He’d opened up so much in the last twenty-four hours. He deserved at least some of her trust while she considered where they went from here.
“Your grandmother left a diary behind. Just one. It’s from 1972—the year Esther was twenty-two. I found it upstairs when I was looking for something else.” The words tumbled out of her mouth and the relief was considerable. Knowing about the diary had been like an itchy label in the neck of a new sweater, and finally sharing it with Jackson went halfway to unpicking the label’s stitching. “There was a photo in it, too. Of her and Hazel. I meant to ask you if I could give it to Hazel.”
“Of course.” Jackson didn’t seem bothered and she grappled for a way to explain the rest.
Go big or go home.
“I’ve read some of it. I know I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.” Leah fidgeted and Jackson raised an eyebrow. “I was looking through some old notepads under her bed for some book information and the diary was right there at the bottom of the pile. I opened it before I realized what it was.”
“That’s OK.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him, tilting his head up to the sun in a way that whispered relaxation.It looked good on him. She smiled. “Esther talks a lot about the things she got up to with Hazel and your grandfather—they’d just started dating. But half of it’s missing. It’s a little strange—”
“Strange in what way?” He cracked an eye and Leah leaped to her feet.
“Wait here.” Running upstairs, Leah retrieved the diary, returned to the veranda, and plopped down, breathless. She pushed it into his hands. “Turn to the end.”
Jackson tried to give it back. “Why don’t you read it to me?”
“Take a look,” she urged. “You need to see it yourself.”
He stared at her hard, a little guarded, a little wary. She squeezed his leg and Jackson nodded, flipping the book over and opening the cover. The trust he gave her glowed like an ember in Leah’s chest.
It took him a moment, his eyebrows raising as he read each word. “‘I hate him, I hate him, I hate him’? Who does she hate? What’s she talking about?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t say. The rest of the diary is pretty light-hearted. It’s scattered and chatty and full of things like bike rides and shopping and going to the movies with Hazel. Innocent times.”
“Maybe she fell out with my grandfather.”
“I don’t think so.” Leah was pretty sure. “She writes such lovely things about him and always uses his name. This guy—the one she hates—she calls The Creep.”
Jackson read another few entries. He flipped the diary over in his hands. It was small and feminine between his fingers. “Have you shown this to Hazel?”
“Not yet. I wanted to show it to you first.”
“Thank you.” His eyes softened, and after another mouthful of toast he suggested, “Let’s go and see her, together.”
They found Hazel filling the bird feeders on her front porch. Her face lit up as they approached the carriage house and she gave a satisfied nod. “Well, this is a treat! What can I do for you two?”
“I found a diary.” Leah jumped straight in. “It’s Esther’s, from when you were in your early twenties.”
“Interesting.” Hazel bent down to pick up a stray peanut. It evaded her fingers for quite some time. “Why don’t I make a pot of tea and you can show me?” she suggested when she finally straightened again.
Jackson carried the tray out onto her compact porch and they sat at a small, circular table. Although Leah knew he’d prefer coffee, Jackson sipped without comment, holding the delicate teacup with care. Leah passed the diary over and, because the latter half had been ripped from the binding, it fell brokenly open on those final pages. She winced a little at the capitalized script shouting up from Hazel’s lap. The old lady’s eyebrows rose, then settled as she gently traced the slashed, green words that sprawled furiously across the page.
“She was a fireball, wasn’t she?” Hazel murmured, misty admiration lighting her eyes. “I’ve often thought she was the most fabulous person I’ll ever know.” Her finger between the pages, she closed the book, looked at the front cover for a moment, and opened it again. “I’ve never seen this before. I didn’t know she kept a diary.”
“It’s the only one I found. In a suitcase under her bed.” Leah took a sip of her tea. “I showed Jax this morning.”
Hazel nodded and stared out across the front yard. She seemed lost in thought, one foot in the past.
Leah exchanged a glance with Jackson and twisted the silver ring on her thumb. “Can you tell us anything you remember about this time?”
The old lady studied an entry which read simply:
Esther Hale.
Esther May Hale.
Mrs. Esther Hale.
