The Garden of Lost Secrets

This book is a work of historical fiction. In order to give a sense of the times, some names or real people or places have been included in the book. However, the events depicted in this book are imaginary, and the names of nonhistorical persons or events are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of such nonhistorical persons or events to actual ones is purely coincidental. Copyright © 2023 by Kelly Bowen Reading group guide copyright © 2023 by Kelly Bowen and Hachette Book Group, Inc. Cover copyright © 2023 by Hachette Book Group, Inc. Hachette Book Group supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights. Forever Hachette Book Group 1290 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10104read-forever.comtwitter.com/readforeverpub First Edition: May 2023 Forever is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever name and logo are trademarks of Hachette Book Group, Inc. The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher. The Hachette Speakers Bureau provides a wide range of authors for speaking events. To find out more, go to www.hachettespeakersbureau.com or call (866) 376-6591. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Bowen, Kelly (Romance fiction writer), author. Title: The garden of lost secrets / Kelly Bowen. Description: First edition. | New York : Forever, 2023. | Includes bibliographical references. Identifiers: LCCN 2022057892 | ISBN 9781538722145 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781538722169 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: World War, 1939-1945--Fiction. | LCGFT: Historical fiction. | Novels. Classification: LCC PR9199.4.B68523 G37 2023 | DDC 813/.6--dc23/eng/ 20221213 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022057892 ISBNs: 978-1-5387-2214-5 (trade paperback), 978-1-5387-2216-9 (ebook) E3-20230215-DA-NF-ORI “Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands.” —Anne Frank To my mom and dad, who offered wisdom and unconditional support down each path I chose, but more importantly, held me accountable for each one of those choices. For that, I will always be grateful. Explore book giveaways, sneak peeks, deals, and more. Tap here to learn more. Table of Contents Cover Title Page Copyright Dedication Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Acknowledgements Discover More Reading Group Guide Author’s Note Discussion Questions Historical Note Further Reading About the Author Also by Kelly Bowen Navigation Table of Contents Chapter1 Stasia 8 June 1935 Rouen, France The dead man had no boots. It was the sight of his bare, filthy toes pointed up into the shadows of the narrow alley that made Stasia Neimic stop where she was, her hand frozen on the bars of her bicycle. She had seen dead people before, of course, but those had been as cherished in death as they had been in life and treated accordingly. This man was not cherished. He had been discarded, and Stasia found that realization unbearably sad. The man had died propped up crookedly against a crumbling brick wall, surrounded by refuse and broken glass. It was difficult to tell how old he was, but the grey in his matted beard and stringy hair suggested that he had been at least her father’s age. He was dressed in the remnants of a soldier’s uniform from two decades ago, the blue greatcoat almost unrecognizable as anything beyond a buttonless, dull grey tatter. A knot of pedestrians, their arms laden with baskets and bags from the market, hurried by Stasia, their steps quickening even farther past the mouth of the alley as they either deliberately ignored the dead man or simply chose not to see. Stasia opened her mouth to call after them but then closed it, not sure what she would say. What she would ask for. The dead were beyond anybody’s help. But she couldn’t just walk away. Stasia left her bicycle at the top of the narrow lane and picked her way to the body, ignoring the stench of rotting garbage and urine. She crouched down, taking in the claw-like fingers that, even in death, still clutched the neck of a bottle of gin. The ravages of the contents of that bottle, and undoubtably hundreds before it, were written across his sunken and gaunt face, pale and still beneath the beard. She should at least cover him with something. His coat, perhaps, until she could find someone to collect him. Or maybe there was something in the alley that she could use to— “Back away. Don’t touch him.” The order was snarled, and Stasia shot to her feet, stumbling back. A boy who couldn’t have been much older than Stasia’s fifteen years shouldered past her and replaced her in a crouch in front of the body. He was tall and lean, wiry muscle cording his forearms, where his threadbare shirt was pushed up over his elbows. His hair was pale blond and cut very short, his face an arrangement of bitter angles and angry planes. “Did you touch him?” Cold grey eyes pinned her where she stood. Stasia found her tongue. “No, I was just—” “Did you take anything?” Stasia stared at the boy. “I was going to cover him. You think I would steal something from a dead man?” He looked away from her and was now rummaging in a worn satchel he had slung across his body. He had pulled out a small paper-wrapped bundle. “He’s not dead,” he mumbled. “What?” The