The Covenant (20 page)

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Authors: Naomi Ragen

Tags: #Historical, #Adult

BOOK: The Covenant
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German soldiers on a passing train jeering: “Are you men or women?”

A knife in our young women’s breasts.

May you lie rotting on the Russian front and may someone ask: Man or woman?

Laugh, or cry. Go mad. Scream. Guess. What will they do?

Send us home. Kill us all. The Russians will invade. The British will invade. Hitler will drop dead. Hitler will win, kill every few in the world. Try to think like the monsters. But there is no logic to hatred.

When will we get out? When will Ariana’s parents

the film stars

fiaques and Francoise Feyder, rescue us? What will they feed us in their apartment in the sixteenth arrondissement? Their summer villa in Cannes?

Try to pray. To find God’s hiding place. Give us a sign, dear God. Are you with us, here in Auschwitz? Will I ever understand how You rule Your world? How You rule Your beloved and Chosen people?

You are my dear God…

Can’t see Him. Can He see me?

Away, in the fields, piles of burnt prayer books, phylacteries, photos, letters, handkerchiefs, cigarettes. Forbidden to touch. Down my blouse, the pages with prayers.

The
blockova
finds it. Leaves me out in the snow, to die. All night long, pray… “From the depths, I cry to you, my Lord, and He answered…”

The gray light of morning. Can’t move.

Can’t work in the fields.

Ariana and Esther weep. I’m finished, frozen, already dead.

Hear the number called. Your number. March out, barely alive.

A miracle. A transfer! To the
effectkummer—
inside, warm, to sort clothes, food! To Heaven. A chance to survive!

Maria did it. Her
kuzyn,
the German prisoner. Because she saw me praying.

Do anything for each other. To help each other.

Get through each day’s inspection. Don’t be too pale, too thin, too sick. Or the tenth woman, gassed to make room for a new transport. Don’t he unlucky… because there are no rules. No laws.

Don’t think.

Live, for your family who might still be alive.

Live, for the children you still might have. And their children.

For Elise. For liana.

 

______

 

She groped her way into the bathroom, steadying herself against white-tiled walls. She washed her face, staring at herself in the mirror, staring at her tired, old eyes, which had seen so much.

She splashed cold water on her face, then dabbed it dry.

Slowly, she walked down the hospital corridor, opening the door to her granddaughter’s room.

Chapter Eighteen

Hadassah Hospital, Jerusalem
Wednesday, May 8, 2002
2:40
P.M.

T
O LEAH’S SURPRISE
, Elise wasn’t alone.

A young woman, a stranger, was sitting in a chair across from the bed. She turned to look at Leah, giving her a smile of bright white teeth. “Hi. You must be Elise’s grandmother.” She got up from her chair and walked quickly toward her.

“What are you doing here? Who are you? Who let you in…?”

“It’s all right,
Bubbee
”, Elise interrupted her. “I invited her. She sent me a note. She wants to help us,
Bubbee.
She’s going to set up a television interview. They want to let me broadcast a message to the whole world. I can say anything I want, appeal to the kidnappers not to hurt liana and Jon…”

“Elise, darling.” Leah walked over to her granddaughter, taking her hand. “But who is she?”

“I’m a journalist.” Julia smiled warmly. “An on-air correspondent…”

Leah looked at the long, blond hair, the sparkling white teeth. A reporter. A television reporter. All the alarms in her system went off.

“Who do you work for?”

Julia hesitated. “BCN.”

“Those anti-Semites…?”

“Bubbee…”

“Really, Mrs?”

“You want I should give you my name? For what reason? You want to do something good for an old Jew? Was I born yesterday?”

“Bubbee
, don’t!”

“Elise, you don’t watch TV the way I do. They blow up Jewish children, and BCN shows the crying mothers of the Muslim homicide bombers. They blow up Israeli buses, and BCN shows old Arab women standing at Israeli checkpoints, suffering, because the line is so long. We should let the murderers in faster…”

“Her name is Mrs. Helfgott,” Elise told the reporter, embarrassed by her grandmother’s cynicism, of which she had no part.

“Mrs. Helfgott,” Julia Greenberg said gently. “I know that there have been some problems in the past. Believe me, our network has gotten tons and tons of mail, mostly from Jewish viewers, complaining about the lack of balance. That’s why my predecessor…”

“Who?”

“The last BCN Israel correspondent… John Piggot.”

“That piece of…”

“Bubbee!”

“Pig, I used to call him. Once, he shows Hezbollah terrorists captured trying to get over the border. He tells people they are family men, away from home, fighting for their country… Doesn’t show the weapons they were trying to smuggle in—that I saw on Fox. Doesn’t remind people how they bomb Israeli towns—apartment houses, shopping centers, kindergartens, for no reason, after Israel took out every last soldier from Lebanon. Doesn’t remind anybody how Hezbollah put on UN uniforms, kidnapped three Israeli boys, soldiers, and won’t tell their mothers if they’re alive or dead; won’t let even the Red Cross see them…”

Julia got up and walked over to her. She looked into Leah’s eyes and placed a hand over hers. “I know. It was terrible. That’s why they finally took John out and sent me over instead…”

“Bubbee
, she’s a woman. I showed her pictures of Jon, of liana… she understands. She thinks maybe someone will hear. Even terrorists have mothers, girlfriends, children. They go to doctors. Jon has so many Arab patients… Someone needs to explain this to them… They also have hearts…”

“Elise, I know these kinds of people. These murderers. I met them in the camps. The kind that throw babies into bonfires, then go eat lunch… Elise… please… you don’t have to put yourself through this!”

“Not all Palestinians are terrorists! Maybe one of their religious leaders,
or their politicians…” She persisted stubbornly. “After all, the more publicity there is that they are holding a doctor and a five-year-old… Maybe world opinion…”

“The world and its opinion… When we sat in Auschwitz, the world had an opinion? They put headlines in newspapers?” She took out a tissue and spat in it.

“But I have to do something… I feel so helpless!” Elise covered her face with both hands.

“Darling… don’t… don’t.” Leah’s head swam. She staggered back.

“Bubbee!”
Elise reached out for her.

“Oh, my, here, let me help you…” Julia said, alarmed. She grabbed the old woman’s soft arm, helping her into a chair.

Julia took a deep breath. “Look, Mrs. Helfgott, I understand why you are suspicious. I would be too in your circumstances. Reporters from this region tend to be pretty one-sided. But I’m not like that. That’s why I made such an effort to get your daughter interviewed. The only people on the air are Palestinians. They are only too happy to describe their suffering. I believe that journalism has to get to the truth. The world needs to see your granddaughter. To hear her pain. Please, help me do that?”

Leah looked carefully into the young woman’s eyes. But as hard as she searched, she couldn’t read anything in them.

“Look, Mrs. Helfgott, my name is Julia Greenberg. I’m also a Jew. I even had a Bar Mitzvah.”

Leah stared at her. “No.” She shook her head emphatically. “You didn’t.”

Julia lowered her eyes in confusion. How could she possibly know that she’d never finished Hebrew School…? “Well, I started Hebrew School…” She stammered, flustered.

So, maybe I’m wrong, Leah thought. Maybe my eyes are not so sharp anymore, to see into people’s hearts. A Jewish girl. I would never have guessed it. She looked at Elise and her heart ached. She wanted so much to be doing something, anything… And who was to say she wouldn’t convince someone that harming Jon and liana would be bad publicity that, at the very least, might gum up their funding?

“You had a
Bat
Mitzvah,” Leah sighed. “For a girl, it’s called a
Bat
Mitzvah.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

“No, you said
Bar
Mitzvah. Only boys have a Bar Mitzvah.”

“Right. Of course.” Julia nodded, smiling sympathetically into the face of the babbling old nuisance.

Leah squeezed Elise’s hand: “If you feel you have to do this, then do this. I’ll stay with you.”

“Great!” Julia exulted, then reined in her glee, seeing the startled looks on the faces of the two distressed women. “You are making absolutely the right decision. The world is so small, and our network goes to every Arab country, all of Europe and the Far East, as well as America,” she told them sincerely. “We have great credibility in the Arab world. Believe me, you couldn’t have made a better choice on how to bring your message to them. And I promise, what you say will be heard. We won’t touch a word of it.”

“Maybe someone will hear me,
Bubbee.
Someone who just wants to help. They say their Allah is merciful.”

“Yes,” Leah murmured, “yes, darling, that’s what they say.” And Hitler kept saying all he wanted was peace.

“There’sjust one little problem…”Julia hesitated.

“What?” Elise demanded.

“Well, Dr. Gabbay is going to be furious at me for sneaking in here. And he isn’t going to want the TV cameras barging into Elise’s room…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Gabbay,” Leah said. “You get your cameras. Do it fast and let my granddaughter rest.”

“Deal,” Julia said, hurrying out the door. “Be right back.”

She took long strides down the hall. Downstairs, she high-fived the camera crew. “We’re on, guys. Let’s get moving.” She got on her cell phone. “Jack, don’t faint,” she said exultantly. “I’ve got an exclusive interview set up with the mother! Yes, the one they are keeping behind barbed wire at Hadassah! How?” She chuckled. “Charm. The grandmother is a tough old bird, though. And she hates reporters… Yeah, I’m setting up right now. I’ll get you the tape in time for the evening news.” She was suddenly silent, listening in disbelief, her eyes growing wide. “What!? You want to repeat that? Balance? But what does Elise Margulies have to do with the Sineh suicide bomber footage? Sean’s footage!? You’ve got to be kidding! You know how he got that? He threw coins into the garbage and got those Palestinian kids to dive for them! You said yourself we should throw it out… Pictures of Palestinian kids in the hospital? But how would you know if they were hurt by Israeli soldiers? What do you mean it
doesn’t matter? Time saver? I don’t think so… What, is that an ultimatum? Yeah, I understand, Jack. I understand perfectly…” She slammed the phone down.

She sat down, weary, feeling sick to her stomach.

“So, what’s happening? Don’t you want to put on some makeup? Because if you want the footage in time for the evening news, Julia, we have to get cracking,” the cameraman urged her.

She looked up at him. If you want the footage. It was her decision. Slowly, she opened her compact. Her eyes stared out at her. She didn’t look into them. Instead, she concentrated on her mouth, slowly putting on her lipstick.

“Okay,” she said.

If it went smoothly, she wouldn’t even be late for her date with Milos.

Chapter Nineteen

American Colony Hotel, Fast Jerusalem
Wednesday, May 8, 2002
8:30
P.M.

“M
OVE OUT OF
the way, darling, will you? Your bum is blocking my view of the telly.”

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