Finding Eliza

by Stephanie Pitcher Fishman

  “So, you see, dear, there is adversity in each generation,” Gertrude said. “We all need to remember that. Our ancestors fought through hard times to build a stronger life. You are a fighter, too. Learn from their lives.”

  “I’m learning, Gran. I promise.”

  After a good time together, Lizzie left to meet her husband for dinner. Hugging her grandmother, she promised to call in the morning to discuss the next batch of diary entries that she read.

  As Lizzie walked down the series of steps that led from Gertrude’s house to the street, she turned to look over her shoulder. “I love you, Gran. You know that, right?”

  “Yes I do, my girl. And I, you. Don’t you forget it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Looking at her husband across the bar table, Lizzie couldn’t help but smile. She was thankful that she had him as a friend and mate. People began filling the local establishment, and as they did many stopped by the table to say hello to the County Sheriff’s Deputy and his wife. The restaurant was the Clydells’ version of a place where “everybody knows your name.” They enjoyed the relaxed atmosphere and how easy it was to just unwind for a few hours over an appetizer and a cold drink.

  After dinner, the couple decided to take a walk through downtown. The night air was cool and crisp but still warm enough to enjoy a walk after dark.

  “There won’t be many nights left like this,” Lizzie whispered as she hung onto Jack’s arm. The downtown area of Everett Springs had seen a revival of late. New stores opened next to pharmacies and shoe stores that had existed for generations. The mix of old and new brought a cozy feel to the town.

  “Spending time with Miss Gertrude like this is good for you,” Jack confided in her.

  Lizzie stopped in front of the dress shop window. Everything looked perfect in a shop window. Each piece was in perfect position, displayed without confusion, emotion, or drama. She caught her reflection in the glass. After a draining day of family revelations and memories, she felt far from the perfection she saw before her.

  “Why does everyone keep saying that? It’s getting old, Jack. I’m spending some time with the gals and learning a little family history along the way. That’s all. You don’t have to fix me, and if you did, this isn’t how I’d suggest going about it.”

  “You have had a lot of pain and baggage that you haven’t dealt with over the years. You think that you’ve healed. You haven’t. You’ve let it define you instead. Learning about your family’s struggles and how they shook off problems might help.” Jack took Lizzie’s hand in his and continued down the sidewalk.

  Lizzie didn’t want to admit that her husband was right. Still, a few family stories weren’t going to fix twenty years of pain and guilt. The situations were completely different. A new hobby wouldn’t erase the baggage that she carried even if it was an enjoyable way to spend the fall.

  “Let’s head home,” Jack said as he put his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I’ve got an early day, and you have a diary to read.”

  Although she had to work at the community center, the couple had decided that it was a good time for Lizzie to take a break. She rarely took time off, so her boss jumped at the chance to let Lizzie use her vacation time. A few weeks off to play detective digging in her family’s past would be fun.

  Once home, the couple started their new evening routine. As Jack ran on the treadmill, Lizzie pulled on comfortable pajamas and settled into bed with the diary. Flipping through the pages, she found the next entry and began reading.

  ***

  Diary of Alston James: 26 August 1934

  Eliza is distraught, and for once I don’t know how to fix it. My concern for her continues to build as I learn more about her relationship with the colored boy. There is just too much danger. Not only do I worry about our family and even his, but I worry about others who might know. She doesn’t understand the complexity of the situation. It’s much too big for her to grasp at this age.

  God created us to love. Scripture tells us that. But like this?

  Mother suspects something. She can tell that her daughter is in love by how Eliza is acting. She is concerned that Eliza is too young, that I know. She wouldn’t approve of any boy today, even if he was a white boy. I have yet to tell her or Father. I’ve promised to keep this between the two of us until I know what to do. I have to proceed with caution. I’ve begged her to stop seeing him, but she just won’t listen.

  I think she believes that she’ll run away with him.

  The spirit of the town is changing. Some are starting to rally. The klan is beginning to show up to events, and I have heard talk of it at school. I know the heart of everyone in the town isn’t with them yet. Those damn hoods just make it so difficult to know who exists within the ranks. It’s those few who make it difficult for the others.

  One sinful, dark soul can pollute a mass of people.

  We’ve got laws, but what laws will they look at? The laws of marriage in the courthouse or the laws of life and death? Will they come for her and take her to where they torture like that which occurs at the cemetery? I’ve heard the stories. I’ve seen the tree.

  I have to protect her. I can’t allow her to come to danger. It isn’t allowed because they won’t allow it. She is only one small girl.

  I must pray. I have to pray.

  Alston walked along the stone path toward the church. It seemed like the most natural place to be after he came to the realization that he couldn’t discover the answer without prayer. Walking into the church he immediately felt better. The weight of the situation somehow lessened. Alston hoped that he could find solace in the pews.

  He made his way to the second row of seating on the right side of the church where his family always sat on Sunday mornings. Alston’s father feared that if they allowed the children to sit farther back they would entertain distraction.

  “Children need to focus on the message,” he said.

  The church was the one place away from home where Alston felt at ease. At the high school, he had to hold himself stiff and present the face of a man older and wiser than he felt. He needed to act mature in order to receive respect. Around town, he had to show that he was an educated city dweller not the farm boy who got teased in high school for being dirty. At home, he had to be the provider for Anne and the head of the household. Things were different at church. He could be himself.

  As he leaned against the wooden pew, Alston noticed the church’s stained glass windows. Each window displayed an ornate design. Considering the age of the church, it was much grander than most would expect. The congregation had a remarkable appreciation for sharing God’s word. Several large endowments allowed them to install the beautiful stained glass windows. Each section depicted Bible stories that the congregation felt were important. It reminded him of days told through history when churches used art to explain scripture to the illiterate.

  Alston’s favorite was the window depicting the Parable of the Prodigal Son. The beautiful slices of colored glass outlined the three men in the story. The father was full of love and forgiveness, looking upon his sons. The two younger men stood in contrast to each other. One son was dutiful while the other was not. As Alston looked upon the glass, he couldn’t stop wondering if perhaps Eliza was the prodigal sister. He began to see himself in the glass as well. He felt like the other brother, dutiful and determined to protect his father’s possessions. In the parable, the younger son had returned. He allowed his mind to dream that one day she would be returned to dutiful behavior like that son.

  He opened his Bible to Luke chapter fifteen. Reading the passage, Alston’s conscience jolted him. He had to forgive just as the father had forgiven his son. Like that very son who threw himself into his father’s arms, Eliza had thrown herself into his at the barn. Over their times of conversations since, she had asked for his forgiveness and love. Alston had no other choice.

  He lowered his head and began to pray.

  “Dear Father, who loves us like no othe
r. I thank you for the opportunity to bring to you my burdens and those of my sister. Please, direct me in how I should bring peace to the situation. Please protect her as she doesn’t understand the gravity of what she’s done with this boy. I pray that I will be a vehicle of peace and forgiveness, yet also one of repentance. Please help me protect her. If the community should find out her secret… Protect Eliza and Eldridge through this ordeal, Lord, for I fear that they need it.”

  Alston raised his head to look again at the colorful stained glass windows that held stories of forgiveness and love. He couldn’t help but feel anger toward his sister for the danger she was putting him in. Even as he prayed, he fought tears of shame, anger, and frustration. Looking at the panels of stained glass to his left, he felt immediately convicted. Alston saw a message that answered his prayer immediately. It was a stained glass depiction of Jesus writing a name in the sand. Alston knew the parable. Jesus had been protecting a prostitute from a stoning that the crowd believed she deserved.

  “Those without sin shall cast the first stone,” Alston whispered. Placing his hands in his pockets he bowed for one final prayer. “I am not without sin, Father. I will not cast a stone. I just pray that you give me the provisions to protect them and their secret.”

  Preoccupied with his own troubles, he didn’t notice that there was a young boy sitting in the pew alone in the pew behind him. Looking around the sanctuary, Alston saw the child’s father speaking with the pastor. The child sat swinging his feet back and forth with the quiet look of boredom on his face. It appeared that the boy was looking at the same stained glass windows that had held Alston’s attention just moments before.

  “You like that window, son?” Alston asked as he turned toward the door.

  “I do. That man looks happy,” replied the little boy, pointing to the father in the Prodigal Son window pane.

  “It’s a story of forgiveness and love. The daddy in that story loves his son and forgives him. We need to remember that we need to forgive the trespasses of others when they repent. I needed the reminder today. Did you?”

  “I guess. What’s a trespass?” he replied.

  Alston winked at the child and tousled his hair. “See you on Sunday,” he said as he walked out of the church sanctuary.

  The boy’s father walked toward him from the rear of the church. After a heated argument with the pastor, his temper had remained. As the man walked over to the pew that held his son, he waved his hand and growled, “Git. Let’s go.”

  “Daddy? Why would somebody pray about a secret?” asked his son as he ran to keep up with his angry father.

  “Why do you need to know? You got one?”

  “No, sir. I don’t keep no secrets. I swear. But Mr. Alston there said that Eliza and that nigger boy Eldridge had a secret. He was praying about it. Why would he need to do that?”

  His father stopped short causing the boy to bump into his father’s legs. The man turned to look at his son. A new flash of anger streaked across the rough, cold eyes of Greer Abernathy. His hands tightened into stiff fists by his side as he tried to hold back the anger.

  “I don’t know, Thomas, but I can tell you that I mean to find out.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lizzie squinted at her alarm clock after several hours of fitful sleep. Reading her great-grandfather’s diary left her dreaming of his fears instead of resting.

  “Four a.m. I guess I’m not sleeping tonight.”

  She eased out of bed trying not to wake Jack as he snored. As she tip-toed downstairs to the kitchen, the only sounds she heard were the creaks of the old farmhouse. She grabbed the tea kettle from the stove and began filling it at the sink. Lizzie looked out the kitchen window across the back field of their property. Her barn was newer in construction, but in her mind’s eye it became the old, run-down barn where Eliza and Eldridge met. She turned on the stove to heat the water for tea and dragged a quilt to her reading chair. After filling her cup with a heaping scoop of loose tea and hot water, she settled in to read more of her great-grandfather’s diary.

  Lizzie snuggled underneath the quilt and took a sip of tea. Jack’s photo on the mantle caught her attention. She had fallen in love with her husband around the same age that Eliza had fallen in love with Eldridge. Lizzie felt another deep connection to the woman who was her namesake. Thumbing through the diary to find her last entry, Lizzie began thinking of herself as Eliza.

  The next few entries in the diary were a quick jumble of emotion. Alston’s entries held little detail of the events of Eliza’s life. Instead of giving Lizzie insight they only created more questions. Shorter entries followed, and Lizzie’s eyes grew heavy. Before she knew it, Jack was waking her up with a kiss as he left the house for work.

  Lizzie wasn’t used to being alone in the house for long periods of time. Thanks to her impromptu vacation, there was nowhere she had to go. The day could be anything that she’d like. Picking up her hands-free Bluetooth ear piece, she called her grandmother while she cleaned the kitchen.

  Gertrude answered the phone on the first ring. “Good morning, darlin’! Did you sleep well?”

  “As a matter of fact I did not. It’s all your fault for getting me hooked on this diary.” Lizzie giggled as she said it. “That father of yours left me confused once again. There was such detail and emotion in some of the entries, but then a few left me with more questions than answers. It was like an emotional roller coaster so I tossed and turned all night.”

  “Did you read about the church?”

  “I did. I had no idea that the window we sat next to each Sunday had a connection to our family.” Lizzie slipped her hands into the sudsy water to wash the morning breakfast dishes. “We have a lot of history in that church.”

  “You’ve had it on all sides. Your people on the Hines side were founders in the town, but you knew that. They were in the pews from the beginning of the church as well. My family was, too. I believe your mama’s people went back several generations as well. Remember, she used to work in the ladies’ garden. Your mama was so talented with those roses.”

  Lizzie stopped washing dishes for a moment. She began to smile at the thought of that many generations in her family together. She could picture them sitting together in the pews; laughing, crying, and singing through services. She was also surprised at how relaxed and comforted she felt confronting a memory of her parents. Normally she would be bristling at the reminder of all the moments she would miss without her mother in her life. The change surprised her.

  Gertrude’s voice brought her back to the present. “Tell me, where are you in the time line? What did you read last?”

  “Eliza was missing, or so your dad thought. Do you know what happened during that time?”

  “Daddy found her. You’re just about to get the details.” Gertrude hesitated. “You should read it for yourself. Why don’t we meet up for some research later? I’m meeting the gals at the library later. Are you in?”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ll drive. See you in an hour.”

  After finishing in the kitchen, Lizzie tossed her clothes in the dryer and showered. It sounded like she was going on an adventure with her grandmother. While she waited for her jeans to dry, she sat down on the bed with the diary.

  She didn’t expect what she was about to read.

  ***

  Diary of Alston James: 2 September 1934

  Eliza is still missing. A few people in town saw her talking with Greer Abernathy. I’m not sure what may have led to that encounter, but I don’t trust that it was a pleasant one if Greer is involved. Our neighbor saw him coming back from the cemetery with his sons just a few hours ago. He suggested I take a walk that way. Anne is begging me to wait until her brother can accompany me.

  My anxiety may not allow me to wait. My journal holds my attention, but not for long.

  I pray that I can bring my sister home safely and give me the insight that I need to handle the situation delicately.

  Please, Lord, protect my
Eliza.

  Alston couldn’t wait any longer.

  “Allie, he’ll be here shortly. Please, don’t go alone,” Anne begged.

  “I have to find her, Anne.”

  Alston ran out the back door of his house to a path that cut through the woods. It wound through thick groves of trees and ended at the top of a hill that faced the cemetery. From the hill, he could see the entire area including the cemetery within its iron gates and the river that ran alongside it. Just beyond the river sat a field that hadn’t been farmed in generations. The geography created the perfect location for those wanting privacy. It was also known as a meeting location for organizations like the Ku Klux Klan.

  Though most men Alston knew in town wanted nothing to do with the Klan, a few caved to the pressure of family or employer. His loose association with them allowed him to be privy to whispers of names. Rumors surrounded the involvement of the Abernathy family. If there were, Alston doubted it was because someone forced Greer into participation. His stomach tied in knots at the thought that Eliza could be in the cemetery. If Greer was there, it would be a dangerous situation.

  Alston ducked under tree limbs as the path opened up to the cemetery. He hurried to look for signs telling him if his sister was there. As he ran past the trees he came to the crest of the hill. Alston’s heart sank as he reached the gates to the cemetery. Panicked, he looked everywhere for his sister. Tied to the iron gate was a length of frayed white cloth. Alston’s blood ran cold. Even though he wasn’t a member, he knew what it meant. There had been a meeting of the KKK.

  “Eliza!” he shouted. “Where are you?”

  Alston saw a short length of rope flicking in the wind from behind an oak tree off in the distance. Alston ran to the tree. As he came near he saw a broken body swinging from the rope that looped over the largest branch. Blood streamed down the man’s face where he had been beaten. His eyes were swollen and his was skin torn in deep, wide cuts. Even with the damage, Alston recognized immediately that the man was just a boy. It was Eldridge.