When it is time to put Miri in the grave, Chana holds her sister from beneath the shoulders and Róża takes her legs. Rather than drop her into the hole, they sidestep together down into it, still keeping hold of her, and kneel low before letting her go. They grasp piles of soil with their fingers and place it on top of her, covering her legs and torso. Gently, Róża rotates Miri’s face to the side before placing dirt over her neck, her cheek, her ear.

They cover Miri slowly, handful by handful of loose earth. Neither can bear to hear even a plunk, the ground’s weight upon her. Róża’s feet and calves get buried too. For several minutes she stays planted there, squatting beside Miri, before she slowly dislodges one foot and the other and climbs out.

Chapter 31

Autumn 1943

The lessons Pan Skrzypczak gives Zosia in Mother Agnieszka’s private chambers are the highlight of Zosia’s week. She counts the days, then hours, to their appointed meeting times, and she practices every free moment she can. Scales, études, trills, and every shifting and bowing exercise he gives her. When she plays her arpeggios, she focuses on the accuracy of the notes rather than on the endless repetition, trying her hardest to achieve richness of tone with every stroke.

Sometimes Pan Skrzypczak plays along with Zosia in a duet, and she thrills at the harmonies they create together. Other times he keeps his violin tucked beneath his arm and taps a foot or bobs his head, causing his sideburns to puff and billow; or he places his fingers over Zosia’s to guide her bow. Zosia likes how he smells of rosin and pipe tobacco; how he listens with his head cocked slightly to the left; how he teaches her pieces by Bartók and Bloch and also Sarasate, music that reminds her of her family in Gracja.

At one lesson, Pan Skrzypczak asks Zosia if she is wearing her hair a different way. Sister Alicja had re-dyed her hair and eyebrows the previous night. Unsure of what to say, Zosia mutters, “I don’t think so”; then she tells a story that her mother told her, about Joachim’s friends and the music they wrote for him.

“Yes, Joachim’s devotion to music was paramount.”

Zosia thinks of the other stories her mother told her: the little girl’s adventures in the enchanted garden, the invisible daisy chain, the promise that she’d come back for her. None of them true.

Pan Skrzypczak looks as if he could read her thoughts.

“Joachim’s motto may have been ‘Free but lonesome,’ but I think his friends’ musical gifts made him feel less alone. Why don’t I teach you the Brahms?”