Page 57 of Counting Backwards

“Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” He released my fingers and took hold of his coffee cup with both hands, as if to show he was behaving. I would have reveled in the adorableness of the gesture had I not been so distracted by worry.

“There’s something important I learned recently that I haven’t told you. I didn’t want to upset you. I guess I thought I was protecting you... or protecting our relationship. But I can’t bring this child into our life with any secrets between us.”

“Secrets? What kind of secrets?” He looked at me quizzically.

I took a deep breath and dove in. “My great-grandfather, Gram’s dad, was named Harry Laderdale.” I paused for a second, waiting for a reaction, even though he’d likely never heard of the man.

“Laderdale?” Vance asked.

“Yes. They changed their last name to Larson after World War II, to hide who they really were.”

“After World War II?” Vance tilted his head slightly, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Are you about to tell me you’re part Jewish? My mom would be thrilled.”

“No.” I shook my head and reached for my iced coffee. I noticed my hand was shaking. “It’s actually almost the opposite.”

“What?” He laughed lightly, still not appreciating the enormity of the moment. “What’s the opposite? That you’re part Nazi?”

“Vance,” I said pleadingly, “this is serious—and probably worse than anything you can imagine.” I took a deep breath for strength and launched in. “My great-grandfather was a scientist, a eugenicist. He compiled data, studies, that argued certain types of people should be bred out of the population. He started here in the States in the 1920s, sterilizing women at psychiatric facilities so they could no longer have children. Which is part of why I’ve been so obsessed with my case.” I realized I had started to cry. “He said he did it for the nation, for some warped notion that his work couldimprove American society. But it’s even worse, Vance. His findings eventually made their way to Europe. His work gave the Nazis the idea of racial cleansing. It was his publications they relied on when they started killing non-Aryans.”

As I talked, the color drained from Vance’s face and his features went slack. He looked stunned, as if he’d just been injected with a tranquilizer but hadn’t yet collapsed to the floor.

I seized on his silence, continuing my confession, spouting out every last horrid detail before I lost my courage.

“He helped create the Immigration Act of 1924 that kept so many Jews from coming to America in the ’30s.” I knew I was just making this worse for Vance, but if I didn’t tell him everything now, I might never be brave enough to finish—and I couldn’t have this hanging between us anymore. I needed to reveal every horrifying, disgusting truth. “He sent films to American high school students,” I said, the words rushing from my mouth, “to teach them about the importance of eugenics in Germany. The Germans based their sterilization law on a model he wrote. He defended Hitler’s Nuremberg decrees as scientifically sound. He was awarded an honorary doctorate from the University of Heidelberg in 1936. He—”

“Stop! Stop!” Vance held up a hand as if to protect himself from my words. “That can’t be right. What are you even talking about? None of this makes sense.” He shook his head vigorously.

“I didn’t want you to know,” I answered on a sob.

“Are you serious? Gram’s father did all of those things?”

“He did,” I said, choking up again. Instead of finding a napkin to wipe my tears, I studied Vance’s face. I couldn’t gauge his reaction.

But then something in him shifted.

“Wait.” He pushed back his chair as if to stand. “You knew? You knew about all this and didn’t tell me?”

“No! I only just found out a few weeks ago.” I reached out for his wrist.

“Weeks?” he snapped, pulling his arm away. “You’ve known this for weeks and only thought to tell me now?”

“I should have told you sooner,” I said. “You have no idea how horrible this has been for me. I don’t know why I waited.” I searched his eyes, hoping he could forgive me.

“I know why you waited. Because you knew I would never want to be with someone who came from a person like that,” he said, venom in his voice. “Fuck, Jessa.” He looked around, as if remembering his surroundings. He was silent a moment and then began to speak. The effort he was making to control himself was clear. “You knew how much I would hate this. And you didn’t think to tell me, not once, while we were trying for the baby or when I was prepping episodes for the pod? Not even when we were spitballing all your eugenics theories about Hydeford? Wow.” He shook his head, a smirk on his face as his gaze traveled toward the ceiling. “It all makes sense now.”

I thought he was going to keep talking about the legal case, but he shifted back to himself. “You know how strongly I feel about everything that happened to my family. You didn’t think, maybe once, before trying to get pregnant, that you should have shared this information?”

I couldn’t say for sure if I’d conceived before or after learning about my family history—but I didn’t think it was the right moment to say as much. I had a different point I needed to get across.

“Don’t you see now?” I asked. “This is whyIhave to take the Hydeford case, why I can’t give it up no matter how many times you ask. It’s my chance to separate myself from what my great-grandfather did, to separate myself from the sins of my family. This case coming to me felt like fate.”

“You are so obsessed with this fucking case!” Vance slammed his palm against our table, and this time the guy beside us did look up.

Noticing the man’s glare, Vance mumbled a quick, “Sorry,” then turned back to me.

He inhaled a slow, deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “The fucking case is the least of your problems. Nothing you do can undo what your great-grandfather did. And nothing can undo whatyou’vedone either.”

He stood, pushing the heel of his hand against his forehead and closing his eyes for a moment. As he blinked, I could see a new thought occurring to him.