The Truth About Us

by Tia Souders

  “The only reason we didn’t buy you a car before now was out of principal. We thought you should wait, but things have changed,” she said, letting the implication of her words hang in the air between them—GG was gone, which made everything different. “Take it for a spin. Get some fresh air like your dad and grandfather are doing. Get your mind off everything. Or just enjoy the car. Maybe it will be good for you, a way to heal.”

  Abby nodded, accepting the gift, unsure of how she really felt about it. But she wasn’t one to dwell. She took the offering and flashed her mother a smile of gratitude before leaving.

  Fresh air greeted her as she opened the front door and stepped outside. She inhaled, clearing her head. When her gaze found the car, she assessed the yellow Bug gleaming in the sunlight, and a pang of loss settled in her gut.

  Where would she go? Should she pick up Cammie like her mother suggested?

  The keys dangled from her grip, as she imagined hanging out with her friend. The last thing she wanted to do was pretend like she was okay.

  Shifting the bag over her shoulder, the weight of the journal inside beckoned her. Abby could care less about the promise of a trust fund, but she did care about GG’s final wishes. The letter inside the jewelry box, the meeting at the park and the journal—all those things had to have been orchestrated by her grandmother’s lawyer.

  Maybe it was time to pay him a visit? She had questions, and she was pretty sure he had the answers. There had to be a deeper significance of the book than the obvious, and it was clearly linked to GG’s secret.

  If she wanted to find out more, starting with him sounded like as good a place as any.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It’s just a car. It’s just a car. It’s just a car. Abby chanted as she pressed her foot against the accelerator and drove.

  She took shallow breaths so as not to inhale the vanilla-rose scent of her grandmother’s perfume, which clung to the upholstery in the small space. Memories pushed on her every thought, knocking with urgency to be let in, but she refused to acknowledge them. She didn’t want to think of her grandmother driving, how she had looked behind the wheel, or how much she loved the pale-yellow paint of her Beetle Bug. It was safer to focus on the GPS and the sound of the computer-generated voice that told her to take the next turn. Anything but the way she felt inside.

  She took in the bright blue sky, heavy traffic, and the buzz of pedestrians flitting in and out of shops. The compact car weaved in and out of traffic with ease, heading through Fairfax toward Brambleton, a comfortable suburb of Washington D.C. in Loudoun County.

  Though Abby had never been, as she drove through town and approached her destination, the neighborhoods appeared like many of the other diverse ones she had visited in the county. Over the years, Loudon’s population had exploded, converting what was once rural farmland into a highly populated, buzzing, high-class suburb. It was a beautiful area. Still, as Abby made the thirty-minute drive, she couldn’t help but wonder why GG chose a lawyer from here, instead of one located right in Fairfax.

  At least he was amenable. All it took was a phone call after she left home, and he had agreed to meet her at his office on a Sunday.

  She turned onto 606 East and drove for several miles until she closed in on the Brambleton Town Center, and her GPS signaled her arrival. She pulled into the crowded lot and drove in front of the huge strip mall. The expansive shopping center boasted yogurt shops, restaurants, a cinema, and local businesses, along with clothing boutiques. Among them, she found Klein & Sons Attorneys.

  She found a parking space within a reasonable distance, turned off the ignition, and inhaled, taking in the scent of her grandmother’s perfume, still lingering despite her absence. The floral notes hit her like a punch to the ribs as memories flooded her.

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she rested her head back against the seat, not yet ready to face anyone and pretend like her grandmother’s memory wasn’t eating her alive inside. Images of lazy Sundays spent together, holidays, and birthdays flipped like a slideshow in her head.

  Abby remembered the last time just the two of them spent together before she got sick, and her sudden cancer diagnosis rocked their lives.

  Her grandmother reapplied a fresh coat of the bright pink lipstick she was never without as Abigail got in the car. Glancing over at her with a smile, she said, “Let’s take a road trip, shall we?”

  “What about school?”

  Her grandmother flapped a hand in the air. “School will be there tomorrow. Let’s go.”

  After she drove them into the city for lunch, they dined on sandwiches and french fries, then went shopping while Abigail talked about her social life or lack thereof. Several of the girls she hung with had new boyfriends, but no one interested Abby. She had no desire to run around high school football games, flirting and scouting for cute guys, or hang out at the popular weekend haunts. She was quite content coming home on a Friday night and watching movies or swimming in her grandparents’ pool.

  It wasn’t until they were back home that GG leaned over and squeezed her tight, like she never wanted to let go. “Don’t ever forget who you are, baby girl,” her grandmother said. “You are special and so strong. Stronger than me. You offer no excuses for who you are. You never let people influence you or push you to do things you don’t want to. You’re destined for great things. One day, you’ll find someone. Let your heart guide you.”

  At the time, they had no clue cancer was eating away at her colon. Abby thought she was giving the typical advice of a grandmother based on the conversations they had that afternoon. But now, Abigail wondered if it had been more. Had her grandmother been trying to prepare her for this secret, even then? Why didn’t she tell her while she was still alive? It would’ve made things so much easier.

  With a sigh, Abby shoved the memories back and placed her hand on the door handle when her gaze snagged on a shiny silver object wedged in the tiny cubby of the center console. Plucking it out, she revealed a tube of lipstick. She flipped it over and read the name. Rose Bud—GG’s favorite.

  Without thinking, she took the cap off and rolled the tube up to reveal a pink hue, wondering when GG wore it last.

  Abigail swallowed over the lump in the back of her throat, and before she could stop herself, she flicked the driver’s visor down and applied a thin layer of color to her lips. Rubbing her lips together, she blended the color and checked her reflection. Her mother’s round blue eyes stared back at her, popping above the bright pink and bringing out the apricot in her skin. Her sharp cheekbones and heart-shaped face mimicked her grandmother’s and comforted her, a reminder GG was a part of her and always would be.

  Pushing her shoulders back and grasping for courage, Abby took one last look at herself before opening the door. “This one’s for you GG,” she murmured and slid out of her seat and headed toward the expansive glass doors of Klein & Sons.

  HE HAD THE NERVE TO laugh at her. Laugh!

  Mr. Klein chuckled, then leaned forward in his chair and steepled his hands on the massive mahogany desk in front of him. “Abigail, you know I don’t have the slightest clue what you’re talking about, right?”

  “No. You don’t get to play the ignorance card. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she hissed. “You’re the one that made sure I got GG’s jewelry box with the letter inside. You had to have been the one to set up that meeting with the old guy. The last time I checked, people can’t make arrangements from the grave. And you’re also, conveniently, the one who can release my trust fund once I’ve complied with this little treasure hunt of secrets!”

  Abby huffed; her breathing came in shallow, sharp puffs, despite her effort to calm herself down.

  Mr. Klein’s expression sobered. “Okay, let’s clear some things up. First of all, I had no idea there was a letter inside the jewelry box.” When Abby opened her mouth to protest, he raised a hand to stop her. “But it doesn’t surprise me, seeing how she gave me other letters to deliver to you, and, ye
s, specifically requested I have Mr. Eeckhart meet you.”

  Abby frowned at hearing the stranger’s name for the first time.

  “Having said that, I know nothing about whatever secret you’re talking about. All I know is what she told me, which is that you will be tying up some loose ends for her after she passed, and there may come a point when you come to me for legal advice. She directed me to help you in any way I can, as my client. She paid me generously in advance in preparation for this.”

  “And the trust fund?”

  “It’s already in an account with your name on it. She said I’d know, without a doubt, when you finished.”

  She glanced down at her hands and picked at the peeling blue polish on her nail, trying to brush aside the crushing wave of disappointment. GG should’ve known better. Since when was Abby motivated by money? She was determined to solve GG’s puzzle out of love—because it’s what she wanted. Well, that and her curiosity was killing her.

  “Abigail, are you okay? What’s going on?” Mr. Klein asked. “You know, as my client, you can confide in me. By law, I can’t tell anyone what you disclose in this office. It would be just between us. Your grandmother paid me a hefty retainer upon her death to represent your family for any ensuing legal battles.”

  Of course she did.

  Wait a minute...

  Abby’s hands tightened around the armrests of her chair. If Mr. Klein really did have to abide by confidentiality laws, that meant he couldn’t reveal anything her grandmother confided in him even to her, which meant it was possible he is the other person who knew about the secret. Maybe that’s why in her letter, she said the person who knew had been silenced. Because he’s bound by client-confidentiality laws?

  “Did grandma ever give you anything?” Abby leaned forward in the chair, hope swelling in her chest like a seed. “I don’t know, like, any sort of documents or anything to hold on to? Maybe something she didn’t want anyone else to know?”

  “Even if she did, again, by law I couldn’t tell you. I will say, we had a normal attorney-client relationship. She asked me questions on occasion and consulted me legally. She set up her will, your trust fund. The only thing out of the ordinary was the letters, and even that isn’t all that odd. I have more to give you and a timeline on which to send them. It’s not unusual for those we love to leave behind letters for us. They want to feel like they’re in some way still a part of our journey. Most of all, they worry we might not be okay and hope the letters might give their family some measure of comfort or guidance after they’re gone.”

  “Can I have them now?” she asked.

  “Abigail, I could lose my license. I must follow through with what I was paid to do and keep client files confidential, even if that means simply waiting until a certain date to send you something.”

  “That’s ridiculous!”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders, saying nothing.

  Sighing, Abigail stood. She was getting nowhere fast, and she wondered if this was a part of grandma’s plan. Drive her crazy as a means to alleviate her grief. Because if Abigail was being honest, she’d barely had time to cry, much less take a deep breath since she received GG’s jewelry box. Already, only a couple days in, her mind had been on overdrive, trying to come up with a solution to an equation with far too many unknowns.

  She rested her hands on the back of her chair, facing him. “Listen, I know my grandmother discovered some kind of secret about ten years ago. It’s my guess, that is exactly when she hired you. It’s the same reason she said I may come to you for legal advice.”

  “Even if she did—”

  “I know.” Abigail raised her hand to stop him. “You can’t tell me, but I can tell by the look on your face I’m exactly right.” Abigail began to pace the small office.

  The repetition of her stride soothed her raw nerves. “Whatever she discovered has to do with those letters she gave you.” Pausing, she eyed his file cabinet. “But she said she didn’t have adequate proof. And now she’s left uncovering the truth to me. I won’t let her down. I can’t.”

  Well aware her babbling sounded incoherent, she didn’t care. Her eyes stung with the threat of tears, ones she had yet to allow herself to shed. Reigning them in, she spoke over the lump in her throat. “The next letter you have, I need it. I need to get to the bottom of this.”

  He sighed. “Abigail—”

  “What if you happened to leave the letter out and went to the bathroom? And what if I just so happened to steal it? That wouldn’t be your fault, would it? You wouldn’t be violating anything.”

  “Not if it were truly a mistake, and even then, I could be in trouble. That would be negligent.”

  “We can make it a mistake, and I won’t get you in trouble. No one would know.”

  Mr. Klein angled his chin, his eyes turning to steel. It was clear he would say no, so she thought of the only thing that might sway him.

  “I think I’m in trouble,” she blurted.

  Mr. Klein shook his head. “Now you’re stretching. Maybe you should just go home. Get some sleep and stop worrying about these letters or whatever scavenger hunt your grandmother sent you on. You’re a kid. You should be hanging out with your friends and talking to boys, not driving yourself nuts over this.”

  Abby fought the urge to scream, knowing she was getting nowhere.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing to budge until she got something out of him. “I’m serious. Someone’s been following me. Ever since the first letter. He was even there the night I met the old guy with the journal.” An image of Kaden flashed in her head, but she felt only the slightest bit of guilt for the lie.

  The muscle in his jaw flickered. He leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on the desk. “If you’re telling the truth, and you’re sure it’s not some coincidence that you’re truly being followed, then this is serious. You should call the police and report it.”

  “I already have. They did nothing.”

  Mr. Klein narrowed his eyes. “Do you have any kind of proof? A license plate number? A description of the guy? Anything?”

  Uncomfortable, she shifted in her seat. “Well, no.”

  “Did he talk to you? Try to confront you at all?”

  Abby shook her head. Okay, so she wasn’t the best liar.

  Mr. Klein groaned. “What makes you so sure this person was even following you in the first place? Listen,” he said without waiting for an answer, clearly not buying her story. “Maybe what your grandmother wants from you is unfair. If you’re having a hard time with it, or if it’s bothering you, then stop. You don’t have an obligation to do this. Your grandmother is gone. She’s not here. She’s done living her life. What you do with yours now is your choice. You don’t have to follow some wild goose chase—”

  “I get it,” Abigail interrupted. “And maybe I’m being a little over-the-top. I can tone it down. I might have exaggerated the whole being in trouble thing in the hopes you’d give me some information."

  “No kidding.” He quirked a brow.

  “I’m not a quitter. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”

  He exhaled and pushed back from his desk. “Then go for it, but right now, I can’t help you. Listen, I need to go.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting. Why don’t you get a drink of water,” he said, motioning to the jug of water and paper cones in the corner of the room. “Take a deep breath. Go home. Get some sleep, and be a teenager, will ya?”

  Abigail’s hopes plummeted to the ground by her feet. “Fine.”

  Mr. Klein stood and shuffled the papers on his desk, stacking piles and moving others, before he turned and left.

  Abby sat for a moment, thinking of how this whole trip was a waste and how she was no closer to the truth than she had been this morning. She should’ve stayed home and read more journal entries.

  Blowing all the air out of her lungs in one giant puff, her eyes scanned the room, hesitating on the file cabinet. She debated searching for
her grandmother’s file then thought better of it. She might be desperate, but breaking the law wasn’t the best idea.

  She stood, readying herself to leave and ignoring his suggestion she get some water when her gaze caught on something. Her pulse jumped in her neck.

  She glanced to the door, but Mr. Klein had already disappeared down the hall. Turning back, her eyes soaked in the sight of the thick white envelope with her name on it, written in her grandmother’s pen.

  Reaching out, her fingers trembled as she took it, knowing another letter was inside.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The envelope shook in her hands as she slipped it inside her purse and hurried out of Mr. Klein’s office. She wasn’t taking any chances. If leaving the envelope behind really had been a mistake and not purposeful, she didn’t want to stick around to find out.

  Abby hopped into her car and pulled out of the crowded lot, needing distance between herself and his office. Minutes felt like hours, the envelope in her bag drawing her to it like a magnet until she could no longer take it.

  After several blocks, she pulled into a parking space outside a small diner and killed the engine. Outside her window, a robin hopped on the sidewalk, pecking at crumbs below a bistro table before flying off into a nearby cherry tree.

  Adrenaline spiked her veins, reminiscent of the night at the park. Did she really want to open the letter? Did she want to continue the hunt for her family’s secret? Maybe Mr. Klein was right. Maybe she should bury this whole thing right now before she became too invested.

  But deep down, she was curious. GG wanted her to reveal the truth, and as she told Mr. Klein, she wasn’t a quitter.

  Glancing at her bag, she spied a corner of the envelope peeking out at her. She reached out with tentative fingers and grabbed it before she could stop herself. With a flick of her wrist, she tore it open, inhaled a steadying breath, and read.

  Dear Abigail,