To Be An Israeli: The Fourth Book in the All My Love, Detrick series Read online

  She might have fallen in love with Mendel if Elan had not come along—big, strong, sexy Elan. The minute he’d entered her life, she’d fallen through time and space into a love affair, so filled with passion that she hardly knew herself. Mendel had always been a constant, a friend, a companion, someone she could talk to about anything. Could she marry him? After all, she was getting older. She had turned twenty-three in January. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps with him by her side, she might find a way to begin her life over. Maybe she could even forgive herself for the Nazi blood that ran through her veins.

  Kat looked at him, his eyes glowing deep-green like a forest speckled with gold dandelions at the beginning of summer, so full of hope, so full of love. “Yes. I’ll marry you,” she said.

  “Kat, oh my God! Kat!” He looked at her in joyous disbelief. His throat was dry, and he coughed a little. “You’ve made me so happy. I promise you that I will devote every day of my life to making sure you always feel loved and cherished.”

  Katja saw the pure delight in his eyes and decided that she had made the right decision.

  His hands trembled as he touched her cheek. His fingers were a little clammy as they caressed her skin as if it were porcelain. Carefully, almost as if he were afraid to break the spell, he leaned forward and touched his warm lips gently to hers. “I love you. I’ve always loved you,” he said, his voice deep and hoarse with emotion.

  “I know, Mendel. I know.”

  “You will be my world, Kat. I will do anything, anything at all, to make you happy. You’ll see. You’ll have a good life with me.”

  “And you don’t mind mingling your blood with mine so that we can have children?” she asked.

  “Elan was a fool. He lost the best woman in the world. To me, you are and always will be a Jew and an Israeli. You are a precious gift, and I will always remember how fortunate I am to have you as my wife. I will never, not for one minute forget…”

  “Mendel,” she said. He was handsome in a haphazard way. His clothes could hardly be called high fashion. In fact, most of the time the colors he wore didn’t match, and his maple-brown hair never looked combed. But his features were fine looking with his emerald eyes, flecked with gold, his strong chin and high cheekbones, and his slender but muscular frame. She leaned over and kissed him. She felt his body quiver ever so slightly.

  “Let’s take a drive to the kibbutz next week and tell your parents,” he said.

  “I’ll ask my boss if I can have the week off. He won’t be happy, but I think if I tell him that I’m going to see my parents, to tell them about our engagement, he’ll grudgingly understand. Can you take the time off from work and school?” she asked him.

  “Of course. For you…anything.”

  CHAPTER 2

  When Katja and Mendel arrived at the kibbutz where she and Mendel had grown up, Zofia, her Jewish mother was reading a story to the younger children. They were all gathered around her in a circle, their tiny faces upturned in wonder and waiting as she slowly brought the storybook to life. Zofia heard the door open, and she looked up from the book. Then a smile crept over her face, and the lines of life deepened around her eyes. It was her daughter, her sunshine, her life.

  “Hi, Mom.” Katja walked over and kissed Zofia’s cheek. “And how are you, Mendel?”

  “Good, very good,” he said, his eyes shining as brightly as a harvest moon. Zofia could see something was amiss, and it certainly pleased Mendel. Could it be? she thought. Nah, they grew up as children together.

  “It’s good to see you, both of you, but what brings you home? Is everything all right?”

  “Yes, yes. Don’t worry so much, Mom. I have good news. Where’s Papa?”

  “I would have to guess he’s in the field. It’s just after midday, and he should be there,” Zofia said.

  “Can someone take over for you here with the kids?”

  “Sure,” Zofia said, and then called out to the rooms in the back, “Yetta? Yetta, do you have a minute, please?” A thick, very heavy-set woman with thinning red hair came out of one of the classrooms, breathing heavily as she walked.

  “Yes, Zofie, what is it?”

  “My daughter, Katja, is here. I think you know her.”

  “Sure, of course, I know Katja since she was a tiny pitzel. Oy, you were such a pretty little thing. Not that you’re not pretty now, you are, but oy, you were such a beautiful child… Of course, how could I ever forget such a child?”

  “Hello, Yetta,” Katja said, giving her mother’s friend and coworker a warm hug.

  “So tell me, Nu, why are you here? Just a visit? It’s not a holiday. You’re all right, I hope. Yes?” Yetta inquired.

  “Don’t be a yenta, Yetta,” Zofia said. “Can you watch the children for a while for me? Katja wants me to go with her to find her father. She needs to speak with us, together.”

  “But of course.” Yetta smiled. “I hope everything is all right… You know you can talk to me. I won’t tell anyone. You can tell me anything…”

  “I’ll be back soon,” Zofia said, shaking her head and smiling to herself. Yetta would love to know all the news.

  Katja had been such a small child, but over the years, she had grown taller than her mother. She put her arm around Zofia, and the two walked into the fields. Rows and rows of olive trees lined the walkway, their leaves sparkling like silver coins in the sunshine. The smell of fresh garlic permeated the air. Men and women were harvesting apples just across the field, piling them carefully into large barrels. All were working together on the land that was their kibbutz, their shared home. This too, was Israel.

  Zofia called out to Isaac, and he turned to see them from where he was working. A smile washed over his sun-kissed face, and he began walking over to them while wiping the earth from his hands on the thighs of his pants.

  “Katja, sweetheart. What are you doing home?”

  Katja laughed. “That’s exactly what Mom asked. I’m here to see you both. Come back to the main house. I have something to tell you.”

  They started back together.

  “Good news, I hope?” Isaac said. “Nothing is wrong?”

  “No, nothing is wrong. Yes, good news,” Katja said.

  Mendel was sitting, leaning forward on a comfortable old sofa in the main living area of the kibbutz, waiting excitedly. Even though Mendel had known Katja’s parents since he was ten years old, he was still anxious about sharing the news. He just wanted everything to go perfectly.

  “Mendel is here, too?” Isaac said. “Good to see you, Mendel. How are you?” Isaac hugged him.

  “I’ve never been better, sir.” Mendel cleared his throat.

  “Mendel and I have something to tell you.”

  “Nu?” Zofia said, “Tell us already. I’m a nervous wreck. What is it?”

  “We’re getting married,” Katja said.

  Zofia and Isaac exchanged a smile between them. Isaac’s eyes danced, and Zofia could not help but laugh aloud.

  “Oy! Mazel tov,” Zofia said, grabbing her daughter and kissing her.

  “Mazel tov!” Isaac hugged Mendel. “You’re going to be my son-in-law. That’s very good news. Very good, indeed.”

  CHAPTER 3

  That night, Zofia lay curled in Isaac’s arms. She ran her fingers over the skin on his chest, so familiar, Isaac, her beloved. Once his skin had been young and supple. But now at forty-seven, even though he was still muscular from working in the field, his skin had wrinkled from years of working in the hot sun, and it was no longer as firm. But to Zofia, it didn’t matter. She loved him. She had almost lost him all those years ago, and although they’d had their differences over the years, the memory of having come so close to losing him had always served to remind her how blessed she was.

  “Isaac… Are you asleep?”

  “No, my love. I was thinking about Katja and Mendel.”

  “I am happy. He loves her. He will take care of her. After all, Isaac, we won’t live forever. I mean, I realize that w
e are still young, but it is something I have always been concerned about. After all, Katja is an only child. She has no brothers or sisters to lean on. At least, I will know that once we are gone, Katja will have someone in her life, someone who truly cares for her. Isn’t that what every parent wants?”

  “Of course, and I love Mendel. He has been like a son to us,” Isaac said. “We knew him since he was a little boy. He has a good heart.”

  “Yes, he does. I remember when we met him when we were all on that boat, the Exodus. Poor child, he had no one else. His parents, his family—all killed in the camps.”

  “I know, and he certainly grew up to be a fine man, an educated man. That was the only thing in my life that I regretted, never getting an education,” Isaac said. “You deserved a better man than me.”

  “Isaac, there is no one better than you. You are the best man I have ever known. And I know that you would have gone to school, but neither of us ever had the opportunity. Hitler stole that from us. Yes, the Nazis stole that and so much more—our families, our friends, everything. But at least, Isaac, God returned you to me. And for that reason alone, I am forever grateful. Besides, it is the kibbutzim that have built Israel, and you have worked on this one with all your heart.”

  He gently touched the top of her head. “I love you, Zofia.”

  “I know you do, and I love you too, Isaac.”

  “I don’t know if I should even mention this. I don’t want the evil eye to look and suck away their happiness. But do you think that Katja is in love with Mendel? Or do you think she is still in love with Elan, God forbid?” Isaac’s voice cracked.

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to say what she really feels. I would never mention Elan to her. She went through hell when he left. But I must admit, I’ve been worried about the same thing. I didn’t want to say it aloud, I was afraid to put a ke nignehore (tempt the evil eye) on the marriage. Pu, pu, pu,” Zofia said.

  “Pu, pu, pu,” he said, gently running his hand over her salt and pepper hair. “I know that we both wish them every happiness.”

  She smiled. “We’ve both become so superstitious. It’s funny, isn’t it?” He laughed. “I know, it’s true, the older I get, the more I remember all of the superstitious things my parents did to ward off the evil eye. At the time, I was young and thought they were so old-fashioned and silly, but now that I’m getting older, I find that I’m doing the same things.”

  “Yes, it’s funny how life is. The older you get, the more you understand your parents. Why they did the things they did, things that, at the time seemed so ridiculous.”

  “I miss them, my mother and father. Sometimes at night, I still have dreams that I am a little boy sitting in the back of my mother’s bakery eating challah with butter. She adored me. I was such a spoiled, pampered little boy. I was her pride and joy, you know. Oy, how different things might have been,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “But who knows, maybe if Hitler had never come into power, you and I would not have been together. I remember before the war when you used to come into the bakery, you never even noticed me. I was just a fat little boy.”

  “I was too young, Isaac. I didn’t know about boys then. I was just a child, myself. But when I saw you again in the forest, after I’d escaped from Treblinka, you were so big and strong and handsome. I’ll never forget it. I’d been wandering without food or water for I can’t say how long. I thought I was going to die for sure. And to this day, I can still remember how I felt. I think the worst part of it all was being thirsty. Thirst is worse than hunger, you know.

  Well, anyway, I’d fallen asleep exhausted, ready to give up. I was lying under a tree. I think maybe it was an oak. It was a heavy tree with thick, leafy branches, and it shielded me from the relentless heat of the sun. My throat was so dry that it hurt, like a bad sore throat. I believe I even tasted blood in the back of my throat. Awakened by movement, I opened my eyes, and there you were. Your form was illuminated by the sun at your back, and I thought you were an angel. Oh, Isaac… At that moment, I felt the presence of God.”

  “I remember. I remember all of it. Shlomie and I were out hunting to feed the rest of the partisans. We thought we heard a rabbit and followed the sound. Then there you were, lying on the ground alone, half-starved. I looked at you, and you took my breath away. I was thinking, ‘Could it be? Am I dreaming? Is that really Zofia Weiss?’ And it was. Praise God, it was. And as I’ve told you a thousand times before, I always had a crush on you.”

  “So you say.” She squeezed him a little.

  “I still do.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “Oh, Isaac, you can still make me feel like a young girl in love.”

  “I hope I will always make you feel that way,” Isaac said, and he kissed the top of Zofia’s head again. Then he took a deep breath and continued, “If Katja still has feelings for Elan, we can only pray that she will forget in time and learn to love Mendel. He is a fine person, and he will make her a good husband.”

  “Yes, I understand what you are saying, and I agree. We must pray for them and wish them all the happiness our marriage has brought to us. And if she does still care for Elan, all we can do is pray that she will forget him. Oh, Isaac, our little sunshine is going to be a bride. You are going to walk her down the aisle and lead her under the chuppah. I’m kvelling.” She smiled in the darkness, and he could feel her smile.

  “You know, Zofie, even with all we have been through and all the evil we’ve both seen… It is still a very wonderful world.”

  She moved up slowly to kiss him and found his cheeks wet with tears.

  “Oh, Isaac, my Isaac. Promise me you will never change.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Zofia wanted to make Katja’s wedding gown. “Before the war, I was a seamstress. You know that. I learned under one of the finest seamstresses that ever lived. God rest her soul.”

  “You never told me about her,” Katja said as Zofia was draping a measuring tape around Katja’s tiny waist.

  “Yes, well, she was a good friend to me. She taught me the trade.”

  “I’ve seen some of the clothes that you’ve made. You are so talented.”

  “Oy, I remember when I was as thin as you are now,” Zofia said, pinning the fabric.

  “You’ll always be beautiful, Mom.”

  “She was quite a seamstress, that woman who taught me. Her name was Fruma. She was kind, too. She and her friend Gitel took me in after my mother died. Fruma taught me to make beautiful dresses, suits, and wedding gowns. She and Gitel were good friends to me. They both died in Treblinka.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom. I hate to think about those camps.”

  “Yes, but it’s a memory we must never forget because if we ever did forget, it could easily happen again. That’s why it’s so important that we protect Israel. If there is ever another dictator like Hitler, the Jews will always have a place to go where they will be safe. You see, before Israel, we had no place to go,” Zofia said, draping a bolt of white satin across Katja’s shoulders and pinning it.

  “Mother?”

  “Yes, my sunshine,” Zofia’s voice was muffled by the two pins she held between her teeth.

  “You don’t believe that there is anything to genetics, do you? I guess what I mean is…well, do you think that I have any of the characteristics of my birth father?”

  “You, my sweet Katja, are the kindest, gentlest, and most loving person I’ve ever known. You have no characteristics of an evil SS officer. You are a child of God, Katja. The people that were involved in your beginnings mean nothing, right after the moment of conception, God took over.”

  “Mendel loves me, regardless of where I came from.”

  “Mendel had always had a good heart and a sound mind…even as a little boy, he was that way.”

  “Did you know that he has a very high IQ? They tested him at the University. He graduated from college at the top of his class. It looks like he will do the same in law school.”

  “It doesn’t
surprise me. Besides all of that, he is also good and kind. What else could a woman want?”

  Katja nodded. Zofia studied her daughter. Zofia knew her child. She may not have given birth to her, but she raised her, nursed her through sickness, cried with her when she was sad, and rejoiced with her when she was happy. Yes, Zofia knew every expression, every subtle twist of an eyebrow or raise of a shoulder.

  And now, by looking in Katja’s eyes, Zofia knew that she still loved Elan and that her heart had still not mended. Elan, so self-righteous, how could he have walked away from her when he learned that she was not of Jewish blood? He was cold and merciless, and Zofia could never forgive him for the pain he’d caused her daughter. She wanted to tell Katja that Mendel was such a better man than Elan, but she knew it would only stir the bitterness in Katja’s heart. Don’t mention Elan, Zofia thought. Don’t bring it up. Let it be. With God’s help, over the years, Mendel will find a way to win Katja’s heart.

  “So we’ll have the wedding here?” Zofia asked, strategically placing another pin in the fabric.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “It’s all right with Mendel?”

  “Yes, we talked about it. Everyone we know and love is here on this kibbutz. This is where we grew up, and this is where we want to be married. I am going to invite some friends from work, and Mendel plans to invite some friends from law school, and of course, Rachel. Rachel will come home for the wedding. I’m sure of it.”

  “Of course, Rachel. She hardly ever comes to see her sister. I can’t believe she doesn’t want to be here for the holidays to be with Shana and the baby. It’s a terrible shame. Shana misses her so. Shana tells me that Rachel writes; sometimes she calls, but she almost never comes. Last year she sent a present for the baby for Hanukkah, but she didn’t come to light the candles with us,” Zofia said, shaking her head.

  Katja knew why Rachel didn’t come back to the kibbutz, but she didn’t want to betray her by telling her secret. If Rachel chose to announce her truth, then it must be her choice alone.