Page 63 of The Lost Husband

“She was talking one minute, then?—”

“I know.”

The railcar shakes and groans as a dull glow rises through the opening, followed by Christoph’s hands and head. He hasa flashlight and a greasy linen bag. “There wasn’t much, but some.” He pulls a mangled tin can from the bag along with a rusty pocketknife.

He doesn’t waste a moment before stabbing the lid to pry it open.

A whiff of old metallic water with a hint of something sweet escapes the can. Pungent but not rot—like a remnant of food left in a pot long after being cooked.

Saliva pools beneath my tongue while my stomach tightens, my body betraying my mind again. I wonder if the Soviets are feeding the German prisoners or making them starve just as they did to us in Auschwitz, letting them dissolve into nothing slowly and painfully. Noah would never let anyone starve. He couldn’t handle the sight of someone going hungry. He’d help them.

Christoph bends the tin lid into a scoop then hands me the first serving. “Watch the rim of the tin, and chew the beans slowly,” he warns.

I pour the contents into my mouth, my eyes watering against the strong vinegar taste.

Christoph takes the scoop back and retrieves another serving. “Can you lift Avi’s head higher?” he asks me.

Elias slides beside me and shifts Avi into him to help her up. “Open your eyes for a minute,” Elias whispers to her.

A quiet groan catches in her throat as she battles the phlegm threatening to choke her again. “We have food. Can you open your mouth?” Christoph asks her.

She does, quicker than I expected she might. I take the scoop from Christoph and slowly pour the contents a little at a time into Avi’s mouth. Her nose and forehead crinkles but she weakly chews the beans before pushing the bite down her throat.

Once we deplete the can, Christoph rolls the linen bag up and clambers back toward the rusted opening. With the flashlight still trained on Avi’s face, I see the concern lining his expression.“We can’t stay in here,” he utters. “I heard voices carrying through the trees when I was going through one of the other carts. They’re louder now. Anyone who comes across these carts will be looking for the same thing as us.”

We’ve barely rested a half hour.

“If Soviets or Germans appear, we won’t be able to make a run for it from in here,” Elias says the thought I didn’t want to speak out loud.

“We can’t keep walking. We won’t make it through the night,” I follow.

“I have an idea. Give me a few minutes. It isn’t ideal, but safer if I make it work,” Christoph says, ducking back out of the car.

Elias slides Avi back onto my lap and crawls after Christoph.

“What’s happening?” Avi grumbles.

“It isn’t safe in here. They’re trying to find another solution for the night.”

“Don’t move,” she utters. “I can’t.”

“What would your mama tell you?” My words carry a bigger risk of emotionally destroying her rather than helping the situation, but reasoning with Avi when she was healthy was impossible, never mind in her fragile state now.

She doesn’t respond right away, letting a scratching sound from outside whiz in and out of my ears.

“Close your eyes,” Avi mumbles. “Lots of wildflowers.” She pauses, a small smile poking at her lips. “Sun—warm.” Another pause. “Papa yanking ropes.” A tear forms in the corner of her closed eyes. “My legs dangle…from the swing.” She’s never mentioned her father. “A spring song sings from Mama’s lungs.” She inhales a shallow breath. “I disappear.” She sighs. “To there. Not here.”

“I can picture it all,” I tell her.

It’s what artists do best. Imagine what may be impossible. That’s what I’m doing now too, relying on my imagination tomake me believe Noah is still within reach, walking along a parallel path to the place where we’ll meet. Still alive, looking for me as I am him, and with a logical reason for wearing that uniform.

Boots against steel yank me away from the tulips. Christoph lifts Avi off me and carries her toward the opening.

He returns for me, taking my arm and pulling me up to my knees. “Come on.”

“I want to stay.”

“We can’t, Celina. I need you to come with me,” he wraps his arm around my back, ushering me toward the opening. I turn my head over my shoulder, looking back at the spot where I was sitting, wondering if I can still see tulips, but even the flashlight is gone.