Page 101 of The Lost Husband

“No,” Noah utters. His hand tightens against the blanket. “He—he was just—” His words trip and tumble, his gaze shifting between my eyes. “He was with us.” He breaths. “He was right there.”

“They—they…shot…him,” I say, the words shattered.

Noah doesn’t move.

Something breaks inside of him.

His face tightens, pain cutting deep into his eyes.

“He came for us,” Noah breathes. “Because of me. Because I couldn’t protect you myself. Because I was wearing the enemy’s uniform.”

FORTY-TWO

CURRENT DAY

Gliwice, Poland

“I should have been the one protecting you. I tried, my love. I tried so hard,” Noah says, lowering his cheek to my shoulder. He nuzzles his face against my neck, and his hand rests on my stomach. “I tried to protect both of you. I failed you.”

I’m not sure what his mind is recollecting, or not—if all his memories have returned, or just some.

“Noah…” His name doesn’t sound right when I speak.

His lashes flutter against my neck.

“Where—where’s our baby?” His fingers sweep against my stomach as if he wants to feel something that can’t be there. Like time stopped when he was sent away.

But he remembers, and only knows we were supposed to have a baby—and now he believes he failed us. Elias steps away, urging Avi to the other side of the room with the bag of cans.

“You didn’t fail,” I tell him. “It wasn’t her time yet.” I repeat Avi’s word that has stuck with me.

“Her?” Noah whispers against my collarbone.

“She didn’t suffer.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, a whimper in his throat.

“It happened so fast. I felt her kick. Hours later, she was gone. For me, though, it was like losing you all over again. I thought the two of you were together.” The pressure in my head swells as I try to breathe through the thoughts I keep surviving.

The memory of the excruciating quiet after.

The wonder of what a newborn’s cry should sound like.

Hearing my own heart beating in my head as I sat alone, questioning what I had done wrong.

A heavy breath catches in Noah’s throat as his tears trickle down my neck. He pulls me in closer to him, squeezing me until the pain subsides.

“Eve,” he speaks her name against my skin.

I remember the day we decided on her name. I wish it felt like it was just yesterday, but it feels like a lifetime ago.

“One who gives life,” I say.

He sniffles and his body shivers against mine. “A miracle,” he follows. “Our miracle.” Gerda’s words about miracles being the purpose in life make more sense now.

“She had a purpose.”

Noah slides his free arm beneath me. “But I promised her everything in life, Celina. I was still counting the weeks after they threw me in a truck and sent me to the Westerbork ghetto to sweep streets. A checkmark in my head every seventh day. I tried to imagine how big she was getting, telling myself you were safe, and that I would come back before she ever knew I was missing. Before she ever learned how cruel the world could be.”