“War isn’t fair.” He examined his work, then threw it with as much force as he could muster. The tiny basket sailed a few meters across the open field until it disappeared in the tall grass. Mateusz looked as if he wanted to say more, but he noticed Irena and Franz approaching, so he refrained.

“You owe me a new line, Irena,” Franz said. He held up the broken string and looked to us for support.

“It’s your own fault, you idiot,” Irena replied with a grin. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear—its natural brown color, not dyed blond—and sat beside me.

“As a witness to the scene, I agree with Irena.”

Franz shook his head. “I knew I’d get no sympathy from you, Maria.”

“Let me see,” Mateusz said. When Franz passed the broken kite to him, he ran his nimble fingers over it. “It’s an easy fix. Do you have more line?”

“In the barn,” Franz replied. “Help yourself. I’ve got business in town.”

“The hospital, Dr. Meinhart?” Irena asked while Mateusz took the kite and made his way toward the barn.

“Always,” he said with a wry smile.

“Any news on Hania or Izaak?” I asked.

Franz released a slow, sympathetic breath. “You know I looked all over the camp for them.”

While Franz had cared for me on Irena’s and my first day here, I had implored him to go to Auschwitz to find Hania and Izaak—an impossible task at first, as a few SS personnel had remained to guard the camp. A week later, when the Red Army arrived, he had joined the Polish Red Cross and other medics to tend to the inmates. Although he hadn’t found my friends, I’d hoped some of the other medical volunteers might have discovered something by now and passed word to him.

When he didn’t supply further information, I sighed. Irena and I never should have abandoned them.

“They didn’t disappear,” he said. “I’m sure someone found them and took them to another hospital. I promised you I’d locate them, and I will.” Franz picked up his fedora from where he’d tossed it on the blanket, placed it on his head, and kissed Irena’s cheek before crossing the field toward the barn, where he’d parked his car. After the engine rumbled to life, he drove down the dirt road and disappeared along the main street.

Irena watched him go, a thoughtful expression on her face, until she noticed the small smile playing around my lips. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I’m happy for you.”

“Good Lord, don’t start.” She plucked a tall blade of grass and fiddled with it before tossing it aside. “He’s German.”

“I thought you’d gotten over the fact that he’s a Volksdeutsch.”