All My Love, Detrick Read online

  “Look at you… My God, child, are you all right?” He could not be more than seven, Jacob thought, as he looked at the soiled and injured child.

  “Yes, sir, I’m fine.” Detrick turned away.

  “Wait. Hold on a minute.” Jacob saw the battered bicycle and, considering the boy’s appearance, he knew there’d been an accident. “Come on… Please. Let me help you.” He could not bear to see a youngster suffer, and Detrick’s tear-stained face did not slip past his observant eyes.

  “Come in. It’s all right. Come on.” Jacob led Detrick into the shop.

  “My name is Jacob Abdenstern. And you are?” Jacob brought a stool into the center of the room and motioned Detrick to sit.

  “I’m Detrick Haswell.”

  “Well…hello, Detrick Haswell. It looks to me like you took a pretty bad fall.”

  “Yes, sir, I guess I did.”

  “Let me help you. You shouldn’t go home like that. You will scare your mother.” Under his work bench, Jacob kept a first aid kit. He took it out and opened it. Then he cleaned the cut along Detrick’s jaw and the scrapes on both of his knees and elbows. “There…you aren’t in too bad of shape, just maybe a little shaken up. But that bike of yours, well…now, that’s a different story. It looks pretty bad.”

  “Yes, sir, I know. I guess it’s done for.” Detrick chocked back the tears.

  “Eh, not necessarily - maybe I can fix it.”

  “I’m grateful for your kindness and help with my scrapes, sir, but I don’t have any money to pay you.”

  “Who said anything about money? Did I ask you for money?” Jacob’s eyes twinkled with kindness. The warmth and sincerity of his grin reached out to Detrick.

  “No, sir, but I would have to pay. I could not allow you to fix it without paying. My parents would never approve.”

  “Hmmm,” Jacob stroked his beard. “I see… So you must pay. You are not going to let me have a mitzvah on this Sabbath, eh?”

  “I’m sorry, sir?”

  “A mitzvah…a blessing - it is a blessing to help another. And on the Sabbath…well that makes it an even greater blessing.” He laughed, nodding his head.

  “You’ve already helped me. My parents would be angry if I accepted charity.”

  “Ah...I see.” Stroking his beard, Jacob studied the boy. “So, I have an idea. How about you come and work for me until the repair is paid off? What do you say?”

  Now, this possibility opened a door. Here he’d found an option he could accept, and a way to make things right again. Detrick felt relief flood his young body, as if God himself had come down offering a blessing. And perhaps he had.

  “Yes, sir, I would like that very much.”

  “On one condition - you’ll call me Jacob instead of 'sir.' Yes?” Jacob planned to pay the boy for his work. He knew he would never take money from this child for fixing the bicycle. Jacob’s eye glimpsed the child’s well-worn clothing, and he felt sure that Detrick’s family could not afford to pay for the repair.

  “All right, I will call you Jacob.” Detrick smiled all the way up to his eyes as his dimples came into view, and Jacob returned the smile, patting Detrick’s shoulder.

  The natural curiosity of a seven year-old took hold of the boy and he inquired, “I hope I am not being too bold by asking, sir, I mean Jacob, but what is that you are wearing on your head?”

  “It is called a yarmulke. I am a Jew.” Jacob showed Detrick the black and gold skull cap.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met a Jew before. I’ve seen a few of them, but never actually talked to one.”

  “So, this is a first for you.”

  “Yes, and I like you very much.”

  “I like you too, Detrick.”

  Jacob’s dark, kind eyes met Detrick’s deep blue ones, as a bond like soldered sliver forged between them, each of them trusting the other fully, but not knowing why.

  And so, unbeknownst to them at the time, began a friendship that would alter both of their lives forever.

  Berlin, 1932

  After the loss of the First World War, followed by the signing of the treaties of Versailles, Germany plunged into a great depression. The country suffered both financially and psychologically. The people lost their jobs and their pride. Currency and food became scarce as the Germans searched desperately for a leader with ideas and conviction who would end their pain. The blow came down hardest upon the heads of the lower working-class men. Many had served in the army and took the loss of the war as a personal defeat. With their inability to scrounge out a living wage, as well, they grew angry and bitter, searching for answers, and someone or something to blame. The cry for a hero sounded like a lion’s roar throughout the land, until it fell upon the ears of one who had been quietly watching and waiting, like a spider in its web.

  Chapter 1

  Berlin, 1933

  “Are you still working for that Jew?” asked Konrad Klausen, Detrick’s best friend since childhood, lighting a cigarette as they walked home from school together.

  Charcoal-gray rain clouds hung angrily over their heads, threatening a storm.

  “Jacob Abdenstern is a good man. He is more of a father to me than my own father ever was, Konrad. And furthermore, what is this with you and the Jews? Why are you so filled with hatred?”

  “My man, do you not see what is going on here? The Jewish bankers are the reason we lost the war. They take our jobs. They steal our money. Don’t you realize that the Jews are the reason we’re poor? Lying, cheating, no-good bastards.”

  “Konrad, you’re my oldest friend and I care deeply for you, but I won’t stand by and listen to you talk like this about Mr. Abdenstern. He’s my friend too.”

  “He’s your employer, can’t you see? He owns the shop. You do all the work.”

  Detrick laughed; his dimples and full lips gave his otherwise chiseled face a boyish appearance.

  “Oh, Konrad, you have no idea what you’re talking about. Jacob pays me far more than anyone else would for the job I do. He allows me to make my own hours so I can attend track practice. And the man works far harder than he would ever expect, or even allow, me to.”

  They walked in silence for a few moments. Konrad had seen the anger flash in Detrick’s eyes when he criticized the Jews and for a split second, a finger of fear tickled his spine. Detrick could be a powerful force. Konrad had witnessed that a few months ago when the two had been in the park and some older boys taunted Konrad. Without a trace of trepidation, Detrick confronted the boys, hurling several punches at one of them and sending the others running for cover.

  Then he’d turned to Konrad, who'd stood relieved that the fight had ended without his participation. “Bullies are only strong in numbers. As soon as one went down, the others backed off, because none of them could truly stand on their own.”

  Konrad, never popular, had come to rely on Detrick’s help. Since childhood, his clumsy body and lack of self-confidence had made him a target for the type of boys who group together and instinctively find the weakest child to terrorize. Only by torturing the pathetic do people of this nature find that they are able to hide their own shortcomings.

  Because of Detrick’s independence, gangs of angry, oppressive young men tried to recruit him. When they came offering friendship, Detrick just laughed, refusing. This flippant attitude ignited a strange jealousy in Konrad that he could not explain. Although these gangs of boys disliked Konrad and hurt his feelings as often as possible, he still vied for their approval, while Detrick came by it without any effort at all. Not only did they shower him with their acceptance, but their admiration as well. And Konrad often wondered how it was that Detrick never felt the desire to become a part of these groups of popular boys, while he longed for their acceptance.

  Carefully, Konrad spoke, “Detrick…tonight there is a rally in the center of town. I thought you might like to go. The speaker is a man, a new leader that everyone is talking about.” He dropped the butt of his cigarette and smashed it with the t
oe of his shoe “His name is Adolph Hitler.”

  Chapter 2

  When Detrick arrived at home, his father was slumped over the kitchen table with a half-empty bottle of whiskey at his side. Daily, since losing his job, he guzzled the brew until he fell into a stupor. The entire family knew that Hans stole the money for his whiskey from the jug in the pantry that held Inga’s meager savings. But when Detrick offered to stop him, his mother insisted that he do nothing.

  Helga and Inga stood at the sink chatting quietly as they cut vegetables preparing the evening meal.

  The creak of the door closing awakened Hans.

  “Look who’s here.” Hans laughed bitterly. “It’s the Jew lover. He makes more money working for the kike than his father ever could… Don’t you, Detrick?” A thin line of spittle sprung from his lips.

  “Shut up, Hans. He is supporting us and, besides, he is your son.” Inga glared at her husband.

  Detrick laid his books down on the table and, without looking at his father, went to his room to change for work. Sometimes he avoided his father's gaze for fear he might lose control and hit the older man. This, Detrick knew, would devastate his mother. So he swallowed his anger and turned away. He looked forward to the time spent with Jacob. Side-by-side, they sat at the work bench, and Jacob listened as Detrick shared his dreams - how he hoped to go to the Olympics and prove himself a track star.

  “It is not for myself that I want to win,” Detrick told Jacob. “It is for my family, especially my mother. She has had so little joy in her life. I’ve watched helplessly while she is constantly making sacrifices for all of us. And…I guess I would like to give something back to her.”

  Over the years Jacob had developed a special affection for the boy equal to that he felt for his biological children. Some days passed as they worked in comfortable silence. On others, they would laugh and tell jokes. Often Detrick came by the shop late in the evening after field practice. When Jacob saw Detrick’s reluctance to go home he purchased some food and stayed with him late into the night. It was on one of these occasions that Detrick revealed the revulsion he felt for his father.

  “I don’t want to hate him. He is my father. But when I see him drink all of his money away while my mother is working so hard to make ends meet, well, I just find that I resent him. He raised his hand to her last week, but he didn’t hit her. I am afraid that if he does I will go crazy.”

  Jacob nodded. He knew how much Detrick endured in order to keep peace, and he hoped the boy would not snap. With Hans out of work and pouring every bit of money he could scrounge up into a whiskey bottle, even the bonus Jacob added to Detrick’s pay envelope could not offer much comfort. Detrick would never ask for more, so Jacob planned to propose an idea to help the boy. He knew that Detrick would never accept his offer of money. Instead, it must seem to Detrick as if Jacob actually needed his help. For weeks following the discussion, Jacob considered his plan. The older man sat at the bench thinking about the best way to approach the subject, as he repaired a bicycle chain. When Detrick arrived at work tonight, he would present it.

  After Detrick changed his clothes and shelved his school books, he went to the kitchen to bid his family farewell for the evening. Not stopping to eat because Jacob always provided dinner at the shop, he prepared to leave the apartment. Often on nights like these, Jacob often brought luscious noodle kugles made from baked noodles, with sour cream and raisins, or apples. Sometimes Jacob arrived with brisket sandwiches on sweet challa bread. Over the years, Detrick grew familiar with Jewish cuisine. Jacob, knowing the hardships the Haswell family faced and the appetite of a growing boy, made sure that whenever the boy came to the shop he had something to eat.

  “I’m going to work, Mother.”

  “Going to see that Jew again?” Hans guzzled the remainder of his beer. “You know there is a meeting tonight in the center of the city. I’m sure you’ve heard. The man who is speaking is going to save Germany, you watch and see. It’s the stinking Jews that have ruined this country for all of us.” After a loud belch Hans set the empty bottle on the table.

  “Stop, Hans…enough!” Inga glared at her husband.

  “Helga is going. At least she has some sense. You? No, of course not… You’d rather go and spend your time with that kike.”

  “Goodnight, Father.” Detrick felt his face turn hot and he could not look at his father. Over the years he’d grown bigger and stronger than Hans and had no doubt that he could take him in a fist fight, but he would not. Instead, he kissed his mother, then patted his sister’s shoulder. Helga looked up at him with eyes the color of the sky on a spring morning and lovely long wavy golden hair the same color as his own.

  “I’ll tell you about the rally, Det.”

  “Thanks, Helga, but I’m not interested. I’ve heard all I want to hear about Hitler.”

  Detrick closed the door behind him. Hopping on the black bicycle, he headed over to the little shop in the Jewish sector of town.

  On the most unassuming of days, January 30, 1933, Adolph Hitler was appointed Chancellor of Germany. This singular event would change history.

  It all began innocently enough, as most menacing threats do. Storm troopers could be seen walking the streets, proud, in their brown uniforms. Occasionally there was an incident against Jews. But the violent acts were so random that few paid them much attention. Most thought the Nazis would be little more than a passing political group, too radical to have any real power. So among the small Jewish population in Germany, only a handful recognized the coming danger and fled. The rest of the population…

  Chapter 3

  Karl Abdenstern leaned against a blood-red brick building in the alley, taking deep drags on a short, unfiltered cigarette. Three boys he’d been friends with since childhood accompanied him. Being a Jew in Germany singled Karl out as an enemy of the state, and with each passing day he felt the hatred pointed firmly in his direction, coming from the eyes of Gentile classmates. The rise in anti-Semitism poisoned the lives of Jews young and old. Those Karl once considered friends now spit fiery hatred at their Jewish classmates. What began as subtle, quiet, and almost discreet discrimination quickly grew into a tree of bloody loathing; the branches continued to spread out bringing more followers under their umbrella. Neighbors he’d known all of his life turned on families they’d shared apartment buildings with for years. And the division between Jew and Gentile grew as wide as a canyon.

  “Karl, why are you fighting at every turn? What are you trying to prove? You cannot beat them single handedly. After the fight they only start again. Try to ignore them.” Yussel shook his head at Karl’s black eye and bruised cheek.

  “One day, you’ll see. We Jews will have our own state. Then they won’t be able to treat us this way. Yussel, you should be proud of your heritage and if that means fighting for it…well, so be it. When you let them talk badly about Jews you give them the impression that we are all weak. When we establish Palestine they will have to stand back and see we are a people to be reckoned with.” Karl stood up straight and looked directly into Yussel’s eyes.

  “Again with the Zionisim, Karl? For now, we live here in Germany and this is our home. And we are German’s first, then we are Jews. So, let’s make the best of it. You can’t fight all of them. This will blow over, you’ll see.” Moshie wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

  “Ah, Moshie, you are a fool. They hate us. They always have, but now Hitler gave them the right to beat the hell out of us and get away with it. We'd better retaliate now.” Karl’s eyes had turned dark with anger at the weakness in his friends.

  “Who’s going to retaliate? Me? Him?” Moshie pointed to Yussel. “We’re not all fighters like you, Karl.”

  “So, be scared. Run scared. That will do you lots of good. Look at how controlling and strong they’re becoming. They burned the Reichstag building just to show that they are above the law, and then they turn around and deny they ever did it, laying the blame on the communists. And then, ev
en more disturbing, whenever there is trouble they are pointing the finger at us. The more they blame on us Jews the more the German people feel justified in their hatred and persecution of our people. And now the Parliament has given Hitler the powers of a dictator. If we let them go on they will only grow stronger. These Nazis are dangerous, I tell you.”

  “So, go fight the world…I hope it works for you.” Moishe crossed his arms over his chest.

  Karl shook his head in disgust at his friend, threw the end of his cigarette on the ground and turned away. Without looking back, he headed home.

  Chapter 4

  Leah Abdenstern and her best friend, Dorothy Silver, prepared dinner for the family as her mother sat beside Michael’s bed.

  Their mothers had met early in their pregnancies. Both bearing the same swollen bellies, the women had shared afternoon walks. When the babies arrived a month apart, a ritual began. Every morning the women met at the park pushing their carriages slowly along the pathway on the grassy hills. As the two infant girls grew, a friendship developed in spite of the differences in their personalities. Leah, quiet and studious, loved to read and study classical music, while Dorothy, gregarious, sang American jazz and danced swing, entertaining Leah like a burlesque star. Dorothy’s father worked as a bookkeeper but he also sang in Hebrew, working as the cantor at the synagogue both families attended. There could be no doubt that Dorothy had inherited her beautiful voice from her father, but the style with which they expressed their art could not be more different.

  Leah had learned to play piano at five and felt that she grew up advantaged, so she decided to offer free lessons to younger children who could not afford to pay. At fifteen, the kindness she’d been shown all of her life by Jacob came through in the way she treated others. Offering both Jewish and Gentile children an opportunity to share her joyous love of music, Leah spent hours with those less fortunate.