Finding Eliza (11 page)

The women sat together for a little longer, each telling tales of the past and teasing Lizzie about her new found interest. Lizzie hadn’t been this happy in quite a while, and she suspected that the ladies felt the same way.

Chapter Ten

Memories of the past flooded Lizzie's mind as she walked up the stone steps of her grandmother’s gray two-story house. She could picture Jack at the door for their first date and the photographer directing their movements during their wedding photos. She remembered the hours she and Gertrude spent hanging holiday decorations together. Rather than head home before meeting Jack for dinner, Lizzie spent the afternoon with her grandmother. She relished the chance to spend the afternoon asking questions about her grandfather. Gertrude welcomed the company.

The house wasn’t large by today’s standards, but it was large enough for those who lived there throughout the years. The porch stretched from the left wall of the home across to the right. Unlike Lizzie’s farmhouse, Gertrude’s porch extended only across the front. Since she was a little girl, the porch was always the perfect place for a deep conversation.

Lizzie leaned against a long pillar at the corner formed between the steps and the porch. She gazed up through the rafters and noticed each weathered board. “Gran, do you ever think about moving out of this big house?”

“Not on your life. Your grandfather saved his money to provide this house for his family. I inherited it from him. Your father would have received it next, but one day it will be given to you. This place is going to stay in our family unless you decide otherwise. Its fate rests on your shoulders. Treat her right or I’ll haunt you,” her grandmother said with a devious smile.

Gertrude sat down on the porch swing that hung at the far right side of the porch. Patting the seat she said, “Come swing with me, dear.”

Lizzie took her usual seat next to her grandmother. When she was a little girl, she spent hours sitting on this swing, rocking back and forth as she dreamed of her life as an adult. The chains holding the swing in place gave a familiar creak as her weight shifted into position next to her grandmother. The wood was smooth despite its age. The swing had withstood the elements well over the years. Granted, there was no snow to weigh it down or rot the wood. Rain didn’t beat in past the overhanging porch roof unless a large storm came through. The swing stood strong and looked as if it were promising Lizzie that it would be here another twenty years.

“What was your father like, Gran?”

“Oh, my. He was a fine gentleman. You would have liked him, and he would have liked you. He loved to work with his hands. You know that he was a woodworker, right? He taught Wood Shop at the high school. See that railing? He made that and carved the detail by hand. I remember the summer that he put it in. This porch didn’t have side rails like that when I was little. My mother just knew that I was going to fall off and crack my head wide open, so she made my father put one in. My father didn’t do anything half way. He took all summer carving the designs around each spindle. It made my mother crazy! She just wanted a simple railing so her daughter wouldn’t fall. Daddy knew it would be more important than that. He knew that townspeople would be walking by seeing his work on their way to church or school. It led to other jobs around town as people made changes to their homes. He had foresight. He also made it for you, dear.”

“No, he didn’t, Gran!”

“Yes, he did. He knew that if it was properly made it would be here for future generations like you.”

“I’m glad that he made the time to make it beautiful then. He was quite talented,” Lizzie said. “You should be proud.”

Gertrude smiled at her granddaughter. “He was a quiet fellow, but he loved to talk with family and friends. He just wasn’t the loudest in the bunch. He liked to keep a low profile.”

“Do you think that influenced how he handled the situation with Eliza and her boyfriend?”

“Most likely. He wasn’t one to bring attention to himself. His woodworking was different. In real life, he liked it quiet.” Gertrude paused. “He loved her deeply, you know. As a big brother he felt responsible for every bad choice that she made. Her victories were her own to celebrate, but he felt that her failures were in part his responsibility.”

“What happened to Eliza?” Lizzie was impatient to know the full story. Learning the story in small increments was excruciating. She wanted to rush to the answer so she could understand more about her great-grandfather. She began to feel uneasy when she considered how much about her family she didn’t know. As of now, there was a large void of answers. She was desperate to find out what happened.

“You’ll learn more as you keep reading the diary. I can’t tell you yet. It’s like the end of a movie. You just have to get there for yourself or I’ll ruin it.” Gertrude stood from the swing. “I forgot to tell you that I looked through some boxes last night after I talked with you on the phone. I found something that I think you’ll like.”

Gertrude and Lizzie wiped their feet on the rough welcome mat and walked through the front door. Typical for its period, the home's front door opened into a wide foyer and hallway. Rooms placed on each side of the hall transitioned from the more formal in the front of the building to the informal kitchen in the back. The first room to the left of the foyer was the sitting room. Lizzie noticed a stack of photo albums sitting on the end of the coffee table near the front sofa. The thinnest album in the collection lay open in the center of the table.

“Did you bring those down by yourself? You’re going to hurt yourself one of these days.”

“It was worth it. I found a photo of Eliza, and I wanted you to see it.”

Gertrude lifted the photo from an old black paper album littered with crooked photos that had tattered edges. She held it out to Lizzie for her to examine. Lizzie’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced down to see three beautiful young women standing with arms linked on a red dirt country road. Farm land stretched behind them with fields of cotton dotting the landscape. The girls looked no more than fifteen years old. Lizzie knew immediately which one was Eliza. It was like looking into a mirror. It could have been a high school photo of Lizzie staring back at her.

“Gran, is that Eliza in the middle?”

“Good eye, my dear!” Gertrude was thrilled that Lizzie noticed the resemblance as well. “She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Her voice trailed off as she stared lovingly at the photograph.

Lizzie never considered her own face to be beautiful. She would believe pretty, but not beautiful. Seeing Eliza in this way brought a new perspective. There was no arguing Eliza’s beauty. Lizzie shared her same dark hair that fell gently around the curves of her face. She had the same piercing eyes that caught the attention of those looking at her. The old photograph made Eliza’s skin tone look like porcelain. She seemed so happy. Lizzie could imagine the laughter shared between the girls as they stood linked arm in arm like partners in crime. Eliza’s head leaned so that it rested on the shoulder of the taller girl to her left.

“Who are these two,” Lizzie asked as she pointed to the other girls in the photograph.

“I’m not positive, but they remind me of my aunts on my mother’s side. I suppose that they could be her friends. Either way, this photo shows a happy young lady without a care in the world. Doesn’t it? This would have been right around the time my father’s diary entries began. She had such innocence here. I’m glad the camera captured how happy she was.”

“What do you know about your Aunt Eliza? Who she was and what she was like?”

“She was a beautiful soul. My father talked about her like she hung the moon.” Gertrude placed the photograph back into the album. As she talked, she flipped pages gently pausing to let her fingertips run lightly over the faces in other photographs. “She was the youngest of his siblings. As the oldest he was often in charge of looking after her when her parents were either in the fields or otherwise engaged. They were extremely close. I think that had she lived, Eliza would have been a constant figure in my life. Her loss greatly affected her family.”

“You said that the diary talks about what happened to her, or how her life ended.”

Gertrude reached over to hug Lizzie around the shoulders. “You’re so impatient, my dear. We’ll talk about it when you get to that point. Until then, let’s look at some photos.”

Lizzie sat on the floor like she had as a child, searching through album after album. As her grandmother shared family stories, Lizzie saw faces and personalities emerge. Lives that she didn’t know existed became three dimensional. Bit by bit, Lizzie learned the stories that connected the generations in her family tree. Names grew into full and complex individuals as she learned that some had children while others struggled. Mothers held fast to their children as their husbands fought in the military and made history through war after war. Finances were destroyed when The Great Depression landed in Everett Springs. Vivid stories of horrific events spelled disaster for relatives that she hadn’t known existed. Throughout each story, Lizzie began to see a theme develop. Each person learned to move through tragedy to become stronger. As one photo album closed another would open.

Reaching into the pile for a new album, Lizzie grabbed one bound in red leather. “Hey, this is one of Mama’s old albums.” She smoothed her hands over the embossed
H
that sat in the middle of the front cover. Lizzie opened the album and turned to the first page. In the center of the page was the last family photo Lizzie had taken with her parents. The photograph was perfect. Her mother’s smile glowed. Rather than looking ahead, her father turned his face to look upon his family with adoration.

Lizzie found herself thinking about that night. The accident wasn’t her father’s fault, but it didn’t matter. Lizzie’s father was driving them home from a church event when the weather shifted without warning. A normal Wednesday evening turned into her worst nightmare. The storm started off as a gentle rain. Within a few minutes, the winds were heavy and the thunder crashed like the sound of dynamite exploding overhead. Hail began to pound against the car like gunfire. Lightning flashed like fireballs. At twelve years old, Lizzie thought she was brave but that storm scared her more than anything had before in her short life.

As Lizzie started thinking about the storm, the emotions of that night came rushing back. She could still hear her mother’s screams erupt from the seat in front of her. Looking through her grandmother into the past, her eyes saw her dad try to gain control of the car. All Lizzie could do from the backseat was hold onto the door handle and pray. She felt helpless, and in a few short minutes she would be helpless, too. She could feel the vinyl under her as the seatbelt tightened her against the back of the seat. The car spun around and around the small, two-lane road in slow motion.

Lizzie raised her hand to touch the scar on her forehead where she hit the glass window. Then, her memories of that night went black. Lizzie had no memory of what happened next. She only remembered waking up in the hospital with Gertrude sitting next to her singing Amazing Grace. Only Lizzie had survived the crash. From that moment on, Lizzie lived with the loss of her parents and the pain of final memories. Lizzie carried the weight of the accident with her daily. If she hadn’t begged her parents to stay for the children’s ministry event at church, Elton and Grace Hines would be alive.

The room around her spun back into focus. Lizzie could hear her grandmother talking to her about the family photo that Lizzie now held in her hand.

“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.