Chapter Three Hundred Eighty-One: The Hidden Diary
The discovery happened by accident, as most discoveries did in the Blackwood family.
Lina's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter was exploring the attic, as she often did, searching for old photographs and forgotten treasures. The attic was dusty and cluttered, filled with boxes that had not been opened in decades. She loved the attic. It felt like a museum of her family's history, a place where the past was still alive.
She found the diary hidden behind a stack of old canvases, propped against the wall in the darkest corner of the attic. It was small, leather-bound, its cover cracked and faded. The pages were yellowed with age, the handwriting familiar—her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother's, flowing and elegant.
Lina's hands began to shake.
She carried the diary downstairs and sat down on the couch. She opened it to the first page.
January 1, 1950
I'm starting this diary because I need to remember. I need to remember who I was before. Before the lies. Before the secrets. Before everything.
My name is Eleanor. I am twenty years old. I am pregnant. The father is a man named Victor. He is kind. He is loving. He wants to marry me.
But I can't. I won't. I'm afraid.
My family will disown me. My friends will abandon me. I will be alone.
So I will lie. I will tell everyone that the father is someone else. I will pretend that Victor never existed.
I will keep this diary to remember the truth. Even if I can never tell anyone.
Lina read the entry three times.
Then she turned the page.
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March 15, 1950
I told Richard that the baby is his. He believed me. He wants to marry me. He says he loves me.
I don't love him. But I need him. He has money. He has status. He can give me the life I want.
Victor came to see me today. He begged me to tell the truth. He said he would take care of me. He said he would love me forever.
I told him to leave. I told him I never loved him. I told him the baby wasn't his.
He cried. I didn't.
I am a monster.
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June 20, 1950
The baby is born. A girl. I named her Lina.
Victor came to the hospital. He held her. He cried. He said she looked like me.
I told him to leave. I told him never to come back.
He asked if he could at least write. He asked if he could at least send money.
I said no.
I am a monster.
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December 25, 1950
Lina's first Christmas. Richard bought her a doll. She doesn't care. She's too young.
I thought about Victor today. I wondered where he was. I wondered if he was thinking about us.
I hope he's not. I hope he's moved on. I hope he's forgotten.
But I know he hasn't. Because I haven't.
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April 10, 1955
Lina is five years old. She asked about her father today. She asked why he never comes to see her.
I told her Richard is her father. I told her he loves her. I told her he's just busy.
She believed me.
I am a monster.
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September 3, 1960
Victor came to see me today. He looks older. Tired. Sad.
He asked to see Lina. He said he's been searching for her. He said he's hired private investigators. He said he's spent years trying to find us.
I told him to leave. I told him if he ever came back, I would call the police.
He left.
I cried.
I am a monster.
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January 1, 1970
Twenty years. Twenty years since I started this diary. Twenty years of lies. Twenty years of secrets.
Lina is twenty years old. She's in college. She's studying event planning. She's beautiful. She's smart. She's everything I'm not.
She asked about her father again today. She asked why Richard seems so distant. She asked if he ever wanted her.
I told her he does. I told her he's just bad at showing it.
She believed me.
I am a monster.
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December 31, 1979
The end of the decade. The end of another year. The end of another lie.
Lina is twenty-nine. She's engaged to a man named Ryan. He's charming. He's handsome. He's cruel.
I can see it. The way he looks at her. The way he talks to her. The way he controls her.
I want to warn her. I want to tell her to run.
But I can't. Because if I tell her, she'll ask questions. She'll want to know how I know. She'll want to know about my past.
So I stay silent.
I am a monster.
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June 15, 1980
Lina came to me today. She was crying. She said she found out about the affair. About Ryan and Chloe. About the contract.
She said she's leaving him. She said she's going to start a new life.
I was happy for her. I was proud of her.
But I was also afraid. Because she mentioned Victor. She said she met a man named Victor. She said he was kind. She said he reminded her of someone.
I told her to stay away from him. I told her he was dangerous. I told her he would only hurt her.
She believed me.
I am a monster.
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October 12, 1980
Lina called me today. She said she's pregnant. Twins. A boy and a girl.
She said she's going to marry Victor.
I told her not to. I told her I would disown her. I told her I would never speak to her again.
She didn't believe me.
She hung up.
I haven't heard from her since.
I am a monster.
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December 25, 1980
Christmas. Alone. Richard is at a business meeting. Lina is with Victor.
I thought about Victor today. About the way he looked at me. About the way he loved me.
I threw it all away. For money. For status. For fear.
I am a monster.
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January 1, 1981
A new year. A new decade. A new lie.
I heard that Lina is happy. That Victor is good to her. That the twins are healthy.
I should be happy for her. I am happy for her.
But I'm also jealous. She has everything I never had. Love. Family. Happiness.
I made my choices. I have to live with them.
I am a monster.
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The diary ended there.
Lina's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter closed the book and set it down on the coffee table.
She was crying.
Not because she was sad. Not because she was angry.
Because she finally understood.
Her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother had been afraid. She had been broken. She had been a monster.
But she had also been human.
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Lina's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter called the family together.
She read them entries from the diary. She told them about her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother's fears, her regrets, her secrets.
When she finished, the room was silent.
Then her brother stood up. He was ninety-nine years old, frail but still sharp.
"She was afraid," he said. "She was broken. But she was also human."
Lina's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter nodded. "She was."
Her brother walked to her and took her hand. "I forgive her."
Lina's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter's eyes filled with tears. "So do I."
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That night, Lina's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter sat in the garden alone.
The stars were out, scattered across the sky like tiny diamonds. The air was cool and quiet. The city hummed in the distance.
She looked up at the stars that were her ancestors.
"Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandmother," she whispered. "I found your diary. I know the truth. You were afraid. You were broken. You made mistakes. But you were also human. And I forgive you."
The stars twinkled.
Lina's great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granddaughter smiled.
She knew her ancestors were listening.
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End of Chapter Three Hundred Eighty-One