“When you get ready to go, I’ll be glad to take you,” Mack said.
“I appreciate that. I’ve got some last-minute things to work on, so I’m going up to my room.” She escaped before the tears started streaming down her face. What kind of daughter was she, anyway? Her mother had been gone for five years, and she hadn’t even put flowers on her grave.
Her feet felt like lead as she climbed the narrow staircase. She vowed that she would take flowers, maybe red roses, to her mother’s grave before the weekend was over, and she would definitely go alone. Mack didn’t need to see her all vulnerable and weepy. She grabbed a tissue from her nightstand and wiped her eyes. Then she took out the journal and carried it to Holly’s room.
“What did I do wrong now?” Holly’s tone was cold.
“Do you have a blank notebook?” Lily asked.
“You always buy too many, so yes, I’ve got one,” Holly said. “What’s that got to do with you going to work with Sally?”
“I thought we’d get started on that history project,” Lily said. “This journal was started over a hundred and fifty years ago. Your grandmother’s several-times-back great-grandmother wrote in it first, and it can be your proof of documentation for your project. I suggest that you write your paper like a journal and not only tell about what we read from your ancestors but also write about your feelings on each entry in the journal. What do you think?”
“Can I take that thing to school on the day we hand in our papers so that the teacher will know I’m not just making up a story?” she asked.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Lily said. “We can take a picture of each page and print it out, and then you can glue it right into the notebook. That would be a way of doing graphics, right?”
Holly’s eyes were twinkling with excitement, but knowing her, Lily didn’t expect much—not yet. “I guess we can read the first of it, and then I’ll make up my mind. Did Granny Vera write in it?”
“Yes, she did,” Lily answered, “at the very end. There’s lots of blank pages left for me to write in, and even for you someday.”
“For real?” Holly showed more interest. “You mean someday this will be mine to keep?”
“Yes, and you can do with it whatever you want.” Lily nodded. “You can put it in a museum or keep it and write in it, then pass it down to your daughter.”
Holly brought two clean composition books from her backpack. “All right, let’s look at the first page.”
“Why two?” Lily asked.
“One to take notes in, one to actually write the assignment in,” Holly explained. “Too bad I don’t have a computer, so I could type all the information into it.”
“It’ll be far more effective this way.” Lily opened the journal and read aloud what Ophelia had written in the first entry.
Holly sat in stunned silence, her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide. “Why couldn’t Ophelia take care of things? You did after Daddy left. I can’t believe my kinfolk had slaves. That’s so wrong. A million kids in our schools are black.”
Holly’s question was valid for a fourteen-year-old kid just learning about the horrors of the Civil War. Lily thought about them all for a few seconds while she kind of basked in the comment that Holly had made about her taking care of things. The child would never know how much that simple sentence meant to Lily.
“It was a different time,” Lily finally said. “Women couldn’t vote. People weren’t allowed to be a lot of things. The first female doctor graduated from medical school only a few years before that war broke out, and there were no woman lawyers until after the war.”
“Why?” Holly was aghast.
“Because women hadn’t fought yet for those rights. They were considered weak, and the men had to take care of them,” Lily explained.
“God, I’m glad I didn’t live back then,” Holly said with high drama. “I can’t imagine living like Ophelia did. I’m going to research”—she sighed so loud that she almost snorted—“but I can’t because I don’t have a computer.”
“There’s a whole set of encyclopedias on the bookcase in the living room, and you can always use your free time at school to look things up in the library,” Lily said.
“Whatapedias?” Holly asked.
“Very funny. Go down there and look it up, and I’ll take a picture of this