Finding Eliza by Stephanie Pitcher Fishman Page B

shared between the girls as they stood linked arm in arm like partners in crime. Eliza’s head leaned so that it rested on the shoulder of the taller girl to her left.
    “Who are these two,” Lizzie asked as she pointed to the other girls in the photograph.
    “I’m not positive, but they remind me of my aunts on my mother’s side. I suppose that they could be her friends. Either way, this photo shows a happy young lady without a care in the world. Doesn’t it? This would have been right around the time my father’s diary entries began. She had such innocence here. I’m glad the camera captured how happy she was.”
    “What do you know about your Aunt Eliza? Who she was and what she was like?”
    “She was a beautiful soul. My father talked about her like she hung the moon.” Gertrude placed the photograph back into the album. As she talked, she flipped pages gently pausing to let her fingertips run lightly over the faces in other photographs. “She was the youngest of his siblings. As the oldest he was often in charge of looking after her when her parents were either in the fields or otherwise engaged. They were extremely close. I think that had she lived, Eliza would have been a constant figure in my life. Her loss greatly affected her family.”
    “You said that the diary talks about what happened to her, or how her life ended.”
    Gertrude reached over to hug Lizzie around the shoulders. “You’re so impatient, my dear. We’ll talk about it when you get to that point. Until then, let’s look at some photos.”
    Lizzie sat on the floor like she had as a child, searching through album after album. As her grandmother shared family stories, Lizzie saw faces and personalities emerge. Lives that she didn’t know existed became three dimensional. Bit by bit, Lizzie learned the stories that connected the generations in her family tree. Names grew into full and complex individuals as she learned that some had children while others struggled. Mothers held fast to their children as their husbands fought in the military and made history through war after war. Finances were destroyed when The Great Depression landed in Everett Springs. Vivid stories of horrific events spelled disaster for relatives that she hadn’t known existed. Throughout each story, Lizzie began to see a theme develop. Each person learned to move through tragedy to become stronger. As one photo album closed another would open.
    Reaching into the pile for a new album, Lizzie grabbed one bound in red leather. “Hey, this is one of Mama’s old albums.” She smoothed her hands over the embossed H that sat in the middle of the front cover. Lizzie opened the album and turned to the first page. In the center of the page was the last family photo Lizzie had taken with her parents. The photograph was perfect. Her mother’s smile glowed. Rather than looking ahead, her father turned his face to look upon his family with adoration.
    Lizzie found herself thinking about that night. The accident wasn’t her father’s fault, but it didn’t matter. Lizzie’s father was driving them home from a church event when the weather shifted without warning. A normal Wednesday evening turned into her worst nightmare. The storm started off as a gentle rain. Within a few minutes, the winds were heavy and the thunder crashed like the sound of dynamite exploding overhead. Hail began to pound against the car like gunfire. Lightning flashed like fireballs. At twelve years old, Lizzie thought she was brave but that storm scared her more than anything had before in her short life.
    As Lizzie started thinking about the storm, the emotions of that night came rushing back. She could still hear her mother’s screams erupt from the seat in front of her. Looking through her grandmother into the past, her eyes saw her dad try to gain control of the car. All Lizzie could do from the backseat was hold onto the door handle and pray. She felt helpless, and in a few short minutes she