Free The Covenant by Naomi Ragen Page A

Auschwitz, I taught the other members of the Covenant to use machine grease to darken our lashes, and blood to rouge our cheeks to make us look healthier. To avoid selections. With good cosmetics, you can even flirt with the Angel of Death…” She sighed.
    “The Covenant?” The interviewer asked, intrigued.
    “Have you ever read the Bible, my dear?”
    “For my Bat Mitzvah.”
    “Do you remember the covenant God made with Abraham? It was more than a promise. It was an everlasting bond, an agreement that couldn’t be broken: ‘Unto thy seed have I given this land…’ Believe me, some of the Jews are sorry they ever agreed. They wish God would pick another people to be the Chosen Ones for the next few thousand years… But that’s just too bad. You agree, and that’s it. That’s what the four of us called it, the agreement we made in Auschwitz between ourselves: a Covenant. You can’t get out of it—not like what my lawyers put in my contracts—there’s no ‘escape clause.’ “ She chuckled. “Believe me, it hasn’t been easy.”
    “What did you four agree to do?”
    “Ah. I’ll get to it. I’ll get to it.”
    They had managed to keep it a secret for almost sixty years.
    “Would it be all right if we got going again, Mrs. Gold? I know your time is very valuable and we appreciate your being involved in this import—”
    She held up her hand. “Just ask.” She clasped her hands together, the knuckles turning white from the grip. “And I’ll try to remember.”
    “All right then.” The woman nodded to the cameraman, who started the camera rolling. “Let’s continue. You had just finished telling us about your childhood, before the war.”
    Did I tell it right? Did I explain the golden summer days swimming in bright green lakes as clear as crystal? The falls and winters up in the mountains, skiing? The evenings sitting beside Father on the garden swing, with him singing Hungarian folk songs in his rich baritone? Waking up in a roomfilledwith feather beds, and hand-made dolls imported from Germany and France? The feeling of being loved and privileged and happy and safe, part of a world that was infinitely generous? Infinitely compassionate and fair?
    “What is your first memory of when things began to change?”
    In the blink of an eye, Adam and Eve banished from Eden. Had they also wondered if they’d dreamt it?
    “That was in 1940. In our Hungarian village,Jewish men were called up for forced labor. Until then, we didn’t even realize we were Jews. Father was spared because he was a war hero, but my brothers were taken. And then, in 1942, Admiral Hrothy’s gendarmes came to the store. They wrote down everything we had. Soon after, they boarded it up and took my father away.” Her voice grew husky. “I never saw him again.”
    “Would you like to stop for a minute?” the interviewer asked gently.
    Esther looked at the young face suffused with understanding and sympathy: no makeup in the world can make a face so beautiful, she thought gratefully. “No, thank you darling. Let’s just keep going…” She waved away the glass of water Morrie held out to her, touching his face. “It’s all right. All right.”
    She took a deep breath. “It was just me and Mother. My brothers were already in labor camps. I remember the day they forced us out of our house. Our own foreman did it. The one my father had trusted most.”
    The streets, lined with friends and neighbors, people who had worked for her good father, people who had asked for his help, asked for food, clothing, loans, and had never been turned away. Their smug, satisfied faces. Couldn’t they have at least shed a few tears?
    “The train took us to the central ghetto. They took us into an interrogation room and…” She mopped her forehead. “I’ll need that drink now, Morrie…” She waved the water away impatiently. “Double vodka, and don’t be cute.” The liquid burned down her throat.
    “They took me into an