Page 19 of The Lost Husband

I reach for him, my hands moving along his chest before relieving tension through a deep, needed kiss. My hands slide beneath the hem of his shirt as he presses his forehead to mine.

“This is what you’ve been so quiet about?” I whisper.

His arms tangle around me, lifting me until my legs loop around his waist. “I needed to see for myself how exact the forgery is before getting documents for us. This will be how I keep us safe, and how we continue living the life we deserve.”

“We could still have a little family of our own, you mean?” I ask.

The summer heat flourishes between us, something ferocious. His knuckles brush along my side. “Precisely. In fact, I think the only thing we should worry about is finding a third matching chair to go with our table.”

“How many—chairs—do you think we’ll end up needing?” I ask.

He peppers soft kisses along my bare shoulder, a tingle spearing down my spine. “However many you desire.”

After months of the world closing in, trapping us in a dooming shadow, light appears, pointing us in a new direction.We won’t sit and wait to see what comes. Instead, we’ll make the choice of what our life shall become.

I memorize the weight of him against me, the way he holds me in his arms, and stares so deeply into my eyes I can feel it in my soul.

It isn’t until my breaths steady and my body cools from the currents firing between us that my thoughts wander toward the shadow of doubt—to the place where failure is possible.

How quickly can we get new papers? Will they guarantee our safety?

NINE

CURRENT DAY

Babice, Poland

I can’t help but wonder where the smoke through the trees is coming from. Avi’s right, that it likely doesn’t mean safety for us, but I have to know what it is. If it might have anything to do with the German soldiers being herded away—with…the man who looks like Noah.

Through the sky-high bare trunks and branches and down the narrow-carved path, the stench of waste burns my nostrils just as it did in Auschwitz. There, in that Hell, no matter what time of day or night, charred ash from bodies, thick coal dust, and bitter chemicals were all I could smell and taste. That reek of death seeped into my skin and hair, a permanent stain no scrubbing will ever remove. It’s all I’ll ever know.

Someone grabs my wrist, yanking me out of my forward trajectory. “Where are you going?” he asks, his hand shaky.

I swallow a gasp and twist around, finding the older man who was giving us directions last night. In the daylight, he looks older than I thought could still exist in Auschwitz. Most of the elderlywere sent to the gas chambers during selections at arrival. Only those considered capable of labor were spared immediate death.

Short gray stubble draws a pattern over the age spots on his head. His sallow eyes and drooping skin weigh on his gaping jaw. I don’t know how he has the energy to stop me.

“Aren’t we following the Soviets with hope of finding food and supplies?” That’s what he said last night when Avi questioned him. “I’m going to—to see where…” I point down the path. “To see where the smoke is—is coming from. It could be coming from them.” Reluctance presses against my tongue.

“Without caution? You’ve learned nothing, then,” the man scolds me.

A flash of rage rips through my veins. There’s no use in pitching insults when no one knows what’s best. “With all due respect, sir, what caution should we be taking? Are there other options?” My cheeks fill with heat, something I wouldn’t think possible amid the numbing cold.

Avi jolts toward me, taking my other hand, tugging me away from the man. “Forgive her, sir. The last explosion in the camp knocked her down two days ago. She hasn’t fully recovered.” Avi speaks so surely, it’s like she’s had practice speaking on behalf of others before.

I’m not confused about where I’m going or what I’m doing. I simply don’t plan to freeze to death in these godforsaken woods and I need to make sure we’re still on the same path of the Soviets. “If there’s fire, there might be food, or shelter, even direction,” I add.Also,another glance at the captured German prisoners.

“Let her go,” a woman calls out. “If she wants to throw herself into more danger, we’ll be better off knowing the outcome before we end up in the same situation.”

I peer down at my worn blue stripes hanging beneath my coat like a curtain. Then I look at the woman speakingout, dressed the same. Middle-aged, more emaciated than me, beaten, and hunched like a discarded doll. “You know, this is what they wanted—the Reich—for us to see each other as enemies.” My words are thick with truth. “It seems they won that battle too.”

I pull my arm out of Avi’s grip before giving her a quick glance as I question if she’ll stop me too. “I don’t want to drag you along with me. Maybe you should stay with them.”

Avi grabs my arm firmly, her hold on me shaking with anger. “You aren’t better off on your own,” Avi whispers in my ear. She looks over her shoulder toward the hollow between some bare trees, keeping her eyes set there until I look in the same direction.

It doesn’t take long before I spot a pile of blue-striped fabric draped over a mound of snow. I would like to believe that’s all there is. But it’s not. Not just a pile of clothes or a mound of snow. A frost-covered body, no breath or mist puffing from her lips or nose. Her skin is paler than the snow beneath her.

The woman I tried to help with a single potato. The one missing from the group this morning. She survived Auschwitz only to end up freezing to death alone in the woods.