by Tia Souders
Abby swallowed. “Did you kill him?”
“Who?”
“Yoel Gutman. The boy who penned the journal. Was he one of the Jews you killed? Is that how you came to possess the journal?”
For no sensical reason, this question was imperative. He had killed many, maybe thousands, but this one murder mattered most.
He nodded, using no words to confirm this iniquity.
Abby folded in half, resting her hands on her knees, unable to breathe. Only a very sick man could take the name of one of his victims as his own. She knew this, yet the denial in her heart still ebbed and flowed like a river, holding on to love.
“How could you live with yourself? How could you just lie and pretend it never happened?” Straightening, she asked, “How could you go on to live a lifetime knowing so many didn’t live because of you?”
“Because I wanted it to be true. I wanted so badly to believe I had been a victim. Because I hated myself for what I did, and when I met your grandmother, I fell in love. At first sight. And selfish or not, there was no way I could tell her the truth and risk losing her. Maybe I’ve been a coward, but those crimes I committed, the role I played in the war, feels like another lifetime ago. That’s not me now. I vowed to live a respectable life. To provide and contribute something good to the world, and I did. I gave the world your mother, which gave the world you.”
“What about Greg Lawson? Did you kill him, too? And McBride?”
He narrowed his eyes and shook his head like he didn’t understand. “Who?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. With everything else—”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about. I don’t know any Lawson person. Was he a Jew?”
“No.” She searched his eyes for her answer but found none.
His forehead wrinkled in confusion as he struggled to find words. “If he was at Auschwitz, I—”
“Never mind,” she said, holding a hand out to stop him. “Do you know anything about me being followed? Perhaps someone sneaking into my room, going through my things? Breaking into Mr. Klein’s office?”
“Someone’s following you?”
Abby said nothing. She nodded her confirmation, waiting.
Her grandfather turned his gaze to the ground. His forehead furrowed with wrinkles before he glanced at her again. “You’re sure?”
“I think so,” Abby said, doubting herself. Had she been imagining the man? Maybe this whole thing had made her paranoid? “I’m positive about Mr. Klein’s office. I saw it for myself.”
“I would never do something so foolish and risky. I’ve lived my whole life with this weight on my shoulders, but why would I risk exposing myself now?”
It made sense. She wished it didn’t, but it did, which meant someone was still out there. Someone who either wanted this kept secret or wanted answers as much as she did. Lawson’s murder, the man following her, and Klein’s break-in—whoever was responsible for those things was still at-large.
Abby took one last look at her grandfather. Her head throbbed with the weight of everything he said—all the right words, yet not nearly adequate. She wanted so desperately to cling to the notion he was a changed man. Her desire to believe the things he said were far greater than the truth. But desire could be fickle and selfish. Maybe some things were unforgivable. Some broken fences could never be mended, and as she sat there, she asked herself, not for the first time, how GG had kept this a secret. If she had even a notion of who he really was. How had she gone on loving a man with so much blood on his hands?
Maybe Miss Mandie was right. Maybe deep-down Abby knew what to do.
Actually doing it was another thing.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Abby walked among the pink dogwoods, the flowering pears, and lush mounds of perennials in bloom, both her heart and head a mess. Finding a spot on the wicker loveseat amongst the flowers, she sat across from the clear aqua waters of the swimming pool, feeling the weight of guilt press over her despite the beauty of her surroundings.
Settling back, she tried to push the image of her grandfather from her mind—the way his hand shook as he lifted a forkful of cake to his mouth at dinner or how he blew his candles out. His pale skin and his bloodshot, emotion-filled eyes when she confronted him for the second time, and the way his skin webbed around them from stress.
Her heart ached at her situation. No one choice ended well.
She inhaled, taking in the sweet scent of lilac and wishing it would soothe her like it had as a child. She longed for Kaden—for someone to talk to, for someone who knew even the slightest bit about her secret. Even more, she wanted the boy who teased her. The one who remained strong in the face of his insecurities. The one who loved his father enough that he tried to please him for so long but had the courage to recognize his own needs these last weeks. He stood his ground. He took a risk when he saw something he wanted—Abby—and he had somehow wriggled his way into her heart. He hadn’t opened it up so much as he had wormed his way in through a crack in her defenses.
She wanted to share so much more with him—everyday things—rides to school, coffee at Daily Grind, walks in the park, ice cream at Hammer’s, and a swim in the summer. She wanted to enjoy his presence without the heaviness of her family’s baggage or his father’s disapproval.
The thought that some other girl might get to share those things with him ate her up inside, made her blind with jealousy. But Mr. Oliver wasn’t the only reason she stayed away. The truth was, she had no idea how he’d handle her secret. Would he be repulsed? Would he distance himself from her? If she was honest with herself, Abby was scared of the answers, and she didn’t know if she could take him looking at her as though she was anything other than the girl he met that night in the park. The one that nearly ran him over with her car. The one he broke the rules with. The one he kissed until she knew nothing would be the same anymore. The girl who captured his heart years ago with nothing but a poem.
She wasn’t the same person anymore.
He changed her. This secret changed her, and she marveled at how so much could shift in only a matter of weeks. How everything could be different.
It was easier this way, she told herself, to walk away now before she got crushed. Mr. Oliver simply provided her the excuse she needed.
Her gaze drifted from the pool to the blooms clustered in every corner of the yard. Awash in color, the purple butterfly bush, pink azaleas, the waxy begonias, and yellow, red, and white roses all formed a trumpet of colors surrounding her, reminding her beauty did still exist, even in the face of cruelty.
She thought of GG, kneeling by her beds, pulling weeds and mulching. She had spent hours out here, sometimes whole days. Abby had hated the arduous task, the monotony of it, but now, she would give anything to have her there again, barking orders.
“What am I supposed to do now?” she asked GG, glancing up at the sky, squinting in the sunlight.
A breeze fluttered her hair in the answering silence. Everything inside her ached for GG’s presence.
Alongside her grief, a new emotion emerged from the shadows of her heart. Something darker.
“I found out your secret, the one that was so awful you died with it. Thanks for that, by the way.” Abby clenched her jaw and leaned forward, bending down by the bench, plucking a daisy from the ground.
Anger zipped through her veins—hot and jagged. How could GG leave me with this?
“What am I supposed to do now, huh?”
Her legs twitched. She stood, needing to move, to vent. She shook her head, her throat tight. “This is so unfair. You said you never got the evidence you needed to confirm anything, but you didn’t even try. Did you? Not really. You just gave up!”
Abby’s chest heaved. Raising her fists to the sky, she shook, wishing she had never opened GG’s stupid letter in the first place. Wishing she had never started any of this. Mr. Klein was right. GG never should’ve asked this of her.
“I’m only ei
ghteen,” she screamed into the wind. “How am I supposed to deal with this, to know what to do? You said you were a coward and that I am strong, but I’m not.” Her voice cracked, and with it, she crumbled to the ground, choking on a sob.
How could she face this alone?
She sunk further into the warm grass, allowing the tears to fall for the first time since GG’s death. All the grief of the last few weeks exploded like fireworks in her chest, pouring out of her, soaking into the dirt. Her chest heaved, and she hiccupped as she tried and struggled to catch her breath.
Weeks of unshed tears purged at once. Snot ran down her face into her mouth, leaving a salty trail in its wake, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. GG’s funeral, Lawson, the storage unit in Newberry, the museum, and the broken look on her grandfather’s face all flashed in her head—an ominous slideshow she had no idea how to handle. And she shouldn’t have to. The injustice of the burden burned her the most.
Regardless, this landed on her lap, and now she had a choice to make.
She cried herself dry, knowing it wouldn’t help, but was unable to stop. Her chest ached, and fire ravaged her raw throat.
When she pushed herself up on shaking legs, she pressed her palms to her eyes until the tremors in her body ceased, and the tears stopped. Lowering them, she wiped the moisture on her jeans. Her head pounded as she wobbled toward the pool house and leaned her weight against it, propping herself up since she no longer had the energy to stand on her own.
His blood ran through her veins. The blood of a killer. Irma Mentz.
Her inability to share emotion, to talk about her feelings was so much like him. Even as recent as last night, her father had said as much. Deep-down were they the same? Was she cold? Callous? Uncaring?
She shook her head. She didn’t think so. But how could she know for certain? She shared genetics with a monster. Maybe under the surface, her own demon lay in wait, waiting for the right opportunity to show itself. Maybe all people had them, it just took the right thing to make them crack.
Bringing a hand up to her pounding head, Abby tried to focus. She came there to decide—turn him in or bury his secrets—and she wasn’t leaving until she did.
What he did was reprehensible. But the image of the monster collided with the one of the man who spent hours playing chess. How did one stop loving someone after a lifetime? How did she reconcile herself with the fact that both men were one and the same?
If Abby kept his past a secret, would she be guilty by association? Could she live with herself knowing the truth, knowing she did nothing about it? Would she be every bit as evil for not bringing him to justice?
Right now, no one else knew, but if she turned him in, her mother would be crushed. She would no longer be the only one who knew Yoel Gutman was really Irma Mentz. Her parents’ careers may falter, their reputations at stake. Not to mention what would happen with her grandfather. All to pay a price for sins committed a lifetime ago.
If she thought he truly regretted what he had done, that he was ashamed and would make amends if he could, she might be able to turn the other cheek. He said he’d switch places with the people he hurt long ago if he could. So, maybe the question was not so much what she should do as it was did she believe him?
He cried. It had been the first and only time she had ever seen him shed tears. She remembered the way he trembled, the sorrow in his eyes. Was a lifetime of regret, of knowing no amount of repentance could make up for your sins punishment enough? Maybe that in and of itself was justice.
Abigail pushed off the pool house and paced in front of the water. She exhaled, focusing on the soft sound of her footsteps, wondering how she’d tell her mother when it came time. Could she stand watching her fall apart again, when she had barely scraped the surface of losing GG?
Her feet glided over the stone walkway, her thoughts running a million miles per hour before she paused and straightened. Her mother was innocent. She shouldn’t have to fall apart again. Her grandfather may be guilty, but her parents weren’t. Abby didn’t know if she could put them through this pain. The controversy and speculation that would come with the discovery of a Nazi war criminal hiding all these years should not be theirs to bear.
She straightened and squared her shoulders, preparing herself to shove every feeling she had over the last couple weeks back inside where they belonged. She could shelve this. She had to. GG’s letters, the journal, the chest—she’d get rid of all of it and never think of it again.
“GG, I’m sorry. Whatever decision you thought I’d make, I’m not sure if this is it, but I can’t do it. I can’t hurt Mom and Dad like that,” she said into the sunshine.
Turning, her eye caught something by the shrubs beside the pool house.
Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze sharpened, homing in on the spindly branches, dotted with round, glossy black berries. On autopilot, she moved toward them, her knees wobbling with the effort of every footstep, and as she grew closer, a chill cascaded down her back. The hair on her arms rose with goosebumps.
She planted her feet in front of the bush and swallowed. Reaching out, she touched a trembling fingertip to a berry. The image from the screen of her phone the day in the café with Kaden flashed in her head. “Belladonna,” she whispered.
A flash of another memory hit her, she heard Kaden’s father’s voice. “I didn’t say we found the person who drowned him.... Some eyewitnesses said the man he met that night was older, not middle-aged like first reported.”
The image Kaden took of the case files zipped through her mind’s eye. The coroner’s report and him saying, “He was poisoned with some sort of plant. Belladonna...”
Belladonna.
The words echoed in her head while she recalled Lawson’s daughter, the cats curling around her feet. “You know, I always thought that phone call my father made the night he died had to do with why he was in Newberry in the first place.”
Then, her Mom’s voice, talking about her grandfather. “I found out he drove out of town, to Newberry.”
Abigail ripped her hand away from the berry like it might burn a hole in her flesh. She stumbled backward as bile rose to the back of her throat.
No, no, no.
She closed her eyes and shook her head like a toddler throwing a tantrum. She didn’t want to believe it. But she had to. The truth was right in front of her. Her grandfather had lied to her.
A stabbing pain pierced her skull. She raised her hands, squeezing her head like she could crack it open and remove everything inside.
Her stomach clenched as she dove toward the bushes, dry-heaving into the empty space between them. With a sob, she allowed her thoughts to surface. Her grandfather killed Lawson. He was the man Lawson met at the diner that night, where he must’ve poisoned something he ate. He wasn’t sorry. He wasn’t ashamed. He was a murderer when he was young, and he was still one now.
He’s every bit the monster he claimed not to be.
Sweat beaded her brow as her stomach somersaulted with the knowledge.
“Abigail?”
Abby started at the sound of her name. She glanced across the yard toward the sound of Kaden’s voice which shot through her heart like an arrow, reverberating in her chest.
He stood just inside the open gate, hands shoved in the pockets of his khaki shorts. The soft breeze ruffled his hair, as his eyes focused on her face like he was trying to read her thoughts.
But she didn’t want him to see her like this. She didn’t want him to know her terrible secret because she couldn’t stand the thought of the way he might look at her if he did.
Lurching forward, in one giant heave, Abby expelled the contents of her stomach to the ground by her feet.
SHE WIPED HER MOUTH with the back of her hand, turning her back to Kaden. Shame burned in her cheeks, and she wished with everything inside her that he’d disappear.
She stepped away from the pool house, off balance. Of all the times he could find her, now had to be
the worst. As he drew closer, she headed toward the gate. All she wanted to do was escape—from having to confront him, from this place, her life, these secrets.
Her gaze zeroed in on her exit, desperately needing to get there. She passed him without a word, but he caught her arm, stopping her.
Her stomach caved in on itself, and when she dared to meet his eye, she lost herself. Straightening, she pushed her shoulders back and forced the longing from her voice. “Don’t you have school?”
“Don’t you?” he asked, his eyes searching her face until she couldn’t stand it any longer, and she shrugged him off.
She took a step past him, needing space and room to breathe. “You should get back before you get in trouble.”
“You know, don’t you?”
Abby paused, staring out at the lush green lawn and swallowed hard.
“You figured it all out.” When she said nothing, he added, “You can’t keep avoiding me forever.”
She turned to him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
For the first time since she met him, she read anger in his eyes. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play this? You found out the secret, and let me guess, it’s worse than you expected. So, now you’re just going to act like I was never a part of this? Like you don’t have someone else that wants answers, too? That’s crap, and you know it.”
Abby spun on her heel. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I need to move past all of this. I need to put it behind me now.”
Only, she knew there was no getting past this.
