Page 26 of The Lost Husband

No one responds right away.

Not even a breath passes.

The three of them stare at me with some form of confusion and sympathy. I’m sure they’re all in silent agreement that the only thing that makes sense is that I clearly lost my mind a long time ago.

“That’s why you looked at the dead German guard, and why you just froze back at the Soviet prison.” Avi wipes the back of her hand against her forehead. “That’s why you hesitated when we left Auschwitz. You’re looking for your husband.”

I nod. “Yes.”

Her stare narrows in on me, as if she can see through the layers of my flesh in search of information I’m not giving her. Out loud, none of it makes sense. Only to me.

“Why would your husband be wearing a German uniform, Celina?” She stares at me, unblinking, appalled. “Is he a Nazi?” Her words are like flames against my face.

“No! He’s Jewish!” I cry. “I don’t know. But he would never—he would have a reason and a purpose for being in those clothes. I’m sure of it.”

Avi scoots backward, not to stand up or leave but to create space.

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head. “I—I can’t imagine what could make someone put that on…” Avi hisses. “I don’t know what to say, but—maybe you should have said something sooner.”

Sooner, as in, given them all time and notice to know not to travel alongside me. To suspect me—either of madness, or of being married to the enemy. As if I haven’t gone through the same torture they have.

“Saying it out loud doesn’t change anything.”

Gerda drags her tired feet toward me and rests her arm around my back. “I lost my husband,” Gerda says. “And my three daughters.”

We’re all in pain. We’re all suffering. It’s hard to think beyond my own frame of mind. Gerda moves toward a bare log and drops down, wrapping her arms around her torso as she squeezes back the pain beneath her clenched eyes.

“I lost my parents and three younger brothers,” Elias says, his voice deflating. “My brothers were taken from me after we were separated from our parents. I told them everything would be all right and to be brave.” He pauses a moment. “The last thing I told those three was a lie. And I’d never lie to them.”

He can’t be more than sixteen or seventeen, and living with that guilt. It’s a lifelong punishment.

Avi heaves an exhale, already turning away. In avoidance. “None of us can afford to be chasing shadows right now,” she says. “Especially if one of them might be wearing a German uniform. We need to keep moving, for ourselves now. To safety, not into more danger.”

“I understand.” I sigh. But I won’t give up on the idea that the man I keep seeing looked too much like Noah to not prove for sure it isn’t. I have nothing left to lose…

“Do you?” she asks, her voice softer this time. Not soft enough to hide her frustration. “Next time, that could get us killed.”

Guilt swells in my chest, heat coiling around my neck and through my face. I silently agree as tears burn the back of my eyes. I can’t force anyone to understand, and if I can’t stay with them because of that, so be it.

“We really need to find shelter,” Elias says. “Hospitable shelter.”

Elias notices Gerda struggling to stand from the log and helps her up, leaving Avi and I to walk behind.

Hardly a minute passes before she gives me a side-long glance and exhales heavily. “Next time,” she huffs, “will you at least tell me before you risk everything?”

“All right,” I utter.

“We’ll wait here,” Elias says. “Give them time to move out of the trench. Then we’ll continue to stay behind them.”

There was a day when I prayed for no more warnings. No other reasons to live in fear. I didn’t want to know what would happen next.

Now, I’d give anything for a sign.

TWELVE

JUNE 1942

Amsterdam, Netherlands