2. Valuables

The items that occupied the empty space under the three five-inch wide floorboards were mystifying. It took me a few seconds to get over the shock of my astonishing discovery before I could even think about rummaging through the expensive items.

I couldn't figure out where to start. CDs, jewelry and pictures were spread haphazardly in the space; each item looked as if to be hurled in there. Some of the CD cases were shattered, some pictures creased, and some of the jagged edges of the jewelry were stuck in the bottom of the opening, sticking up and letting sparkles of light reflect off the gems as brilliant as possible with only the dim light bulbs as their resource.

When I finally found the courage, I started organizing the CDs, cleaning off the dust and recovering the ones that had been out of their case for so long with the CD cleaner I found within the items. That was when I found the last CD. It was in a clear case, and it looked like the only item that was carefully put into the bottom of the floor. The CD itself was labeled "Compositions" in flawless script handwriting, and I couldn't fight the sudden curiosity that ignited my veins at that moment.

I loped out of the closet took out the ending 1950s CD and replaced it with the mysterious CD I had found. When I closed the drive and hit play, a mystifying symphony eased out of the speakers, almost hypnotizing me to close my eyes and be calm. I just couldn't believe my ears as the composer gently strolled his fingers up and down the piano keys, instantly relaxing my mind and making me feel Zen. It was overwhelming that I'd never heard this beautiful piece before or that it was never popular, almost to the point of putting tears to my eyes.

I sat on my bed, abnormally peaceful for once in my life until the intriguing song ended, but as the next song trilled the familiar tune I had just discovered on the Musical Home, I sat straight up in bed. The Lullaby. Was it possible that the same composer that wrote these pieces of art actually played them for the first time on the grand piano in the foyer? The thought caused chills to run down my back once again.

After listening to the Lullaby, I went back into the closet to look through the opening in the floor. I started looking through the jewelry; every piece was breath-taking, like they were custom made for an angel. After putting all the delicate arts into a velvet interior box I had for my nicest jewelry, I left one I found; a perfect necklace to go with my blouse that I would wear tomorrow, one that was appealing but subtle enough for me to wear. It was a dime sized sapphire bounded to a silky black ribbon to be worn as a choker, one that matched my eyes.

After I put the box of priceless jewelry on my desk, I returned to the closet nervously to look through the pictures. There were only three eight by tens in the floor, but each were intriguing. The first one I picked up was a picture of a man and a bored-looking pre-teen girl standing on a beach. The man had brown hair and brown eyes like the girl, so I inferred he was her father. The father had one arm awkwardly around his daughter's shoulder, and his other hand occupied a fishing pole with a good-sized salmon on its hook. He was beaming over his accomplishment, while the girl's half smile looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but on the beach fishing with her dad. I snickered at the photo; I could easily relate.

When we lived in Honolulu, my dad would insist on bringing his entire side of the family on the yacht that we had for a fishing trip every year. On his side of the family, there were no cousins that were my age; they were all the same age as the twin demons. So, as you can imagine they turned them against me for the past couple of years, and since the adults would just get completely intoxicated on Pina Coladas, I would just sit in my room of the yacht and watch the DHDTV the whole three days. I was always bored out of my mind, and it took all my will power not to throw myself off the side of the boat when I was outside listening watching my family throw their heads back in laughter at the stupidest things, and seeing my cousins and sisters look at me with their eyes as slits.

After looking over the piece of history once more, I turned it over and found the words "Me and Charlie, 1998". That was just over 110 years ago. Was that bored little girl in the faded picture the one who left the beautiful compositions in her floor for posterity?

In the next photo, I found out that answer was probably a no. In this picture, however, the head of the man's figure sitting at the piano was cut neatly cut out, which puzzled me. When I turned it over, I realized it was out of desperation to keep the memory of a loved one vivid in their mind. On the back it said, "The love of my life, 2009." Was this girl not only forced to leave her home, but the love of her life behind, too? The thought brought stinging tears into my eyes, but I quickly blinked them back and threw the picture back into the floor when I heard a knock at my bedroom door.

"Ava, honey? Can I come in?" my mother asked.

"Sure, Mom, just a second!" I called out, leaping out of the closet and shutting the door behind me.

She opened up the door and saw my frazzled expression. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Yeah, mom, I'm fine, what's going on?" I said a bit too fast, but she was convinced.

"We were getting ready to eat the buffet we ordered, why don't you go on downstairs, I wanted to look at the closet for a few…"

"NO!" I said a little too loud. "No," I corrected myself, "the foundation of the floor is seriously crumbling in there, no wonder it was locked up so tight. I tried taking one step onto the floor, and the creaks that came out of that wood were not very reassuring."

My mother's fascinated expression was gone then, a little bit saddened even, but surprisingly, she didn't push any further. "Okay, I'll take your word for it. The workers, as I said, are coming next week. Are you ready for dinner?"

"Yeah. I'll be down in a minute."

"Okay." My mother said as she left the room.

I let out a sigh of relief, leaned on the door of the closet and slid down to the floor, deep in thought. So, she didn't push to see the interior of the closet today. She was exhausted, I knew she wouldn't. But what about tomorrow? Heck, she wouldn't even bother asking for my permission tomorrow, she'd just waltz right in while I was at school. No. She could not get into that closet and find the valuables of the people who last occupied this home. I knew exactly what she would do if she did.

First, she'd make a big fuss over the historic items she found to my father, then to the friends she'd soon be making with her outgoing personality here, then to the local paper, then to the local news, and soon all of these beautiful items would end up in some "Forks Museum". No way. I could not let this happen to these people's things. They trusted they would be safe in the closet floor, and I was going to keep it that way.

Before I went down for dinner, I started shoving the items into the available drawer space in my room until my mother called my name again. I left the rest in the closet, I'd just have to put the rest in later, and I didn't want my mother getting suspicious.

I loped down the dimly lit hallway and down the long curved staircase. My mother had lit up the dining room by dimming the LEDs, and long candles were lined up the long dark wooden table. The food was already on my plate and at my seat, and my mother stood when I sat down, ready to give her annual new house speech. I knew the drill. She'd talk, laugh, and or cry about the struggles and triumphs of her finished project, we'd eat, then she'd give us more material love, or as she liked to call it, a house warming gift.

She gave her speech like she had just received an academy award. There were a lot of thank yous to people I'd never heard of, but the speech was surprisingly shorter than it usually was in the past houses we'd moved to. I guess we'd moved so many times, it was second nature to us, like we'd be ready to pack up and move next month, week or day if we had to.

When she sat down, my mother continued talking to my dad, the twins whispered and giggled with each other, and naturally, I ate in silence. This let me think about my first day at Forks High School that would be tomorrow. How was I going to be able to leave a legacy there when there wasn't even a music department mentioned in the pamphlet? And friends? Everyone was going to look at me as the rich girl who moved into that haunted house or something. I'd never had a problem with friends before, I made them easily, but I was usually where I unfortunately belonged, in a private school filled with snooty rich girls who only wore brand names and parked the newest cars in the parking lot. How was I going to fit in here? The fact that we moved into this old house was already in the news paper… I couldn't pretend that I didn't live here. Plus, when they heard my last name, they would know that my father owned the money-conceiving shuttling company. Should I live my junior year in oblivion? Or be the outgoing, friendly person I naturally am?

All these questions still went unanswered when my father clapped six times for the House Cleaner to turn on, and soon enough, the robotic hands came down and picked up our plates and cups to be put into the dishwasher.

"Girls, you know what time it is!" my mother called to us, beaming.

The twins squealed in agreement, and I just trudged in behind them. When we reached the family room, the twins started screaming and ran to their house warming gifts that were laid out on the couch. They were pea coats from their favorite, extravagantly expensive brand name. Alicia ran to the deep purple one while Alison ran to the royal blue one. As they hugged and giggled with their new coats on, my mother took pictures while my father looked on, smiling.

I stood there, confused. I didn't see anything for me… not that I really cared. Maybe she forgot, I thought. This triggered an idea into my head. If she forgot, maybe she'd feel so bad she'd embrace me for a minute and promise to take me to Seattle next weekend to get something. If she felt bad enough, maybe she'd make hot chocolate for us on this cold night, and we'd laugh at a re-run of an old sitcom, like normal mothers and daughters do. I put my plan into effect.

"Mom, where's my present?" I asked, trying to sound as childish as possible.

"Oh, Ava!" she said, as if forgetting I existed for the moment. "Yours is out in the garage…"

"Mom! Look at this!" Alicia shouted, doing a model pose with Alison.

"Oh, girls, you look so beautiful! I can't believe how big my twins are! Keep on striking those poses." She said, snapping more pictures. "Ava, your present's in the garage. We'll meet you out there." She said, flicking her wrist as if shooing me away.

What? Was I ruining the family of four moment? My mouth hung open and I shook my head as hot tears formed again in my eyes when I ran out of the family room in and out to the garage, not that anybody saw nor cared about my melodramatic exit. I could still hear them laughing and my mother cooing as I turned on the light in the dark, cold garage. And there was my house warming present.

It was an antique yellow porch, one probably from the early 2000s, which was restored with a hydro-electric engine. It was amazing. A dream car. But all I could do at the moment was let the tears ooze from my eyes, the ones that had been building up from the beginning of the night. When was I ever going to find the real love I'd been aching for my entire life? Was I ever going to find the place I belonged in this big world?

I opened the door to the priceless antique and slid onto the new leather seat; my mother had probably got the car restored, too. I turned the key that was already in the ignition, and the satellite radio turned on automatically to a punk metal station that I would usually never listen to, but fit my new mood, and cried into my hands in private.

When I was finally done and listening to my usual classical station, I looked at the clock. A half hour had passed and no one had come out yet. At that point, I didn't even care anymore. I just got up out of the car and trudged back into the house.

When I got in, I found my family eating desert at the kitchen table, talking to each other like a regular family. When I slammed the door, they all turned to see the disturbance, and my mother slapped her hand to her head.

"Oh! Ava!" she exclaimed for the second time that night, "How do you like your car? It was left here by the owners… I got it restored so you can drive it to school in style in only a few more days!"

I faked a smile. "I love it, Mom, it's perfect."

"Good. Do you want some cake?"

"No, I think I'm going to shower and call it a night."

"Okay then. Goodnight, Ava."

"Love you, honey." My dad piped in.

"Goodnight." I said dully, and dragged myself up to my room. I still had one more picture to look at.

When I shut the door behind me and locked it, I went into the closet and picked up the last picture, and I couldn't believe my eyes.

Three angel-like figures sat in the photo. A man, a woman and a child. It must have been the fading of the old picture, but the woman's eyes almost looked yellow as they beamed down at the child. Her hair was brown and wavy, and sat perfectly on her shoulders as she sat with the child on her lap and held the child's hand with one of her hands, and the man's with the other. The man was absolutely gorgeous. He had blond hair classically styled on his head, and he looked down at the woman with loving yellowish eyes. The child was laughing, her bronze colored curls, like the lock I found on the dress in the closet, were hanging down almost waist length. Her brown eyes were glowing at who ever held the camera, someone she loved just as much as the two people in the photo. The three angelic creatures in the photo had pale white skin.

Intensely fascinated by the photo, I turned it over to see the description. "Grandma Esme, Grandpa Carlisle and Renesmee Cullen. 2008."

Grandma and Grandpa? There was no way they were grandparents. They were incredibly youthful and flawless; they looked like they were in their twenties. But that only occupied my thoughts for merely a moment. The people in the picture were an exact match to the real love I was looking for. How they looked at each other, how they held each other, how that little girl Renesmee looked at the person holding the camera. And at that moment, I wondered if I'd ever find that kind of love as long as I would live.