Until Then Read online

  She was relieved to find a plump older woman kneading bread, humming a quiet tune. From where Sophia was crouched, she couldn’t see anyone else in the home with her. If she were blessed in any way, the woman’s husband would be off serving elsewhere and she could corner her all by her lonesome. She stood to her feet, brushed her limp uniform off and cleared her throat before knocking heavily on the door. Seconds later, the same woman opened it timidly and raked her over with skeptical eyes.

  “Yes, officer? It is awfully early to see you this morning.”

  “Herr Ulrich von Gottberg, Brigadefuhrer.”

  “Yes, General. I am Frau Himler. May I help you?”

  It was working. She tried to compress her smile and cleared her throat once more. She narrowed her eyes.

  “I have been traveling a great distance.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Bread and water, Herr Himler.” Her voice came out more stern than before, commanding rather than asking.

  Her eyes widened as she flung the door open further. “Of course, General. Please!” She curtsied and bowed her head, before dashing to the kitchen to gather some bread.

  “Anything I can do to help our men!” She clamored in a cabinet to find a glass before filling it with cool, clean water from a steel pitcher in the middle of the table.

  Sophia squinted her eyes and took the glass from the woman. She had decided before ever approaching the house that she would say only what she needed to; no idle talking.

  “Where are you headed?”

  Sophia grunted and stuffed a large piece of the stale bread in her cheek. “Dauchau.”

  “Oh, yes of course. The camp nearby. I hear our men are working hard there. Teaching those young Jews a thing or two about real work.”

  “Which direction is it again?” She swallowed the entire glass of water in one gulp.

  The woman pointed west and smiled. “Only a half mile or so. Can’t miss it.” Her eyes perused Sophia, resting eventually on her boots.

  Sophia panicked. In need of a distraction, she slammed her glass back on the table and pointed to it. The woman hustled to the pitcher, anxious to refill it. Her bottom swayed side to side as she hurried.

  After devouring the remaining piece of bread and swallowing the second glass of water, Sophia raised her hand high over her head and shouted, “Heil Hitler!” before slamming the door behind her.

  When she was out of sight from the house, she doubled over into the woods. She wanted to throw up, but the bread was too important to her strength. She dry-heaved and spit repeatedly into the grass, suppressing the chunks rising in her throat. It was only by God’s will that she made it through that encounter. She never would have been strong enough without Him.

  She swiped the beads of heavy perspiration from her brow line and straightened up. A half mile, the woman had said. She was within minutes of finding Eli and she had hardly a notion what she would say or do, but it had to be tonight. She had made it. Her love was so close she could almost feel him. She had to be strong, for Eli. She could almost hear his whisper around her, “Because, Sophia. I’ll love you forever and ever.”

  It was too risky in the daylight hours. A large gulp of air into her weakening lungs and she pressed forward to either her finest hour or her final demise.

  * * * *

  Sophia’s throat felt as though a long, heavy boa constrictor was slowly squeezing and pressing until she could no longer breathe. She was crouched nearly thirty feet from the entrance of Dauchau, Munich’s first Jewish “work camp”. Her eyes tapering, she could make out the tall, Iron Gate, with the words “Arbeit Macht Frei” or “Work Makes You Free” inscribed and she almost laughed in response, if she weren’t already quaking in fear. How could she have been so naïve? How could this grim behavior and darkness have been swirling around her and all the while she believed every word her father fed her. Why didn’t Eli tell her sooner? It pained her, made her stomach ache to think of the things she had yet to learn.

  The sun would surely be rising within the next hour; she had little time. Four erect Gestapo officers stood on either side of the gate, their beady eyes scanning left and then right. They were clutching immense rifles tightly against their chest, just waiting for someone to cross them to demonstrate their power and brutal strength. In the distance, three gunfire shots sounded in the black sky.

  Sophia studied the camp. She let her eyes penetrate the details. The rickety metal fence appeared to be made of barbed wire, surely impossible to climb. It would be too perilous to walk from the woods to the gate. She needed force, something they wouldn’t question. She needed a car.

  Tiptoeing through the rim of trees on the edge of the camp, she spotted a Horch 830 Field Car, tucked behind the barracks toward the back of the camp in a beaten-down shed. Two young officers were leaning against it, laughing and smoking cigarettes. She waited and watched and when they finally left the premises, she moved. Her legs felt as though they might collapse underneath her as she strutted toward it. She refused to look side to side, kept her sights on their ticket out of there.

  Eli was just beyond that border. She could only imagine his surprise, his beautiful eyes wide with amazement. He loved her, but he would be driven to tears at just how much she loved him. She tightened her fists, imagining she was wrapping her hands around his. He would get her through this. His love. Her love. It was all they would ever need.

  Her father had given her a gift. The only gift she could remember. Little did he know that this one tiny piece of knowledge that he shared with his daughter would set her free. When she was no more than ten years old, her father was working as a mechanic, dismantling broken cars and reviving them for their anxious customers. He was great at what he did, but often brought his work home with him to continue progress after dinner. It was a simpler time, when Sophia could saddle up next to him under the car and admire his work. Long before the war, the callous and cold character had yet to settle into the fiber of his being. He used to be kind and loved when she wanted to help. It was then that he gave her the ignorant gift of rebellion…he taught her how to wire a car.

  She leapt over the driver side door and felt her feet slide along the floorboard. Her heart was racing and her hands were trembling uncontrollably. She began fumbling under the dash for the treasured two red wires her father had shown her. She pressed them to one another, feeling her heart beat reverberate through the wires. She touched them together again and a small spark flew toward her pants leg, producing a small burn mark. She looked up from within the shed, her mind vying with fear. She tried again and with a touch of shear magic, the engine roared to life. Before she could think or react, she pressed the pedal and spun out of the shed toward the entrance of the camp.

  The magnitude of what she had done enveloped her as she neared the Iron Gate. She pressed her hand to her cloth hat, pushing it firmly down over the wisps of hair begging to protrude. The SS officers were getting closer and closer and she feared she might lose control of her bladder. They put a hand up to stop her.

  She squinted at them and kept her shaking hands on the steering wheel. She didn’t speak or move. They approached the car with fierce steps. She lifted the identification papers from her pocket and flashed them shakily and pointed to the gate. They kept on, ignoring her request. From far down inside her, someone whispered the answer.

  “Move, you tyrants! Open the gate or I will blast a hole in your face so wide you will be unrecognizable!” She bellowed in a sovereign, deep-rooted voice that blasted supremacy and mandated reaction. The officers halted. She pointed at the gate again.

  “Now! Don’t you dare undermine a General!” she shouted and roared her engine for good measure.

  They exchanged a nervous glance and to her astonishment; they backpedaled and made their way toward the Iron Gate and pulled it wide. Tears stung her eyes and she pressed the gas pedal as hard as she was able, leaving the officers in her wake.

  From the perimeter of the camp, she could make out the main square, what ap
peared to be prisoner bunkers and Gestapo offices. Now inside, she slowed considerably, feeling every eye of the skeptical officers upon her. A small, wilted sign that read Canteen drew her toward it in a supernatural way—a way that she would look back upon and know God led her. She pulled to a stop in a swell of the camp that no one currently occupied. The night hours were doing her justice and she slid out of the car onto the dirt. With the wind no longer pressing against her face, she now caught every wretched smell imaginable, reminiscent of the eerie scent of burnt meat and rotten potatoes. She clamped her hand over her mouth and made her way to the entrance of the Canteen.

  A large man with unequivocally-sized hands in proportion with his body was chopping soiled celery into a large bowl. Doing as she had seen her father do so many times, she pounded on the open door frame and muttered, “Herr Ulrich von Gottberg” and saluted the man working. He turned toward her in a matching gesture.

  “Eli Weinbaum, a prisoner. I have come to collect him and help him relieve the rubbish of the day.” She grimaced at her well-rehearsed line. Did it make sense? Would he believe her? Is this something an officer would ever actually request?

  Her voice cracked and she swallowed hard. The man took a step back from his vegetables and took a perilous step toward her. She puffed her chest and extended her neck. He wasn’t wearing a uniform or even a chef’s coat, so she had little idea of who he might be. If God was on her side, he was a prisoner.

  “Who did you say?”

  “Eli Wienbaum,” she repeated, this time sharper.

  “I don’t have the authority to do so. I think he just arrived yesterday.”

  “Yes?”

  “Yes. Who did you say sent you?”

  Her mind raced and she gave him the only other name she could think of, “Herr Schultz.”

  He nodded and she clenched her fists, feeling beads of sweat on her palm. Suddenly, she felt faint and she staggered against the doorframe.

  “Herr Ulrich von Gottberg?”

  She took a large swallow of air to steady herself.

  “I am under good authority to remove Weinbaum immediately to the rubbish bin. He is to sort and dismantle the remains. Where can I find him?”

  “Rolling cigarettes in the back.” The man suddenly seemed disinterested and returned to his chopping. “We only do that in the wee hours, can’t risk that tobacco walking away.

  Her heart skipped a beat. He was here, just behind the Canteen. She never believed she would find him and it had been too easy. They would surely be caught. It couldn’t be this simple.

  “Heil Hitler!” She saluted him and moved carefully to the rear of the small shed.

  * * * *

  Hunched over two piles of reeking tobacco, two young men were rolling thin pieces of paper in reedy, pale blue and grey striped uniforms. Their heads were low as they worked. Sophia’s voice caught in her throat as she recognized Eli immediately and wanted to run to him and smother him in kisses and tell him how far she had traveled to find him.

  Instead, she cleared her throat loudly and said in a hushed whisper, “Eli Wienbaum!”

  He stood immediately and turned toward her, his shoulders hunched and weary. As he raised his eyes to meet hers, he let out a small gasp.

  “So...”

  “Eli Weinbaum,” she interrupted him. “Come with me. You will take yesterday’s rubbish to be disposed of. Now!” she shouted and she almost cracked a smile as he grinned sheepishly. He was here. Her Eli—so beautiful and alive. Her joy was too much to contain.

  She motioned for him to follow her and when they were in the shadows, pressed her finger to her lips. “Shh...we are getting you out of here.”

  In the distance, seven or eight gun shots fired. She blinked rapidly and grabbed Eli’s hand. He squeezed it and she could see his tears glistening in the moonlight.

  “You came for me,” he whispered.

  “Listen to me, Eli,” she sputtered. “Whatever happens right now, I love you.”

  “I…” He feverishly swiped the tears from his cheeks. “I can’t even tell you how much I love you. My parents are dead, Sophia. They were killed. My brother, too.” Fresh tears swelled to the brim.

  Her face fell and she wanted to fall to the ground in a rage of fury. Suited in her newfound role, she dug deep for strength for the both of them. “Stay strong…for only a moment longer. You are going to survive, Eli. We both are.”

  More shots were fired and a terrifying scream cracked through the silence. Sophia released Eli’s hand, nodded at him sharply and tore away for the awaiting car. As they rounded the corner, still in the shadows to their precious getaway, a sea of at least twenty prisoners went flooding by, screaming and begging for their life. Many of them were without a parcel of clothing, their eyes wide with terror. SS officers loped after them hollering obscenities, lighting their guns to the sky, large bullets stretching toward the moon. The air was thick with murder and all she could think of was throwing up.

  Sophia stepped back toward Eli instinctively wanting him to guard her. After all, she was only a young girl wearing her father’s uniform, begging to be protected. She glanced up at Eli, saw his eyes widen at her movement and then she plummeted herself forward, pushing him away. Another round of shots, this time directly at the prisoners with one resounding boom after another. One by one, they collapsed to the ground, an ocean of black blood flooding from their broken bodies. Sophia felt vomit rise through her chest cavity and settle onto her tongue.

  Eli whispered, “Now!” and lunged her forward toward the car. When she turned to find him, she saw him running in the night toward his bunker. Where was he going? Why was he leaving her? The sun would be rising any minute now and she couldn’t chase after him. If she didn’t leave in one minute…all of the officers would see her in the daylight. One by one, she saw them emerge from their barracks at the commotion and tear off in the direction of the prisoners.

  She sparked the engine once more, pressed her eyes closed in a silent prayer and when she opened them, everything was right in the world once more.

  * * * *

  Eli leapt into the back seat of the Horch, tucked himself tightly up under the seat and laid a scratchy wool blanket flat on top of him. She grinned widely, thankful for his plan. As of now, she still had little idea of each step she was taking. If he hadn’t produced a solution, she would have pulled him into broad view of the waiting Gestapo. Now, because of him, he was hidden from plain sight and if she didn’t know he was there herself, wouldn’t have known at all.

  The uproar of escapees was time’s most horrid escape distraction. Every officer running for the prisoners left Sophia to press the gas pedal down and push on to the gate. Her gaze caught a wall of laden bodies, disfigured and abused. Her eyes flickered with the pain of their tortured souls, but she kept going. A young man, head shaved and hand outstretched toward her screamed for her help. She drove past. She clutched the wheel as tight as she could. She swallowed new lumps of vomit rising in her throat.

  And when the men she met at the gate earlier saw her car approaching, they slid the heavy iron barricades to let her pass with a sharp salute.

  “Heil Hitler!” she cried for the final time in their direction, as she ripped through them into the rising sun, tucking a blonde tendril under her cap, feeling hot tears roll down her innocent face.

  * * * *

  Adel’s words floated around them like falling stars in a deep obscure sky. Anna was now seated in between Grant and Ruby, her arms linked through theirs. Their eyes were swollen with tears, their faces damp from the streams. The secret was out there, living in the world around them and it was heartbreaking.

  Eli and Sophia were such loving, fine examples of faith and family during their time on earth. Little did they know, they were at their strongest point long before Grant and Ruby were ever born. Ruby suddenly felt ashamed for never asking for their story. They had lived entire lives without sharing a single detail with them. How can you live alongside your pare
nts for so long without truly knowing them? What she would have given to hear this from them.

  “It’s my fault,” she whispered.

  “What’s that dear?” Adel blinked slowly.

  “They never thought I was strong enough to know. I never asked them, never wanted to hear about their lives. I was always so consumed with my own personal business. This story—their lives…it was beautiful.” Her eyes flooded over and she buried her face in her hands. Through heavy sobs, she uttered, “My mother was so strong, so brave. I wish I could have told her.”

  “Oh dear.” Adel opened her arms, begging Ruby to come to her.

  And she did, pretending for a moment that it was her mother’s arms she was falling into. She would give anything to bring them back, to tell them how proud she was of them, that if it were her in this situation, she would never have had the strength.

  Grant stood from the loveseat and rubbed his hands up and down his exhausted face, feeling the vacant place where tears once were. He let his eyes fix upon the garden out back, imagining the still summer air bearing down upon the anxious flowers. This poor woman has been all alone for so many years bearing this secret. He turned to her, still holding on to his devastated sister.

  He cleared his throat. “I have something to say.”

  Anna looked up from her seat, trying to read him.

  “What is it, child?” Adel said.

  “I have so many questions, but the most important thing I can think of to say is…thank you. Thank you for bearing their secret for so many years. Thank you for loving my parents enough to support their wishes. Thank you for being the only source of family in their lives as they started anew.” He glanced out the window once more, gathering strength from the bursting sun. “But I wish they would have told us. I can respect why they didn’t, but this story only makes me love them more. It is the most remarkable thing I have ever heard and I only wish I could have heard it from them.”