The Things We Cannot Say Read online

  How do I tell the woman who offered me endless love and acceptance for my entire life that the first favor she’s ever asked of me is one I have to decline? How do I tell a person who’s given me everything that the one thing she wants from me is too much? The answer comes swiftly.

  I can’t. When the family matriarch tells you to do something, you damn well do it.

  But she’s asking something of me that I’m not even sure I can physically arrange in the timeline we have. But there is no icon for “maybe” on the AAC—the concept is too vague for children like Eddie, and that’s who the program was designed for. Instead, I swipe to the Notes screen to type the word maybe, but I’m startled to find there are already notes there.

  Trzebinia

  Ul. S´wie˛tojan´ska 4, Trzebinia

  Ul. Polerechka 9B, Trzebinia

  Ul. Dworczyk 38, Trzebinia

  Alina Dziak

  Emilia Slaska

  Mateusz and Truda Rabinek

  Saul Eva Tikva Weiss

  Prosze˛ zrozum. Tomasz.

  I look at up her, confused. Those notes are in Polish, which she knows all too well that I don’t understand. I lift the iPad so she can’t see the screen, then swipe to Google, load Google Translate, and type in the words Can you understand me? I hit the speaker icon, and words that mean nothing to me fill the air, but Babcia’s eyes widen and she nods enthusiastically. We share a grin, and then I flick back to the Notes section on the iPad, and my heart sinks again.

  I can feel my grandmother’s eyes on me, sharp and questioning and desperate and hopeful. I swallow, hard, then I raise my gaze to her. We stare at each other in the silence, until she nods, just once, and then she seems satisfied. She sinks back into her pillows and closes her eyes again, the echo of a smile lingering on her lips.

  I have no idea what she thought she saw on my face just now. But I spend the rest of the day at her bedside, trying to figure out if there’s a way to make this work.

  CHAPTER 13

  Alina

  Tomasz and I immediately fell into a pattern of nightly visits where we’d share a few innocent kisses and an awkward cuddle through the window frame, but it was impossible for us to speak much, because my parents were always asleep on just the other side of the wall. I had a million or more questions I needed to ask him—so many things I wanted to tell him or to hear him say—but it all had to tumble out in fragments of conversation because he never dared stay more than a few minutes at a time.

  “Let me come to the woods,” I would plead with him. “It is too hard for us to talk here the way we need to.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Alina,” he would whisper back. “If your parents catch you leaving the house, it will be impossible for you to explain.”

  “But if they catch us talking here—”

  “If they catch us talking here, I promise you I will disappear so fast you will think I’ve turned invisible.”

  There was the cocky boy I’d fallen in love with, arrogant in the confidence he had that he could protect me. He seemed to think he had transferred the risk of our meeting from me to himself by coming to the house, but I wasn’t so sure. The problem was that it was impossible to argue with him—not least in part because we had to talk in whispers. I wanted explanations, but my desperation to meet him in the woods ran even deeper than that. I wanted to hold him and kiss him and to talk with him openly. I quite desperately missed Tomasz’s stories. I missed the fairy tales and the exaggerations and even the possibly outlandish facts about far-flung lands and biology and science—but there was no time for extended conversations like that when we were whispering through my window. Those visits each night were a fleeting luxury, one that felt increasingly too short, but I didn’t dare feel disappointed, because at least he was back and I was well aware how lucky I was to have even that.

  It was only a few days after Tomasz’s return that Mama and I walked to tend the field near the Golaszewski property and found Jan on his hands and knees, weeding. I was walking in front, and soon found I was near enough that I felt it only polite to greet him.

  “Hello, Jan,” I said, as politely as I could manage. “How are you today?”

  Jan’s bushy gray eyebrows dipped low and his forehead creased as he peered up at me.

  “Ola has taken Justyna away. I thought you would like to know.”

  “Jan,” Mama greeted him abruptly as she approached.

  “Faustina,” Jan said, his tone just as short.

  “Where has Justyna gone?” I asked hesitantly. “To...to the city?”

  “Yes, to the city,” Jan confirmed, but his face was reddening and his nostrils had flared, and I knew that he was not pleased with this turn of events. “In any case, she is gone, and that is that.”

  He nodded curtly once more at Mama, then he dumped his tools into the dirt, then turned and walked away, across the field to their home. Jan had always seemed so imposing to me, but that day, he seemed smaller somehow, perhaps because it was evident to me that for all of his bluster and energy, he was actually just a man, and now a very lonely one at that.

  “I am sorry your friend is gone, Alina,” Mama murmured, as we returned to our own home.

  “Thank you, Mama.”

  I so rarely saw Justyna, I knew I’d barely miss her. Still, I was a little sad, but perhaps not nearly as sad as I would have been had it happened a few weeks earlier.

  * * *

  On nights when the moon was full and I could really see Tomasz well, there was no mistaking that the hollows of his cheeks grew with every passing day. I decided I would find a way to get him some food.

  I was aware that I would be stealing food from my mother—who was likely stealing food from the Nazis—but I was far more terrified of Mama than I was of the invaders, and that was saying something. The first time I passed Tomasz a cup of scraps from my dinner, the flare of sheer hunger in his gaze was worth the terror I’d felt squirreling the food away.

  “How did you get this?”

  “From my dinner,” I said. He hesitated, and I waved toward the food. “Please, Tomasz. Go ahead—I had plenty.”

  He laughed incredulously.

  “Alina Dziak. There has not been plenty in this country since the occupation began. Don’t lie to me. You’re skin and bones.”

  “Please, eat it. I get two or even three meals a day most of the time—it’s not luxurious, but I’m surviving. But you...” I wasn’t sure how to draw attention to his rapidly fading physique without being cruel, so after a pause, I simply took his hand in mine, and I whispered, “Tomasz, I’m scared for you. You can’t keep going like this. I don’t know what you’re doing, and you clearly don’t want to tell me. But surely it involves a lot of sneaking around, and a lot of trying to keep your wits about you. Let me at least give you the scraps from the scraps they give us.”

  He picked up a chunk of bread and sniffed it, almost suspiciously. Then he tossed it into his mouth and his eyes widened.

  “I am fairly sure the Nazis aren’t giving you strawberry jam with your bread,” he said cautiously, and I shrugged.

  “You aren’t the only person in this district undertaking covert activities. Mama seems to have a mysterious hidden store somewhere.”

  “I’ll do you a deal, darling Alina,” Tomasz said thoughtfully as he took some potato from the cup. “If you can spare me some food, I’ll eat half of it, and pass the rest on to my friends. Is that okay?”

  “But there’s barely any food here, even for you,” I whispered desperately. “Please, can you just eat this, and tomorrow, I’ll try to get more food for your friends.”

  “Well, if there’s a way for you to do that without endangering your sneaky mama or yourself, then—”

  My bedroom door flew open just then, and Father was there in my doorway—bleary-eyed and frowning.

  �
�Alina,” he said flatly. “Who on earth are you talking to?”

  I looked frantically to the window, but Tomasz was gone. Instead, I looked up to the sky and as I started to desperately pray for a convincing lie, I realized I already had one.

  “I was praying,” I said.

  “Praying,” my father repeated, without any attempt to hide his suspicion.

  “Yes. Praying. For Tomasz.”

  Father frowned a little harder.

  “Go to sleep,” he said. “We have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He took a step back toward the open area, then hesitated. “Leave the door open.”

  I climbed quickly into bed, my heart racing, my gaze on the window. Tomasz didn’t come back—but in the morning, the empty cup had been nestled back through the window and tucked into my bedding.

  * * *

  The night after my father caught us talking, Tomasz came to the window as he had been doing, but he was wearing a heavy frown. I knew before he spoke that he was coming to say goodbye.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “It was risky—we knew it was risky. I...”

  “No, I’m sorry,” I whispered back. “I was careless—I was too loud. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

  He sighed, then pinched the bridge of his nose. Anxiety was radiating off him, and when I reached through the window to rest my hand against his shoulder, I felt his tension in my own body. Tomasz leaned toward me and kissed my cheek.

  “Alina, this isn’t smart anymore,” he whispered miserably. “We can’t keep doing this.”

  I bit my lip.

  “But how else can I see you? Perhaps we could just tell Mama and Father—”

  “No!” he interrupted me, his voice a desperate whisper. “No, they can’t know, Alina. They can’t—It’s bad enough that you know I’m here. This isn’t safe. You know that, don’t you?”

  “How can I know that? I don’t even understand what you did.”

  He sighed and shot me a pleading look.

  “If we tell your parents, I don’t think they’ll allow us to see each other anymore.”

  “Of course they will!”

  “Alina...” he said, very gently. “Please trust me, moje wszystko. Your parents love you and they will want to keep you safe. And there is nothing safe about you meeting with me.”

  “But...”

  “Even if I am wrong, and they are supportive of us still seeing each other, it is just too risky to let anyone else in on our secret. If anyone finds out I’m visiting with you...” He raised his chin, then looked right into my eyes. “I don’t care what happens to me. I really don’t. But if anything happens to you because of me? I couldn’t...” He trailed off then, his eyes on my bedroom door.

  “I’ll find a way to come see you during the day. Would that be better? If I met you in the woods instead?”

  “In the daylight?” he said this as if the suggestion was absurd, but I shrugged.

  “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.

  “One day, I will take you away from here,” he whispered, “One day, we will go someplace safe—someplace peaceful. One day, when you’re my wife, we will have the nicest house in the nicest street and the cutest children in the town and everyone will say, ‘Look at Tomasz and Alina, childhood sweethearts, now growing old together.’ You’re going to be one of those women who ages well. I can see it now—even when you’re an old babcia you’ll be breathtaking and I won’t be able to keep my eyes or my hands off you.”

  “You’ve always been such a dreamer,” I sighed, but I was happily distracted. I was relieved to see a glimpse of the old Tomasz, relieved that this lighter side of my love had survived whatever had kept him away from me for so long. In those disjointed nights at my window, I’d caught glimpses of a man who wore guilt and sadness like a mask. It was every bit as much a relief to see this sweeter side of him reemerge as it was to hold him close to me.