The Unturned Page
Chapter One
The page was old and the neat, precise writing had faded over the years since it had been written. The words, though, were still easily readable. Sam hesitated to read them, because they were someone's most private thoughts, set in ink but not meant to be read. At least by her. She'd found the small, red leather bound book a week before while she was looking through a box of her mother's things that she had found in her attic. She hadn't even known they were there until her father had asked her to get some things for him. She had picked it up without thinking and a faded, slightly torn photo had fallen out of the book to float gently to the floor. It was a picture of her parent's wedding.
Her father was standing, tall and proud in his dress uniform, next to her mother, who looked stunningly beautiful in her flowing white silk dress, which contrasted well with her dark hair and eyes. Their hands were clasped tightly together, and they were looking into each other's eyes, making promises to each other that she could only guess at. On the bottom right corner of the photograph, her father had written the date, their ages and the place. She traced his writing with a forefinger. Sam felt a tear roll down her cheek as she looked at the photo. The couple there was so happy and in love that it shone, even from the torn dusty picture clutched in her shaking hand. Someday, she hoped to be in love like that.
She took a deep breath and put the picture down gently on the low cherry- wood table in front of her and picked up the worn book with loving fingers. The red leather felt smooth and supple beneath her gentle fingers. She opened the book to the first page, which stated her mother's name and the date in precise, neat handwriting so much like her own. The once black ink had faded to a warm purple color on the lined, yellowed page. The pages of the book still held traces of the violet and rose scented perfume her mother used to wear. The scent brought back a rush of memories from her childhood.
*F* She was being held in warm, caring arms as her mother read a fairy tale to her one night before bed. A gentle hand brushing her long, blond hair from her face as she settled into her bed when the story was finished. A soft kiss on her forehead followed by a loving, murmured 'goodnight, sleep well, darling.' Just before the room lights were switched off, leaving her able to see the glow-in-the-dark star constellations they had stuck on her ceiling as a family. *F*
Back in the present, Sam wiped a tear she didn't know she had shed from her face with a shaking hand. Recalling the memories of her dear mother were hard, but at the same time, Sam needed to remember her. She knew that the few memories she had of her childhood were even more precious and special to her now that she was working as the SGC, where she risked her life on an almost daily basis. Sam realized that she had been staring at the book for a long time and turned the page to find a neatly written journal entry, dated on her birth date. She realized that her mother had written the entry after she had been born and felt a rush of warmth. The love her mother felt for her newborn daughter was evident from the first few words on the page.
*^W^* Today, at 12.10 am on May 3rd, 1967, my first daughter was born. Jacob and I have decided to call her Samantha, after my mother. The birth was easy, almost painless even. Samantha has the bluest eyes I have ever seen, even on a newborn baby. The nurses tell me that all babies have blue eyes and that they will fade as she grows, but somehow, I don't think that they will. Jacob has her in his arms, now, as I write this. She's laying there contently, her huge blue eyes focused on her father's face as he feeds her with concentration he's only previously shown when planning battles. Oh, I suppose I don't really mean that. Watching them now, I can almost see the bond developing between them that I hope will never be severed. *^W^*
Sam put down the book and stared at it's cover, while she let what she had read sink in. Even after reading only one page, she felt closer to her mother than she ever had before. She still missed her mom like one might a limb, but over the years, she had come to accept the loss, even if she still hated the gaping hole her mom's death had left in her life. She sighed heavily and looked at her delicate silver watch. It was only ten o'clock, but Sam decided to call it a night and go to bed. She left the book on the side table where she had left it.
Halfway up the stairs, a sudden, strong urge made her turn and pick up both the book and the photo, cradling them to her chest like a child might it's favorite toy. She took both items upstairs with her, leaving them lying in the very center of the double bed while she took a quick shower. She didn't dare take the journal and photo into the bathroom with her in case the steam ruined them. When she came out of the shower some ten minutes later, dressed in nothing but an oversize tee shirt and a pair of panties, she moved the journal and photo onto her bedside table. Sam considered reading some more, but decided against it as she had an early start the next morning. After touching the small book one last time, she turned out the light and instantly settled into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter One
The page was old and the neat, precise writing had faded over the years since it had been written. The words, though, were still easily readable. Sam hesitated to read them, because they were someone's most private thoughts, set in ink but not meant to be read. At least by her. She'd found the small, red leather bound book a week before while she was looking through a box of her mother's things that she had found in her attic. She hadn't even known they were there until her father had asked her to get some things for him. She had picked it up without thinking and a faded, slightly torn photo had fallen out of the book to float gently to the floor. It was a picture of her parent's wedding.
Her father was standing, tall and proud in his dress uniform, next to her mother, who looked stunningly beautiful in her flowing white silk dress, which contrasted well with her dark hair and eyes. Their hands were clasped tightly together, and they were looking into each other's eyes, making promises to each other that she could only guess at. On the bottom right corner of the photograph, her father had written the date, their ages and the place. She traced his writing with a forefinger. Sam felt a tear roll down her cheek as she looked at the photo. The couple there was so happy and in love that it shone, even from the torn dusty picture clutched in her shaking hand. Someday, she hoped to be in love like that.
She took a deep breath and put the picture down gently on the low cherry- wood table in front of her and picked up the worn book with loving fingers. The red leather felt smooth and supple beneath her gentle fingers. She opened the book to the first page, which stated her mother's name and the date in precise, neat handwriting so much like her own. The once black ink had faded to a warm purple color on the lined, yellowed page. The pages of the book still held traces of the violet and rose scented perfume her mother used to wear. The scent brought back a rush of memories from her childhood.
*F* She was being held in warm, caring arms as her mother read a fairy tale to her one night before bed. A gentle hand brushing her long, blond hair from her face as she settled into her bed when the story was finished. A soft kiss on her forehead followed by a loving, murmured 'goodnight, sleep well, darling.' Just before the room lights were switched off, leaving her able to see the glow-in-the-dark star constellations they had stuck on her ceiling as a family. *F*
Back in the present, Sam wiped a tear she didn't know she had shed from her face with a shaking hand. Recalling the memories of her dear mother were hard, but at the same time, Sam needed to remember her. She knew that the few memories she had of her childhood were even more precious and special to her now that she was working as the SGC, where she risked her life on an almost daily basis. Sam realized that she had been staring at the book for a long time and turned the page to find a neatly written journal entry, dated on her birth date. She realized that her mother had written the entry after she had been born and felt a rush of warmth. The love her mother felt for her newborn daughter was evident from the first few words on the page.
*^W^* Today, at 12.10 am on May 3rd, 1967, my first daughter was born. Jacob and I have decided to call her Samantha, after my mother. The birth was easy, almost painless even. Samantha has the bluest eyes I have ever seen, even on a newborn baby. The nurses tell me that all babies have blue eyes and that they will fade as she grows, but somehow, I don't think that they will. Jacob has her in his arms, now, as I write this. She's laying there contently, her huge blue eyes focused on her father's face as he feeds her with concentration he's only previously shown when planning battles. Oh, I suppose I don't really mean that. Watching them now, I can almost see the bond developing between them that I hope will never be severed. *^W^*
Sam put down the book and stared at it's cover, while she let what she had read sink in. Even after reading only one page, she felt closer to her mother than she ever had before. She still missed her mom like one might a limb, but over the years, she had come to accept the loss, even if she still hated the gaping hole her mom's death had left in her life. She sighed heavily and looked at her delicate silver watch. It was only ten o'clock, but Sam decided to call it a night and go to bed. She left the book on the side table where she had left it.
Halfway up the stairs, a sudden, strong urge made her turn and pick up both the book and the photo, cradling them to her chest like a child might it's favorite toy. She took both items upstairs with her, leaving them lying in the very center of the double bed while she took a quick shower. She didn't dare take the journal and photo into the bathroom with her in case the steam ruined them. When she came out of the shower some ten minutes later, dressed in nothing but an oversize tee shirt and a pair of panties, she moved the journal and photo onto her bedside table. Sam considered reading some more, but decided against it as she had an early start the next morning. After touching the small book one last time, she turned out the light and instantly settled into a dreamless sleep.