needed a friend.

  If Bernadette had been able to move freely, Lotti would have taken her to hide in the subway tunnels as so many of the other women had done. But in Berni’s condition that would be impossible. There was no other choice; they would have to stay where they were and await whatever might befall them.

  The city was buried in rubble from the earlier bombings. Fire and smoke now filled Berlin, but this time it was from the Soviet attack as they entered. The world outside Lotti’s window was a battle zone. She felt her heart beat fast and her stomach twist and turn, unable to settle because she knew that if the Russians came and broke down the door, they were finished. There was no place to go, no place to hide. All she and Berni could do was beg for mercy. Peeking out the window, she saw Russian soldiers, laughing as they shot defeated German soldiers attempting to surrender, leaving dead bodies and pools of dark blood in their wake. Some of the Russians were chasing women, pushing them to the ground or against buildings and forcing themselves on them. Every so often a woman would cry out, begging to be spared. Don’t vomit, Lotti told herself, but terror plunged through her stomach like the blade of a dull knife.

  Lotti walked away from the window and dropped into a chair, putting her head in her hands. The world was upside down and for her, nothing would ever be right again.

  For months Dr. Goebbels had promised the German people that everything would be fine; he’d lied and told them that Stalin would never get into Berlin. But now things had taken a downward spiral for the women left behind. The powerful führer with all of his manipulation and lies, and Goebbels, his minister of propaganda, another liar, were dead. They’d committed suicide. Bastards, all of them, she thought, biting her nail. The Third Reich had destroyed her life, murdered her one and only love, her Jewish husband Lev, taken away all of her close friends. Even her brother was gone. And, now that the Nazis faced defeat, the cowards took the easy way out, leaving the poor defenseless women of Berlin to suffer the consequences of their actions. Just last week, Lotti had heard about the suicide of two young women who lived upstairs in her apartment building. Lotti had met them a couple of times, but because of the gossip about her being married to a Jew, they had rejected her friendship. From what she knew, the two women had moved in together to save rent money while waiting for their husbands to return from battle. When they, like so many others, had learned that the Russians were on their way, they both left notes to their husbands, telling them they would rather die than be raped by the invading army.

  At first, night hovered like a cloud and then finally fell over the city, casting a dark shadow over the broken ruins of Berlin. There were no lights, and Lotti glanced over to the small pile of firewood that they used for the stove. Soon she would have to go out and try to cut more. Last week she’d paid a large sum to a young boy in order to purchase a small amount of wood. He’d chopped up a tree in the park, and although he had overcharged her, Lotti was glad to have found him or she would have had to chop it herself. Now the pile was dwindling and soon she would have to find wood again. At least it wasn’t the dead of winter. They could survive without firewood for a while if need be. But not without water. Lotti walked over to the bucket where she kept their supply. It was getting low as well. There was no running water, no luxury of a bath. Still they needed the water to drink. So, regardless of the threat posed by the invaders, when their water supply ran out, somehow she would have to find a way to go two blocks to the street fountain in order to pump another bucketful. It was hard to believe that before Hitler came into power, Berlin had been a thriving city—a center of art, science, and culture. What would become of her now? Lotti had no idea what the future held. She wished she could talk to Lev. He had such a calming way. “Dear God,” she said aloud, her voice more of an angry accusation than a prayer. “Why? Why did you have to let them take Lev?”

  Lotti was too nervous to stay seated. She got up and went into the bedroom to check on Bernadette, who was still asleep. Gently Lotti pulled the blanket up and covered her friend. It had been a long day. If only she could get a little rest, Lotti thought, as she went to the bed she had once shared with her precious late husband and lay down still wearing her day clothes. She was afraid to change into sleepwear in case they broke in. How silly I am, she thought. If the Russians get in here it won’t make any difference to them what I am wearing. They will do as they please with me. She closed her eyes, trying to trust God, but she’d lost faith, and the ruckus in the streets made it impossible to rest. Every time she closed her eyes, a sound outside would jar her, and fear gripped her so hard that she felt her heart beat hard in her throat. At any moment the Russian soldiers might bust down the door and then…? Lotti sat up in bed and gathered the blanket around her. It was chilly outside, but she felt icy cold. Part of her wanted to run in panic, to leave Berni and hide in the subway with the others. But of course she knew she never would. The guilt she would feel at leaving Berni in her weakened condition would be too hard for Lotti to live with. As Lotti lay back down with the blanket tight around her body, all alone on the bed, she began to pray. At first her prayers were words of anger, and her face filled with tears of fury. But then like a miracle, out of nowhere came an answer. Perhaps it was God? She wasn’t sure, but it was clear, crystal clear, an idea that flickered like a light in her brain. Once in what seemed like a lifetime ago, when things were far better than they were now, Alina, her best friend’s daughter, had given her a tube of red lipstick as a gift. It was sort of a joke at the time. Alina always told Lotti that she looked like an American movie star. All she needed was the cherry red lipstick. They’d both laughed. Then when Lotti had gotten Alina the job at the orphanage, Alina had given her the lipstick as a gift. She’d only worn it a few times; she’d saved it for special occasions. Now, she was glad she had it, because it might save her and Berni’s lives.

  It was nearly midnight and the cries of anguish from the victims and the yelps of triumph from the victors continued in the streets below. The plans Lotti had for the lipstick were still rolling around in her mind whe
n she heard a loud, distressed female voice coming from outside the building: “The Soviet flag has been raised over the Reichstag.”

  It was time to act, and act quickly. What was she waiting for? Her legs were wobbly with fear, but she got out of bed and took the lipstick out of the bottom drawer in her nightstand. The tube felt cold in her hand as she swallowed hard, praying the lipstick had not dried up. She opened it. Testing it on the back of her hand, she saw that it was still in working condition. Quickly she wiped the lipstick off her hand with a towel and went to Berni’s bedside. Her hands were shaking as she began carefully dotting Berni’s face, arms, and hands with the red lipstick so she would appear to have a severe rash. Once she’d finished she took a moment to look at her work. It was convincing. But before she could begin to draw the dots on herself, there was a pounding on the door.

  “Open up,” a harsh and determined male voice said. He was speaking in Russian. Lotti understood him because her late and beloved husband, Lev, had been a Russian Jew. Over the years that they were together she had become fluent in the language. Oh my God, Lotti thought, they’re here. The Russians are here.

  He knocked again. Louder this time. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Lotti felt sure that if she didn’t open the door he would break it down. If only she’d acted faster with the lipstick, but now it was too late.

  Her hand shook as she opened the door.

  “What the hell took you so damn long?” a tall young Russian soldier said, more of a statement than a question.

  Lotti didn’t answer.

  Then she heard a stampede of boots on the stairs, and she knew he wasn’t alone. A mob of wild, drunken Russians flooded into the small apartment. Help me, Lev, she whispered in her mind. I am so afraid.

  One of the soldiers tore the blanket off Lotti. Then ripped her nightgown open and revealed her breasts. Instinctively she grabbed the fabric to hide her modesty. All of the soldiers roared with laughter. If only she’d had a few more minutes she could have put the lipstick on herself the same way she had on Berni. Damn it….

  “There is another one, sleeping in here,” a soldier called out to his comrades. “This is going to be a good night for us.” They were speaking in Russian. They thought Lotti didn’t understand them, but she did. She could feel the fear rising within her. At least Berni is heavily drugged, and with God’s help, she’ll sleep through this.

  “Wait,” Lotti said, her voice cracking as she found the courage to speak. “My friend in that bedroom is very sick. She has a contagious disease. I realize you can do as you like with us, but be forewarned. I too have been exposed to the disease. It might be a day or two before I come down with the rash. But, just know, that if you touch us, you well may catch what we have.”

  The soldiers looked at each other. One of them went into the room where Bernadette lay, followed by the others and Lotti. He lit a match. By the light of the small flame the lipstick dots looked like a red, vivid, and terrible rash.

  “I’ve been taking care of her,” Lotti warned. “She is my sister. I couldn’t leave her, but I know that it is contagious.”

  “ Let’s get out here,” one of the soldiers said. “It does look terrible. And I sure as hell don’t want to catch it.”

  “What about the other one. The healthy one?” another soldier asked, indicating Lotti.

  “I want to get out of this apartment as soon as possible. There are women all over Berlin. Who needs this one. Did you see that stuff all over her? There’s a disease in here and I don’t want it. What if it’s true and the other one is carrying it? These women are not worth getting sick over. Just look outside all around you, there are plenty of other German women to take our pleasure with. Let’s go.”

  “You’re right. What the hell.”

  And just like that they left the apartment, leaving the door ajar. With trembling hands and wobbly legs, Lotti walked over to the door and shut it, locking it. Then she fell to her knees and wept. The fake rash had worked this time. But, there was no telling what would happen in the future. Thank God she still had some Pervitin. She’d gotten the amphetamine from her physician so she could stay awake when she worked all night. Then she’d used it to keep her wits about her during the bombings. Tonight she would take it so that she could stay awake, just in case more soldiers tried to come in. She dotted her own face and hands. This time, if they came, she would look sick too. Then she lay awake trembling on her bed.

  Still, Lotti knew, it was only a matter of time before she would have to leave the apartment to get food and water if they were to survive.

  CHAPTER 3

  Gilde London

  Every night of the show, following their performance, the actors came outside the back door to sign autographs for the fans. Gilde Thornbury, in her gold lamé gown, opened the backstage door and walked outside with pen in hand to the music of loud applause. She glanced over the crowd, she was smiling and waving. Then amongst the fans she saw Archie. The smile left her face. He stood there on crutches, still handsome, with a dark-haired woman on his arm, a pale, slender woman. Archie’s eyes caught Gilde’s. His face broke into a grin. “Sign my program, please, Mrs. Thornbury,” someone said. “Mrs. Thornbury, will you please autograph this for my son?” another said.

  She was surrounded by fans. They were all calling out to her at once. For a moment she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her, as all the memories of her and Archie, what she had done and the shame she’d brought upon herself, came rushing at her in a surge like a tidal wave.

  Gilde felt herself flush. Her knees seemed to be giving way beneath her. Keep calm, she told herself, you are an actress on the London stage and all these people are watching you. Then she raised both hands in the air. “I’m sorry to disappoint all of you, but I am not feeling well this evening, so there will be no autographs. However, I want to thank you for coming to see the show. Please know that your support means a lot to me,” she said, trying to force a smile. Then she turned around and with her head high she quickly went back inside the theater.

  Her heart was beating wildly and she could barely catch her breath as she disappeared behind the door in her dressing room. She dropped into the chair and put her face in her hands. But only a moment later there was a knock at her dressing room door.

  Oh no, she thought. Could Archie have paid someone to let him come backstage?

  “Who is it?” she said in a curt voice.

  “Miss Thornbury? I have a letter for you.” Could the letter be from Archie? The voice sounded like it was coming from an adolescent boy. How had this young boy gotten backstage? It had to be Archie. He must have paid someone to allow this child to deliver a message to her. That didn’t surprise her. Archie, that coward, of course he would send someone else. It was easier to hide behind a letter than to face her. Bastard that he was. Gilde had met him when she was in nurses training at the hospital in Birmingham after her first husband, William, had joined the army and been killed in combat. At the time she was so lonely and missed William more than she had ever dreamed she could miss anyone. Archie was a wounded patient, miserable, angry, and just what Gilde needed to jolt her out of her depression. He was so sad and unhappy that in trying to help him, Gilde took her mind off of her own problems. Then one night in her desperation she and Archie had become lovers. Maybe it was loneliness, hard to say, but Gilde had fallen hard for him. He’d made promises to her that he never kept. He’d lied, telling her that he loved her and wanted to marry her. But what he failed to tell her was that he was from a rich family that would never allow him to marry Jewish girl, and a poor one at that. Then when she became pregnant and he was released from the hospital, he went back home to his family and abandoned her. That was when Alden, who at the time was her best friend and was now her husband, came to her aid. He was a doctor at the hospital where she worked, and he had been willing to abort her child rather than let her go to an illegal abortionist and possibly put her life at risk. But at the last minute, G
ilde couldn’t abort the baby, and now when she looked at her daughter who she loved more than life itself, she was glad she hadn’t. And, so that she wouldn’t have to face the stigma of being an unwed mother, Alden had proposed to her. But for him it was more than just a favor to friend. He told her that he’d always loved her. At the time, she was still in love with Archie, and she told Alden as much. She was honest with him, telling him she could promise him nothing. Alden said he didn’t expect her to return his love. He was willing to accept her on any terms, and so still brokenhearted over Archie and pregnant with Archie’s child, she accepted Alden’s proposal and she’d married him. Living with Alden had been sweet. He was kind and gentle. When Vicky was born he had shared in caring for her like she was his own biological child. And sometime during those sweet moments, Gilde realized that she’d fallen in love with her husband. When she told him, he was so happy that his joy filled the emptiness Gilde had endured since she left her family behind in Germany. Then an unexpected turn of events had occurred that changed everything. One night she and Alden had gone out for dinner. They were sitting in a restaurant when Gilde ran into Elias, an old friend from her childhood. Elias was an orphan and he’d come to Britain with her on the Kindertransport. There was a special bond between them because of what they had witnessed as the Nazis came into power in Germany. Although Elias was an orphan living in a Jewish orphanage, Gilde was not. Her family was Jewish. Her parents were arrested and it suddenly became a dangerous place for a Jewish child in Germany. At the time Alina, Gilde’s sister, was working at a Jewish orphanage with Lotti, a family friend. When it was arranged for the entire orphanage to be transported on the Kindertransport to Britain, Lotti and Alina, with great difficulty, had arranged for Gilde to be taken with them. Gilde was sent away from everyone she knew and loved and went to live with a family of strangers far away from her home. On the train she’d ridden beside Elias. The entire trip she’d leaned on him for support. And this was the first time she’d seen him since they had been separated at the train station when they arrived in Britain. When she left him, Elias was just a boy. But now he was a handsome man and engaged to an actress. They talked for a while, and he invited Gilde and Alden to a cast party that was being given for the play his fiancée was performing in. It was at that party that Gilde met her first professional stage director. She’d always loved the theater; she sang and danced as a child. The director was quite taken with her and he’d offered her a small part. From that day on her life was spinning like a tornado fast and furious. In fact she was rising quickly, and becoming a star on the London stage.