Back The Last Checkmate Save as PDF
Chapters (47)
  1. Dedication
  2. Epigraph
  3. Chapter 1
  4. Chapter 2
  5. Chapter 3
  6. Chapter 4
  7. Chapter 5
  8. Chapter 6
  9. Chapter 7
  10. Chapter 8
  11. Chapter 9
  12. Chapter 10
  13. Chapter 11
  14. Chapter 12
  15. Chapter 13
  16. Chapter 14
  17. Chapter 15
  18. Chapter 16
  19. Chapter 17
  20. Chapter 18
  21. Chapter 19
  22. Chapter 20
  23. Chapter 21
  24. Chapter 22
  25. Chapter 23
  26. Chapter 24
  27. Chapter 25
  28. Chapter 26
  29. Chapter 27
  30. Chapter 28
  31. Chapter 29
  32. Chapter 30
  33. Chapter 31
  34. Chapter 32
  35. Chapter 33
  36. Chapter 34
  37. Chapter 35
  38. Chapter 36
  39. Chapter 37
  40. Epilogue
  41. Author’s Note
  42. Acknowledgments
  43. P.S. Insights, Interviews & More . . .*
  44. About the Author
  45. About the Book
  46. Miscellaneous Facts and Info
  47. About the Publisher

“Nine months. Jakub’s birthday is in March, so he’s about to turn four, and Adam is fourteen months.” A sudden realization seemed to hit her, one I imagined she’d dwelled on so often before, but with fresh pain each time. “My son is growing from a toddler to a little boy, and I missed my baby’s first words, his first birthday . . .” After a moment, she took a calming breath. “I’ll never forget the night they were taken. It was late Saturday evening, the twelfth of April. We had one final Sabbath as a family. The rest of us were arrested a week later.”

The date stood out in my mind. Something important had happened on the twelfth of April. It was a date I’d promised myself I’d remember because it was the day I completed a resistance errand by myself for the first time. I had delivered papers. Mama was supposed to have joined me, but I’d gone alone because she’d gone to the ghetto.

I sat up a bit straighter, reminding myself to breathe. It was a coincidence, that’s all.

“What about the person who took your children?”

“They went with a woman I’d met a few times, and I had friends who let her take their children. She persuaded me into letting my boys go. She was kind and friendly, but I don’t know much personal information aside from her name. I doubt it was her real name, but she went by Stanisława.”

A resistance woman named Stanisława who rescued children on the twelfth of April. The same alias Mama used, the same night she went into the ghetto.

“What did Stanisława look like?” I kept my voice light. If my suspicions were wrong, I didn’t want to get Hania’s hopes up. After all, I was sure plenty of resistance women went by that alias and had gone into the ghetto that evening.

“She was a Gentile and older than me by ten years or so. Average height, blond hair, beautiful. She wore a wedding band, so I assume she was married.” Hania was quiet for a moment. “Once, she said she had a son a bit older than Jakub, my three-year-old.”

At the time, Karol would have been four years old. “Did Stanisława say anything else about her personal life?”