The Children's War (146 page)

14

T
HEY SAID THEIR FINAL GOOD-BYES
outside in the woods near the entrance to the bunker. The luggage—such as it was—had been sent ahead; all Barbara and Peter had to do was walk to the pickup point to be transported to the farm and from there into town. They would travel by train and ferry since it was easier to arrange than a flight.

Peter gave a final kiss and hug to Marysia, thanked her for all she had done for him, then turned to face his wife. He looked at the bulge in her stomach where their child grew. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but he did not dare. Zosia put her hands out and he grasped them; they stood that way together in hopeless silence for a few moments. There was so much between them that both were speechless. Too much had been said, too much had been left unsaid.

“May I kiss you?” he asked finally. He had been so humbled by the events of the past weeks, he felt unsure about even the simplest assumptions.

“Of course,” Zosia replied with an air of frivolity. As if nothing had happened.

He leaned down and kissed her gently on the cheek. She looked slightly affronted but did not say anything. He said quietly, “Good-bye, Colonel,” and turned to join Barbara.

Before he had gone even two steps, Zosia called out, “Peter.”

He turned back to look at her but did not come closer. She stepped forward so she could speak quietly. Pressing herself against him, she reached up to stroke his face. “I love you.”

He shook his head slightly and backed away. “I don’t think so.” He turned and
walked off to join Barbara. He put his arm around her shoulders to help steady himself, and together they headed down the slope without looking back.

Zosia went back to her rooms—to the luxurious two rooms that were now hers alone—and poured herself a small glass of vodka. She downed it in a gulp as a toast to her husband’s departure, then she went into her bedroom and opened the carved wooden box that held her small collection of jewelry. Solemnly she twisted the wedding ring from her finger and placed it inside next to the necklace Peter had given her. She looked at it lying there for a moment, and as she stared, she noticed that tears were staining the wood of the box.

She looked away, and her eyes lit upon a classified report lying open on the bedside table. Peter had been reading it for her, so he could offer her a summary of its contents and in that way save her time. He always did that sort of thing, took over any bit of her workload that he could. She turned her back on it, but then her eyes caught sight of Joanna’s cupboard. The doors worked properly now—he had fixed them—and there were the happy little folk designs he and Joanna had painted on them. Zosia thought of how Peter would always get up for Joanna, early in the morning, or anytime she had a bad dream or was sick. No matter how tired he was, he always took care of the child so that Zosia could sleep undisturbed.

Zosia grunted with annoyance. It was best this way, she told herself. She did not need him, he was nothing but a drain on her. Who needed the gestures of love, the tenderness, the lively conversation, the humor? She didn’t! Who needed the songs sung just to please her, or the way he held and comforted her when she wept about Adam? None of it mattered, she would miss none of it!

Olek would miss him, surely, for Peter had provided the father figure that Olek had so desperately needed. Peter seemed to intuitively understand how important such things could be. Not like Adam. Adam had never felt comfortable with the role of mentor, perhaps being too immature himself. But Olek would do fine on his own. And Marysia, too. She wouldn’t miss Peter—the way he always helped out, the way he always found time for her. Damn it! Why was it even a question in her mind? She didn’t need him! He was a drain on her! He would ruin her professionalism. Katerina was right. It was better this way. It was better!

There was a light knock on the door, and she closed the lid of the jewelry box and returned to the living room. Marysia stepped into the room unbidden. Zosia quickly wiped at the tears in her eyes and smiled at Marysia.

Marysia did not smile back. She stared down at Zosia’s hand. “You didn’t lose much time removing your ring, did you?” she noted.

Zosia glanced down at her hand and then back at Marysia. Shrugging, she replied, “It was bothering me.”

“What was that all about?”

“What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you had enough, Zosia?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That ‘I love you.’ What was that for? You’ve never loved him—why not let him leave in peace?”

“I thought he’d like to hear it.”

“You thought you’d like to keep a hook in him so that you can draw him back whenever it suits your fancy!” Marysia accused. “For Christ’s sake, Zosia, haven’t you bled him dry? You got what you wanted out of him! Why couldn’t you let him go? He’d have had a chance in England, with Barbara, she’d have been there for him! Now, he’ll never take it—he’ll keep remembering that you said you loved him!”

“Oh, he’d have come back no matter what I said. He wouldn’t abandon the child.”

Marysia sighed. “I suppose you’re right.” She walked over to the couch and sat down heavily. “But what are you doing, Zosia? What have you become? Where is the sweet little girl who loved Adam?”

“Still in love with him.” Zosia sat down as well.

“Does that give you the right to abuse others?”

“I’ve been kind to Peter. Look, he freely admits that most of the problems we have are his fault.”

“And you freely accept that. How very fair of you.”

“He’s too needy to ever be there for me. I treat him fairly, considering how little-I get out of the relationship.”

“Oh, Zosia! You’re beginning to believe your own propaganda! Just think what he’s done for you! If only you would open yourself to accepting—”

“Oh, get real. He couldn’t even comfort me at the funeral!”

“Comfort
you?
He was the one injured in the bomb blast, he was the one who was arrested and stabbed and forced to watch Joanna’s murder!”

“My daughter!”

“His daughter, too! For Christ’s sake—they did it to hurt him! Are you in collusion with them?”

“Marysia!”

“He’s barely recovered from his wounds and a deadly infection, we pull him out of a sickbed and drag him to the funeral, and where are you? Holding on to Tadek!” Marysia spat. “Your husband was nearly murdered and you publicly cling to your lover!”

“He’s not my lover.”

“And I bet,” Marysia added bitterly,
“he
apologized for not being there for
you.”

“Marysia,” Zosia begged, “have some mercy. I’ve lost Joanna—”

“And I bet,” Marysia continued, “that you let him take the blame for that as well.”

“He was the one who had to insist on going into town with her.”

“Who insisted that it was important for him to go into town regularly? Who dragged him out of the encampment when he didn’t want to go?”

“That was ages ago! He didn’t have to go into town once he got back from America!”

“He didn’t know you were done with him!” Marysia hissed. “How was he to know he had served his purpose?”

“He got Joanna killed!”

“And why was she killed?”

“To punish him for speaking out in America,” Zosia answered, exasperated.

“And who insisted that he speak? Who gave him no choice about the matter?”

Zosia shook her head, refusing to be drawn in.

“And how did they identify him once he fell victim to the bomb blast?”

Zosia didn’t answer.

“His numbers, wasn’t it? Who insisted that he not spend a penny of the money he raised on himself? Who said it was too expensive and pointless looking into having those numbers removed?”

“He didn’t have to go into town!”

“And who insisted that she just had to return here?”

“He could have stayed in America, if he had wanted.”

“You knew that he couldn’t stay, not if you returned. Oh, Zosia, you never once thought of what your brilliant strategy was doing to him.”

Zosia rolled her eyes. “I happen to remember that you were a party to all these decisions, a long time ago. You thought it was a good idea then, now you’re suddenly shocked by what it involved?”

“No, I’m shocked by what you’ve become. You’re trying to be as cold-blooded as Ryszard, but that’s not you, honey. And in compensation, you’re being cruel.”

“I’ve not been cruel!” Zosia protested. “I saved a man’s life, I gave him a home, and I provided him with a family and some sense of stability.”

“You told him you loved him, and then you ruthlessly rejected every opportunity he gave you to make that true. You let him think he was unlovable, that he had somehow failed you, and you let him take the blame for everything that went wrong after that point. You complained that he was never there for you, but you never let him close. You manipulated his actions, using his gratitude like some sort of cattle prod, and his love for you as a chain around his neck.”

“He didn’t need to fall in love. That was his choice.”

“You took advantage of someone who was vulnerable, and you haven’t stopped. Jesus Christ! At least Elspeth Vogel would have called it by its real name!”

“Marysia, you’ve said quite enough!” Zosia stood. She was trembling with anger and her hand shook as she pointed at the door. “Get out!”

Marysia stood as well. “And what have you done it for? Cold-blooded professionalism? The cause? Honoring Adam’s memory?” She shook her head. “I don’t want my son honored in this fashion. And I wonder at a cause that would turn the kind woman that I knew into this monstrous being.”

“I said,
get out!”

Marysia did not leave. “Zosia, we have all given away a part of our humanity in order to continue this fight—that’s the price we must pay. But don’t give away the ability to love.” Marysia reached up to try to stroke Zosia’s cheek, but Zosia angrily pushed her hand away.

“I am not going to fall in love again,” Zosia hissed. “I will not be hurt again! Damn it, if I choose to organize a propaganda campaign and have to convince the speaker to take part, then I hardly think I should be condemned as monstrous! And if I make a mistake and marry someone I shouldn’t have, I refuse to be vilified for the rest of my life because of that!”

“If you feel that way, then why not let him go? With your three little words, you’ve destroyed his chance for freedom.”

Zosia swallowed, unable to answer the question. Why had she said those words?

“It’s not wrong to love someone, Zosia. Not even your husband. Why not give him a chance?”

Zosia shook her head. “It would never work.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“Please leave, Marysia.” Zosia gently grabbed Marysia’s arm and led her to the door. “I need to be alone.”

She saw Marysia out the door and closed it tightly behind her. Then Zosia turned back and surveyed her living room, seeking the comfort of the familiar as Marysia’s wild accusations reverberated through her mind. Only then did she notice the small vase of wildflowers. They were freshly picked; Peter must have collected them early in the morning and left them for her. There was no note, no promises, no pleas—just the flowers that he knew she so loved. She knelt then, knelt to pray as she had not done since Adam had died, but no words came to mind: the years of inattention had left her barren of comfort. She began to cry in earnest then.