The Things We Cannot Say(47)

“Perhaps before the war, people walked on that hill sometimes. But now? You are the only person I’ve seen there in years, other than Truda and Mateusz and your sister when they visit for Sunday lunch. It is as safe a meeting place as we are ever going to find.” He still stared at me skeptically, so I gave him a pointed look. “You’ve been there for weeks and not been noticed, Tomasz. Has anyone even come close to finding you? Who exactly do you think is going to catch us there together?”

“Your parents would surely notice if you came to the woods every day.”

“I know. I would ask them permission to visit the woods, but not tell them why I wanted to.”

He sighed heavily.

“What possible reason could you have to come to the woods every day, Alina?”

“You’re not the only one in this relationship who can be resourceful,” I whispered, but I forced a teasing, lighthearted tone into my voice, and he gave me a reluctant laugh.

“Okay, Alina Dziak. Let’s see what you can do.”

At breakfast, I delivered the speech I’d sat up half the night preparing.

“Mama,” I said, “I have decided that I will undertake a spiritual commitment to pray the rosary for our country each day. I’m going to get up earlier in the morning and spend an hour alone in prayer at the hill.”

Mama set her coffee down on the table and raised an eyebrow at me. She and Father shared a glance. Finally, she focused her gaze back on me, and she nodded curtly.

“By all means, go to the hill to pray, but not for an hour—this isn’t a convent. You can take twenty minutes, and you’ll stay near the edge of the woods. I might call you at any time, so don’t get too distracted with your prayer.”

It was almost impossible to hide my grin as I said, “I’ll start tomorrow.”

Mama shrugged.

“Maybe your prayers will be the ones that inspire God to end this nightmare, so you should get started as soon as possible. Start today.”

I could not believe my luck—I was actually going to get twenty minutes alone with Tomasz every day—free to talk and to embrace and to see him in the daylight. I ate the rest of my biscuit far too quickly, and then as if things weren’t wonderful enough, Mama caught my elbow as I moved to run from the house and pressed something into my hand. I looked down at it, then gasped. She’d given me a surprisingly hefty chunk of bread.

“Mama!”

“To sustain you,” she said quietly. “For your time of prayer.”

There was an undertone in those last three words but I was too excited to really let myself think about that and all of the dangers it might represent. Instead, I smiled at her as innocently as I could manage and I packed up the breakfast dishes, and then went to collect my rosary beads from my room. I made an exaggerated show of holding the beads in my open hands, just to be sure Mama saw them. Even once I left the house, I walked slowly through the field because I wasn’t sure my parents weren’t watching me—I couldn’t seem too eager to commence my “time of prayer.” I knew my story was flimsy, but it was the best I could come up with, even after racking my brain half the night.

The woods were thick, a curious mixture of dark green fir branches up high and bright green birch trees nestled below. Most of the rest of the land surrounding the hill had been completely cleared for farmland, but this little patch of woods was so rocky and steep it had been left dense and wild. I half expected to see Tomasz sitting on the long, flat boulder in the big clearing at the top as he’d always done in the prewar days, but as I neared it, I realized that was far too exposed now that he was in hiding. I almost called out to him, but then it occurred to me how foolish that idea was.

If he was deep within the woods, I’d never find him—and that was the point, wasn’t it? He wasn’t even expecting me today—when we made this plan at night, we expected it would take me some time to convince my parents I should come. I walked just inside the thickest part of the woods and found a log to sit on. I was disappointed and dejected, but I couldn’t go home so soon, not without arousing suspicion, and I wasn’t about to blow this amazing arrangement on the first day.

“Alina,” a soft voice called, and I spun around—but still, couldn’t see him.

“Tomasz?”

“Look up, moje wszystko,” he said, his voice lilting with amusement.

He was sitting in the fork of a tree, far too high for my comfort, especially with his legs swinging on either side of a branch that looked barely strong enough to hold even his meager weight. He grinned, then slipped easily from the tree and walked a few steps toward me.

“That is not a safe place to hide,” I protested, as I rose from the log and jogged toward him.

He shrugged easily and said, “Nothing is safe anymore, Alina.” He said the words as a joke, but there was a heaviness in his voice too. I was reminded that we had so much left to talk about now that we could finally talk.

“Tell me. Tell me now about this trouble,” I demanded, but he hopped over a few boulders to reach me, then he wrapped his arms around me.

“It is so wonderful to hold you again in the daylight,” he whispered against my hair. I pressed my face into his neck and closed my eyes, breathing him in. Soon, I lifted my face toward him and simply stared up at him in the daylight for the first time since his return. He stared right back at me, and spontaneously, we shared a contented smile. Even deathly thin, even with a smear of dirt on his cheek, even with a scruffy beard and unkempt hair, he was still handsome to me. The world seemed utterly perfect in that moment—the morning light peeking through the canopy overhead, the smell of dew on the ground, the birds in the distance, and best of all, Tomasz’s arms around my waist. He tucked a wayward lock of my hair behind my ear, then he bent to kiss me gently and sweetly.