The Truth About Us

by Tia Souders

  By now, you should’ve read the journal. Looking back, when I first found evidence of what I suspected to be true, I think I was blinded by my own denial of the things I had learned. With every piece of the puzzle, I didn’t want to believe it myself until I had concrete proof, allowing me to see clearly. Even now, I sit here, hoping I am wrong. It may be that way for you, as well. In case it is, let me explain by starting at the beginning—the time before I knew our family had anything to hide.

  A little over ten years ago, I decided to do a family tree on your grandfather’s side, sort of a surprise gift for him. Admittedly, I had also hoped to trace his roots back to a surviving ancestor of the Holocaust. I wanted to do something for him because he had endured so much. I wanted to show him I cared, even if he never did open up to me about his experiences during the war.

  I knew the names of his parents and sisters, of course, but little more, and so I went to Mr. Alvarez at the Holocaust Museum. He was a friend of mine from my time spent volunteering there. He had access to partial records of the Jews retained and killed at Auschwitz as recorded by the numbers tattooed on their arms. I thought, perhaps, I might be able to track down surviving relatives through their records. To my surprise, I found someone who I was certain was his cousin.

  To make a long story short, she refused to meet with me. She insisted your grandfather couldn’t possibly be “her Yoel”, and after our conversation, I didn’t push the issue. I, above all people, know how touchy your grandfather is about his time spent in the camps.

  It broke my heart not to expand my efforts to reunite the two, but I let go, with the intention of revisiting the idea later. My failed effort, however, didn’t stop me. It only motivated me to find another Gutman from the family. And so, I hired a private investigator. It was this choice that ultimately led me to the secret. He found out things about our family, our past. And when I told him I was out, that I was done looking, he never stopped. He contacted me weeks later with newfound information. By that point, I had a change of heart and told him I no longer wanted to move forward. I’m afraid whatever he found was lost.

  Abigail, when the time comes, and you know the truth, you will need to decide what course to take. You will have the burden of proof, as I once did. The journal is a part of that, but there’s more. Go to my house and find the key to my safety deposit box at the bank. I kept everything hidden there. Inside is an envelope. Open it. Find the courage to do what I couldn’t. I never looked inside because I was afraid.

  The key to the safety deposit box is in a small metal tin, buried in the backyard under my daisies. Find it and get the information you need to prove what I couldn’t.

  Love always,

  GG

  Abby lowered the letter and swallowed. She was no closer to knowing the truth than she was before reading the letter, but something unsettling sunk in her stomach like a rock. She had no idea what might be in GG’s safety deposit box. She only knew she needed to find it.

  AS ABBY EXITED THE highway, her thoughts continued to drift to her grandmother. Suddenly, the task of solving the puzzle she left for her seemed monumental. Why would she leave her these letters? Why not come out and just tell her what she thought she had found? GG said she didn’t have sufficient proof, but if she came right out and told Abby what it was she was looking for, it would make this a whole lot easier. And what if GG was wrong? What if, this whole time, Abby searched for a secret that wasn’t even real?

  This could either be a monumental waste of time or hugely rewarding.

  Maybe she was being overdramatic, but at this point, she’d rather skip college or have giant tuition bills than go through the painstaking and exhausting effort of researching the unknown. Who needed an education?

  Psh. Not her. Okay, maybe she wanted to get her degree. But still. She could handle student loans like everyone else. Although, the sound of having her own apartment did have a nice ring to it. Hmm...maybe there was something to this trust fund thing.

  If she was all in though, she needed to figure out which step to take next. Read the rest of the journal or get the safety deposit box key. She had no idea which she should do first, but considering GG assumed she had read most of the journal already, she probably needed to read more first. Whatever was in the safety deposit box may need context from the journal entries. Plus, the journal was her first clue, even if she couldn’t imagine how it was relevant.

  Abby pressed her foot against the accelerator, remembering a key part of her grandmother’s letter. It seemed to Abby that whatever the investigator uncovered was the real clue. Maybe she should be searching for him instead. But who was he? It seemed weird she didn’t provide his name.

  Maybe she needed to figure out who GG hired, then go straight to the source.

  Decision made, she came to a stoplight and reached over, grabbing her phone off the passenger seat. She definitely needed to finish the journal, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do a little research of her own.

  She opened the web browser on her phone, glancing up at the stoplight, then back again. She typed into the search bar as the light turned green. Keeping an eye on the road, she accelerated and turned onto her street. Glancing from road to phone, she worked, scrolling through listings of possible private investigators in the Fairfax area when an object in her peripheral vision caught her eye.

  Instinct kicked in. She jerked the wheel—a sharp right.

  She should’ve gone left.

  Slamming on her breaks, a crunching sound and the scraping of metal pierced her ears; at the same moment, she felt the thump of something under her tire.

  The brakes squealed, and the car halted, whipping her body forward with the movement. Abby put the car in park and reached a shaking hand around her body to unbuckle herself.

  Her breathing grew shallow as she peeked over the hood of the car, half-squinting, afraid of what she might see. Please be a deer. Or a bear. Or a garbage can. Something other than a person.

  Her gaze found the tire of a bicycle first, then zeroed in on top of a blond head.

  Abby slapped a hand over her mouth, and her stomach dropped to her feet. With a moan, the person rolled over on the concrete.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Oh, crap. She hit someone. She hit an actual human being.

  Shaking, Abigail opened her door and rounded the front of her car. Her legs felt more like rubber than flesh and bone as she stopped in front of the body and, once again, covered her gaping mouth with her hand.

  No. No. No. Nope.

  Okay, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut. Bright side...bright side. Look at the bright side. There had to be one, dang-it!

  If she went to jail for killing a man, she wouldn’t need to worry about her grandmother’s secret, so that was something.

  She opened one eye, expecting the body to still be laying in front of her feet but nothing...

  Opening both eyes, she blinked at the person straining to stand in front of her, legs wobbling from the effort like a baby fawn. He groaned as he half-stood, hunched over, rotating his arm.

  “Argh! I think you dislocated my shoulder.”

  Abby stepped forward, her hands fluttering out in front of her, unsure of where to land or what to do when the man straightened.

  Instant recognition punched her in the gut. With a gasp, she pointed at him. “You’re not a man,” she said, shock and accusation finding her voice.

  “Uh, thanks. I guess.” Kaden rubbed his back and hobbled toward the car as he tried to extract his bicycle from underneath the front-end.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Kaden winced. “Um, you just hit me with your car, remember? Maybe I should be asking you what you’re doing.”

  Puffing his cheeks, he spread his legs and braced himself in front of the bike, then heaved, yanking it out from under the vehicle in one clean break—like ripping off a bandage. He stumbled back but somehow managed to catch his balance and rested his weight on the bike, assessing the damage.


  The chain had popped, both tires were flat, and the rim was mangled with the back wheel hanging in the air like a strangled donut. Impressed at the Beetle’s destruction, Abigail pursed her lips before glancing back at him.

  He grimaced. “Who knew such a small car could do so much damage?” His gaze flickered to the front of the yellow Beetle with disdain.

  Unsure of what the next move was, Abby shifted on her feet, flexing her hands by her side. Did she call the police? File some sort of report? It’s not like she killed anybody. In fact, for a boy who just got hit by a car, he looked pretty good.

  Her gaze roamed over him, checking for an injury while noting the way his hair—more blond than sandy in the sunlight—fell over his eyes in the most endearing way. She inspected his long, lean arms and legs. He wasn’t muscular, by any means, but he wasn’t wiry either. He struck her as somewhere in-between, which surprised her given his somewhat reclusive status, like that meant he did nothing but sit in his house behind a television screen all day.

  Her eyes snagged on a rip in his jeans and on a tear on the side of his shirt where a smudge of something crimson stained the pale blue fabric. Leaping toward him, she reached out. With her heart in her throat, she lifted the hem of his shirt to reveal a giant abrasion below his ribs. Her pulse fluttered at the sight of his bare skin, despite the metallic taste of fear coating her throat.

  “Oh my gosh. Are you okay?” Lifting her eyes to his, she searched his face for signs of distress or injury. “I could’ve killed you,” she murmured and covered her eyes, then shook her head. “I’m so stupid. I can’t believe I did that. I’m so sorry. Do you need to go to the hospital?” She reached into her back pocket for her phone, then realized it must still be in the car. After all, she had wrecked while typing.

  The sticky weight of guilt flooded her veins as she blinked up at him from under her eyelashes, feeling foolish and reckless and everything in-between. “Lemme go get my phone,” she muttered, hooking her thumb toward the car. “I’ll call an ambulance.”

  She started to turn, but Kaden reached out and stopped her, placing a hand on her arm. “No, don’t!” he yelled.

  When she glanced back at him, he swallowed, his dark eyes locked on hers. In a calmer voice, he continued, “Sorry. There’s no need. I’m fine. It’s just a brush burn, some scratches. Honestly.”

  She started to argue but thought better of it. Did she really want the police to come? She had her grandmother’s car for one afternoon and already she’d gotten in an accident.

  With a small smile, she turned back to face him. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “What were you doing anyway? Didn’t you see me on the side of the road?”

  Abigail crossed her arms over her chest, her momentary relief gone, replaced with the need to defend herself.

  “No.”

  “Why not? Were you texting and driving or something?” He rolled his eyes, then mumbled, “Typical.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Typical? What is that supposed to mean?” She raised a brow, but he said nothing, continuing to stare. “For your information I was... I was...”

  What was she going to say? Doing an internet search for Fairfax private investigators? Trying to solve the mystery of a family secret? Yeah, that’d go over well.

  “You were...?” he asked, but this time a smirk curled his lips.

  Abby narrowed her eyes, not finding any of this funny.

  He chuckled. “I could sue you, ya know.”

  “What? You’re fine.”

  He shrugged, then waited for a beat before asking, “Are you at least going to offer me a ride?”

  “A ride?” Her eyes widened.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “But I hardly know you.”

  He rolled his eyes. “We go to the same school. It’s not like we’re complete strangers. And you did just run over me and my only source of transportation.”

  Anger heated her cheeks. “It was an accident, and I said I was sorry.”

  Kaden chuckled, and the sound pricked her nerves. “What are you, three? An apology makes up for anything? Pop the trunk.” He rounded the car and patted a hand on the yellow hood.

  “You’re not nice.” Abigail pointed a finger at him but popped the trunk anyway.

  She watched him wince while lifting his bike inside and felt herself soften. Did she really just tell him he wasn’t nice?

  “Here, let me help you,” she said and reached out, guiding the bike into the trunk. “How are we going to get the hood down?”

  “We’re not. Do you have a bungee cord?”

  “Of course I don’t have a bungee cord. I’m eighteen and a girl. What would I have that kind of stuff in my car for?” she asked, eyeing him like he was crazy.

  He muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like ‘for when you plow over pedestrians in the street,’ but she ignored him, giving him a pass due to the circumstances of their situation.

  “It’ll be fine ‘til you drop me off. I’m only five minutes from here,” he said.

  “I thought you had a car.” They rounded the car together. “Didn’t you offer me a ride just last night? Or was that some kind of ploy to get me alone with you?”

  “You were already alone with me.”

  Abby pursed her lips. “Good point.”

  He opened the passenger door, looking at her over the hood. “It was my dad’s car. And I was being nice. Like you should be.”

  “Hey, I’m giving you a ride.” Abby pointed at herself with her keys.

  Kaden laughed. “Yeah, after I guilted you into it.”

  “Are you always this argumentative?”

  “Are you always this cute when you’re annoyed?”

  Abby flushed and avoided meeting his gaze.

  “What? No comeback?”

  She shot him a glare, which was apparently amusing. She hated that she noticed his eyes lit up like fireworks when he laughed.

  Stupid sparkly brown eyes.

  Abby stuck her keys in the ignition, then paused as the gravity of her situation hit her full force. She, literally, just hit someone with a car and almost killed them. GG was gone and left her with some huge family secret which she was solely responsible for unraveling, and she had to keep it all quiet.

  She dropped her forehead to the steering wheel with a thunk, exhaling. Not the best of days, for sure. To top it all off, she might be losing her mind. She certainly felt like it.

  “I know I’m the one that just got nailed by a small but lethal car and all, but are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

  She shook her head, the leather wheel digging into her forehead with the movement. Maybe this was all too much. Maybe the universe was trying to tell her something by steering her car into a person. Maybe she needed to let all this go. Let someone else figure it out. Maybe... Wait a minute.

  She sat up and glanced over at him, narrowing her eyes as she recalled his saying he knew where she lived, and here he was. Before last night, she had never seen him outside of school before, and suddenly she’s seen him two days in a row?

  “What were you doing on my street?”

  “What?” His eyes widened with surprise, thrown by the question.

  “I mean, you claim to live several blocks away, but I’ve never seen you before. And what eighteen-year-old boy rides their bike randomly down the road?”

  “Uh, a lot of people ride bikes, actually. And believe it or not, even though they are both a form of recreation and exercise, they’re also a form of transportation to get you from point A to point B. Also, since when do you own the road?”

  “Whatever.” She flapped her hand. “That explains nothing.”

  Kaden smiled. “Okay, not that it’s any of your business, but if you must know, I run errands for Mr. Greene,” he said, nodding toward a large brick colonial to their right. “I left his driveway thirty seconds before you decided to mow me down.”

  “I didn’t...” Abigail frowned. Could she really
deny not hitting him? “What kind of errands?”

  “Ever heard of confidentiality?”

  She raised a brow. “What are you, his shrink?”

  “Fine. Medicine. I pick up his prescriptions once a month, and he pays me. I get groceries and run some other quick errands for a few more people in Glenn Woods. My dad doesn’t want me working, so it’s one of the only jobs I can get away with because it’s fairly flexible.”

  “Like the trash at the park?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. I keep it a secret, so I’d appreciate you not telling anyone. Not that anyone else would care what I do in my free time. I usually try to coordinate my working with my dad’s shifts, so I don’t have to lie.”

  When she said nothing, only stared, he asked, “What? Is that okay with you? Or do I need permission to be in your prestigious neighborhood first?”

  “No,” she said, ignoring the jab. “But yesterday you mentioned knowing where I lived, and I don’t know where you live. Then today, here you are. It just seemed...odd.” The last word came out as a squeak. Even she recognized the ridiculousness of what she was saying. Maybe she had tried so hard convincing Mr. Klein someone was following her, she was starting to believe it.

  “So, you thought I might be stalking you? Seriously?”

  “Maybe,” she said, with a shrug.

  Was she serious?

  He laughed, a long belly roll Abigail didn’t appreciate. She didn’t see what was so amusing.

  Clutching his side, he chortled some more, then winced as he tried to catch his breath.

  Abby pulled away from the curb, trying her best to ignore him and failing. “I’m glad you’re getting a kick out of this, but you wanna tell me how to get to your house?”

  He pointed to the right. “Turn here,” he said, his voice annoyingly perky.

  Abby ran through the last ten minutes in her head. She could only imagine what Kaden thought of her. She probably looked like a complete nutcase, which sort of suited her because she felt like one at the moment. She had only known about GG’s secret for twenty-four hours and already she felt as though she might go crazy with her desire to know more.