Róża jolts to a stand, her legs tangling in hay as she takes a step backward, her thoughts ringing in protest: Absolutely not; I will never part with my girl.

She hovers over Shira now to see if she’s woken her. No. She struggles to breathe.

Róża is aware that the risks here have become too much to bear. The food supply is low. And Krystyna surely knows about Henryk’s visits. She must see him duck into the barn on his way back from the tavern.

Róża combs the loft for their few possessions. She will collect Shira and get out now. To where she does not know, only that it will be best for her and Krystyna both. The nicks in the rafter top four hundred and sixty—more than she could have ever hoped for.

“I realize how much danger we’ve put you in. I am sorry,” Róża says. She has seen Krystyna, her arms tight around Łukasz’s shoulders, ushering him away from the barn.

“Róża, it’s for her sake. The nuns will see to it that she gets exercise and schooling. She’ll be far safer hidden among the devout.”

Róża stops moving and stares hard at Krystyna. She has a kind face, deerlike. The curled blond hairs at the nape of her neck, too short to be swept into her high bun, puff around her face like soft cotton. Is it her faith in her Christian God that drives Krystyna to make such an offer? Or an emotional attachment to Shira? Perhaps she’s dreamed of having a little girl. Could Krystyna be right, that Shira would be safer apart from Róża?

Róża thinks of how treacherous the journey here had been, with Shira constantly needing to be carried and soothed, quieted and fed. She recalls crossing the long stretch of pasture. She’d needed Shira to walk on her own, but Shira kept kicking off her shoes and reaching for Róża to pick her up. Over and over, Shira complained that her tata would have carried her. Róża dragged her in her stocking feet until Shira pleaded, promised to wear her shoes and walk—

“You can arrange for this?”

“As I told you, I know someone who does this work. My sister, actually.”

Róża drops to her knees, disconcerted, as the trust she’s placed in Krystyna clouds with doubt. Her sister knows of our hiding? What guarantee is there that she will keep Shira safe?

Instinctively, Róża’s fingers go to where her wedding ring used to be. She looks around the tight space of the loft. It has been exhausting to keep Shira hushed up, day and night.

“Your sister—she would accompany Shira to a convent?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you help us so?” Róża blurts.