The Things We Cannot Say(121)

Babcia is smiling sadly now, nodding—her pride is evident. That’s all important and beautiful, but I can’t even focus on her just yet.

“But Emilia definitely said it was Saul who left Poland with Alina, not Tomasz. Is she absolutely sure?” I whisper to Zofia, then a sob bursts from my lips. “Because...the thing is...that means, I will have to tell my mom...”

Emilia looks at me, and she puts her hand on my arm again. She whispers some words to Zofia, who tells me carefully, “Yes, Emilia is quite sure that Tomasz was executed. Mateusz paid a guard to retrieve his body so they could bury him before they left for the city. It was Emilia’s idea to take him to the hill—she says she used to catch him with Alina there kissing all of the time, and she knew that was the place where Tomasz was happiest. They marked the grave with rocks, and she returned in the seventies with the headstone once she had the money to do so.”

“But why did she never reply to the letters?” I blurt to Agnieszka. “My babcia tried so hard to reach her. She wrote for years and years. Why didn’t Emilia respond?”

There’s a moment of quiet conversation, then Emilia turns to the camera, and her gaze is stricken.

“We think your babcia sent the letters to the house in Trzebinia,” Agnieszka tells me softly. “But even once the war ended, the communists had possession of the house so Mama never did move back there. We didn’t even get the clinic back until the seventies after I qualified. So Mama never received the letters, but she wants you to know that she tried so hard to find your babcia. Tomasz had told her that Alina would be waiting in England somewhere, likely using the name Hanna. So once she was old enough to travel, that’s where my mama went...”

“She was looking in the wrong country,” I whisper.

“Besides,” Zofia remarks sadly. “Even though she knew to look for Hanna, she could never have known to look for Mrs. Slaski.”

I leave everyone else in the living room and walk into one of Emilia’s bedrooms. I text Mom to call me when Babcia is settled, and after ten or fifteen minutes, the FaceTime comes to my phone. Mom takes the news of her parentage with the dry-eyed stoicism I’d expect from her, despite the fact that I’m sobbing as I explain.

“I’m worried about you,” she says, peering into the camera. “Christ, look at you. You’re a mess, Alice.”

I laugh weakly and wipe at my eyes.

“It’s been a very long day,” I say, then I ask, “Is Babcia okay?”

“She’s exhausted. I’ve left her to nap, but she looks so happy. I don’t know how else to explain the change in her except to say that your grandmother seems at peace. That’s a pretty remarkable thing to gift an old woman. I hope you’re proud of yourself and I’m sorry I wasn’t more supportive—I guess you could see she needed you to take this trip even when I couldn’t.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I murmur, and I’m grateful for the concession—but I know my mother, and I know it’s at least in part a deflection. “But...you do seem to be taking this pretty well, Mom.”

Mom sighs, then tilts her face to stare up at the roof for a moment. Then she drops her gaze back to the iPad and she says to me, “Dad was dad, Alice, and he was a great man. Whether he was really Saul or Tomasz...I was his daughter and I never doubted that for a second of his life. I don’t know why they never told me, and maybe later, once it sinks in, I’ll be upset or angry but...for now...? I’m just sad for Babcia, that she was never able to tell us about what happened back there...that she waited her whole life for closure.” Her voice breaks, and she pauses carefully before she adds, “Will you give Emilia a message for me?”

“Of course.”

“Please tell her that her brother gave his life for the best man I ever knew,” my mother says abruptly. “Tell her that my father loved my mother, and he loved me, and he helped hundreds...thousands of children in his career, and he was the best dad and friend and husband and...”

She stops abruptly, then clears her throat again, before she says calmly, “Just tell her that Saul Weiss, if that’s who I knew as my dad, did not waste a second of the life he was given. Neither did Mama. Make sure that Emilia knows that the sacrifice her brother made was not wasted.”

“I will, Mom,” I whisper unevenly. Mom’s eyes are filling with tears, and I can tell she’s not going to be able to blink them away this time.

I’m not surprised when she says gruffly, “Babcia needs...I need to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I’m on the way back to the hotel, drained but exhilarated—and I think Zofia feels the same, because she’s fallen very quiet over there in the driver’s seat. It’s just after 11:00 p.m. Krakow time, and my phone sounds from my handbag. I realize that I still haven’t called Wade or the kids, and I flush as I bend to search for it. The message on the screen is not one I’m expecting.

Mommy. I’m about to FaceTime you. Please please please answer but mute your phone, because I don’t want the boys to know we’re watching them.
I frown as I quickly reply.

What’s going on? Is everything okay? You won’t be able to see me because it’s very late here and I’m in a car.
She doesn’t reply—instead, the video call comes in, and I answer it immediately. Callie’s face fills the screen and she holds her hands up to her lips, so I mute the call. Then she’s walking through the house, and she holds the phone into the doorway of the dining room.