“We need to get him out,” I whispered.
“There is only one way, Emilia. You know this. I’ve spoken to the guards at the prison, and the bribe they want to free him is more than we can afford.” Mateusz spoke very carefully, as if a harsh tone would shatter a carefully won peace accord. When he spoke, he whistled accidentally, still adjusting to the tooth he’d lost during the beating. The bruising on his face was fading, but it still broke my heart to look at him.
If we managed to free Roman, there was a good chance I would kill the man myself.
“We are not paying that bribe,” Truda added, giving me a pointed look. I met her gaze, and she threw her hands up into the air. “So after everything we have been through, we finally have a chance to get back on our feet, and Emilia wants us to swap that chance for the life of a boy who is determined to be a martyr.”
Mateusz sighed, rubbing his forehead wearily. He looked at me, pleading with me to understand. “Truda is right. Even if we rescue him today, he is just as likely to do something foolish and be imprisoned again tomorrow. That’s not fair to anyone.”
“If I were the one in that prison cell, would you rescue me?” I asked them quietly.
“You know we would,” Mateusz said.
“His parents don’t have the chance to help him. We are his family.”
“You haven’t seen him in months, Emilia,” Sara reminded me gently. “For very good reason.”
“I still care about him. And I know that you all still care about him. He is impulsive and stubborn, but he’s special. I know that you all see that about him, too.” I looked to Sara, who avoided my gaze. “You especially, Sara. Make them see sense!”
“The thought of him suffering turns me inside out,” Sara said abruptly. “But I cannot ask your parents to sacrifice their future for him. Truda is right: for as long as we have known him, Roman has had more passion for this country than sense. Say your father spends the money he has borrowed rescuing Roman instead of setting up his factory. What do we do next week, when Roman is arrested again? Now you have no factory, no money and a loan to repay with no income to do so, and the outcome is the same.”
I was so frustrated I could cry, but I could see the logic in what they were saying. But since we had learned that Roman was being interrogated at the infamous Mokotów Prison, desperation had overtaken me. The most likely outcome was that he would leave that place in a coffin.
I thought if I put distance between us, I could carry on if he were imprisoned, or worse. But there we were. The worst had finally happened, and I couldn’t think of anything other than finding a way to help him.
“You really think we should just leave him there?” I asked incredulously. “He is family.”
“I’m sorry, Emilia,” Mateusz whispered numbly. “We really don’t have a choice.”
* * *
The next morning, I fed Anatol, then passed him over to Truda as I always did, but instead of commencing the day’s chores, I told her I was going out.
“Where to?” she asked, her gaze narrowing.
“I’m going to see if I can find someone who can help Roman.” I had no idea where to even start, but I could not do nothing.
“Emilia,” she groaned, shaking her head. “This is a terrible idea! You were right all along. You need to let him go—”
But just then, the front door to our apartment flung open, and Mateusz rushed inside.
“What are you doing home?” Truda cried, but he continued past us toward their bedroom.
“It’s Roman.” He threw the words over his shoulder as he ran. I followed him and found him on his knees beside the bed. Truda was close behind us with Anatol in her arms.
“What are you doing?” she asked impatiently. Mateusz withdrew a suitcase from beneath his bed and threw it up onto the mattress. The color drained from Truda’s face.
“Don’t you even think about it!” she whispered furiously. When Mateusz continued unclasping the suitcase, Truda passed Anatol to me and stepped toward the bed. She caught his arm. “Mateusz, no.”
“I went past the prison this morning to see if I could talk the guard into a more reasonable bribe,” Mateusz said, shaking her off impatiently. He tipped the clothing out of the suitcase and onto the bed. “He told me that they have broken Roman’s legs. The interrogation has gone nowhere, and they have only kept him alive because they assumed I was coming back with the money.”
Truda and I simultaneously gasped. Mateusz reached into his pocket for his penknife to cut open the lining of the suitcase. Inside, there was a thickly stuffed envelope.
“You’re going to pay it?” I whispered. Mateusz nodded silently. Truda swore ferociously as she took Anatol from my arms and stormed away, back to the living areas. “Why?” I asked Mateusz.
“You were right last night. Roman is family,” he sighed. He stuffed the envelope into the waistband of his trousers, straightened and looked right into my eyes. “I could live with the guilt if I did nothing, but I couldn’t live with the disappointment in your eyes.”
I walked across the room to throw my arms around him. I pressed my cheek against his chest and closed my eyes.
“Mateusz... Tato...” I whispered. Dad. I had called him that before, but only when others were around who didn’t know he wasn’t my real father. As his arms contracted around my shoulders, I knew Mateusz and Truda had more than earned the titles of Mother and Father. “Thank you.”
Mateusz kissed the top of my head, squeezed me close one more time, then gently released me.
“I’ll try to get this young man of ours back. You stay here and make up the sofa for me.”
“The sofa?” I said, surprised. “Won’t he need a bed?”
“Oh, no,” Mateusz said, wincing. “No, I expect he is going to need the hospital. The sofa is for me. After what I’m about to do, it’s going to be a long time before Truda lets me back into the bed.”
45
Roman
I woke to blinding pain and an unmistakable medicinal grogginess. As the fog cleared, I looked around the room. Hospital beds, both occupied and vacant, lined the walls on both sides of a narrow ward. A nurse was checking the pulse of an elderly man in the bed opposite me.
I had no idea where I was. The last thing I remembered was the crunch of the sledgehammer as it hit my shin. Blessedly, I passed out after that.
Now, both of my legs were encased in plaster. My left leg was suspended above the bed, connected to a series of wires and pulleys. I startled when I realized that Emilia was sitting beside me, reading a newspaper. When she saw I was awake, she folded the newspaper and pursed her lips.