Book Spotlight: Buried Appearances by D.E. Haggerty‏

 

  

 

Synopsis: Buried Appearances - D.E Haggerty - November 2013

Skylar Dewitt has been ostracized her entire life due to her grandfather’s well-known sympathies with the Nazis. But now her grandfather’s body has been recovered in the Netherlands in an area famous for being a Nazi killing ground. Why would her grandfather be buried in a place legendary for assassinations of resistance members? Skylar jets off to Holland in search of answers about her grandfather’s demise. Along the way she finds long-lost family and old friends but will she solve the mystery of what happened to her grandfather? And maybe she discovers something more valuable than resolving any mystery could be: herself

Goodreads Link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18943772-buried-appearances?from_search=true

 

Excerpt from Buried Appearances

By D.E. Haggerty

After I hang up the phone, I sit and stare at my computer for a while. I still have no clue how to carry on. I am completely and utterly stuck. I am at a loose end and don’t know what to do. I do have one promise, however, that I made to Griet before I left Michigan that I have to fulfill. I head off to the Wertheim park to fulfill that promise.

I stand at the Auschwitz memorial in the park and try to hold back my tears. It is so breathtakingly sad here. The smashed mirrors dominating this tiny park are heartbreaking. The memorial epitomizes the dichotomy that is the war and Holland. On the one hand, I am standing in front of a heart wrenching monument to the Dutch victims of the Holocaust that died in Auschwitz but in the background I hear the tram rumble by, dogs barking as they run around the grass of the park and children playing soccer on the other side of the fence.

The Dutch continue with their lives as I slowly kneel and place white tulips on the memorial. I have one tulip for each member of Griet’s family that perished in the camps. As I stand, I can’t help but let the tears fall. I don’t know how Griet has survived such sadness, such heartbreak. “Gaat het me u,” I hear behind me.

I run the back of my arm across my eyes before turning. I don’t want anyone to see my tears. Tears I normally never let fall. “Sorry,” I start. “Ik spreek geen Nederlands.” I don’t speak Dutch being one of the few phrases I do speak in Dutch.

He smiles gently at me. “I asked if you are okay.”

I try to smile at him but I’m sure my smile wobbles. “It’s just so sad.” I lamely comment.

The stranger nods and looks at my tulips. “Your family?” He asks.

I shake my head. “No, it’s for Griet.”

“Griet?”

“She’s my friend or rather Oma’s friend back home.” I explain rather dumbly.

He nods. “For not speaking Dutch, your pronunciation is good.”

“My dad was Dutch. Oma emigrated with dad to America after the war.” Why am I telling the stranger these things? I shrug. “I guess I’m half-Dutch but I grew up in America. Oma didn’t teach me Dutch. I try to forget I was Dutch or at least I used to.”

“Why would you want to forget who you are? Where you came from?” He looks genuinely interested.

I shrug and try to act nonchalant. “My family was bad during the war. I got bullied about it.”

“Bad? What does that mean?”

“My grandfather was a NSBer,” I start. “But now I’m here because it looks like he might have been killed by the Nazis. I’m trying to figure out what happened but I’m getting nowhere.”

He tilts his head and stares intensely at me. “Do you want to go get a coffee and tell me all about it?” His request shocks me. Although the Dutch are nice and outwardly friendly, I haven’t experienced any instant friendships like in America.

I look intently at the man. He is a stranger but it’s broad daylight and for some reason I don’t feel threatened by him. He looks to be my age, maybe older. He doesn’t look like a psycho killer but I guess that psycho killers never look like psycho killers either. This trip is all about taking chances and leaving my comfort zone so I shrug and hold out my hand. “I’m Skylar.”

He takes my hand and shakes it firmly but gently. “Nicolaas.”