I had known about Pan Rosenberg’s books—it was where Saul got the ones we read each night. His father, Saul had explained, simply couldn’t bear to leave them, and insisted on grabbing the few he could when fleeing. “He guarded his books in the ghetto and only once, when we were nearly freezing to death and there was no wood, did he let us burn one for kindling,” Saul had explained. It was one of the few times, Saul said, that he had seen tears in his father’s eyes.

In all the months in the sewer, though, Pan Rosenberg had never personally offered any of his precious books to me—until now. I accepted the book, a collection of stories by Sholem Aleichem, eagerly. I opened to the first page, struggling to see the words in the dim light. “It’s too dark in here,” he said apologetically. “You probably have to go to the place beneath the grate to read with Saul.” I was surprised he knew about that.

“I always wanted a daughter,” he added. “I hoped that my wife and I might have had one if we had been blessed with more children. Or a granddaughter if my son Micah had lived to have children.” His voice cracked as he saw the full spectrum of his loss splayed before him. He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re here with us.”

“Thank you,” I said, surprised and touched by his words.

“You must find little bits of light, things like this to help you go on,” he added as he straightened.

“But how?” Mama had given me hope, and my sister, too. Both of them were gone.

“Find the things that give you hope and cling to them. That is the only way we will make it through this war.”

That night, I waited eagerly until the others went to bed, wanting to go to the annex and read the book that Pan Rosenberg had given me. I hoped that if I escaped into the story, I might find a brief respite from my constant worry about Mama.

After a while, a shadow appeared over my bed. It was Saul. He held out his hand to me, indicating I should come with him. I picked up the book Pan Rosenberg had given me and carried it along. We set out in silence, fingers intertwined. Normally I found our quiet walks together soothing. But nothing could ease my panic about my mother.

“I have to go after my mother,” I said when we reached the annex and settled into our close reading space.

Saul shook his head. “Impossible. There is no way to find her. You have to stay and live. It is what she would have wanted.” His words were a refrain of his father’s earlier. “Anyway, I need you here.” I turned to him, surprised. “That sounds selfish, I know. I didn’t know how much I missed you until you were gone that night to find food. Without you to walk beside me, I was lost.” He touched my cheek. “This is love, Sadie.” I stared at him in stunned silence, wondering if perhaps this was all a dream. “I know that now. I’m only sorry it took me so long to realize it.”