Page 95 of The Lost Husband

I never promised him I would protect and save him too. How could I have been so selfish?

Tears threaten the back of my eyes, but I can’t let them spill onto him. All I can do is pray and beg.

I lower my cheek to his chest, listening to his heart. It’s still beating, but it’s not right. I count the seconds between the slight rise and fall of his chest, forgetting how many seconds drifted between each before. Is it longer or shorter now?

His skin is thawing, I think.

“Celina, are you breathing all right?” Elias asks.

“I can breathe.”

“There’s a hint of pink in his cheeks,” Avi says.

“Shh,” Elias hushes her, quiet enough that I wasn’t supposed to hear, I’m sure.

I don’t know how long I’ve been holding on to him this tightly. My arms are locked, my muscles welding to his bones. I can’t lose him again. I can’t.

Avi’s weight shifts against my back as she repositions herself, eliciting a groan that rises from Noah’s chest.

“Noah?” I weep softly.

His heartbeat speeds up just a touch, so little I could be imagining the change, convincing myself he’s getting better. The damp air under the blanket weighs on my lungs and I carefully pull the blanket down to my neck to take in some full breaths. I rest my head back into the flat pillow and stare up to the ceiling as if it were a never-ending tunnel connected to this black hole, I seem trapped within.

“Celina…” Elias speaks out, hoarsely, hesitantly as if stepping onto thin ice. “Do you know where Christoph is? Should I go look for him?”

My body stiffens and my eyes close, wishing I could prevent the tears from slipping out. “No.” My voice barely makes a sound. “They—they…shot him.” My throat tightens around my words. “He’s gone.”

“What?” Elias responds, his voice becoming a short breath, grappling the fabric over his chest.

“What—what do you mean they—how—why? Do you mean—the soldier who brought Noah up here? He—” Avi rambles, startled, breathing heavily.

“Yes. Just after I found Noah in the building next door, left to die along with a roomful of other prisoners, Christoph found me. I was looking for supplies, and I found Noah.”

“And what? The Soviets found you?” Elias adds, panic lacing his words.

“They must have heard noises coming from the building and came after us. One of the Russians thought Christoph was a German prisoner.” He wasn’t dressed like one. Not like Noah was. “He saved us both.”

“I don’t—I don’t understand…” Avi presses.

“The other Soviet called it a casualty of war,” I say quietly. “He said it shouldn’t have happened.”

“That’s all he had to say after taking someone’s life?” Avi shouts. “Nothing about them has changed. They’re heartless. After they killed my father, raped me and my sister, then tried to take me with them—I was told it was just a casualty of war too. A war we didn’t start. A war we didn’t want. Why are we even here like this? Fighting for our lives when we have no say whether we live or die? My God!”

Her words slice through the air like blades, catching on the fibers of my heart. I’ve only made this worse for her. She’s experienced enough grief. She didn’t need to live through mine too.

“Avi, Avi,” Elias says, moving her to the other side of the room and sitting in the corner with her, holding her in his arms.

Minutes have gone by and when the crying stops, I peer over at Avi, finding her asleep, curled into a ball, her arms tucked beneath her.

“While she’s resting, I’m going to go find something to make a fire. I’ll be just outside the window. Bang on the glass if you need anything.”

* * *

It’s been an hour, maybe longer, since Elias went downstairs and Avi cried herself to sleep, leaving me in heavy silence with only my thoughts and grief. From one focus to another, my heart shifts with hope to despair with no balance in between.

Avi shifts around, unpeeling her arms from around her body. “I’m sorry,” Avi says. “I didn’t mean?—”

“Please don’t apologize,” I tell her. “You’re right about them.”