“I can,” I said, raising my chin. “And I do. Tomorrow?”

He closed his eyes as he inhaled, but then when he opened them again, he nodded, and I knew that the next time I saw him, he would tell me the truth.

I just hoped I really was ready to hear it.

* * *

I found Tomasz sitting in the clearing the next day, out in the open for the first time since our reunion. When he saw me coming, he looked away, regret and guilt written on his face.

I walked silently to sit beside him, but he didn’t move to touch me.

“I watch Emilia come with her new family on Sundays,” he murmured absentmindedly. We sat for a little while, listening to the quiet sounds of the woods. “I sit in a tree near the path on Sundays just so I can watch her. She is always holding Truda’s hand.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Mateusz is always right behind them. He scans for danger as he walks. I can tell he is a good father to her too.”

“He is.”

“I have watched you also, sitting on the steps with her after your lunch,” he said, then he smiled softly. “I see that my sister still talks a lot.”

“She does.”

“What is the paper she always carries with her when she visits?”

“Drawings,” I murmured. “She draws for me and for Mama. Flowers, mostly.” I didn’t tell him how dark those pictures had become. He seemed to have plenty to worry about without that knowledge. “They are very good—she is quite the artist.”

“Clever girl. She is sad, and she is scared, but she is loved,” he added, then he looked right at me. “Most of the Jewish children in Trzebinia are gone now, Alina.”

I frowned at the abrupt shift in the direction of our conversation.

“Well, yes... I know.”

“Most have starved to death or been taken to a camp or worked to death or executed.”

I squinted at him, confused.

“I do know this, Tomasz. It is awful and it’s sad but I know.”

“Perhaps, but do you know what the difference is between Emilia and those Jewish children?”

I struggled to find an answer to that, and in the end, could only offer a somewhat helpless, “I... I don’t know?”

“They are both children of God, but also children of our great country. They are both our hope and our future as a nation and as a species...and...that is all that should matter.” He shifted on the rock, then rose and took my hand. “Let’s walk as we talk today. I know you can’t go far from the field, but I can’t bring myself to look at you while I tell you this.”

And so we walked in silence, off the path, along the rocky outcrops where the slope was steep. After a moment or two, he squeezed my hand and he said softly, “If Emilia was a Jewish child in Warsaw, she would be in a ghetto today. I know food is scarce here, but the children in the ghetto have been eating sawdust and rocks to fill their empty little stomachs because after a while, hunger and pain feel the same and they just need relief. And I know people have been getting sick here, but the children in the ghetto have been dying at such a rate that the authorities can’t keep up with all of the bodies. And I know that Emilia is scared here, but she still smiles. The children in the ghetto do not smile, because there are no longer any glimpses of joy in that life. There is only fear and pain and hunger. And...” He drew in a shuddering breath, then he said miserably, “Alina, if Emilia was a Jewish child in Warsaw, she would be in that ghetto. And maybe she would be there because of me.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. I had tried to prepare myself for something shameful, but I was so horrified at that statement that I couldn’t hide my reaction to it.

“What?” I croaked. I could feel the blood draining from my face. Tomasz too looked much paler even than usual. He exhaled a heavy breath and began to rub the back of his neck. He kept glancing at me, like he was trying to figure out if there was a way to avoid honesty with me even in that moment, or perhaps he was sizing me up to see if I could handle the truth after all. The silence was stretching too long, and I couldn’t stand another second of it. I hardened my gaze and crossed my arms over my chest.

“Explain yourself,” I whispered fiercely. He closed his eyes and I raised my voice. “Explain yourself, Tomasz!”

His eyes dulled, and then his shoulders slumped forward.

“Do you remember when I told you that I want to become a pediatrician?” he whispered.

“Of course,” I said, stiffly.

“I...there was...the surgeon. Remember I told you about the surgeon?”

I softened then—just a little, because I recognized the struggle in Tomasz’s voice and I realized that I was about to hear a new kind of story from him—a story he didn’t know how to tell. I stared at him, and in that moment, I had to force myself to focus on the knowledge that I had known this man for our entire lives. He was a good man. This might not be a good story, but the man telling it to me was essentially good. If what he had said just now was true, there would be a rationale for it, even if in that moment, I couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was.

But I did trust him, at least enough to give him the chance to explain. I reached for his hand and he looked at me in surprise.

“It’s okay, Tomasz,” I said gently. “Just tell me. I’m not going anywhere.”

I started to walk again, his hand tightly in mine. He fell into step beside me, drew in a deep breath, and then he released it in a rush with a tumble of words.

“I fought with the Polish army in Warsaw until they had overpowered us. We put up a Hell of a fight but we were no match for them, not in the end. The Nazis captured me and a group of my friends from the college, and we were given a choice—join the Wehrmacht, or they’d kill our families and put us into prison. They said they had intelligence on us all and they knew where our families were—and I thought if I did what they asked, I could save my father and Emilia and maybe even you, darling Alina, because what if they already knew we were engaged? I felt I had no choice. I didn’t know what else to do, so I joined the Wehrmacht.” He spat the word out bitterly. “I wore the filthy uniform and I did everything I was instructed to.”

I remembered my brothers telling me that students from Warsaw had been conscripted to the Wehrmacht, and how I’d scoffed at them—because I’d been so certain that Tomasz would never comply with such an order. But one thing I knew all too well about Tomasz was how deep the love he had for his family was—how deep his love for me was. They had found the only leverage that would have convinced him to betray his country.

“Did you kill people?” I asked unevenly.