The Things We Cannot Say(39)

And on that thought, I climbed carefully out through my window. The air was so cool my breath escaped as mist. I swallowed my fear, looked toward the hill, and then I forced myself to run.

I was slow and quite clumsy on any ordinary day, but adrenaline was on my side and I moved as quickly as I could. I wouldn’t take the path everyone else took—because it wasn’t the fastest route and I suspected that if I was going to be caught by some unexpected Nazi patrol crew, it would be on the established path. I’d never seen soldiers in the woods, but if they were going to be there, they’d never know that territory like I did. I’d climbed the hill a hundred times at every point it could be climbed. The very best moments of my life had been spent at its summit, and I knew that space like I knew my own body.

So I climbed the steepest part of the slope, the most direct route to town but also the toughest ascent. I found myself completely out of breath before I’d even reached the top, but I forced myself to keep going, even as my lungs felt like they might burst and my heart was pounding so hard against my chest that I was scared people some miles away would heart it.

It was as I neared the summit that a prickling feeling rose across the back of my neck and just as I identified it as the sensation of being watched, there came the sound of a twig snapping somewhere behind me. I told myself it was my imagination, but the sense that I wasn’t alone did not abate even as I moved faster, and soon I was certain I could hear soft footsteps on the ground behind me. But was it imagination or paranoia, or was someone really there? I couldn’t risk stopping to check. I told myself it was probably Justyna—perhaps she was coming to join me? Then I told myself it was Mama or Father, hot on my heels. For just an instant that seemed like the worst-case scenario. Being caught by them would be terrible—their disappointment and anger would be difficult to face.

Rationality quickly corrected that notion, because of course, being caught sneaking out by my parents was far from the worst outcome in that moment, and with those footfalls drawing nearer, I actually started to pray that my parents were indeed about to catch me, because I was sure now that someone was. Someone was most definitely chasing me through the forest. Someone who wasn’t willing to call out to identify themselves. Mama or Father would call out. So would Justyna.

I no longer cared if I made it to Nadia’s house—in fact, now I wasn’t even sure I should go to Nadia’s house, even if, by some miracle, I made it to the top of the hill then down the other side in one piece. Because if it was a soldier pursuing me, what possible innocent explanation could I give for my midnight run through the woods to her house?

Suddenly, I wasn’t running to a place—instead, I was running for my life. I had been afraid so many times over the course of the war, but in that moment what I felt was deeper than mere fear. It was some instinctual, whole-body flight away from the danger—I was operating on the certainty that death was about to catch me, and I felt the terror of that knowledge in every cell in my body.

When I neared the clearing, I heard my name. It wasn’t a shout or even a call, it was quite a desperate whisper and when the sound registered in my brain, panic, disbelief and relief merged so suddenly that all of my thoughts went a little haywire. I was running too fast to stop suddenly, but I tried to do so anyway, at the same time as I tried to turn to see if I’d correctly identified the owner of the voice. Perhaps unsurprisingly, I ended up on my backside in the dirt, my head spinning as I watched my pursuer finally catch up to me and sink to the ground near me.

“When I catch my breath, and when you catch yours, you’re going to explain yourself, Alina Dziak,” Tomasz panted. He sounded exhausted but there was a vein of good-natured humor in his whisper. “How did you even know I was out here? I’ve been so careful. It was the eggs, wasn’t it? I knew I’d taken too many. Are you angry that I stole from your family? I only did so because you have so many chickens... I didn’t think they’d be missed.”

I rubbed my head, feeling for the shape of a bump. Had I knocked myself out? I must have dreamed the last long minutes of being chased, and now I was hallucinating my deepest desire. But my fingers could find no bump—my bottom was throbbing, but the rest of me seemed unharmed. Except if I wasn’t hurt, why was I suddenly seeing Tomasz? Had I lost my mind?

“I...” I tried to talk, but the words stuck in my mouth. I was too confused to be hopeful. A shaft of filtered moonlight suddenly fell across his face and I squinted at him, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. It was Tomasz’s hair, overgrown but familiar, and Tomasz’s beautiful eyes, shadowed because of the darkness, and Tomasz’s face, even if it was hidden under an unruly beard. Even before hope could dawn, I was inexorably drawn to him. I found myself crawling automatically across the ground, tears streaming from my eyes. I was still scared, but now I was simply scared to believe my own eyes. “I...”

“Are you hurt?” he asked, and he scrambled the remaining distance to meet me. I reached up to touch his face incredulously, tentatively, just with the pads of my fingers in case I made contact too sharply and he disappeared. But Tomasz was not so hesitant—he cradled my face in his hands and he peered down at me, urgently scanning my expression in the semidarkness. “Alina, God, Alina, please tell me you aren’t hurt. I couldn’t bear it. I’m sorry I chased you—I was trying to get your attention without shouting, but I didn’t know what else to do. They can’t find me here.” I continued to stare at him in disbelief, and he suddenly dropped his hands to my shoulders and he shook me gently. “Alina, my love, you’re scaring me. Please tell me you’re okay.”