The Truth About Us

“Look, I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but maybe it’s time to ask whether you grandfather really got his money from his family or somewhere else.” Kaden reached out, touching her arm.

The trill of her phone filled the space between them, the ringtone echoing in the unit. She jumped and pulled her cell out of her pocket, hating the relief she felt at the interruption.

When she checked the screen, she noted the unfamiliar number before recognition clicked. Adrenaline fueled her as she pressed a hand to her chest, trying to slow the frantic beat of her heart as she glanced up at Kaden. “It’s Anna Gutman.”

Swiping the answer button on the screen, she brought the phone to her ear.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Hello?” Abby waited for a beat as the person on the other line remained silent, wondering if they would say anything at all.

“I only returned your call to let you know I have no interest in speaking with you again, so please stop calling,” Anna said.

“Wait!” Abigail stuttered. “Please. I just need a minute of your time. My grandmother died a couple of weeks ago, and I’m trying to make sense of some things.” Her pulse soared as she scrambled for the right words to keep the woman on the phone. “I know she was trying to find some long-lost relatives of my grandfather’s, and I believe she thought you might be related. Either that, or you may know someone who is, I’m not sure.”

Silence stretched between them. The only sign the woman had not hung up was the soft sound of her breathing. Abigail waited, hoping she might say something or at least give her a chance to ask some questions, get some information, anything.

When the woman’s voice came through the line like a brittle wind, Abby exhaled, her relief palpable.

“Your grandmother called me years ago, and I’ll tell you what I told her. Yoel Gutman, my cousin, died at Auschwitz.”

“But, are you sure? I mean, I’m sure there was probably more than one Yoel. Is there a chance—”

“Our families gathered together in the ghetto the morning we boarded the cattle cars. We were divided between cars, but when we arrived, I was wrenched away from my family, who were killed on arrival. I watched as the women who were sent to the camps were separated from the men. Yoel and I were no exception, but I caught a glimpse of him in the camp afterward. His survival gave me hope, but...”

She trailed off, and Abby wondered if the memories were so hard she could barely speak them. Much like her grandfather.

“Well, then what makes you so sure he was killed?”

“He was Sonderkommando. Everyone knew who they were. There was not a very good—shall I say—attitude toward them among the Jewish prisoners.”

Abby peered over at Kaden who waited on his haunches, squatting among the boxes. “Do you know why my grandmother was so convinced you were related? That your cousin was my grandfather, Yoel?”

“She somehow traced our tattoos with registration. Yoel and I were registered the same day, along with his two sisters who survived a short time. She made the assumption from that. In fact, I was not the only Gutman she checked up on.” A tremor shook the old woman’s voice. “But I know he’s dead. Everyone heard about his death. And there were others, too. They made sure we knew about it.”

Abby refused to believe what she was telling her, and as she wracked her brain for a way to convince her to at least meet with her, the journal flashed in her mind and a light flicked on. Ms. Gutman never mentioned why he was killed, but his having the journal was a huge risk, one she couldn’t imagine he could keep secret for long.

“Ms. Gutman, did you find out why he was killed?” Abby asked.

“I did. Yoel was both foolish and brave.”

“Was he killed for the journal? Did they discover he had it?”

A long pause stretched over the line. “No one knows about that. No one unless they were there,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “How do you?”

“Because I have it.”

ABBY PARKED HER CAR outside Kaden’s house. It was safe to be so bold with his father at work, and she accompanied him to his front door.

She wrung her hands in front of her chest as they walked, her conversation with Anna Gutman heavy on her mind. “I’m nervous about tomorrow, but this could be it. Everything might finally make sense,” she said.

Kaden nodded but avoided her gaze.

“What?” she asked. “You’ve been so quiet since we left Newberry. What aren’t you telling me?”

He exhaled, then glanced at her and pulled a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I just have a weird feeling about this. I can’t explain it.”

“What do you mean?”