The Things We Cannot Say(78)

Tomasz peered down at the baby in my arms, and then he nudged me gently with his shoulder.

“It will be our turn one day soon,” he whispered into my ear. The warmth of his breath against the skin of my ear gave me shivers, the good kind at last. I glanced away from the baby just for a moment, and we shared a gentle smile.

We stayed only for five or ten minutes. Tomasz emptied the chamber pot for Saul and Eva and brought them fresh water to last them several days, then he handed over all of the food. I held the baby for almost the whole time, until she started to wriggle and grizzle and Eva said that she was probably getting hungry again.

When I passed the little bundle back through the window, I wanted to say something—anything. I wanted to apologize and to beg their forgiveness, not for anything I’d done wrong, but for all that I hadn’t done. Through the years of the occupation, I’d allowed myself to be sheltered and I’d focused only on my own self-preservation.

I’d felt helpless throughout the war, but that night, I realized with some shock that I had never actually been powerless. At any given time I could have taken a stand—like Tomasz, even like Filipe, or thousands of others I’d heard rumors of, but never dared to reach out a hand to help. I didn’t yet understand the horrific depths of the evil of the Nazi agenda—but somehow in the moonlight that night, I felt the loss of humanity, a very pause in the heartbeat of our shared existence on this planet.

That baby should have been fat and her cheeks should have been pink and she should have been living in a house, not a mouse hole, and as I handed her back to her mother in that hidden room, I was ashamed of my cowardice, as if it was the very thing that put her there. Had I done something, anything, would the flap of that butterfly wing have changed some small branch of the path that led to that family being trapped within that wall?

“We really need to get back,” Tomasz said apologetically.

“It was so nice to meet you,” Saul said, his tone so warm, it made my heart hurt.

“And thank you again,” Eva added sincerely.

I couldn’t speak, I could only force a smile to my face and a nod, but as Tomasz and I walked away from the house, I started to cry. Tomasz took my hand and he held it tightly as we walked, but he didn’t stop until we were in the field near my house. He looked down at me, and he sighed helplessly.

“Alina...”

“It’s not right.”

“I know. All we can do is try to help them. We can’t change the war, and we certainly can’t change the world. But we can do this little bit for them—help them to hide, bring them food, be their friends. It is so much more than some of our countrymen are doing. You should be proud of that.”

“But the baby...” I whispered thickly, and another sob burst from my lips. “Tomasz, the baby is trapped in there with them, and they are sitting ducks... All the Nazis have to do is hear her cry—”

“We have to believe that there is hope,” Tomasz said flatly. “They have made it this far, against so many odds. That counts for something, my love. In fact...perhaps in times like these, it counts as everything.”



CHAPTER 27

Alina


“Tomasz. Tell me about this photographer friend.”

It was very late, but I couldn’t sleep. I kept picturing that baby’s thin face every time I closed my eyes. Tomasz yawned loudly, then cleared his throat. His voice was rough with sleep when he said, “His name is Henry Adamcwiz. He’s an American.”

“American?” I repeated. “What is he doing here?”

“His parents are Polish, but they emigrated to America and he was born there. He works for a big newspaper in America and now he is covering the occupation. He told me his home is in Florida,” Tomasz said. “It’s tropical there—there’s almost no winter. And from his house, you can walk to the beach. Can you imagine it?”

I closed my eyes and let myself dream for a minute. I’d never been to the beach, but I had some idea what it looked like. I imagined sand and water and warmth, and I couldn’t help but smile.

“If he can help us, we will have to smuggle some photographs?”

“Film. It’s not developed.”

“What are the photographs of?”

“Last time it was photos of the camps, some photos of Jews in ghettos, even a photo of me on your hill, believe it or not. He took one when he came to visit with me and asked me to do the courier run.”

“I’d like to see that.”

“I’m sure I looked devastatingly handsome.”

I laughed softly.

“I’m sure you did.”

“Henry told me last time that he is forever looking for couriers, and he thought I was resourceful enough that I would make a good one. Last time he was quite desperate—I am just hoping that is still the case. You do happen to be engaged to a brilliant medical student who excelled at his plaster cast studies. I told him I’d plaster the film onto my arm to keep it safe, and he was excited by that idea.”

“That’s...”

“Genius?” Tomasz proposed. I could hear the grin in his voice, but I only sighed.

“Tell me honestly, Tomasz. How risky is this?”

“Well, the greatest risk at this point is that Henry doesn’t need us or doesn’t have a route out of the country.”