Finding Eliza by Stephanie Pitcher Fishman Page A

railing so her daughter wouldn’t fall. Daddy knew it would be more important than that. He knew that townspeople would be walking by seeing his work on their way to church or school. It led to other jobs around town as people made changes to their homes. He had foresight. He also made it for you, dear.”
    “No, he didn’t, Gran!”
    “Yes, he did. He knew that if it was properly made it would be here for future generations like you.”
    “I’m glad that he made the time to make it beautiful then. He was quite talented,” Lizzie said. “You should be proud.”
    Gertrude smiled at her granddaughter. “He was a quiet fellow, but he loved to talk with family and friends. He just wasn’t the loudest in the bunch. He liked to keep a low profile.”
    “Do you think that influenced how he handled the situation with Eliza and her boyfriend?”
    “Most likely. He wasn’t one to bring attention to himself. His woodworking was different. In real life, he liked it quiet.” Gertrude paused. “He loved her deeply, you know. As a big brother he felt responsible for every bad choice that she made. Her victories were her own to celebrate, but he felt that her failures were in part his responsibility.”
    “What happened to Eliza?” Lizzie was impatient to know the full story. Learning the story in small increments was excruciating. She wanted to rush to the answer so she could understand more about her great-grandfather. She began to feel uneasy when she considered how much about her family she didn’t know. As of now, there was a large void of answers. She was desperate to find out what happened.
    “You’ll learn more as you keep reading the diary. I can’t tell you yet. It’s like the end of a movie. You just have to get there for yourself or I’ll ruin it.” Gertrude stood from the swing. “I forgot to tell you that I looked through some boxes last night after I talked with you on the phone. I found something that I think you’ll like.”
    Gertrude and Lizzie wiped their feet on the rough welcome mat and walked through the front door. Typical for its period, the home's front door opened into a wide foyer and hallway. Rooms placed on each side of the hall transitioned from the more formal in the front of the building to the informal kitchen in the back. The first room to the left of the foyer was the sitting room. Lizzie noticed a stack of photo albums sitting on the end of the coffee table near the front sofa. The thinnest album in the collection lay open in the center of the table.
    “Did you bring those down by yourself? You’re going to hurt yourself one of these days.”
    “It was worth it. I found a photo of Eliza, and I wanted you to see it.”
    Gertrude lifted the photo from an old black paper album littered with crooked photos that had tattered edges. She held it out to Lizzie for her to examine. Lizzie’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced down to see three beautiful young women standing with arms linked on a red dirt country road. Farm land stretched behind them with fields of cotton dotting the landscape. The girls looked no more than fifteen years old. Lizzie knew immediately which one was Eliza. It was like looking into a mirror. It could have been a high school photo of Lizzie staring back at her.
    “Gran, is that Eliza in the middle?”
    “Good eye, my dear!” Gertrude was thrilled that Lizzie noticed the resemblance as well. “She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” Her voice trailed off as she stared lovingly at the photograph.
    Lizzie never considered her own face to be beautiful. She would believe pretty, but not beautiful. Seeing Eliza in this way brought a new perspective. There was no arguing Eliza’s beauty. Lizzie shared her same dark hair that fell gently around the curves of her face. She had the same piercing eyes that caught the attention of those looking at her. The old photograph made Eliza’s skin tone look like porcelain. She seemed so happy. Lizzie could imagine the laughter