by Tia Souders
“I took some things from your grandmother’s safety deposit box. Some I destroyed, but some I kept. I hid them there. There’s a letter from her. I didn’t open it.” His voice shook, as he struggled to finish. “Take it and read it. It’s yours.”
Abby’s heart lurched. With a nod, she turned and left him behind.
THE QUIET OF HER GRANDPARENTS’ house unnerved her. She hadn’t been back inside since GG’s funeral, and as she glided over the polished hardwood floors, memories surrounded her. She took in the high beams, the cathedral ceiling, crown molding, and the expansive staircase. When she passed the built-in shelves in the den, she lifted the framed photographs to view them closer, all snapshots of varying phases of their lives. Abby and her grandfather fishing. Pictures of their yearly vacations to the beach. One of her mother and father posing by their new home, her mother’s stomach swelling with life. Myriads of photographs of varying stages of Abby’s life—splashing in the bathtub as a baby, eating her first ice cream, graduating Kindergarten, entering high school. In all of them, they smiled, the picture of happiness, and Abby knew they’d never be the same again.
Why did things have to change when everything had been so perfect?
Had it been perfect though? A voice inside her head told her it had not. For years, Abby withdrew from friendships when they got sticky. She avoided confrontation, disagreements, or new relationships because they meant putting herself out there, something she had never been comfortable doing. Instead, she relied solely on her family. And look how that turned out.
Abby shifted the loveseat, finding the rectangle of wooden floor that had been parsed together and knelt down. She wiggled her index finger under the single notch on the corner and lifted.
With a pop, the piece of wood came off, and Abby reached inside. Shoulder-deep, she searched inside like a wishful child, for some long-lost gift her grandfather had left her. When she pulled out her grandfather’s coin boxes, then his pipe, she went back for more. Something crumpled in her hand, so she grabbed it and revealed a brown paper sack. Dumping the contents out, she stared at a manila envelope, along with a small key and several documents.
Staring up at her were photocopies of the documents in Lawson’s file. The key, she assumed, was to GG’s safety deposit box. Reaching for the manila envelope, Abby opened it, wondering if this was the clue GG had spoken of in her letters. The one she had been too afraid to look at.
Ripping it open, Abby discovered a letter along with a photograph.
Steeling herself for what she might see, she turned the picture over. The faded black and white image of a man stared back at her. Though his skin was smooth and his skin youthful, there was no mistaking the sharp line of his jaw, the aristocratic nose, or the penetrating eyes. The German soldier who smiled proudly for the camera was a younger version of her grandfather.
“Irma Mentz,” she whispered.
Dropping the photograph, Abby swallowed and opened the slip of paper accompanying it with trembling fingers.
Dear Gloria,
We pulled some strings and spoke with one helpful gentleman at the National Archives. Though they confirmed there are no verified photographs of Officer Irma Mentz, they do have several in which the officer is in question. This photograph is believed to be him. It matches the time and place, although they have no official confirmation of the identity of the officer. Victims typically identify and confirm a Nazi soldier. When researchers discovered this photo, they began the process of reaching out and possibly finding answers. For now, this is what we have.
I hope this helps.
Ezra Eeckhart
Board of Trustee, Simon Wiesenthal Center
With a sigh, she set the letter aside, her eyes snagging on the white envelope marked with her name in GG’s handwriting. Tears stung her eyes as she held on to the gift. She had thought she had received the last one when Klein’s office had been broken into. Why her grandfather saved this final letter was beyond her, but she didn’t care. She hugged the envelope to her chest and stood, leaving everything else behind.
She was done with secrets and clues.
Checking her watch, she noted the time. She was due home. Cammie was taking her out tonight, a welcome home celebration of sorts after being away.
Abby exited the way she came, standing in the threshold one last time and gazing around her. She was ready to say goodbye.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Abby pulled up to the curb of her house and got out of her car.
She shuffled down the sidewalk and plopped herself down on the stone steps leading to the house, not yet ready to go inside and explain how her visit with her grandfather went.
Her gaze traveled over their perfectly manicured lawn, with their lush green grass, to the “For Sale” sign at the edge of the yard.
A fresh start, her mother had called it. Her parents had decided a home in the country was just what they needed. While Abby was away at college, working on her own new beginning, they’d be tending a vegetable garden and harvesting eggs from a half dozen chickens. Though part of her was sad to see her childhood home go, she understood her mother’s need for distance from a house full of memories too painful to rehash day-in and day-out. And though the thought of Abby’s future was exciting, something felt off. Something was missing. And though she tried to ignore it, she couldn’t ignore the hole in her heart.
When her phone broke the silence, she fished it out of her pocket and answered. “Hello.”
“Oh my gosh. You couldn’t sound more depressing if you tried,” Cammie moaned.
Smiling, Abby pressed the phone against her ear. “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
Silence.
“Seriously, Cam, I’m okay.”
“If you’re okay after your meeting with Hannibal Lector, then there’s only one thing that could be bothering you.”
“Why am I still friends with you?” Abby asked.
If Cammie hadn’t been a complete and utter rock for her through all of this, she’d probably have throttled her by now.
“’Cuz you love me.” Cammie chirped. “And speaking of loooove—”
“Don’t even start.”
“What? Did you suddenly get over him? Meet some hottie at the penitentiary, did you?”
“I told you a million times. If he wants to contact me, he will. He’ll find a way. It’s not like he doesn’t know where I live.”
Cammie had been bugging Abby for two weeks to go and see Kaden, but she couldn’t. Call her a coward, but she just couldn’t face him. Not after everything that happened. If his opinion of her hadn’t changed when the news of her grandfather broke, he would’ve reached out himself.
“Pretty soon, he won’t. Your parents are moving, duh.”
Abby sighed. “He knows I’m going to George Mason in the fall. And it’s not like he didn’t have plenty of opportunities to reach out to you at school.”
“Fine. But I think you’re making a mistake.”
“Noted.”
“All right, then. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Bye.”
It was a miracle Cammie had any friends.
Shaking her head, Abby tipped her head back and closed her eyes, soaking in the sunshine. Enjoying the heat on her skin, she lay back on the cobbled path and inhaled the sweet scent of lilac. When her phone rang again, she slid it out of her pocket and answered.
“Cammie, would you give it a rest already?”
“You know you never gave me your number.” Abby’s stomach flipped at the sound of Kaden’s voice. “I had to get it from Cammie, which was a hard sell by the way.”
Darn it! Why didn’t she tell me?
Clearing her throat, Abby pushed back the surge of emotion fisting in her chest, trying to keep her cool. “Welcome to the twenty-first century,” she said, like hearing from him was no big deal.
“Well, it seems I didn’t have a choice. My father insisted now that things have changed.”
“Oh?” Abby
asked, feigning innocence.
“Yeah. Apparently, some anonymous person hired a lawyer to help my father negotiate his debt and handle the collectors. That, and he seemed to have suddenly come into some reward money.”
“Crap, yeah. I forgot. I think I read that in the paper somewhere.”
The line went dead. Abby held the phone away from her ear, certain he had hung up, but he hadn’t.
“You know, you’re supposed to talk in to these things,” she said.
“Were you just going to move without saying goodbye?” he asked, ignoring her jest.
Abby frowned. Their house literally went on the market yesterday. “Wait. How did you...”
She lifted her gaze out to the street, and the world fell away.
The boy at the end of her driveway sent her heart into overdrive.
He dropped his phone from his ear, and she watched him as he closed the distance. How many times had she wished for this moment, hoping it would come to fruition? In all the stress, fear, confusion, and pain of these last weeks, Kaden had been the one thing to keep her grounded. He had been her bright side through it all.
She stood to meet him, feeling more exposed than ever. He knew all her secrets. All her flaws. There was no more hiding. The whole world knew what a monster her grandfather was, but only Kaden knew she had probably been the one to turn him in.
Everything unspoken between them crackled in the silence as he closed the gap.
It felt like forever since she last spoke with him by the pool at her grandfather’s house, and the reminder of that last conversation weighed heavy on her mind as she took him in. The teal polo shirt he wore made his chocolate eyes pop. Though his hair looked shorter than she had last seen it, she noted the way it still fell over the top of his forehead, and when he moved, the scent of oranges and soap encapsulated her, a tiny time capsule taking her back to a time when everything was fine between them. Back to a time where he once pressed his lips to hers and told her how he felt about her.
She only hoped he still felt that way.
“Please tell me you’re not moving to Alaska,” he said.
She grinned. “No. Just beyond the Shenandoah.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she asked, “Does your dad know you’re here?”
“Yeah. But even if he disapproved, I’d still be here. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What?”
“About the deal he made you.” His eyes bore into hers, drinking her in. “When the police named your grandfather as the prime suspect of Klein’s break-in, and everything went crazy in the media, he told me about how he coerced you into staying away from me.”
Abby shook her head. “He was trying to protect you. If I were him, I would’ve done the same thing.”
“Yeah, well, he was wrong,” he said, his voice soft. “Abby, I didn’t give him all the details, but I explained a little bit about what was going on with you and he’s cool. With us, I mean. But even if he weren’t, it wouldn’t stop me from seeing you.”
He reached out, brushing a lock of hair out of her eye, and Abby wanted nothing more than to sink in to his touch.
“I’m only sorry I listened to him,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry I pushed you away. I was afraid of what you’d think. Of me. Of my family. Of—”
He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “He’s not you. I don’t care about the secret. I’ve been worried about you. Do you even have any clue how amazing you are?”
Afraid, she took a step closer, then pressed her forehead to his chest. When he placed his arms around her, drawing her in, she sunk in to him. “What if I’ve changed?”
“You have.”
She pulled back so she could look into his eyes, and he placed his hand on the side of her face. Did he need her touch as much as she needed his?
“Life changes us. Isn’t that what it’s all about? It’s about weathering the storms and coming out battered and bruised but, nevertheless, surviving,” he said.
Abby stared up at this boy. The one with a smile powerful enough to melt her heart. The one who seemingly came out of nowhere and busted through every wall until he tore them all down.
His face broke into a smile at her assessment, clearly seeing something in her expression to convey her thoughts. She should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. Her heart felt so full it hurt. Full of love for the boy she found in the worst of times. The one who stuck by her, even when she pushed him away.
It occurred to her she may be changed, but she liked this new version of herself even better. The one who made plans with Cammie and her friends on the weekend. The one who talked to her mother about her grief and anxiety. The one who no longer ran from her feelings but toward them. The one who allowed herself to feel, who opened her heart to a boy.
Her world had changed. So did she.
But as long as she remained, she’d keep on changing with it.
EXHAUSTED AFTER AN evening spent with both Cammie and Kaden, Abby settled down into her bed. Glancing around her room, she recognized these days would soon be over. These walls would belong to someone else. And that was okay with her.
She turned to her nightstand and removed GG’s letter from the drawer.
She hadn’t been ready to read it earlier, but as she stared at the sealed envelope, she took a steadying breath and tore it open.
Dear Abigail,
If you’re reading this, then you know our family secret. Not only do you know, but you’ve gone to the proper authorities. You found the proof, as Lawson did, and made an impossible decision. One I couldn’t.
I wrote this, not knowing if you would ever read it. After finishing this letter, I gave it to my lawyer with the instructions he was to keep it separate from the rest and deliver it only if you followed through and revealed the big discovery I made years ago. When asked how he would know, I simply told him he would. The whole world would.
But I owe you an apology. I should’ve had enough faith in you to know you’d do the right thing. Maybe it wasn’t so much that I doubted you as it was that I respected your decision to make your own choice, whatever it may be. Or maybe a part of me felt better at the prospect that I may not be the only one too weak to do what was right in the face of costing our family—myself—so much.
I can only imagine what you are going through. You are likely open to ridicule and speculation, and I can’t imagine living in our community now is easy. Keep in mind, on the hard days, that news travels fast but dies even faster. This, too, shall pass.
I don’t know what else to say except I’m sorry. For the burden I put on you. My only hope is you somehow come out stronger for it. I hope and pray you learned something about yourself throughout this journey, so you’re not left empty handed. Remember always that you are who you choose to be. Today, tomorrow, forever. You make your own choices. Only you dictate who you are and the person you become. Don’t let others delineate who you are. Don’t let this event define you. Don’t let your grandfather’s legacy define you.
Your grandfather may not have been the man we all thought he was. He may have been a liar, brutal, and undeserving, but despite the heinous things he did in his past, he was also the man who loved us for so many years. I don’t know how he can be both men, the one who loved his family and the one in charge of destroying them, but he was. I have little advice for how to come to terms with that, except not to be afraid to cling to the good memories. Those were real. Your love for him was valid. You need to remember that the man who laughed with you and loved you was a different man than the brutal killer.
Let the brute pay for his sins and allow the grandfather to stay happy in your memory. Because you are special. And you are loved. No matter how heinous his crimes, his love for you was real.
I love you, my amazing Abby. You are strong beyond words. You are the candle in a dark room. You have done something so many would’ve failed at. And you have an amazing future ahead of you. Forge ahead without fear. Trust. Have faith. Continue to be the light in
a world full of darkness. Be happy, and I will be with you always.
Love,
Your GG.
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MORE THAN
A NUMBER
PRESENT DAY – MAY 2nd
M
y body twists on the cold pavement. I feel nothing, see nothing, think nothing.
I am numb.
Until I’m not, and the pain starts.
My entire body feels like it’s been beaten with a sledgehammer. Pain explodes in my limbs, ramping up my spine, shooting to my head until I think it might explode. Pins and needles turn into knives and drills. Everything hurts at once—a cataclysmic explosion, straight to my bones. Moving is impossible, and when I try to recall what happened, it’s like pressing the start button on a blender—too much of a blur to recall much at all. But I recall being on my feet, crying, then running—someone’s chasing me.
No, that’s not right.
They follow me, calling my name. A car. A flash of light, then darkness.
Breathing becomes a monumental task and my eyes won’t open. All I can do is lie on the ground and wheeze as strangled sounds escape my lungs.
Cutting into my awareness, I hear voices. I think they’re yelling, but I can’t be sure. Everything is dull, muted—except for the blinding fires ravaging my body.
“She’s not breathing!”
Crying. Who’s crying? Those are my last thoughts before a thick fog envelops me.
“...get a trach going...”
I hear the words, as someone wrenches my mouth open, but they hold no meaning. My body belongs to someone else. I am far, far away.
“Get the bleeding stopped!”