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

  But damn if she didn’t wish Ugo had been less stubborn about her business. They could have been financially comfortable. Damn him, if only she could have convinced him that he would earn more money working with her than he ever could delivering furniture. They could have done this together. But of course Alina would never have asked Ugo to be a partner in a business like this. He wasn’t that kind of man. And although she hated the fact that he was so stubborn, at the same time, she knew that his character and integrity were some of the most pressing reasons why she loved him. Alina inhaled deeply on her cigarette. If only she could just talk to him now. She needed a friend, and even though she had Klara, it would be good to have a partner, someone to share her life. There was something special about Ugo. Alina always felt she could trust him. She took a sip of coffee. It was getting cold. She put the cup back on the saucer and her thoughts turned to Ugo again. It would be nice to hear his voice. Stop thinking about him, she told herself, he’s gone, everyone in Germany is gone. No point to dwell on the past. It’s just Joey and me from now on. And of course Klara.

  Joey came limping out of the living room. He was all she had left. Her small, underweight son with his slender, twisted legs. She loved that child with a love she never knew she could feel. He needed her in a way that no one in her life had ever needed her.

  “Mama, I drew this for you,” he said, handing her a picture of a bird.

  “Joey, it’s lovely,” Alina said, and it was.

  Klara came into the dining room. Her fiery red hair was set in curlers, and she had a thick layer of white, pasty cream on her face. Alina was amazed that Klara had turned out to be her dearest friend. How strange, considering she was Ugo’s ex-wife. Had it not been for Klara, Alina would never have been able to afford to buy this house. But Klara knew the owner; he was a client of hers. Klara had helped Alina negotiate a fantastic deal. Life was so strange. Real friends turned up in the oddest of places.

  “Rough night last night,” Klara said. “May I?” She pointed to the package of cigarettes in front of Alina. . “I am all out.”

  “Sure, of course, help yourself.”

  “The business can be like that sometimes,” Klara said.

  “You mean rough customers?”

  “Yes, I’ve learned that men have all kinds of reasons for going to a whore. Some are lonely, and need affection, they’re usually old, widowers, or shy and unattractive. Others are unhappy sexually with their wives, they have important jobs and need a girl who will be discreet. And then there are those that are just sexually perverse. It takes getting used to.”

  Alina nodded. “Yes, I suppose it does.” It was odd how close she and Klara had grown over the last few months. When she’d first met Klara, Alina had been jealous. After all, Klara had a connection to Ugo. But once the business opened, and Klara proved to be the most valuable friend Alina could imagine, she’d started to really like Klara. Klara was funny, sincere, and really smart. At first it was difficult for Alina to talk about Ugo with Klara. But Klara was so matter of fact about the breakup with her husband that it became easier for them to discuss him.

  “Ugo would have been shocked at how strong and capable you were last night,” Klara said, taking a bite of a buttered biscuit. “Mmm, that’s good,” she added, closing her eyes and savoring the flavor of the hot doughy bread.

  Alina’s face turned red. “Why do you say that, about Ugo, I mean?”

  “Because when he used to come and see our daughter, God rest her soul, he would talk about you sometimes. He thought you were such a delicate flower.” She laughed. “You’re tough as nails, Alina. That’s why I like you.”

  “You’re teasing me,” Alina said, shaking her head.

  “No, just telling you the truth. Ugo is in love with you, you know that, don’t you?”

  “I am not sure that I believe it. I have to tell you the truth, Klara, I’m not sure I believe in love. But what surprises me is that you knew he had feelings for me all along and he was your husband, but it didn’t bother you?” Alina asked.

  “Yes, I knew, and no, it never bothered me. From working in this profession I’ve become an expert on men. But, I was never jealous because I knew that Ugo and I had no future together. We were sweethearts in a different land, a different time and place. Once I got here to America I knew that he and I couldn’t see eye to eye. We just don’t share the same goals or dreams. He wants a wife and children. He’s satisfied being mediocre, a working man, living a simple life. Ugo doesn’t have aspirations for greatness. I do. I want a man with more money than I know what to do with. I grew up poor in Russia, very poor. I lived on a farm where we got up before the sun rose and worked in the fields all day just to have enough food to survive. In the winter it was freezing cold. Starvation, disease, and early death were a way of life for us. My parents had eight children. Three of us survived to adulthood. The first two died before they were a year old. That was our way of life. So, when I came to America, I was determined to find gold on the streets as they say.” She laughed. “And I am going to find it, maybe not on the streets, but in my bed, and when I do, I am going to marry it.”

  “So you have been telling me the truth all along. You really aren’t in love with Ugo.”

  “I love him, but more like an old friend from the past than a lover. We were just children when we met. I was a teenager when we met. He was handsome and I was infatuated, you know? But Ugo is one of those straightlaced fellas who would rather live by the book than earn a lot of money. I want a man who is living the American dream. I’m tired of hard work. Ugo is just not that man. He is so proud that even though he loves you, he can’t cope with the fact that you own this house. This is a big problem for him. He’s always been far too prideful, and so moral. It’s pitiful, really sad that he is willing to let you go for such a stupid reason. But I know him and I’ll tell you this, the damn fool is in love with you. He just wants you to marry him and be satisfied with whatever he is able to give you. He has a strong sense of what he feels is right and wrong. In a way this is what makes Ugo a noble kind of guy, but it’s also what keeps him from true happiness.”

  “Aren’t most men like that? I mean, how many men do you know that would be comfortable with their wives owning a brothel?”

  “None.” Klara laughed. “But you’re a different breed than the average woman. You don’t care what people say about you as long as you have what you need. That’s why I like you. You give men the impression that you are weak and helpless. They like that. It makes them feel powerful and needed. But, the truth is, Alina, you’re stronger than most. And, you may not want to hear this, but I know that you care for Ugo too. In many ways the two of you are a lot alike. You have your own mind. I am not saying there is anything wrong with it, but you are not willing to sacrifice your independence for love.”

  “I can’t. It’s for Joey that I’m doing this.”

  “And for yourself too. As long as you have your own money, you don’t have to ever put up with a bastard like Trevor again.”

  Alina and Klara had talked about Trevor extensively since they’d begun their unusual friendship. “Yes, that’s true. I learned a lot from marrying him. I learned that when you don’t have your own money, you don’t have any control over your life.”

  “Yes, but I’ll tell you a secret if you want to know.”

  “That’s up to you,” Alina sipped her coffee. She was curious, especially if what Klara had to tell her was about Ugo.

  “I have money saved, and I don’t plan to be a whore forever. You know Marcus, my client, the attorney? The successful one? I am trying to find a way to convince him to marry me. I’ve been trying to get pregnant by him, but so far no luck.”

  “He’s an old man,” Alina said. “You want him to marry you? I’m surprised he can still have sex.”

  “Most of the time he can’t, that’s the problem. If he was more able, I’d be pregnant already. He only comes to see me to prove to himself that he is still sexually desirable.
It’s a private little game we play.” Klara winked. “He might be an old man, but he is a rich old man. And old men have a short life span,” Klara said, then she laughed.

  Alina shook her head. “Klara, you’re quite the character.” Alina laughed too.

  Klara lit a cigarette and took Alina’s hand. “Listen, there is something that I have to talk to you about. It’s serious.”

  Alina took a cigarette out of the pack and lit it, then she put an ashtray between her and Klara. “Can we talk here, or should we go into my room where we can talk privately.”

  “No, here is fine. I just want to make you aware that Trevor has found you. He came by the house looking for you yesterday. He knows where you and Joey are living. A man like that is dangerous, Alina.”

  “If he does anything I’ll have him arrested,” Alina said. The sweat beaded at her temple. Oh my God. Why couldn’t he just disappear? Trevor was here. He’d found me He had stood right here in my house. She looked at her hand. It was trembling. Damn that dirty bastard. He still has the power to frighten me.

  “If he does anything, it will be too late to have him arrested.”

  “Right now there is nothing I can do, because he hasn’t done anything to me or Joey,” Alina said, taking a drag of her cigarette.

  “That’s what I figured,” Klara said. “But I wanted you to know and keep your eyes open. I don’t trust him.”

  “Yes, I will,” Alina said. She was worried about Joey.

  “Klara…”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t mention it to the girls. I don’t want to start a panic. But between us … I’m terrified.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Lotti Berlin

  Over the next two months, Berlin slowly began to come alive again. Some of the restaurants and cabarets reopened. The subway and phones were up and running. An Aryan and a Jew were married legally! This was the first marriage of its kind since the Nuremberg laws had been instated. For some people, especially Jews, it brought a glimmer of hope. The Russian soldiers were still frightening to the German’s and they were in control. Since they were the only source of food for the German women, the Russian soldiers thought they were sexually entitled to use the woman at will. If she could have, Lotti would have stayed inside her apartment forever. It was not a guarantee of safety, because the soldiers were coming into the women’s homes, but it was still safer than the streets. However, Lotti had to venture out to go back to work and to find food, water, and firewood. Berni was getting back to herself. She was able to get out of bed and walk around the apartment, but Lotti still worried when she left Berni alone.

  One evening when she and Berni had just finished dinner, Lotti took Berni’s hand and led her into the bedroom where Lotti slept. She opened the drawer to the nightstand.

  “I have a gun. You see? It’s loaded. In case something happens when I am not at home, I want you to know where it is.”

  Berni’s eyes grew wide. “I have never fired a gun.”

  “Me either. But it’s here. I suppose you just pull the trigger,” Lotti said as she lifted the firearm with a trembling hand. “I don’t know if I’d have the nerve to use it. In fact, I’d almost be afraid that the intruder might take it away and use it on us,” Lotti said.

  “I wouldn’t be afraid to use it. If a man came in here threatening us, I’d kill him. I have no doubt about that,” Berni said. Her eyes were hard like glass. “Give it to me. Let me see it,” .

  Carefully Lotti handed the gun to Berni. “I think I know how to use it. I remember my father had a gun. He shot rabbits and small animals. It made me sick. But I think I remember how it works,” Berni said, turning the gun over in her hand. “Yes … I think I remember.” She handed the weapon back to Lotti, who put it safely in the drawer.

  One afternoon Berni was inside the house and Lotti was on her way to the water pump to replenish their supply when Lotti was attacked by two Russian soldiers in the alleyway of their building. This time Lotti was not as fortunate as she was in the past. This time she could not escape. Two men forced themselves on her, taking turns. One held her down, the other raped her. It took less than a half hour, but it felt like a lifetime in hell. They didn’t hit, punch, or kick her. They weren’t exceptionally brutal with their thrusts. But then again, Lotti didn’t fight. She went limp like a rag doll, far too terrified to fight. In fact, she was in shock, unable to cry, or even to move. Neither of the men even spoke. They just grunted. When they were done they left her sitting on the gravel. Lotti was shaking uncontrollably. She was stunned, still unable to cry. Her body felt invaded, like it was a stranger to her, a stranger she hated. Her breath was shallow, and as much as she wanted to lay down on the pavement and die, she knew instinctively that it was too dangerous to stay in the alley. More Russians might come at any minute. Then she would have to endure the same thing again. It was best to get up and try to get to the water fountain. Her legs were weak and wobbly as she pulled on her underpants and straightened her dress. Then Lotti began to walk quickly towards the fountain. “Oh God, Lev. Oh God. What am I going to do? This could happen again at any time,” she whispered to the empty sidewalk. Holding on to the wall of the building, she forced herself to hurry along until she felt bile rise in her throat. Nausea overcame her, forcing her to stop and vomit the contents of her empty stomach. No one on the street paid her any attention as she retched.

  She finally got to the fountain. There was a line. There was always a line. When she got to the front she pumped the water until her bucket was full, noticing that there was still some vomit on her hand. She poured some water over it and washed it off. Then quickly she made her way back to the apartment.

  After Lotti put the water away, she checked on Berni, who had fallen back asleep. A pang of resentment towards Berni came over Lotti. Now she had to go back out and see if she could find some food. All of Lotti’s life, she’d enjoyed caring for others, but right now, she needed some help and there was no one to depend on but herself.

  On her way to a shop she hoped would be open, Lotti saw a group of women, Trümmerfrau, cleaning up the street by passing pieces of rubble. She wanted to keep going, but she felt that she must help at least for a while. After an hour she left and went on her way looking for bread. Most of the bakeries were closed. They were having trouble finding the ingredients they needed and the fuel to run their ovens. Lotti walked for several miles before she found an open bakery where she was able to buy a single loaf. With bread in hand she began to rush back towards home. She wanted to be off the street before nightfall.

  When Lotti walked into the apartment, Berni stood up.

  “My God, Lotti, what happened to you?”

  “I was helping a group of Trümmerfrau clean the streets.”

  “You’re a mess. Your dress is covered with blood.”

  “I cut my hand,” Lotti said.

  It was true. Berni cleaned the cut and bandaged it. “I’m ready to go out and start helping. I’m doing much better now,” Berni said.

  “You can’t.” Lotti shook her head, feeling guilty for the moment of resentment she’d felt towards Berni earlier that day. Berni had been through a lot. She was still weak. Lotti didn’t want her to get hurt.

  “If you can do it, I can too,” Berni said.

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Sit down, Berni,” Lotti said, taking Berni’s hand and leading her to the sofa. “Something happened to me today. It’s been happening a lot to the women here in Berlin. I was raped by two soldiers, Berni. After your recent hospitalization … something like that might kill you. And, well, it’s very probable if you go out on the street that this will happen to you.”

  A mask that was white and pale like plaster came over Berni’s features. She didn’t speak but she was grinding her teeth.

  “Berni, listen to me. You have to keep yourself together,” Lotti said.

  “I hate men,” Berni growled like a wounded animal.

  Lotti had never seen B
erni look like this. Berni’s eyes had turned to glass, unseeing. Her teeth were bared.

  “I hate them all,” Berni said, and she swallowed hard. Then in an instant her face crumpled and she began to weep into her fists. “My stepfather raped me for years. From the time I was ten years old.”

  “I’m so sorry…” Lotti said.

  “He told me that if I told my mother he would kill me. I finally told her. I had to. I couldn’t take it anymore. I would rather have died. And you know what she said? She took his side. She didn’t believe me.” Berni wiped her nose on her sleeve. “The baby … the baby I aborted. It was his baby. He raped me and I got pregnant. Then I ran away.”

  “Oh,” Lotti said. She touched Berni’s arm, but Berni pulled back.

  “The next time a man tries to touch me against my will, I will kill him. I swear it. I’ll take a knife and plunge it through his rotting heart.”

  Lotti couldn’t speak. She saw the pain in Berni’s face, so she took Berni into her arms and rocked her like a child. Terror and shock from what happened to her that day still hung over Lotti like a dark cloud. But she’d always put others first, and even though she was in pain, she hid it. Instead she did what Lotti always did. She tried to comfort someone else who was in need.

  That night after Berni fell asleep, Lotti lay awake in bed. It had been a horrific day. She was still in pain, not only because she’d been brutally violated. But, also because she’d scrubbed her female parts raw trying to remove the residue that the Russians had left behind. Oh God, how are we ever going to get through this? Are we to live in terror forever from now on? The Russians are here to stay. A single tear fell on her pillow. Well, at least she finally understood why Berni had gone for the abortion.