A Fortune Unfolding: Daniela's Journey

The old man held his hand out, palm up. He wore a heavy coat, lined with fur. The same kind you see on dogs and cats.

“Give me money,” he said. “Then I give you the letter, okay?”

I looked over my shoulder at the lines, the hundreds of people in front of me all waiting to get their letters. I shrugged my shoulders and reached into my pockets, pulling out a crumpled one hundred dollar bill I had stashed there for emergencies. When I handed it to him, he took it and put it in his pocket. Then he retrieved a folded piece of paper from under his coat and handed it to me.

“What is this?” I asked him.

“The letter. That’s what you wanted here, right? To get the letter?”

My heart raced as I unfolded the paper and began reading:

Dear Daniela Martínez,

You are not yet born, but if you are reading this then I have passed away by now or am about to pass away soon. You are my great-granddaughter and have inherited everything that was left behind by my family when we all went into hiding during WWII. My name was Rachel Rohenbach and I lived in Germany until 1939 when we moved to Argentina to escape Hitler's seeking eyes. We lived there for ten years until the war ended when we were able to move back home without fear of persecution. We were poor while in Argentina but made better lives for ourselves once we returned home to Germany where my husband was a successful businessman and I was a respected doctor in Berlin before the war started again in 1939. All of my belongings were left behind when we went back to Argentina, so they are yours now. They are at my home in Stuttgart where you can pick them up at your convenience after my death has been confirmed by the appropriate authorities. Love Always, Rachel Rohenbach

I read the letter over and over again as tears welled up in my eyes. This couldn't be true—this couldn't be real! My grandmother had told me a story about her time in Argentina when she was younger but never mentioned anything about any family members who had gone back to Germany before the war broke out again. She told me that her father had died during an accident on the job there and that her mother had died shortly after giving birth to her brother, but she never spoke of anything like this ever happening! My grandmother always insisted that her father died during a mining accident, but this letter says different! It says that her father died during World War Two…but how could that be possible? He would've been too young to fight if he were alive during World War Two! Unless…no…it can't be true...can it? If not…then how did this letter get here? And why did they leave everything behind if they were going back home after the war ended? Wasn't everyone happy that Hitler lost?? Why would anyone want to go back to Germany if he didn't live there before? Maybe someone stole everything from them like they did from us during our last trip there a few years ago…but then why would someone steal our stuff if they already had all of theirs?! This doesn't make any sense...I don't know what to do! How can any of this possibly be true…and why would someone leave something like this for me?! This is supposed to be good news, but all it's doing is making me more confused than before!! Daniela Martínez

A knock on my bedroom door woke me from my daze as I continued reading through the night. It was early morning, but nothing looked different outside. I couldn't tell if anyone else was awake yet either, so I kept on reading:

“Daniela! Are you awake?!” It was Mama calling from outside my room; she sounded tense like she always does when she has something important she needs to talk about with me or Papi before school starts for the day. Our rooms needed to be just neat enough so we aren’t late for school, but also just neat enough so they don’t look too perfect, like an act of defiance that only teenagers can pull off. It seemed like a delicate balance to strike, but Mama didn't have time for such subtleties.

“Daniela?! Did you hear me?! Did you stay up late last night?! Did you stay up past midnight!? Did you?!" Mama yelled again through my door. Looking down at the letter below me on my bed, I felt scared, knowing that there wasn't much time left until school started, and hopefully, Mama wouldn't keep yelling at me for too long before school started; otherwise, I might end up getting punished today for being late!

In our house, being late received severe punishments compared to staying up past midnight or doing chores without permission. Papa believed that those kinds of things taught us responsibility, which he appreciated, while staying up past midnight received harsher punishments