Free Finding Eliza by Stephanie Pitcher Fishman Page A

out her soul to her best friend. She told her older brother about the love she had for the boy who she had met walking home from town one afternoon.
    “Eliza, you can’t be serious. A white girl and a colored boy isn’t just against the law, baby. It’s dangerous.”
    “But he loves me, Allie,” said Eliza.
    Alston rubbed his forehead and tried to think of a way to make his sister understand. “I’m not just concerned for you. It’s me and Anne, Mama and Daddy, even Eldridge and his family. You’re too young to understand.”
    “No, I'm not. I understand what life should be like. The only thing I don't understand is what it is. Eldridge should have been standing here meeting my big brother instead of running home. He shouldn't be worried about an angry wood shop teacher chasing him through a field. That’s what’s wrong. Please, Allie, you have to keep my secret.” Eliza stopped sobbing long enough to look up at her brother.
    “Eliza, I just don’t know if I can.”

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
    The drama in the journal continued to unfold before Lizzie. Within the covers of the tiny, worn leather diary the details of the relationship played out. In her mind, she heard the arguments between Alston and Eliza. Lizzie could feel the fear that gripped her great-grandfather when his sister admitted that she was in love with a man of color. Even Lizzie knew that it wasn't a safe choice for a white girl living in the Deep South during the 1930s. Polite society didn’t discuss Jim Crow’s south, but Lizzie knew that it wasn't acceptable. She could picture the heated exchanges that the James family must have had around their kitchen tables then.
    Lizzie read until her eyelids felt as heavy as lead. Jack’s snoring jolted her out of the diary’s grip. Leaning forward to see her antique two-belled alarm clock, Lizzie realized that the morning was coming fast. A little sleep was necessary if she was going to make it through lunch with her grandmother.
    “It looks like I’ll have to meet you in the morning, Gramps.” She closed the diary and placed it next to her on the bedside table.
    As Lizzie slept, she tossed and turned while the journal’s scenes played through her dreams like a movie on a theater screen. Not knowing what Eliza or Eldridge looked like, she allowed her imagination to fill in the details. The familiar faces of Hollywood began acting out the roles of each character in the story. Eliza appeared on the dirty barn floor in her flowing skirt. In Lizzie's dreams, her great-aunt looked just like a cross between a graceful Ginger Rogers and a muddy, potato-wielding Scarlet O’Hara.
    Lizzie woke earlier than normal with a million questions buzzing through her thoughts. Taking a pen and paper from the nightstand drawer, she began to capture her questions in ink before they flew out of her mind.
    Sounds from the floor below caught her attention. Lizzie could hear her husband moving around the kitchen. She could picture Jack filling his thermos with hot, black coffee as he packed his lunch for a shift at the station. She loved that he got ready for work every morning in the same, methodical order. His consistent behavior made her feel safe.
    Lizzie tossed the pad of paper onto the bed and flung back the heavy quilts. She wanted to make sure she spent time with him before work, filling him in on the diary’s latest twist of events. She headed straight for their cramped walk-in closet for her favorite slippers and robe. Old farm houses had drafts that required a good pair of slippers in the fall. Luckily, Lizzie’s obsession with warmth and comfort meant she was always prepared. Lizzie crossed the bedroom until she caught a glimpse of herself in the standing mirror in the corner. Giggling, she broke into an impromptu twirl. With her jade green robe and ruby red slippers, she felt like a character from The Wizard of Oz.
    “If only I had my Toto.”
    As Lizzie entered the kitchen, she saw that