But then Mrs. Konczal approached us again, a huge grin on her face, her hands clasped before her chest.

“We have another surprise for you. For your wedding night.”

And with rising dread, I followed her to a tent that had been moved apart from all of the other tents—no small feat given the entire camp was overflowing with humans desperate for shelter. This was a small tent, fit only for two.

“Surprise!” Mrs. Konczal said proudly.

“Thank you, Mrs. Konczal,” I said. My lips were numb. I could not look at Saul—I couldn’t even force my eyes to shift in his direction. Mrs. Konczal kissed my cheeks, then Saul’s, then she wished us a good night and left us be.

I crawled onto the mattress she’d placed on the floor of the tent, rolled onto my side and burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Saul said desperately. “Forgive me, Alina—this was never my intention, I didn’t think they would—”

“He’s not coming, is he? What if I’m all alone with this baby?”

Saul sat beside me, and he rested his hand over mine and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Here is the thing, Alina,” he whispered softly. “War breaks us down to nothing more than our most selfish will to survive—but when we rise above that instinct, miracles can still happen. I helped Tomasz, Tomasz helped me, you helped me—in more ways than you can ever know. And now, at last and in this small way, I am grateful for the opportunity to help you in return. This, my friend, is how we find the best of humanity during times when the worst of humanity may seem to have the upper hand. You are not alone—you won’t be, not for a single moment until Tomasz arrives. I traveled from Warsaw with Tomasz—I have seen firsthand that his drive to be with you is relentless. This time will be no different, and until that moment when Tomasz arrives to take his place, no matter when that moment comes, I will care for you and your baby as if you are my own.”

* * *

Everything changed after that day. Saul and I were moved into a married couples’ dorm—and there was no way for us to avoid sharing our bed on an ongoing basis. We’d suffered more awkward intimacies on the journey to that point, but sharing a tiny single bunk with a man who was only a friend was not something I relished. But the cold was coming in, and the summer tents were not nearly enough shelter, so soon enough Saul and I were relying on each other’s body warmth to keep us from freezing. Every single night, he’d wrap me in his arms, and right beside my ear I’d sense his lips moving as he prayed without making a single sound.

Saul kept his promise. He nurtured me, constantly going out of his way to find me foods I could tolerate—and that was no small task in a camp where food was a scarce commodity. He arranged for my work duty to be transferred to the office of the infirmary clinic, where I spent my days in a heated room, sitting down and filing away patient records and chatting with the nursing staff. Some days, when the kitchen served up a meal I could stomach, Saul would insist I eat his share—and if I refused, he would force me to, lifting the food to my lips in exactly the same fashion I had done for him in the crate on the truck.

Had Saul not married me, I would have become a pariah; unmarried mothers bore an intense stigma even during wartime. Had Saul not cared for me, it’s possible I’d have starved early in the pregnancy, when it was so difficult to eat and he worked so hard to ensure I did. I’d had the cast on my arm by then for months, so it was filthy and uncomfortable and starting to crumble at the edges. Other doctors in the infirmary had started to suggest it really should come off, and it was Saul who provided excuse after excuse why I needed to wear it “just a little longer.”

Saul was there for me and my baby when Tomasz could not be. I knew that no matter what happened after that, I’d be grateful to him forever.

* * *

Soon, we’d been in the camp for almost three months. My rounding belly was almost filling out against my trousers, and the sickness had finally passed. I was in the infirmary filing when I heard someone calling for Saul from outside. Of course, they were calling Tomasz, because that’s what we called him in the camp—even me, by necessity—something I’d never felt comfortable with.

This voice was urgent—and alien. Saul was in the makeshift theater then, so I went out to see what the fuss was. I didn’t recognize this soldier’s uniform or the language he spoke. All I knew was that at the end of every sentence, he said a butchered version of the most beautiful words I knew.

“Thomas Slas-kee?” the man said, and I pointed toward the theater room, but the man pointed toward the administration block of the camp, and then he said, “British? Brytyjski? Thomas Slas-kee?”

Suddenly I understood—this man was British, and he had Tomasz. Clearly the delay in Tomasz’s arrival was because his plan had changed—he’d met up with the British somewhere else, and was finally back to get me! I squealed and I started to run to the administration block. I made plans as I ran. I would throw myself at him. I would smother him with kisses. The camp administrators would be confused because they thought I was married to someone else, but I couldn’t use restraint—I couldn’t. Once I saw Tomasz, I would never, ever let him go, not ever again.

There were more men in strange uniforms outside the admin block, and I approached one and asked desperately, “Tomasz Slaski?”

He looked at me blankly for a moment, then his eyes lit up, and he nodded and looked at me expectantly. And we stared at each other—each waiting for something. I quickly became impatient with him and moved on to another soldier, but got much the same result when I said Tomasz’s name.

“Hanna,” a deep voice said behind me, but it was Saul, not Tomasz, and I turned back to him frantically.

“They have Tomasz, Saul!”

“Hanna,” Saul said again very gently.

“Have you seen him? He’s here some—”

“Alina.” I froze, startled at Saul’s loud and unexpected use of my real name. His gaze softened. “These men are British—they are here delivering the uniforms, and they are looking for me. Do you understand? They have come to collect Tomasz, like we planned.”

I stared at him, trying to process the implications of this. Finally the terrible, terrible reality of my situation struck me.

Tomasz should have arrived by then.

Tomasz had not arrived, and we hadn’t made a contingency plan.

“I have to stay,” I blurted, shaking my head. “I can’t leave—he must still coming—he must be on his way—”

Saul caught my forearm and he pulled me into the administration block, and then into a room all on our own. He rested his hands on my shoulders, and he stared right into my eyes.