“You will have to be so careful,” Tomasz whispered, shaking his head as he wound the bandage onto my forearm. I had been staring up at the floorboards of my childhood home—trying to convince myself that this really was going to be my very last time there—unable to bear to watch as he wound the plaster around the canister onto my wrist. “Be absolutely sure not to bump it until it dries—it simply has to look realistic or someone might become suspicious that there’s something valuable in there. And do not let this cast get wet. Even once it’s cured—the film must stay dry.”

“Farther toward the wrist, Tomasz,” Saul said. His voice was suddenly strong, as if he hadn’t just lost his whole world a few hours earlier. Tomasz adjusted the placement of the soft bandage that would line the cast, shifting it a little farther from my elbow.

“Better?”

“Yes. You are very short on supplies—better to do a short cast and make it thick, to hide the bulk of the canister. Remember you’re not actually needing to stabilize the movement of her arm in this case, however if this were a real fracture...well, this would be inadequate. However, in our circumstances, if anyone even knows to question the length of it, Alina can say the fracture was right above the wrist and her physician did the best he could with what he had.” I looked down at Saul. He was sitting on the floor against one of the walls of the cellar. His arms were around his legs, his knees drawn up to his body, and he stared up at us on the makeshift bed with flat eyes and a deathly pale face. He met my gaze and his tone softened a little as he suggested, “If someone asks how you got the injury, say you fell and had stretched your hand out before you—the wrist bore the impact. Say the bone was reset by a field surgeon, and it was agonizing—white-hot, searing pain. With such detail, the story is at least realistic.”

When I looked back to Tomasz, he gave a pointed nod toward Saul, and I swallowed. Because clearly the medical knowledge was second nature to Saul, spilling out of him even at this point when his mind was full of grief and pain. I could see why Tomasz thought that was important—but it only underlined the decision we’d already made—that Tomasz would stay, and Saul would go. Brilliant surgeon or not—the man was currently sitting on the floor of the cellar, intermittently weeping, and every now and then there were periods when he’d fall completely silent to rock back and forth like a child, holding that tiny leather shoe against his cheek.

The most responsibility I’d ever experienced before was when I had to find Emilia a temporary home—it had been overwhelming and terrifying—and this dwarfed that by miles. Not only was I now a reluctant courier of Henry’s photographs, but I would also be dragging along behind me a man who had just suffered unimaginable tragedy and trauma. Instead of following Tomasz, I’d have to lead the way. Tomasz leaned all the way over my arm now, assuming quite an awkward posture and momentarily blocking my view of the cast he was constructing. Unthinkingly, I reached up to touch the thick locks of his hair. He desperately needed a haircut, and it was almost irrational how much I wished we had the time for me to do that for him once more. Such a small thing, but it would have been so lovely to nurture him in that way, as if that could remind him while we were apart how deeply I cared for him. When he sat up, he smiled at me, sadly.

“It’s going to be fine, you know. You are going to be fine.”

“And you’ll find me,” I said, not for the first time. In fact, I’d been repeating this almost the entire walk back from the Golaszewski farm—checking then double-and triple-checking that I still understood the plan. “You’ll get this sorted here, and you’ll make the same journey—you’ll meet us at Buzuluk.”

“That’s exactly right.”

“And if the camp won’t accept that your passport belongs to Saul?”

“Then you will find a way to make them accept him.”

“And if they catch us before we get to the Soviet border. What do I do then?”

“That won’t happen.” He dismissed the mere suggestion as if it was entirely impossible, which made me impatient and somewhat furious—given there was no way for us to know how safe this plan was. For all we knew, the Nazis intercepting me was the likely outcome, and I knew I had to be prepared.

“Answer me, Tomasz. If we are intercepted before we even leave the district, and Saul has a passport with your name on it. What exactly am I to do then?”

“It won’t—”

“We both know it’s a possibility!” I exclaimed, then I lowered my voice. “They were already looking for you at Warsaw because you deserted the Wehrmacht, and now they are looking for you locally because Jan told them about your work for Zegota.” Tomasz sighed and nodded. “So tell me—what do I do if we are caught?”

Who was this woman, staring bravely into the face of danger? She had been within me all along—I’d seen glimpses of her that day at the square when I saved Emilia, then again when I had decided to support Tomasz despite the danger. I was nearing full flight now, and only a trace remained of the scared little girl I’d once been.

Tomasz stared intently at the bandage as he wound it around and around my forearm, the lump of the long canister slowly disappearing into the bulk. After a while, he whispered, “If...if something happens to you, and the film is lost, there is nothing we can do about that. Henry might have different instructions when we meet with him at the pickup point, but for me?” He finally looked up at me, and his eyes swam in fresh tears. “I simply have to believe you’ll make it. I have to believe you’re going to be cursing me in a few days’ time when you’re magnificently free in Soviet territory but the cast is starting to itch and you can’t reach beneath the plaster to scratch it. That is the only way I can watch you go.” I reached up with my left hand and cupped his jaw, and he rested his head against my palm. “I hate it when we’re apart, Alina. I hate it, but there is just no other way.”

“You’re sure this is the right thing for us to do,” I whispered. He stared right into my eyes and he nodded.

“I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

I exhaled, then sat up a little straighter.

“Okay then, Tomasz. Okay.”

* * *

My confidence came and went in waves, and I was once again second-guessing the whole plan as we approached the meeting point. Tomasz was no longer marching in strides ahead of me—he was behind me, all but dragging Saul, who was struggling to keep up. Tomasz kept reminding us that we had to hurry—we couldn’t afford to miss the truck. Every time he said it, I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d all be better off if we did.

Henry was waiting for us, pacing beside the main road. The dawn was near and the darkness was disappearing by the second, and once he saw us, he sprinted toward us. I saw the confusion on his face as it registered that we had a third person in our party.