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“I didn’t mean it that way. I understand it must have been brutal, especially during the winters, but he made it. So did she. And he came back here. Is he still alive?”
“No, he passed five years ago.”
Meghan thought for a moment. “Jakob and Grandpa lived in the same area for the past twenty years?”
“Yep. What do you remember about your grandfather’s return to the Czech Republic?”
“I was a little kid. I hardly remember anything. Most of my memories of him are from that one visit in 2010. Grandpa came to see us at the hotel. He was so angry it scared me, and I never wanted to visit again.” Maybe if she understood his life’s story, perhaps she would also understand his angry outbursts.
Meghan had been only ten years old and very excited to see her grandpa. The old, rough-looking man who knocked at the door of their hotel room was far from the images her mind conjured up based on her early years’ photographs with Grandpa.
“He left Grandma and moved back here. They divorced a couple of years later. She died in 2014. Mom and she never liked to talk about him, so what you are telling me now is news to me.”
“Glad I can be of help,” Oliver grew somber. The change in his demeanor started to concern her. Was he worried about the goons outside trying to hunt them down, or did her questions stir up unwanted memories? She pulled her knees under her chin. Her feet were warmer, but the chill was getting into her bones. If they stayed here much longer, her teeth would start chattering.
“Tell me about Jakob.” She rubbed her shins.
“He came back after the war, most likely suffering from undiagnosed PTSD. As a disillusioned young teenager, he joined the People’s Militias and, after the February 1948 revolution, slowly rose in the ranks of the communist party. When his old family villa became vacant again after Fred escaped abroad, he took up residence there. In true communist fashion, he subdivided the villa into two separate apartments, stating that he was a proletariat and not the bourgeoisie and, therefore, didn’t need so much living space. There was an article about him in one of the local newspapers. I think it was written to commemorate the 25thanniversary of our liberation by the Red Army. Ironically enough, it was also two years into the Russian invasion.”
The history lesson was getting a bit complex for Meghan’s liking. She was more interested in the personal stories of these people.
“But Jakob was Jewish.”
“He became an atheist and no longer practiced his religion.”
“Even though Hedvika moved to Israel?” She leaned against the damp wall.
“Politics got in the way. During that time, some joined the new government, some escaped the tyranny, and some stuck to their convictions and paid for them with their freedom or even lives.”
“Grandpa and Jakob lived in this area at the same time for a while. What does the history teacher know about that?” She smirked.
Oliver’s left eyebrow shot up. “They did.”
“And?” She copied his animated reaction.
“Well, they inevitably ran into each other from time to time.”
“Why do I feel you are a little hesitant to talk about this?”
“You remember your grandfather. Imagine him times two, and you get Jakob. When Fred took possession of the old mill once again in 1994, after the courts recognized his claim, Jakob hired lawyers and fought the decision. He claimed that since his family is buried on the site, it should receive a special designation as a WWII memorial site. Fred asked Jakob to exhume the remains of his family and transfer them to the old Jewish cemetery on the outskirts of town. Jakob refused. It got ugly for a while.”
“Did anyone pick up his torch? Could the man in a fedora have some beef with me? However, after seeing the ruins, I don’t understand why anyone would be interested in that land. Unless the rumor is true and there is a boatload of gold buried somewhere in the vicinity, which frankly sounds like a tall tale to me.”
“It isn’t,” Oliver said firmly.
“You seem pretty convinced.”
“Dr. Weiss was a dentist. I already told you that. But it was his wife who came from money. Her father was an Austrian banker. They enjoyed a pretty good lifestyle, traveled, and collected art. Mrs. Weiss owned an impressive collection of jewelry.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m a historian.” He grinned. “And one of my old classmates works at the local archives.”
* * *
“I’m starving,”Meghan sighed.
“I got you.” Oliver patted the windbreaker underneath them and pulled out a granola bar.