Those in attendance reached into archival boxes and research bags to pull out the examples that they brought to share. It struck Lizzie just how similar they all looked to her kids at the center. The ladies all wiggled in their seats with their hands in the air as if waiting for their turn during Show and Tell.
Some days we’re all still kids inside, she thought.
During the meeting, Lizzie enjoyed hearing stories of lost photos tucked into odd places and documents found folded into books long forgotten. With each item, the group discussed appropriate archival procedures. They seemed to all agree on the proper way to store and display vintage photographs. Yet tempers flared when the discussion turned to the use of linen gloves when handling materials. At times the room seemed to be one hair shy of an argument. Lizzie never realized that genealogy could come so close to being a contact sport.
Despite hearing their interesting stories, Lizzie couldn’t keep her mind from wondering about the small leather book on the table in front of Blue. Finally her wait was over, thought Lizzie, as Blue started moving her chair in what she thought was an effort to stand in front of the group. To her disappointment, all her friend did was shift her body so that she was sitting in a more comfortable position.
Lizzie had to know the secrets that Blue held in that tiny aged package. The longer she looked upon it the stronger the desire grew. She couldn’t head home without knowing what was behind the cover even if she didn’t understand why.
“Blue, honey, you haven’t told us your story. Don’t you want to share your book?” Lizzie asked sweetly.
“Oh, darlin’, this isn’t mine. It’s your grandmother’s.”
Blue’s words took Lizzie by complete surprise. Before she could regain her thoughts, Gertrude was again addressing the group.
“Several years ago, I was going through some boxes that we had packed up after Daddy passed away. Those boxes had been up in the attic for, oh goodness me, almost two decades untouched. Among other papers, I found this diary. I had never known that my father was one to write his thoughts, and by the contents, it’s pretty clear that he didn’t intend on me knowing it. Well, not until his death.” Gertrude walked over to the table and picked up the diary. She held it gently against her chest.
Lizzie realized how emotional sharing the diary must have been for her grandmother. She couldn’t recall another time when Gertrude was so soft spoken.
“Gran, I never knew that you had this,” whispered Lizzie.
“Well, dear, there’s a reason. This diary holds some important but difficult pieces of history. It also holds some secrets that I’m sure my father didn’t want the whole town to know. I think it’s time now. Since we’re talking about protecting the items we discover, I want to ask a question of everyone in the room. What happens if you find something the original individual may not have wanted to stand the test of time? How do you handle the sensitive information that you come across in your research?” Gertrude tossed the question out to the room. Only half listening to the discussion, Lizzie sat in shock wondering why her grandmother had kept this secret from her.
“What on earth is inside that diary?” said Lizzie.
Claud was the first to answer. “Well, I suppose it’s something that you need to really think upon. For me, if the creator kept it hidden, who are we to make it public? Perhaps we should respect their wishes.”
“Oh, don’t be so nervous about it, Claud,” answered Blue. “I say get it out into the light. Rip back the curtains. Secrets are only dangerous in the dark. You’ve got to expose the monster to slay it.”
Abi, as usual, tried to bridge the gap between the two ladies who stood on opposite ends of the discussion. “Both have valid points. I think that the protection of individual privacy is the main concern in a situation like this. Are those involved still alive? If they have passed you must look at the immediate descendant for that answer. If they give the go-ahead, then shine light on the secret and take away its power just as Blue said.”
“That’s exactly what I did,” said Gertrude. “Since this is my father’s diary, I know that the individual in question is no longer living. I also know that the other individuals also listed in the diary have passed as well. I am his only living child, so the decision falls to me. Well, to me and to Lizzie.” She grinned with pride as she gestured toward her granddaughter who was finally in attendance.
Lizzie felt drained. The revelation that her grandmother held a diary filled with emotional and difficult family secrets was almost too much to take in. Her imagination had spent the better part of the evening dreaming up fantastic scenarios for the diary. Each scenario had one important thing in common: it was supposed to be Blue’s family story not her own. Now that she was adding her family to the fantasy she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the truth.
Without much prompting, the conversation began to wind down as the late hour approached. Several other women added their opinions on the importance of privacy versus discovery, but most concurred with Abi. Many commented that they were glad for the opportunity to discuss something of a serious nature as a group. Once finished, they began gathering their materials and started saying goodnight to dear friends. Lizzie had already planned on staying behind to help her grandmother and The Gals clean up the Fellowship Hall. Now it would take a team of Clydesdales to drag her from the church. She had to get her hands around that diary - and her grandmother’s neck. As the ladies milled around the coat room gathering their belongings, Lizzie looked for Gertrude.
“Gran, can we talk about this diary for a minute?” Lizzie whispered. She tried to act as if she was patient and not at all intrigued.
“Genealogy isn’t so boring now, is it?” Gertrude giggled as she packed up her display board and brochures. “This is just the beginning, dear.”
After the others had left, The Gals gathered around a central table making sure that everyone had a seat as well as a full view of the diary. Finally, the important conversation would start.
“Gran, why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?” asked Lizzie.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t realize you’d be as interested as you are in your great-grandfather’s diary. I apologize. I thought bringing it out on your first gathering would get your attention, but I didn’t think it would upset you. It was just a little bait for the hook. I guess I was right, wasn’t I!” Gertrude slid the bound book across the table to Lizzie. “Go ahead. Take a peek.”
Lizzie reached across the table for the diary. “Why do I feel as though you’re a drug dealer hoping to start my addiction?”
“My stars! Why do you have to be so crass sometimes?”
Lizzie knew it was serious if her grandmother started scolding her, so she decided to focus on the information in front of her. She wasn’t sure herself why she was so desperate to know the secrets of the little book. Once she felt the weight of it in her hands, Lizzie wasn’t sure that she was ready to open it. The diary itself was heavier than she thought. What if the contents were heavier as well?
“Do you know what’s inside?” Lizzie asked with trepidation.
“Yes, I do,” answered Gertrude. “I read it on my own, and then I took it to The Gals. We’ve all looked through it. It was part of me deciding what to do with the diary. Finally, just as Blue said, we decided that it needed to come into the light so that the secrets could no longer hold power or fear. The words written on these pages make it clear that they held a great deal of both over my father. You’re old enough to consult with now, so we’re inviting you into our secret.”
“You’re not asking me for a blood oath are you? Blue better not have a knife hidden up her sleeve.”
“Don’t worry, sugar. I killed the chicken yesterday. You’re in the clear,” Blue said with nary a smile or laugh.
“Oh, Blue. I do swear,” gasped Claud.
Rolling her eyes, Gertrude continued, “I just want you to be prepared, sweetheart. As you read it, you should remember that these times were different. This di
ary will contain some things that are upsetting to you because they contradict your understanding of how we are to live. Are you sure that you’re ready to unlock that door?”
“Gran, I think I can handle it.” Lizzie was a little offended that her grandmother needed to ask these questions. After all, she was thirty-two years old. She had dealt with the deaths of both parents at the young age of twelve. She could handle anything as an adult.
“Well, then. By all means, take a peek.” Gertrude leaned back into her chair and crossed her legs. She sipped on her sweet tea and portrayed a cool exterior to match her granddaughter’s attitude.
“Welcome to the club,” said Blue. “Let’s just hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Chapter Five
Lizzie held the diary in her hands. It was surprisingly heavy for a book of its size. She turned it over, looking at the binding.
“Well, let’s not take all night, sugar,” said Blue. “We’re not the youngest chickens in the coop. We might just all die of old age before you get to the good stuff.”
Abi swatted her friend while the others laughed.
“Go on, dear. It’s time you started reading,” said Gertrude.
With Gran’s permission, Lizzie removed the straps from the body of the journal. She peeled back the front cover in slow motion and smoothed the aged paper. The front page was starting to fade into a warm brown much like the tea they were sipping.
The first blank page of the diary revealed a personal statement in the handwriting of her great-grandfather, Alston James.
“Into this diary I’ve poured my heart and deeds.
I beg understanding from the next generation,
May God forgive me and have mercy on my soul.
~ Alston James, amended in 1979.”
Lizzie’s heart raced. Why would her great-grandfather need mercy? What secret could lie beyond these pages? She inhaled a slow, deep breath before turning the next page.
She could already feel that her life was changing.
***
The Diary of Alston James: 21 August 1934
My heart is heavy today. I feel as though I have no one to turn to in this situation. Lacking counsel, I pour my thoughts here in the hopes that it will bring clarity. I fear that I have stumbled onto something that would be devastating to our family if it were discovered by the wrong person.
My sweet sister, what have you done?
The fear I have for her, for us all, is overwhelming. She has stepped outside the boundaries of acceptable behavior as dictated by society with no regard to the consequences. If the wrong people discover her secret, she’ll end up in the grave. I must protect her, but I don’t know how to do so. I don’t even know if I should. This will surely break the hearts of our parents.
My sister is so young and innocent. She doesn’t understand. This world has consequences whether we want to believe in them or not. The men in town will not ignore this. It’s as if she’s throwing dirt in their faces.
How on earth am I to protect her?
As a child, Alston James was determined to be more than a farmer. Like his father, generations of men in the James family ended up in the fields. Not Alston. He longed for the easy life in town just like many of the other men in his graduating class at South Georgia Teachers College. A man of consistency, he often created goals and continued toward them in a slow and steady fashion. He didn’t enjoy deviating from his outlined path, so he made the perfect student. Trustworthy, dependable, and predictable in every way, Alston reached his goal and graduated as part of the Class of 1932.
After finishing his education, he returned home to marry his high school sweetheart, Anne Varney. Both were children of farmers who shared the same dream of an easier future than their past. They longed for a life that wasn’t covered with red dirt and dust from the fields. Almost immediately he joined the staff of the local high school, and the newlyweds had the home that they had always wanted.
In 1934, their lives changed.
Although Alston loved teaching in the classroom, his main love was working with wood. Sharing this practical yet artistic craft with his students became his focus. Within two years, Alston became known throughout the community for his skill with both the wood and the students in his classroom. His younger sister often teased him that as hard as he tried, he was still covered in the dust that he had tried to escape from the family farm. Alston knew that the main reason she liked to tease him was because he would react and respond, so he always obliged.
His favorite time of the day was when Eliza would stop by his shop to visit. Many times they would leave the school together after classes finished for the day. Although there was a six-year age difference between them, spending this time together every day kept them close as siblings. Many times Eliza would spend her weekends in town with her brother and his wife. Alston and Anne counted the time they spent with her a blessing. They each dreamed of a time when perhaps Eliza would move to town to start her own family, keeping them all together.
Lately Eliza hadn’t been stopping by her brother’s classroom after school. He had noticed changes in her behavior. She no longer wanted to spend free afternoons walking through town shops with her sister-in-law. They didn’t know why things had shifted in her personality and behavior, and they weren’t enjoying the changes.
Today, Alston decided to wander the halls of Everett Springs High School in search of his absentee sibling. The school was quieting down as students made their way towards home. Alston walked through the main hallway hearing nothing but the sounds of his own shoes. He peered around doors and into classrooms to see if his sister was sitting in discussion with another instructor. Unfortunately, he found no signs of where she may have been.
“The library,” Alston whispered.
Eliza was an avid reader. Although, they couldn’t afford many books, his parents stressed the importance of reading. They saved advertisements, labels from seed bags, or newspaper articles for their children to read after school. Each turned into a story at bedtime or around the dinner table. They created games that encouraged their wild imaginations and creativity. Alston considered his mother a master storyteller, not unlike P.L. Travers. His mother had little faith in her talent. She didn’t believe that a woman in the Deep South could have a career writing children’s stories in the 1930s. She also believed in conforming to the expectations of society, and she taught her children to do so as well. They could bend the bonds of status and class, but they couldn’t break them without feeling the sting of being different. Some changes needed to come only with the passage of time.
The talent of Mrs. James showed in the minds and imaginations of her children, especially Eliza. During on one their afternoon walks, Eliza shared her dream was to leave Everett Springs. She wanted to ride a train to New York where she was sure she could be an author. She fancied herself the American Dorothy L. Sayers or Agatha Christie. While Alston and Anne wanted her to have dreams of living in Everett Springs, Eliza had dreams of being bigger than her home town. She wanted to move to a bigger city in a new part of the country where she couldn’t be limited by small towns and small minds. She had dreams of the life that she saw in newsreels and picture shows. Eliza James wanted to be cosmopolitan.
Alston reached the school library and opened the door with great care and respect. Although he was a teacher, he was still one of the youngest members on staff. It was difficult for him to remember that he was no longer a student bound to the rules of his childhood. In contrast, he was a teacher who could now help determine and enforce those rules. This time his quiet entry worked to his advantage allowing him to see what may have otherwise stayed hidden.
Peering around the heavy wooden door into the dark-filled library, Alston reeled back in shock. Hidden between two shelves of books was his youngest sister, Eliza, and she wasn’t alone.
He couldn’t see his sister’s face, but he recognized her clothing immediately. After a summer’s afternoon with a Harper�
�s Bazaar, Eliza became convinced that she had to own a dress just like Bette Davis modeled on the cover. It would be her first step toward creating a style like career women in the Big Apple. By selling eggs and baked goods in town, their mother saved the money to buy the fabric needed to make her daughter’s dream come true. The straight skirt with a pleated bottom teased Alston as he stood there unable to find the words to shout out to his sister. He tried to adjust his eyes to the low light to see who accompanied her but the angle and location of the bookcase prevented it. The young man’s face may have been hidden, but Alston saw one important detail. Two dark-skinned hands wrapped around his sister’s waist.
Alston started toward the couple. At the same time, the doors to the library flung open creating a loud racket. Two of the school’s football players entered laughing. The distraction caused Alston to turn his attention toward the door and away from his sister. By the time he looked again at the library’s stacks he realized he had been too late. The voices of the players caught Eliza’s attention, too.
His sister and her companion were gone.
Chapter Six
After reading the diary’s opening entry, Lizzie needed to read more. She flipped through the diary’s pages looking for an answer to the problem that plagued her great-grandfather. Patience wasn’t her strong suit, and there was no use in pretending she had it now.
“Lizzie, darlin’, you need to go through this diary one entry at a time. Don’t go looking too far ahead. If you search for an answer before you even know the story you’ll cause the truth to become lost,” Gertrude cautioned.
“Gran, what’s going on here? I didn’t even know that your father had a sister much less that she was somehow attached to a scandal in the family.”
“Daddy did have a younger sister. It tortured him to talk about her, so we didn’t much. Her name was Eliza, just like you.”
Finding Eliza Page 4
