The Children's War (199 page)

“I’ll trust your word. You are people of honor, if not sensitivity.”

“Very well,” Tadek agreed, “you’ll take our word. But if you get this seat, there will be too many from the same family—it’s beginning to look like a royal family.”

“Nonsense,” Peter replied. “I am not related to any of you here. I am an outsider, as some of you have made abundantly clear on many an occasion. As for my marriage—my wife and I have divergent views on many issues and will not be in collusion or have a block vote.”

“Besides,” Marysia sighed, “it was worse when Adam was on the committee and nobody objected then.”

“Have it your way.” Tadek shrugged.

“Better yet,” Zosia said, “give him my seat. I’m resigning.”

“What!” the cry came from all sides.

“I’ve had enough. I’m cutting back on my workload so I can spend time with my family. If I resign now, there will be no charge of nepotism, and it is not unusual to award a vacant seat to a spouse so we can forgo the usual nonsense.”

“That’s usually for vacancies created by death,” Tadek pointed out.

Zosia shrugged. “A vacancy is a vacancy.”

“Zosiu,” Peter whispered. He knew what her position meant to her. Was she acting the martyr to embarrass him into retracting his demands?

Zosia slipped her shoe back on and stood up. Gently she inserted a finger in Irena’s mouth and detached her from the nipple. The baby seemed happy to suck her finger, obviously sated. Zosia handed the baby to Tadek, who, Peter noticed, took hold of her expertly. Then Zosia said, “Why don’t you all discuss the merits of my suggestion while I have a private chat with my husband in the corridor?” She buttoned her blouse as she circled around the table, then looped her arm in Peter’s and led him out the door.

70

O
NCE THEY WERE OUT IN THE HALLWAY
and the door was closed behind them, Zosia asked quietly, “Why did you do that to me? Why didn’t you warn me?”

When have you ever warned me? Peter was tempted to say, but something in Zosia’s tone sounded quite different, so instead he explained, “Given what you wrote in your message to me in London, I thought it better if you weren’t involved, and this was the easiest way to do that. I just thought I’d show up and fill you in, but you weren’t here last night.”

“Makes sense.” Zosia hardly seemed concerned and he suspected the question had been rhetorical.

“Now, what’s this about you quitting?”

“I’ve read the letters you wrote,” she said as if in reply.

“Oh.”

“And your mother’s diaries. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I had hoped you would. When did you ever find the time?” he asked, surprised by the sudden changes in priorities.

“I made time. I’ve made time to do the things you used to do for us.” She smiled wanly. “It gave me a sense of their value.”

He nodded but did not speak. She clearly had something more to say.

She bit her lip as if trying to decide something, then whispered, “And I’ve seen the tape of Joanna’s murder.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I . . . You were very brave. I had no idea. I . . .” She was crying and he pulled her toward him. As she sobbed into his chest, he heard her mumble what sounded like an “I’m sorry.”

He held her for a while, stroking her hair, hugging her to him, trying to steady her trembling frame. His questions about where and when and how were forgotten, and when she had calmed down a bit, he impetuously asked instead, “Do you want me to withdraw my demands? I mean, other than my coming back here?” As he said the words, he realized that he was making the same mistake he always made, making offers he did not really want to make; offerings that, if accepted, would cause him to resent her.

She shook her head. “No. I do think you deserve a seat. And I really do think it’s time for me to retire, or at least take a sabbatical. I was going to discuss it with you before suggesting it to the Council.”

“Oh, Zosiu! You love your work!”

“It has taken control of me, I need to get away from it. At least for a while.”

“You’re not just doing this for me?”

She shook her head. She seemed profoundly sad.

“What is it, Zosiu? This place has been running your life since birth, why quit now?”

She swallowed hard, turned away from him, and leaned back against him so that he could hold her, but could not see her expression. He stroked her beautiful hair and waited. After a moment she spoke, so low he could barely hear her. “I think Joanna didn’t run away because I told her to watch out for you.”

He stiffened. He did not trust himself to say anything so he remained silent.

“If they”—Zosia jerked her head toward the Council room—“had not been so worried about you and if I hadn’t felt so loyal to my work, I don’t think I would have said that.”

“So you said
watch
rather than
watch out for?
” he asked as gently as he could manage.

“No. She would have never understood the idea of watching you, but she did understand that you might need help. I told her to take care of you, and especially, not to leave your side.”

“It’s not your fault that you were concerned about me. Or that she was.” Nor did Zosia’s confession relieve his guilt for not having told Joanna to run away. She would have listened to him, no matter what her mother had said.

“No, but I used her concern for you to assuage their concerns about you. So that you could go into town unescorted, I said Joanna would let us know if you did anything suspicious, and then I had a little chat with her about how important it was for her to stay with you at all times and . . .”

“And?”

“And to tell me everything you did.”

“Everything we did,” he repeated numbly.

“Yeah. I made it sound like I didn’t want to miss out on the fun,” Zosia moaned.

“Why did you do that? Didn’t you trust me?”

“Yes! But I was being torn this way and that. My worries about your wellbeing on the one hand, their concerns on the other . . .”

“Their paranoia doesn’t make sense, not after all the time I spent alone in America.”

“You were watched anytime you weren’t with one of us or someone we had vetted. The phone in the hotel was tapped, too. The one time you noticed someone, that was a bodyguard I had asked for. You never spotted the surveillance.”

“Charming,” he muttered. “Too bad they didn’t bother to notice that photographer who got my picture with Joanna.”

“Clearly their efforts were misdirected,” Zosia agreed bitterly. “But you were with us then, so they probably weren’t watching.”

“God, I feel like a fool.”

“It’s not your fault, dear. They have extremely subtle techniques.”

“How could I not have noticed?”

“They controlled your schedule and had direct access to your luggage and
hotel room. I guess, most of the time you were wearing a device, and since they weren’t actually trying to protect you, they could keep their distance. Your complete trust in them, in us, and lack of suspicion certainly helped.”

Peter felt so disgusted he had an urge to push Zosia away from him. She was right, he had never inspected his clothing or his luggage or his room. He had not listened for any telltale signs of tapping on the telephone. He had trusted them. “They’re sick,” he finally said.

“No, darling, just worried. Security had a lot of difficulty with my father’s suggestion; that’s one reason he threw it out to the crowd the way he did. The only way he got permission to get you there was to accept these constraints.”

“He didn’t bother to mention any of this to me,” Peter noted caustically.

“Of course not, he felt you would be offended.”

“Well, he had that right. What about now? Am I shadowed in London, too?” he asked contemptuously.

“No. They’ve gotten over their concerns. The videotape said it all.”

“This is why you want to leave?”

Zosia nodded. “I can’t be a part of this sort of thing anymore. It’s grown too big. It’s . . .”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Nor was it yours. But does that make it any easier for you?”

“No.”

“So, let me go. Let me deal with this in my own way. I really want a break.”

“You won’t regret this?”

She shook her head, but remained silent. He held her a moment, letting his cheek touch her hair as he thought about what she had said, all the things he had not known before. She felt warm and soft in his embrace, and he wanted to hold her forever, but there seemed to be a distance between them. He let his thoughts play through her words again, through the revelations of how he was watched in America, how Joanna was told to keep an eye on him, how Zosia always knew things after the fact, just at the right time.

“You’ve been using me all along, haven’t you?” he said suddenly.

She was silent in his arms.

“You knew about your father’s idea to send me to America, you knew from the first time he met me, didn’t you?”

She shifted slightly but remained quiet.

They stood together in silence for a long time. He felt a sick twisting in his gut as his mind strayed back to that day they had first met. “I believe your story,” she had said. “Not only that, but I think we can use it.”
Think we can use it
repeated itself over and over in his mind.
Think we can use it . . .
From the very first day. The very first day.

Carefully he said, “It was
your
idea, wasn’t it? From the day we met, you had it all mapped out, didn’t you?”

Zosia remained silent.

“I was wrong all along,” he whispered into her ear. “I wasn’t replacing Adam in your heart, that was impossible. That was just a distraction to explain your coldness, wasn’t it? You were using me, weren’t you? You’ve been using me all along, prepping me to perform for you! I’ve been nothing more than your propaganda tool, isn’t that right?”

Her silence was unbearable. “
Answer me,
damn it!”

“Oh, Peter. It’s not what you think. I’m not that unfeeling—”

“It wasn’t love, was it? It was
never
love. It wasn’t even compassion. Not even friendship! It was strategy,” he stated coldly. “From the moment you walked into that tent, all friendly and alluring . . .” He swallowed. “I wasn’t a human being in need, I was a piece of merchandise, up for sale, and you wanted to know if I was worth the price!”

She did not answer.

His mind moved forward to the night of the party, before their wedding, the night Zosia talked him into going to America to speak. As a wedding gift, she had suggested. As a
wedding gift?
He felt his stomach turning.

“You didn’t love me, even when we married! Even marriage was part of the plan,” he guessed. “You didn’t love me when we made Irena together, I was just a physical substitute for Adam.” He tightened his grip on her shoulders.

Still she maintained her maddening silence, as if she, herself, did not know the answer.

He took a deep, unsteady breath. “Have you
ever
loved me?” His heart was breaking with the weight of this sudden, horrible truth.

There was a terrible silence and he felt his world crumbling around him. All his efforts, all his senseless attempts to make their marriage work! All the inexplicable hurt, all the apologies, all the guilt at disappointing her. It had been worthless—she had never even given him a chance! There was nothing there, had always been nothing. Absolutely nothing. He closed his eyes tight as he realized what he had done to himself over the years. Could he really have been so blind?

Into the void Zosia whispered, “I love you now.”

It was his turn to remain silent. Was there any reason at all to believe her? He did not want to believe her. He did not want ever again to be so susceptible to her lies, but still a stubborn part of him
did
want to believe. He did not know what to say, so he stood there holding her, until he realized that his fingers were clawing into her shoulders. He loosened his grip and asked, “And the rest of the time?”

“Believe what makes you happy. Believe whatever makes you happy.” She pulled away from him, turned toward him, and threw her arms around him. “Just don’t stop loving me now!” she moaned with a vulnerability he had never before detected in her voice.

Could he do that? Could he believe whatever would make him happy? His arms hung loosely around her as she embraced him so passionately. Somehow, he could not find the strength to hug her.

She recognized his rejection and pulled back to look up at him. “So, what goes around, comes around?” she asked sadly.