Different Eyes: Prologue

One did not simply enter my great-grandmother's attic. I remember being little, maybe two or three, and being told to "Get off the stairs to the attic, you have no business up there" more than once. After her death, I remember some of the boxes coming out of the attic and my grandmother instantly claiming them as her's. I was five.

When I was 20, my grandfather died and two years later, my grandmother passed away. Being her oldest granddaughter, I was expected to help find all the items she had left to her children and grandchildren. I was finally allowed into the secret-keeping hold that was her walk-in-closet. Closest to the door were the clothes she wore the most often, church clothes mostly. There was a hanging rack full of afghans, and I contemplated taking one for my new apartment. I emptied out the clothes and began neatly boxing them, remembering times when she wore this skirt or that blazer. Or that ridiculous Christmas sweater she insisted on wearing every year to my winter violin recital, much to my embarrassment in middle school.

I emptied out the afghans, picked out my favorite, and placed the remaining ones in bags for my cousins.

I spent three days cataloging and boxing her things. Old clothes, jewelry, shoes that would never fit me, and some mementos were carefully wrapped in paper and packed away. My cousins, aunts, and uncles came an picked up their shares; some boxes were mailed to the more distant ones.

That still left two mysterious trunks in the bottom of the very back of her closet. They were old trunks, covered in years of dust, and both locked. I had searched for the key while I was clearing out her room, but never found one that fit either trunk. Still, I was a decent lock-pick, and as I loaded the two trunks and my small share of her clothes and jewelry into the back of my Honda Element, I couldn't help but wonder what was hidden in the trunks, and what two hairpins and some patience would unlock.

Two days of driving later, I arrived at my apartment. My boyfriend lounged on the sofa, watching basketball and enjoying one of the few beers we kept in our apartment.

"Hey, Jo," he said, barely looking up from the game.

"You wanna help me with these boxes?" I asked over the sound of the end of half buzzer.

"I guess."

And so Matt helped me carry my two boxes and two trunks up the flight of stairs to our apartment. I took the clothes and jewelry and things out of the boxes; hung what needed hanging, and stored the rest appropriately.

I then sat down to the task of opening the trunks. I opened the first in just under three minutes; the second in two minutes flat. I nervously opened the first, unsure what I'd find inside.

There was a hatbox and several layers of slightly yellowed tissue paper. I took out the hatbox. I lifted out the tissue and found a dress that would have made the recently-married Duchess of Cambridge squeal with envy. Pale purple silk chiffon covered similarly colored silk. A purple ribbon adorned the waist. The whole thing felt well-preserved, but almost as if it would fall apart if it was touched too much.

Beneath the purple dress was a layer of tissue and then a simple white cotton calico dress, with a wide collar and a picture of a girl in what I assumed was the dress, and a huge white hat with flowers on it. Beneath that dress was purple blouse and a long grey skirt.

There were a few pictures scattered at the bottom of the trunk, mostly of the girl in the first picture with two or three other girls, and one of her with a handsome blonde man. The pictures looked to be about a hundred years old, if the clothes were an indication.

I guessed there would be similar things in the second, larger trunk. I was both right and wrong.

Inside were a pair of boots that actually buttoned and looked like they might fit my feet. There was another hatbox, which I removed, and then there was yet another dress, this one in a dark teal with an empire waist. There were also a pair of matching silk gloves. I held the dress up to my body. It looked like it just might fit me, which would be unusual, considering my tiny waist and generous hips and bust.

That's when I saw two more boxes in the bottom of the trunk. They were Nike shoe boxes, which was odd considering the nature of the clothes I had found in the trunks.

I lifted one out. It was heavy. Quite heavy. I opened the lid and found several books and a mass of letters, tied together with a frayed, faded ribbon. The other box had a mix of letters and neatly wrapped ceramic figures.

"Jo, second half is starting, want to watch?"

I lifted out a book, clearly labeled as a diary.

"No, Matt, I'm unpacking."

"Suit yourself."

Dear Mama,

I am greatly enjoying my stay at Downton. My sincerest thanks, once again, for letting me stay.

Today, Mary and I went to Ripon to pick up some things for his Lordship's library...

I put down the letter. I think I'll start in the diary, instead.