Chapter Seventeen

IOPEN MY EYES and see a chandelier hovering over me, the crystal prisms dripping down like giant raindrops. To my left, bright yellow daffodils are arranged beautifully in a vase at the center of the coffee table. The morning sunlight seeps in through an opening in the drapery and sends a striped beam across the couch and onto my leg. As I slowly sit up, a wet cloth that must have been placed on my forehead falls to my lap. Stach, sitting at his desk, meets my puzzled gaze.

“You fainted,” he explains. “The driver brought you back here last night, and you fell to the floor. It must have been—” He stops speaking.

I rub my eyes. “I was dreaming that I was performing in a play. The curtain came down, wrapped around my neck, and strangled me.” I hold my breath and release deliberately. “I was in hell, Stach.”

“Bina,” he says gently, then walks over and sits next to me on the couch, pats my leg.

But I don’t want to be patted or pitied. I remove his hand. “The girls, are they—”

He swallows hard. “Dead. There have been sirens blaring all night long. You did what you had to do,” he says, lowering his lashes.

I think of Lilah, those squared courageous shoulders, and the others. It’s all too much to bear. “Dina?” I plead with my eyes. “Please tell me... at least that.”

“She is alive.” His eyes brighten, but the pupils dart quickly in both directions. “I made sure of it.”

“Are you lying to me?”

You can’t pretend to another actor. We both know that. He sighs deeply. “Here’s what I know. The cleaning team assigned to prepping the girls for the officers’ visit found them. One of the maids is also one of us. Somehow, she managed to quickly hide the girl in a storage closet. Then Jews were brought in from the ghetto to remove all the dead bodies—”

“Wait!” I hold up my hand to stop him from speaking. “Is Dina still in a closet?”

He nods. “She needs to stay there, until we are sure that all the Nazis have evacuated the building.” He glances at his watch. “Which is anytime soon. That maid...” He looks as if he is about to reveal something important but stops himself. “What matters is that the girl is alive and hopefully still safe. That’s all I can tell you right now.”

Hopefully safe. No guarantees. That’s the best anyone can do. Tears sting my eyes as I picture timid little Dina alone among the dead, hiding in a suffocating closet filled with spiderwebs, sucking her thumb. It’s gut-wrenching. But Stach has risked so much to make this happen. She’s alive.

“Thank you,” I say. “The man who helped us, who brought me back here last night, with the crazy eyes, who is he?”

Stach purses his lips tightly, as though deciding whether he is revealing too much. “A man, like me. He is with them... and us.”

A man, a Nazi, who loves men. Who lives in secret. So many secrets.

“Why is he helping us?”

“Why does anyone help? Because he’s on the wrong side and knows right from wrong. He has done a lot of bad things. He is forced to be here, forced to serve with them. If he doesn’t, he puts his own family at risk.” Stach’s jaw pulses. “He is also forced to hide his sexuality. I met him that way. He is risking a lot helping us, but he hates them too.”

I stand. “I need to return to the ghetto, Stach. I have done all that I can do. My people have weapons, and the girls will never be Nazi sex slaves. Never be anything... period. I don’t want to be here anymore. I must go home.”

“The ghetto is now home?” Stach says coldly.

“The ghetto is the only home I have left.” The ghetto is Aleksander, Zelda, Eryk. It’s where I’m going to die. I feel my cheeks burning up, furnace bright.

Stach reaches over and places his large palm on my shoulder. His eyes are no longer warm, empathic; they are calculating. There is a hardened look that reminds me of Zelda, of his father. “You made me a promise. Before you go back... I now need something from you.”