Page 37 of The Lost Husband

Toward…

The road.

Toward…a man on his side, one arm bent beneath him. White sleeve folded twice into a stiff cuff. Dark hair parted slightly left, the way Noah has always worn it. Brown leather shoes with the soles worn thin, and deep scuffs on the toes from pacing when he thinks. I know those shoes. That shirt. The slope of his shoulder.

I would know him in the dark.

In death.

No.

It can’t be.

My Noah.

Blood pools beneath him, soaking into the street as my heart cracks down the middle.

The German soldiers continue to yell, the shouts coming from everywhere, snaking in around me, strangling me, and shoving me into the wall. More shots fire. More Jews drop dead in the middle of the street. No mercy. No second thoughts. No second chances.

Go now! Go now!I still hear his voice. It’s still with me.

“No, no… Noah,” I cry silently, clutching my hands around my neck. “Noah, please…please get up.”

Cold air burns through my lungs and my chest caves inward. I clutch the wall, nails splitting as I grind them against the stone, trying to stay upright.

I don’t know how to exist without you…

SIXTEEN

CURRENT DAY

Kopciowice, Poland

The sun continues to rise behind us as we leave the farmhouse shelter, hoping that we’ll find somewhere else that’s safe along our path. It’s hard to imagine much else existing here along the endless tree line shadowing its endless road.

After losing Noah three years ago, it feels like all I’ve done is leave more people and things behind. I can’t reach my parents. I can’t send mail, and if I could, it could be dangerous for them and me. They have no clue whether I’m alive at all. I might never know if they tried to make it back to Amsterdam. If they did, they wouldn’t know where to find me. I wouldn’t even know where to find myself. All I know is I’m somewhere in southeast Poland now. And my destination is unclear.

“Why were you so eager to leave?” I ask Avi, curious why her nerves are suddenly so frayed. I realize food would have been an issue, and anything else we might need, but something more is driving her to move this fast.

“We don’t know who anyone is or who anyone is working for,” she exclaims, her hands doing more talking than hermouth. “For all we know, the Soviets just want to warm us up so they strike us again. We need a shelter where we won’t become a prisoner again.” Avi balls up her fists and presses them into her cheeks. “The last thing we need to do is give them more information about ourselves, not when we’re finally free. We should be grateful not to have papers now. I don’t want to be found by the Soviets or German soldiers again.”

This girl has so much anger brewing inside of her, I worry she might implode. I don’t know what she needs, or if there is anything I could do to help her. I’m more fearful that even she doesn’t know the answer to that.

“There’s no saying how far away another shelter is,” Elias says.

“Then why did you come with us?” Avi snaps at him, slapping her hands by her sides.

Elias peers over at Avi with arched brows and wide eyes. The sun highlights the harsh lines of the bone along his cheeks and forehead. Then his mouth parts, Avi’s aggression taking him by surprise. All I see is a young boy when I stare at him, though the dark circles beneath his eyes, and weight he seems to carry on his shoulders, say otherwise.

“I didn’t want the two of you to be out here on your own,” Elias says, the hopeful energy in his voice gone.

Avi laughs, a cynical sound. “We all survived the same way until now. We’ll manage.”

She rolls her eyes and returns her focus ahead. I’m not sure if I would have made it through this at sixteen or seventeen years old. I’m not sure I can in my mid-twenties.

“You don’t have to be so ungrateful,” Elias slings back, his response an attempt to have the last word. “I’ve already seen what happens when I don’t speak up,” he says. “I won’t do that again. I just want to help.” His words trail off into the wind andhis cheeks pale as if he’s realized his statement suddenly holds no merit.

Avi sneers, whipping back around with her hands stretched outward. No verbal response.