“I’m so sorry,” I say, seeing the pain in her eyes. I try to imagine the horror that they had been through, but find that I cannot.

“I made it out of the sewer, but I was alone and badly wounded. Saul and the others were too far gone for me to catch.”

“So you were completely alone?”

“No, there was someone else. A young Polish man named Krys, who loved Ella. He was part of the Home Army. He was supposed to help Ella get us out of the sewer, but he was captured by the Germans. When the Germans were transferring him to a different prison, he escaped and made it back to the sewer. He was too late to help Ella, but he found me. He was going to Warsaw to fight as part of the uprising. I went with him to join the cause and do whatever I could.”

“What became of him?” I ask eagerly. I am suddenly curious to know the fate of the man who had played a part in my family’s survival.

“He was killed fighting the Germans, but I think part of his spirit was destroyed the moment I told him the awful truth about Ella’s death. He was a good man.” Her eyes cloud over. “I survived Warsaw somehow.”

“You were so brave,” I say.

“Me?” Sadie looks surprised. “I did nothing. Ella, Krys, Pawel, they were the brave ones.”

I shake my head, smiling inwardly. Researching my family has made me into somewhat of an amateur historian and I have met several survivors of the war over the years. Each seemed to downplay his or her own role in the war, giving the “real” credit to someone else. “You were brave, too,” I insist. “Saul told me so many stories about the courageous things you did.”

“Saul...” Sadie smiles, seeming lost in her memories. “He was my first love. I tried to find him after the war, but I had no idea where he had gone. And later, when there were records, well, what was the point? I assumed that he moved on, had a life of his own.”

“He never forgot you, though. I’m sure he would be glad to hear from you.”

“Maybe.” She falters, and in her hesitation to face the past, I recognize a piece of myself, the same reluctance that almost stopped me from crossing the market square and finding my sister. There are some pieces of the past too far gone to reach.

“But why have you used Ella’s name all of these years?” I ask.

“Before Ella died, she gave me her identity card. I felt bad about taking it, but it was the one thing that would get me safely out of the city. At first, I used it to pass as a non-Jew. After the war, I decided to keep her name and live out my days honoring her. Sadie Gault was dead; she had no one. But Ella Stepanek could have a fresh start. I traveled to Paris, let Ella’s brother, Maciej, know what had become of her. I settled there and realized my dream of studying medicine. I retired from my work as a pediatrician some time ago.”