The Things We Cannot Say

by Kelly Rimmer

  “Let’s view this as a question of science,” Wade says, a little lighter now. “My theory is that Eddie and I can get on just fine this week if we bend some of your rules. If the experiment is a failure, we’ll dismiss the theory and I’ll admit we need to do things your way. Maybe I’ll understand a little better why you’re so rigid about how his routine works. Okay?”

  “I feel like I might not have a choice.”

  “Well, Ally Michaels,” Wade sighs, and he cups my face in his hands to stare down at me tenderly. “One way or another, we will all survive. You, me, Callie...and yes, even Edison.” He bends and kisses me gently, then rests his forehead against mine. “I love you.”

  Despite the tension between us, despite the distance in these recent years—I know that Wade loves me, and I know that I love Wade. Sometimes I also kind of hate him, but mostly, I love him. That’s marriage sometimes. That’s just the way it is; the years can’t all be kind, because life isn’t always kind. We’ve been in a rough patch—a very rough patch—but I know we’re still walking on the same path. I nod slowly, and a smile breaks over his face.

  “I love you too,” I whisper, then I kiss him hard. “I love you so much Wade, and I always will. No matter what else happens in our life, please don’t ever doubt it again.”

  “Come to bed,” he whispers, tugging at my hand as he turns away.

  Last night, that very same suggestive tone felt like a burden and it made me furious.

  Tonight, I can’t wait to reconnect with him, and I’m glad to let him lead the way.

  CHAPTER 20

  Alina

  It was completely dark when the hesitant knock came at the door, and I held my breath when Father opened it. Tomasz stood on the stoop, his tattered hat against his chest, his eyes downcast.

  Mama pushed Father out of the way, then she grabbed Tomasz by the shoulders and she held him away from her, staring at him in horror.

  “Tomasz Slaski!” she gasped. “You are skin and bones. Sit.” She clucked her tongue, then pushed him toward the table. “What have you been doing with the bread I’ve been sending with Alina? Not sharing it all with our Jewish brothers and sisters?”

  “My friend’s wife had a baby...” he said weakly as he sank into one of the chairs. “I have been giving her every mouthful I could spare.”

  “That stops today.” When he didn’t react, she rested her hands on his shoulders again, this time to shake him a little. “Do you hear me, young man? You will be no help to them if you do not eat yourself first. From now, you let me fatten you up a little. I’ll show you the cellar shortly and you can see the rich bounty we have to share.”

  Tomasz shot me a glance, and I stifled a giggle at the mixture of joy and bewilderment on his face. Sometime later, once he had a belly full of soup and egg and bread and even a few shots of vodka that my father furnished him, Tomasz climbed down into the cellar to take a look around. I sat at the edge of the dark space. He looked up at me, amused.

  “You blackmailed me into coming here, now you won’t come down to visit my palace?”

  “I will,” I admitted, then I shuddered. “But the darkness scares me. I don’t know how you will bear it all day.”

  “Darkness is just like sleep,” he shrugged. “And anything has to be better than sleeping in a tree like a squirrel.”

  “Are you very upset that I forced you to come?” I asked him hesitantly. He sighed, and ran his hands through his hair.

  “It is hard for me to answer that right now. I’m compromised because it’s warm in here and I’m a little drunk and the mattress is so comfortable and my belly is so full...” he said with a reluctant smile, but the smile quickly cleared and concern took its place. “I am grateful to you and your parents, but I will never forgive myself if this turns out to be a mistake.”

  “Will you stay in tonight?” Mama called to him, from the other side of the living room where she was making up her own bed. “You could do with one good night’s rest.”

  “It would be better if I didn’t,” he called back. “Most of my friends would be okay for a day or two—but not Saul and Eva. The farmer hiding them does nothing more than required to collect his gold and Eva so badly needs the food.”

  “I made a loaf of bread yesterday—you can take everything that is left, and a whole jar of jam from last season, and I’ll boil you some eggs...but only if you sleep. We will set the alarm, and you can go and be back before the sun comes up.”

  Tomasz took a few steps up the ladder, until he was standing beside me. He seemed almost overcome with emotion—his eyes wide and his jaw set hard.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Dziak,” he said roughly, then his gaze shifted to my father, who was warming his back by the fire. “Thank you, Mr. Dziak. For your courage. Your generosity. Your kindness toward me.”

  “But for the damned war, you’d be our son by now,” Father said stiffly. Tomasz reached for my hand, and he squeezed it.

  “One day,” he whispered to me, then he smiled and my heart skipped a beat. “One day soon, my love.”

  “Sleep while you can, Tomasz,” I whispered back. “We can talk tomorrow.”

  * * *

  We had to maintain a militant schedule now that Tomasz was in the cellar. He’d leave the house just before my parents went to bed—taking with him whatever food Mama offered him, and he’d return in the morning, usually just before dawn. As he came back to the house, he or Mama would wake me, and I’d spend some time talking with him in the cellar. While I was down there, Mama would make breakfast and, because she was there to keep watch, we’d leave the latch open.

  Even with the light from the windows in the upstairs, I never got used to the darkness of the cellar. Every single time I climbed down the ladder, I’d feel sick to my stomach at the darkness and the musty, dusty scent. We would sit on the makeshift bed and Tomasz would wrap his arms around me to help me through the panic of it—then we’d leap away from one another guiltily whenever we heard Mama walk near to the opening.

  We talked about so many things in those weeks. We talked about the agony of the separation we’d survived, and we daydreamed about our future. Now that there were no secrets between us, Tomasz told me all about the work he was doing and his fears for his friends.

  “Some farmers do this only for the money, and I wish we were not so desperate as to use those people,” Tomasz told me. “The man hosting Saul’s family makes me very nervous indeed. We want to move them from that house as soon as I can, but it’s just so difficult to find suitable places.”

  “And the others you are helping?”

  “It is just a handful of people, Alina. I can’t travel far because I have to go on foot each night, so I just take food to those on farms I can reach from here. We wouldn’t use the empty farmhouses at first because we assumed the farmers had been moved to make way for German settlers, but there has been no sign of that so far in this district and the shelter was too good to waste. It’s perplexing, though, why the Nazis would clear the farms and not use the houses.”

  “Maybe the farmers are fleeing into the cities? I’ve always wondered if life in the cities is easier.”

  Tomasz gave a bitter laugh.

  “Not from what I saw in Warsaw. Not by a mile.”

  I had no solutions and no insight, but I loved partnering with him in bearing the burden of the problem.

  Sundays had once been the best day of the week for me, but now, they were almost the worst. We had decided that it was too dangerous to tell Emilia or even Truda and Mateusz the truth about Tomasz. The fewer people who knew our secret, Father had sighed, the better our chances of keeping it, and it was too much to ask of an eight-year-old to keep a secret as big as this one.

  That meant Tomasz would sit hidden in the cellar beneath his sister while she sat at the dining room table to chat with her new family. I knew this was very difficult for him.
I could see the strain on his face on Sunday mornings before they arrived, and the refreshed grief in the evenings after they’d gone.

  “This is still better than being so far away from her,” he murmured to me one day, when I opened the latch after she’d gone. “But I can’t wait for the day when I can hug her again.”

  “I will hug her for you until that day comes,” I promised him. After that day, every time I hugged her at the dining room table I’d tell her, “This hug is from Tomasz, little sister,” and she’d always grin at me.

  “Are you sure he’s still okay, Alina?” she’d ask me.

  “Of course I am,” I said, only this time, I was actually telling the truth.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because he promised, silly, and he would never break a promise to me.”

  And that ritual became a part of the rhythm of our life for those weeks. At night, I’d stay up until it was time for Tomasz to leave again, just so we could share a chaste kiss in front of my parents as he left for the night.

  “Stay safe,” I’d whisper to him, as he slipped out the door to leave. And he’d always turn back to me and offer me the same determined, confident smile before he disappeared into the night, as if the reality that he was not safe at all was some minor detail I needn’t worry about.

  CHAPTER 21

  Alice

  I’m nervous about telling Callie that I’m leaving, until it occurs to me that I’ve yet to tell Mom, and I still have to figure out how to tell Eddie—so Callie is actually the easiest person I need to talk to today. I’m driving to her Saturday morning ballet class, but I look up in the rearview mirror to find her sitting perfectly still, looking down at the book on her lap. It’s a textbook—maybe her French one. Her golden blond hair is in a thick bun right on top of her head, and she looks serene and more focused than any ten-year-old child has a right to be.

  “Callie,” I say brightly. “Guess what? I’m going on a trip.”

  “Oh?” she says mildly. Her gaze passes briefly between me and Eddie, who’s staring out the window, but she’s already looking back to the textbook as she asks, “Where are you guys going?”

  “Just me,” I clarify. “I’m going to Poland.”

  Callie slams her book shut and I can feel her eyes boring holes in the back of my head as I watch the road.

  “Without Eddie?” she says, aghast.

  “Daddy is going to look after Eddie for a few days. He’ll be fine,” I say. I meet Callie’s eyes briefly in the rear vision mirror. She blinks at me.

  “Mom. Daddy will most certainly not be fine with Eddie for a few days. Does Dad know the first thing about Eddie’s life? He doesn’t even use the AAC. And he can’t work the coffee machine, and you know what Dad is like in the mornings if he doesn’t get his coffee. And you’ve seen what he does when he tries to cook. Oh—and please, don’t even get me started on my life—Daddy won’t know where to take me or when to pick me up...no. This won’t do at all, Mom. I mean, I love Daddy very much but he’s hardly equipped for this.”

  I would definitely feel guilty in this moment if Callie’s outrage wasn’t so damned hilarious. I try to keep my expression mild, but I fail to hide my amusement, and as the smile breaks through, I let myself go and I actually start to laugh.

  Callie does not echo my laughter with her own. When I glance in the mirror again, she’s an adorable mix of outraged and anxious.

  “Callie Michaels,” I chuckle. “You will all be fine without me for a few days. You can help Dad with Eddie’s routine. You can teach Dad how to use the AAC when he finally realizes he needs to—and you know what, honey bear, I’m actually a bit jealous that you’ll probably get to see that moment and I won’t.”

  “Mom. Please. That is not going to be funny. Dad’s been refusing to use the AAC for years.”

  “Exactly. But he’s never had to manage Eddie’s routine on his own, and you know as well as I do that without the AAC—there is just no way to do that.”

  Callie falls silent. I glance at her in the mirror again and find she’s staring out the window. She looks genuinely scared.

  “It will be okay, honey bear,” I say softly.

  “I don’t like this, Mom,” she says.

  “I need to do this for Babcia and, frankly, having heard that little speech you just gave, I think I need to do it for you too.”

  “Now I know you’ve lost your mind. You think you’re abandoning your family for me?” She’s scowling at me now, and I can tell she’s preparing to launch a full-throttled pout.

  “One day, baby girl, you could have a family of your own, if you want one. And I don’t want you to think that becoming a mom means your entire existence has to revolve around your kids and partner. Our circumstances are difficult, but that’s not really an excuse. Daddy and I haven’t been very good role models for you in having a balanced family life.” I draw in a deep breath, then I admit, “Besides, this really matters to me. I’m nervous about leaving you guys, but I need to do it.”

  Callie sighs impatiently and sinks back into her seat.

  “Fine. But I hope you realize—I’ll help Dad with the basics, but if he messes things up completely, he’s on his own.” I start to laugh again, and this time she meets my gaze in the mirror and gives me a resigned smile. “Good for you, Mom. What’s in Poland?”

  “Some special places from Babcia’s childhood.”

  “She just wants you to visit some places?”

  “And take photos. I think there’s more but...I’m not really sure what else. You know it’s been hard to communicate with her, but it’s very clear she wants me to go.”

  “So—” She ponders this for a moment, then she brightens. “It’s like you’re going on a quest. You’re not completely sure what the quest is but you’re going anyway and hoping you figure it out on the way. That’s badass, Mom.”

  “Watch your language, Callie.”

  She smirks and glances back to her book. When we get to the ballet hall, she hops out of the car and scoops her bag up off the backseat, and then for the first time in ages, she actually approaches my window and plants a kiss on my cheek.

  “Oh,” I say, surprised. “Thank you, honey bear. I love you.”

  She throws a casual wave over her shoulder as she runs off toward the hall. I smile to myself as I turn toward the hospital, pleased that Callie was, eventually, supportive of this little venture, and then the day seems even better when we get to Babcia’s room, because not only does Eddie know the way and leads me there with enthusiasm, but Babcia herself is stronger today. She’s already sitting up in bed when we enter her room, and her expression brightens when she sees us. Eddie climbs up onto the bed beside her and cuddles up to her. I take Mom’s iPad from the tray table and with shaking hands, I give Babcia my news.

  Alice plane Poland.

  Babcia reads the symbols on the screen. I watch her eyes track across several times, then she looks up at me and a smile breaks over her weary features. Her eyes fill with tears, and a soft sob breaks from her lips. She doesn’t need speech to convey her gratitude. The expression on her face says it all.

  And just for a moment, I’m not at all torn about this. I know there’s more she wants than photos, and she has no way of telling me what it is, so I’m going to have to hope that I can stumble onto the needle in the haystack. It’s insane—but I’m now certain that I’m doing the right thing.

  Of course, that certainty evaporates the instant my mother bursts into the room in a cloud of expensive perfume and fluster. She’s wearing a stiff black suit despite the fact that it’s the weekend. I know she’ll go into chambers today—that’s pretty typical for her. Weekends have never meant much to my mom.

  “I’ve just come from hospital administration,” she greets me, and I can see from the set of her jaw that some poor receptionist has probably just copped a d
ressing-down. “My God. I just wanted to see about getting a Polish interpreter but apparently no one knows how to arrange one on short notice let alone a weekend. Honestly, the fees they charge here you’d think that we could—”

  “She’s doing okay, Mom,” I say quietly. “We’re managing fine with the AAC.” I know Mom is worried sick about Babcia. I just wish that instead of focusing all of her energy on battling and belittling the hospital, she’d admit she’s hurting and feeling alone and scared. Maybe she should take the time she just spent throwing her weight around and put it into an honest phone call with Dad, one that ends with a request or demand for him to simply tell his golfing buddies that his mother-in-law is sick and he has to come home.

  Then it occurs to me that she doesn’t even know she’s going to be alone for a few days, because I haven’t told her yet. I take a deep breath.

  “Mom,” I say abruptly. “I’m going to Poland.”

  She blinks at me.

  “What?”

  “Monday afternoon. Wade and I decided last night. I’ve booked flights and there’s a guide who’s going to take me around—”

  “You have got to be kidding me, Alice. I don’t even know where to start here—this is so like you, isn’t it?” For a seventy-six-year-old woman with a successful professional career, my mom sure does do an impressive impersonation of a bitchy fourteen-year-old when she’s pissed. Her gaze narrows, and she goes for the sucker punch. “This is college all over again. Alice has an impulse, so Alice goes right ahead and acts on it. Feel like rebelling? Ignore a decade of planning and working toward law school and study journalism instead. Feeling randy? Get yourself knocked up by your TA—”

  “Mom, he wasn’t my TA—” I groan, although there’s no point, because she knows damn well that Wade never taught me—what interest would I have had in nanotechnology? Mom isn’t looking to be factual—she’s looking for dramatic effect.

  “Feeling overwhelmed?” she adds now, the snide tone sharpening further. “Drop out of your career altogether before you’ve even given it a shot and stay at home like some 1950s housewife. And now the kicker—feeling pity for a confused old lady on her deathbed? Then jump on a plane for God’s sake—”