Page 96 of The Lost Husband

“How’s Noah?” she asks, coming in closer.

“His muscles are less tense, his body less like stone, but I don’t know if that’s good or bad.” Elias hasn’t returned and my minutes feel more like hours, but I think it’s been a fair while.

Avi’s presses her hands against the glass window, searching for Elias I assume.

Noah’s hand twitches again.

“He has a fire going. It’s hard to see straight below, but I think he has some sort of metal bowl too,” Avi says. “That’s something.”

I stretch my fingers out, giving my grip a short rest, wiggling them around for a moment before replacing them on Noah’s arm.

I used to sleep like this, except with my head above the covers. My head on his chest, hand locked around his arm.

“Noah,” Avi says, her hands thrusting into the mattress. “His eyelashes flutter.”

I pull my head out from beneath the layers, clawing at his chest to see his face. “Noah,” I echo Avi.

I press my lips to his cheek, forgetting about the bruises and dirt. Causing another weak groan. His chest begins to vibrate, a mild shiver but a lot of small movements. I don’t know if shivering is good or bad. He should be warming up now, not growing colder.

“He’s shivering,” I say.

“Maybe this is good,” Avi says. “His eyelashes are moving. He’s making sounds.”

She places her hand on the back of my head—the gentlest display of warmth she’s shown me since saving me from being trampled. “All this time, I thought you were mad,” she utters. “Seeing him all over the place. I’m ashamed of myself for doubting you.”

She shouldn’t have to say that when part of me still expects to wake up in the Auschwitz infirmary any minute from now. Nothing feels real anymore.

* * *

Elias is back upstairs now that dusk is setting in, and one clothing layer less. He’s down to a simple undershirt but seems unfazed from standing outside in the freezing temperatures. He moves around to Noah’s other side and shuffles a couple of the blankets around to place behind his back, carefully elevating him to a slight angle.

“Celina, can you tent this blanket over his head?” He removes his knit tunic and drapes it over Noah’s chest. The heat fills the tented blanket quickly.

I want to ask him if this will help more than body heat, and for how long, but I’d rather not know where his ability begins and ends with this matter.

I stay in position, tenting the blanket so the heat expands around him. “He was shivering,” Avi tells Elias. “Is that good?”

“It’s not good or bad. Don’t focus on that.”

“What do I focus on?” My voice breaks, the pain is pouring out of me.

“Just what you’re doing,” he says, with a hard stare.

The heat from the bowl is saturating the blanket. It’s more heat than I can offer.

Noah’s hand shifts again, but this time, his fingers curl, hooking against my smock.

“I’m here, Noah. It’s me, Celina. If you can hear me,” I whisper, my mouth barely moving, “keep resting so you can get better.”

He lets out a small breath, like a sigh, but different. A struggle, but not as much as before, I think. His chest rises a hair too. Not enough, but more than before.

Elias and I sit in the same position until my arms start to shake from holding them up so long.

“I need to go rewarm the water. Hopefully the fire isn’t going out yet. I need to keep that going through the night.”

“It isn’t,” Avi says. “I’ve kept an eye on it.”

Elias pulls the lantern out from beneath the cot and fiddles with the switch until a flame pops then sets back outdoors again. I slink back down in the bed and wrap my arm back around Noah, pressing my temple into his neck.