Page 28 of The Lost Husband

“Do you think the police will believe these?”

Noah’s throat tightens and he rolls his shoulders back. “At a quick glance, yes.”

My throat tightens with a growing knot I want to push away. I want to have complete faith in everything he believes in. I can’t help my fear, though. My hands lower to my belly, a protective gesture, one I didn’t plan. So quick and unnoticeable, but nothing gets by him. His gaze drops to my stomach, staring as if he can see through my dress and flesh.

My cheeks burn, then my throat tightens again as tears fill my eyes. I can’t control the tears. They keep falling without my permission.

“You’re still feeling…” His words flicker with excitement before fading into a whisper. We don’t know how thin or thick the walls around us are.

I nod and smile, even as a tear skates over my lips.

I don’t know for sure, but nothing feels as it did a few weeks ago. The strong smells, uncontrollable emotions, an oddtenderness in my chest. Plus, a cycle that stopped cycling more than two weeks ago. I’m scared to have hope, terrified the world will have the final say over what life brings us.

Noah wraps his hands around the sides of my neck and pulls me in, his lips gently brushing mine until the kiss becomes tender and full of unspoken words that define the sheer happiness growing between us.

The world on the other side of these walls can’t matter. Only us. Here.

When our lips part, he reaches toward my belly, touching me as if I’m as delicate as glass. “Two hearts in one soul.” His voice crackles as a tear falls from his eye. He takes a deep breath and sweeps it away. “I almost forgot. Christoph will be here in a few minutes.”

The trades between them have become more frequent, sometimes nightly, but it’s our income and livelihood. It’s the only form of income, being Jewish people who are no longer employable.

“I’m not ready to tell Christoph,” I say. “Not yet.”

“Of course,” Noah says, his voice pinched. He’d never argue a decision such as this one, but the corners of his eyes squint—a flicker so small, I’m not sure it was intentional.

“What is it?” I ask, reaching for his hand.

A smile stretches along his lips. “Nothing. I’m just imagining all our dreams coming true.”

A knock at the door startles us out of our dream haze. “I’ll prepare a pot of tea.”

Noah tends to the door while I fill a pot of water. Just as I turn the faucet off, I hear their quiet exchange from the hallway.

“Did you get the—” Christoph asks.

“Yes, I have them,” Noah agrees.

“This envelope needs to go to Mr. Lowenstein,” Christoph continues, his voice softer than a whisper.

“And this envelope,” Noah says, his voice close to the same volume, “is for you to hold on to.”

“What is it?” Christoph asks, the envelope flap crinkling. “Your old—real papers?”

“I can’t have them here. I need you to put them somewhere safe,” Noah says.

“Of course.”

I suppose that makes this official now. Our identities no longer belong to us.

I place the kettle on the stovetop and make my way to the kitchen opening to poke my head out. “Christoph, is that you?” I’m not sure why I’m acting as though I didn’t know he was coming over, but it seems as if I’m supposed to be out of earshot, or acting like I don’t know they’re talking quietly in the hallway. Yet I’m the outsider who just asked Noah to keep our secret. I greet Christoph with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “How was work today?”

“I see the ideal of a wife, Noah,” he jests.

“She’s something else. That’s for sure,” Noah says with a raised brow and a chuckle.

“Oh hush, you two. I just put on a pot of tea. Christoph, can you stay a while? I know Noah has just been dying for a chess rematch after this past weekend.”

Christoph laughs—a boyish snicker. “I would love to. Thank you.”