by Kelly Rimmer
We leave empty-handed—and I knew this might happen, but it’s disappointing after the high of seeing the farmhouse and discovering Babcia’s real name. It’s now well past lunchtime, and my stomach is starting to growl. Zofia suggests we take a break, so we head back to the town square for a break.
“Let’s see what this afternoon brings.” She winks, as we sit down to lunch.
* * *
After we eat, I leave Zofia to the second coffee she “desperately needs,” and I walk to a nearby laneway to find some privacy to call back to my family.
“Where are you, Mommy?” Callie asks, as soon as I call. The connection is not great here, so the video feed of her face isn’t quite as clear as it was yesterday in the city, but even so—the sight of her is enough to make me feel a pang of homesickness for the first time. I push that away and keep my tone light.
“We’re at a small town called Trzebinia, which is where Babcia and Pa were born,” I tell her. “How’s things back there?”
“Oh, you know,” she says. “Don’t worry, I’m helping Dad more now—he’s almost got the basics down pat. Almost.” I try to laugh, but it comes out with a wince, and Callie’s expression grows a little sadder. “Mommy. When Daddy goes away for work, we miss him a lot, but this is so different. I just really miss you.”
“I miss you too, honey bear,” I say sadly. Callie’s big eyes fill with tears, and she blinks rapidly.
“Anyway,” she says, and for just a second she sounds so much older than her ten years that my heart aches a little more. She exhales, then asks me brightly, “Have you found anything else cool today?”
I fill her in about the farmhouse, and then promise to send her some photos. When Wade takes the phone, the homesickness returns. I spend a lot of time at home worrying about the things that seem broken in my marriage. It’s only now, when I’m on the other side of the world, that it’s crystal clear to me that some things are still whole. The connection between us feels less vibrant than it once was, but Wade is still my best friend, and I’m still deeply, hopelessly drawn to him.
“Hey,” I say softly.
“Hello, lovely wife,” he says with a smile. “How’s things in glamorous Europe?”
“Oh, glamorous,” I joke, turning the camera around to show him a view of the laneway. When I switch the camera back, he’s laughing. “We visited Babcia’s childhood home, and we called back to Mom while we were there so Babcia got to see it. That was pretty amazing, actually—such a special moment, I’m so glad I got to do that for her. And guess what? Babcia’s real name is Alina.”
“No way.”
“It’s true. Mom told me the other day that she’d tried to convince Mom to give me that name, but we had no idea where it came from,” I say.
“That’s incredible. Any idea why she used another name once she moved here?”
“We don’t know yet. Oh—and Zofia is lovely, by the way—an excellent driver, and very knowledgeable. Well done.”
“Thank you.” Wade does a fake bow for the camera, and then we both pause. Things seem more peaceful at home today, but I’m nervous to ask how Eddie is.
“He’s in his room, watching his videos,” Wade says, correctly “hearing” the question I haven’t asked, which thrills me. “He’s doing okay, Alice. I took him into the office yesterday and he made friends with some of my team.”
My eyes widen at that.
“Really?”
“Sure,” Wade says, and he shrugs. “Well, when you think about it, my office is kind of Eddie’s ideal place. I mean, there are rules upon rules upon rules, and everything is written down. I just gave him the visitor’s safety manual, he read through it and then he sat quietly in my office all day and played with his iPad. Oh, then he came with me to a meeting and he just sat and played with that dreidel thing for a while. It probably helps that none of my lab rats are particularly chatty—Eddie was right at home, in a way.” Wade pauses, then clears his throat and admits with obvious difficulty, “Made me wonder why I haven’t done it before.”
I feel a sudden rush of confusion, because I’m somehow delighted and relieved at this admission, but I’m also instantly resentful. In these last few years I’ve given up trying to convince Wade to try to connect with Eddie, but before that? In the early years?
Back then, I tried all the damned time.
Be the bigger person, Alice. Don’t say it.
Do. Not. Say. It.
“I told you years ago you should take him to the office with you one day. I told you he’d love it. I told you that your team would understand but you said it would be too dangerous but I... I told you,” I blurt.
Wade’s jaw tightens.
“I know you did,” he says stiffly. I have to redirect this conversation before it spirals into an argument, but I need some more information about my son, so I try to brighten my tone as I ask, “And did he sleep last night? Has he eaten?”
Wade is staring at the camera a little warily now.
“I gave him the melatonin last night, and yes, he slept pretty well. He’s been asking for you on the iPad sometimes—Pascale has been pointing him back to that calendar you made him.” His gaze softens, and so does his tone, as he provides me with reassurance I desperately need. “It’s nothing we can’t handle though, honey. Everything is okay.”
All I can think about for a second is my poor son, bewildered by my absence, asking again and again but with no way to really understand why I disappeared while he was at school one day. Just as the tension starts winding through my body, I force myself to think about how bad this all could have been—how bad I expected it to be, and the positive things that have already come out of this trip. If Wade can just take Eddie to work with him on the very rare occasion when I’m sick or I can’t juggle Eddie and Callie’s schedules—
My whole life would change.
I’d have a backup plan for the moments when I so desperately need one. I’d have a chance of some respite every now and again.
I’d have someone to pick up the slack when I need a break, someone to share the ups and downs with. Which is all I ever wanted in the first place.
I open my mouth to say something like this but at the very last second, a stack of out-of-place objects in the background of the video feed catches my eye.
“Wade—what’s that on the countertop?”
Wade glances behind himself, then he shrugs.
“Cans of soup.”
“Why... Wade, why are there six cans of Eddie’s soup on the bench?”
“I don’t know, Alice. I didn’t notice them until now. I guess Eddie is putting them there...” He clears his throat, then adds with audible bewilderment, “...for some reason.”
There’s only one reason Eddie puts soup on the bench. He does it when he’s hungry and I’m running late or busy with something so he wants to hurry me up. If there are six cans of soup there, that probably meant he asked for dinner and didn’t get it, so he tried to hurry things along by getting a can out. And when that didn’t work, he tried it again, and again...
“What did he eat for dinner the last two nights, Wade?” I demand. My tone has sharpened again—that gratitude I was feeling a moment ago is gone. I’m shifting into full Tiger Mother mode, and Wade knows it. Even over the slightly pixelated video feed, I can see the defensiveness in his gaze.
“I gave him some McDonald’s the first night like Pascale and I had, and last night we had mac and cheese.”
“How much yogurt did he eat yesterday?”
“It’s fine, Alice,” Wade snaps. “He’s eating. I’m handling it. An attempt at variety can only be good for him. How healthy do you think it is for him to eat only two foods for his entire diet?”
“How healthy do you think McDonald’s and mac and cheese are!” I exclaim incredulously. “Just make him the damned soup! I knew you’d do this, Wad
e. He doesn’t eat anything that’s solid or has lumps in it. He has sensory—”
“Listen, I’ll give him the soup.” Wade’s tone takes on an urgent, conciliatory tone as he apparently realizes that the tension that’s been simmering underneath much of this conversation is about to boil over. Even the tone of his voice frustrates me now, because he’s not conceding that I’m right—he just doesn’t want to get into a screaming match with me when I’m five thousand miles away. “I just didn’t notice that he was putting it there, okay? I just thought it would do him some good to try different foods—to get used to different textures so his diet wasn’t so restrictive. He’s not starving, anyway—not in two days, and he’s been eating loads of yogurt. I even got him eating the Go-Gurt with the new label—”
“You can’t just change his entire routine, Wade!” I interrupt him impatiently. “I’ve worked his entire life to get him to this point.”
“Alice,” Wade says. His voice is deadly quiet now. “I’m trying here, okay? We agreed that you’d go on this trip, and I’d handle things at home. We even agreed I’d do this my way. I made a mistake with the soup—I’ll fix it today.”
The rapid de-escalation is every bit as frustrating as the rapid escalation was, because I really want to make him understand how important it is that Eddie gets that soup, but just then, I notice Zofia walking around the corner. She’s looking at her own phone and doesn’t seem to be paying attention to me, but she surely heard at least part of that conversation, and I’m embarrassed. I puff out my cheeks as I exhale, then look away from the phone for a minute as my eyes fill with tears.
“I better go,” I say abruptly.
“You don’t want to talk to Eddie?” Wade frowns. I shake my head, and a tear spills over. I’m too upset to talk to Eddie, and I know Eddie would see through any facade I tried to put up. There’s no point upsetting the poor kid more.
“No. Zofia is back and we have things to do, I really—maybe I can call tonight.”
“Have a good day, Alice,” he says, but his jaw is still set tight.
“You too, Wade,” I echo. I missed him when he answered, but by the time I hang up the phone, I feel only relief to be saying goodbye. I’m impossibly frustrated, and it takes me quite a few minutes to realize that I cut my husband off as he tried to tell me something about the new label on the Go-Gurt.
And now that I really think about it, it sounded like he said something about Eddie eating from the tubes with the new labels—something I was 100 percent sure would never be possible.
CHAPTER 31
Alina
Tomasz and I were packing food into pails to take across to Saul and Eva when he suddenly stopped and looked at me.
“Maybe Saul and Eva could come here, instead of us taking the food to them. That way they could have it all.”
“Will Jan let us get them out?” I asked, uncertainly. Tomasz grimaced and shook his head.
“No, he’d be furious if we woke him.”
“Well, they won’t fit through the latch?”
“Tikva will be easy. And maybe we can very quietly pull away just a few more of the boards on the wall around the latch. We wouldn’t need much more space to be able to pull Saul and Eva through too. Jan wouldn’t be happy, but if we’re careful enough not to wake him, he won’t find it until morning and we’ll all be long gone by the time he even knows. I know it’s only a short-term fix, but it would be so much more comfortable for them here, even if it’s just for a few nights.” He paused, then he nodded, apparently having made up his mind. “Alina, I think I can make this work.”
“My parents won’t mind,” I said unthinkingly. Tomasz looked at me sadly, and I cleared my throat. “I mean, if they manage to come home...”
We decided to at least try—we still had some time to spare, and so we left to make that fraught trek through the fields to the back of the house next door. When we were close, Tomasz pressed his fingers to his lips, just as he’d done the previous night. He bent to check for the rock, then Tomasz stood, frowning. He gave me a hand signal to wait here, and then he inched around the corner and along the wall toward the front of the house. I remained at the back corner, but I stretched my head out from the corner so I could watch him.
When he reached the front corner of the house, his shoulders slumped. As he turned to round that next corner, I caught a glimpse of his face in the moonlight and the pain in his expression was so vivid that it took my breath away. Tomasz was no longer trying to hide—instead, he stepped away from the wall, his hand outstretched as if he was reaching for someone.
I knew he’d told me to wait where I was, but I couldn’t—not having seen the expression on his face. I repeated that same journey he had just made, with careful footsteps along the wall of the house.
“No, Tomasz.” The hoarse words were carried on the otherwise-silent night air. “You can’t be here. They asked about you. What if they came back for you?”
“If you think I am leaving you alone to deal with this,” Tomasz choked in return, “you are sadly mistaken, my brother.”
I wanted to stay at the back of the house, but my legs seemed to have other ideas. They propelled me forward automatically after Tomasz, and when I reached the front corner of the house, I took a deep breath and forced myself to peer around it.
I couldn’t even make sense of the scene before me at first. Under the glow of the moonlight, Saul sat slumped on the front step, Eva’s limp body cradled across his lap. I gasped as I recognized the unseeing face of baby Tikva, her tiny body tucked tightly between her parents’ torsos. Saul’s face was set in a mask of grief too deep to be understood—his jaw slack, his eyes wide—and now that I was closer, I could see that the only movement he made was the sporadic blink of his swollen eyelids and the rattling inhale then exhale of his chest.
“Saul,” Tomasz whispered. “What happened?”
Saul turned toward Tomasz’s voice, but his gaze was unfocused. He blinked again, and then he gave a shake of his head, then a convulsion racked his whole body and he pulled Eva and the baby higher against his neck as a series of sobs broke over him.
I stayed at the corner of the front of the house, unable to look away but far too afraid to move closer. Tomasz, however, sat right beside his friend and slid his arm over his shoulders.
“Saul,” Tomasz said again, and this time, his own voice broke. “I’m so sorry, my friend. I’m just so sorry.”
“The soldiers knew everything—they even knew about you and Nadia.” Saul sobbed, and I caught the full force of agony in his expression as he turned to face Tomasz. “Tomasz, they have taken everything from me now. There is nothing left for me to live for. Run for your life, but let me die. Please, let me die.”
* * *
Tomasz sat on the step with Saul for so long that my legs became numb, and I had to sink down to sit on the ground—although I stayed at the corner of the house. I couldn’t bring myself to go near to them—partly out of respect for Saul’s right to privacy as he grieved, and partly because I was sickened by the sight of the bodies and the heavy scent of blood in the air.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw baby Tikva’s face in my mind. She had been sleeping when I held her, but now that I had seen her face set in death, I could no longer remember the innocence of that moment when she was safe within my arms. And the worst thing was that I knew, from having witnessed Aleksy’s and the mayor’s deaths, that this image was a part of me now. I would never be the same again having witnessed this moment in time.
After a while, Tomasz stood, and he approached me. His face and his beard were wet with tears, and as he embraced me, he was shaking.
“Alina,” he whispered. “I have to ask something of you. Can you wait with him?”
“Wait with him?” I whispered back, my gaze frantically flicking to the man and the bodies just a few feet away. “Where are you going?”
<
br /> “He is covered in their blood,” Tomasz whispered. “He needs fresh clothes—I will have to go back to your house and get something for him to wear.”
“Can’t we all go? Can’t we take him with us?”
“We have to...” Tomasz broke off. His gaze dropped, then returned to mine. “We have to bury them first, my love. It is the very least they deserve.”
I squeezed my eyes closed for a minute, then suggested hopefully, “But Jan’s clothes will be inside...”
“Jan is entirely responsible for the death of Saul’s wife and baby, Alina. I can’t ask that of him.”
I wanted to say no, and the old Alina would have. But I was determined to be an adult now, and to make Tomasz proud of the woman I’d become. Still, it wasn’t easy to agree to remain alone with a man and two horrific bodies in a space where Nazis had clearly been in recent hours, particularly given the likelihood that they’d return. I gritted my teeth as I said, “Can we at least move him into shelter?”
“The inside of the house...it is...” Tomasz trailed off, then shook his head. “Don’t go in there, love. I saw it through the door. It’s a mess.” He brushed my hair back from my face, and he whispered, “I really don’t think they will come back here tonight. He still can’t tell me what happened, but either they purposefully left him alive or he somehow hid from them. And if they do come back, it will be in a vehicle, so you’ll see the lights or hear the engine long before they near the house—take him to the barn and hide. Okay?”
My breath caught, and I bit my lip hard and I forced myself to nod. My chest felt tight, as if the fear could choke the life right out of me too. Tomasz nodded toward Saul, encouraging me to go to the other man’s side, and I whimpered a little as I made myself step closer to the bodies. I told myself not to look at the baby again. I told myself I could sit with him and pretend it wasn’t there.