Page 66 of The Lost Husband

“Regardless, there must be something over there,” I say, pointing between the trees.

“Soldiers, of some form, I assume,” Elias says.

“We’re still moving along near the rail line, so it will be the Soviets with the German prisoners in detainment.”

“How do you know?” Elias asks.

“That man at the train depot, the one I was talking to… He told me they would be heading this way in a week-and-a-half, when the rail line should be up and working again.”

“Wait a minute. We’re back to following your husband, who’s dressed in an SS uniform, rather than searching for a shelter with a medical station? Something that could save Avi’s life? Is that what you’re saying?” Elias lashes out.

“Both are one and the same,” Christoph says, defensively.

“She’s going to die if?—”

“Smoke means a chance we’ll get help. It’s better than no smoke,” Christoph continues.

I don’t know what to say. It isn’t as if we’ve passed medical tents and I’ve suggested waiting for the next one. No one truly knows where we’ll find help. And I don’t truly know if Igor was speaking a word of truth, or if Noah has become someone I won’t even recognize. Everything is a risk. But everything is also a chance.

I pick up my pace, forging ahead of Christoph who has slowed from carrying Avi, and Elias who is rightfully questioning every decision. When the trees clear, the sight of stone houses ignites my pulse with strangled hope. I scan the area, taking in the sight of a village that has become a casualty of this war. Some of the houses are still standing, but less than half have roofs still intact. The rest of the homes have mere walls hovering around tall piles of charred debris. Doors lie in the road, shattered glass beneath windows. Metal drums with small fires mean there are people here amid the destruction.

I step forward only to be stopped abruptly when Elias grabs the back of my coat. “You cannot just storm through the center of this village. We don’t know who’s occupying the few standing houses.”

I know what the uniforms mean, and I know what it costs to be seen by either side, but hiding won’t save Avi. “I need to find a nurse or doctor. Even a pharmacy that’s in pieces. Someone must at least have aspirin.”

“Celina—” Christoph says. “Let’s just take it easy. If the wrong people spot us, they won’t even give us a chance to explain why we’re here.”

Help isn’t going to greet us while we’re hiding behind piles of stone.

I yank myself out of Elias’s grip to keep a better look at what other buildings are down the road. Crates, barrels, and overturned wagons with piles of coal spilling out into the snow. The path ahead is a clustered obstacle, but as soon as I cansee around the wide bend, a church and schoolhouse come into visibility as well as a low stretched wooden building with uneven stacks of timber.The larch mill, maybe.

I head back toward the three of them. “There are a church and a schoolhouse. They might be sheltering refugees,” I call out, choking against the smoke clinging to the fog.

“Are there people around? Christoph asks.

“None that I could see.”

Christoph and Elias share a look, reminding me of the way he and Noah once shared silent conversation. Except this time, it’s about me and the choices I’m making. We all want to help Avi. That’s my focus.

Hesitantly, they follow behind me. It doesn’t take long to realize the church is further away than it looked, and standing to one side of the road we’re on are Soviet soldiers.

I won’t try to hide this time. Hiding implies spying.

With my elbows folded into my sides, I hold my hands up—a surrender in exchange for a fair response. “What are you doing?” Christoph shouts in a whisper.

“Follow me,” I whisper back.

They do, but with ragged breaths that are louder than my pounding heart.

None of the soldiers reach for their weapons, and only one steps forward.

“Stop there.” He presses the palms of his hands toward us. “Put her down.”

Another soldier steps away from the others. He doesn’t have a rifle slung over his shoulder, but instead, a worn leather satchel. A yellowing band with a faded red cross is bunched within the creases of his jacket sleeve.

I turn to the side as he passes me, watching Christoph’s arms shake as he lowers Avi to the ground. The soldier with the arm band drops to his knees at Avi’s side, touches his handto her forehead then turns to the group of soldiers and shouts something in Russian.

Two more soldiers separate from the group and rush past me, lifting Avi and rushing her toward the direction of the church.