“But we told her we didn’t want money,” I say helplessly. She shrugs.

“If you’re Tomasz’s granddaughter, perhaps he was entitled to a share of whatever inheritance Aleksy left behind. And if that was significant, maybe she’s nervous about what that would mean for her family.” Zofia glances back at the building. “It wouldn’t surprise me if she made up the story about the gravesite, just because it gives her an excuse to refuse to engage with us.”

“How do we sort this out?”

Zofia pauses thoughtfully, but then she slowly shakes her head.

“Well—the birth records were clear. There was only one Tomasz Slaski born in this parish in that period, at least that I could see. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing we can clarify is Lia’s story.”

“Maybe hers is a different family with similar names.”

“In a tiny little town like this, what are the odds of there being two Aleksy Slaskis who married Julitas and then had children named Emilia and Tomasz?”

“Well...” I ask hesitantly, “How common are those names?”

“Not that common,” Zofia laughs.

I hesitate, glancing back at the doors. Then I straighten my posture and say, “Wait here? And if she throws me out bodily this time, try to catch me before I hit the cobblestone?”

I walk back to the counter, where Lia and the young man have their heads close together, and they are whispering furiously. They only notice me when I’m close, and I bend down low and I say, “Lia, I understand you wanting to protect your grandmother—I’d probably do the same. But my grandmother doesn’t have long left, and she’s sent me here on this wild-goose chase and she’s looking for something. I just can’t help but think that your Emilia might be able to shed some light on all of this—and who knows? Perhaps this confusion is part of the puzzle. So, will you at least think about talking to her? Just tell her Alina Dziak or Hanna Wis´niewski is trying to get in touch with her, that’s all I ask. And—” Lia is glaring at me, but I reach across the desk, help myself to a pen and a sticky note, then scribble down my name and cell phone number. “I’m here for another few days,” I say. “Call me anytime.”

Lia hesitates, but when I hold her gaze, she eventually nods. I breathe my thanks, then quickly spin on my heel and leave before she can change her mind. I find Zofia leaning against the wall of the clinic. She surveys me warily, then laughs.

“What on earth did you say to her?”

“I felt like she slammed the door in our face,” I admit. “So I stuck my shoe in it, and made sure if she changes her mind, she has a way to contact me. That’s all I can do, right?”

* * *

Later that night, after dinner and a glass of wine at the hotel restaurant downstairs, I pick up the phone and call Mom. She’s driving to the hospital when I call, and her greeting seems unusually subdued.

“Hello, Alice.”

“Hi, Mom. How was your day?”

“Fine,” she says, but she sounds distant.

“Is everything okay with Babcia?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I’m just tired...a little confused by this whole secret identity thing with her. I don’t understand why she wouldn’t tell me if she changed her name,” Mom sighs.

“I know,” I murmur. “I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m just hoping she recovers enough to explain herself. I was thinking that your friend there or a translator could ask her about it, but I can’t see the point, because how can she tell us what happened if she can’t speak? There’s a million reasons she might have changed her name so we’re never going to guess, and the AAC doesn’t exactly have a button for this.” Mom trails off, then she clears her throat and asks, “How’s the rest of the expedition through Poland going?”

“Good. We found out that Emilia Slaski is still alive. We found her granddaughter today, and her name is Lia, which is surely just a shortening of her grandmother’s name.”

“So, will you get to speak to this Emilia? Maybe she can tell us what happened with Babcia.”

“Something weird happened, actually. Lia was adamant that Emilia’s brother Tomasz died in 1942, but...well, obviously he didn’t.”

“So, some mix-up, then?”

“Yes, definitely,” I say. “Zofia seemed to think Emilia was assuming I was after her inheritance or something and trying to protect her family but...” I pause, then admit reluctantly, “My gut says that’s not it, to be honest.”

“Well, sometimes you have to trust your gut,” Mom says quietly. “And, Alice, given you’re in Poland despite my...subtle disapproval...” I snort, and I hear a smile in her voice when she continues. “I do suspect you already know this but I’m going to remind you anyway. You must always remember that sometimes knocking on doors just isn’t enough.”

“What else is there in a case like this?”

“Sometimes, if you want something badly enough, you have to smash the damn door down.”

“If I was going to make a Julita Slaski-Davis motivational poster, that’s exactly what the tagline would be.” I smile to myself. Mom laughs.

“Damn straight, daughter. I’m at the hospital so I’m going to go now. We’ll talk tomorrow?”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Even after Mom and I say our goodbyes, I’m thinking about her advice. At home, I automatically apply my mom’s level of determination to accessing help and support for Eddie, but when it comes to connecting with the man I share a bed with, it’s a whole other story. Why haven’t I forced the tension with Wade to a head in the last few years? I was definitely raised to address things straight-on, so I’m not quite sure how I managed to find myself in a situation where so many things remain unspoken in my own home.

I run a bath, buying some time to think before I place a call back to Wade. When I’m there at home, in the day-to-day grind, I never have the space and time to try to be an impartial observer of the dynamics of our family, but now, I start to reflect on the patterns we’ve fallen into. I think about the resentment I feel toward Wade—that awful feeling that’s muddled up with guilt and confusion because I’m in this role where I’m somehow the domestic kingpin of our family, but not at all the equal financial provider I always assumed I’d be—somehow both a reluctant dependent and the family chief operations officer. I think about the way I’ve let that tension fester for so long. I’m not at all a timid woman, so why haven’t I been more assertive at home? Why haven’t I forced the issue of Wade’s disconnect with Eddie? Why haven’t I demanded an equal partner in the parenting that needs to be done?