Page 61 of A Curse On Black Lake
“Honestly, I’m not sure. Some are personal. Others are for other observations and notes about growing, like Grandma Lily said.”
“Since they’re personal, is this something you want my help with?” Killian asks.
I smile again. He seems to make me do that a lot. “Thank you for being so considerate, but we’re talking about journals over a hundred years old. I can’t imagine there’s any big family secret in them that would matter at this point.”
“Fair enough. But how will we know it’s a journal?”
I shrug and look at the stacks and stacks of books. “I guess we have a lot of reading to do, but we only need to find Grandma Lily’s. Hopefully, everyone has their name in them.”
As Killian and I go around the room looking for this mysterious journal that might provide insight into this flower, I try to ignore the fact that this room has changed now because I’ve been in it.
I’ve left it untouched since she died because it was Grams’s space. It doesn’t matter that I spent a lot of time in here. It felt wrong for me to go in after she died, and change even a page or the way a pencil was angled on the desk.
It’s only a room. I know that. But it’s another piece of Grams that’s gone now. It’s out of necessity, but how many more things that were so completely her, fall away? Will I forget them? Will she end up like my parents in my mind? I can barely picture them now. I have a photo, but it’s hard for me to look at even to this day.
“Eliana?” Killian calls.
“Hmm,” I say, turning to face him.
“Are you okay?” he asks with worry all over his face. “I know this was your Gram’s space. This can wait. I can leave if you want me to, if you want to be alone right now.”
I shake my head and press my palm to my chest. “No, it’s okay. We need this information.”
“I can wait,” he states, setting a leather-bound journal down.
My body moves before I can tell myself no. We’ve been touching a lot today, and in such few hours I find myself craving it. I’m afraid this craving may turn into an addiction if I’m not careful.
I grab his hand. “Thank you for today, I —” I stop, struggling for words. My chest flutters, and I push the words out. “I’m glad I have you as a friend.”
Something flashes in his eyes, and he squeezes my hand back. “Maybe theitwas this,” he says.
I blink a few times, realizing he’s talking about what Grams told me on her deathbed.
“Yeah,” I rasp. “Maybe.”
I drop his hand and we keep looking, as I organize the space, cleaning it up as we go. Killian helps me put books on the higher shelves that I can’t reach. Eventually, we end up on one last stack of books and journals. The leather looks old, almost dried out, and I know it’s the one.
Sliding it from the bottom of the pile carefully because it looks like it’s well worn, and used heavily. “Did you find it?” Killian asks.
“I think so,” I say, opening the cover.
Lily Jane Greer 1859is written in a beautiful scrawl.
I turn the page, and it’s dated the first of January, 1859. I flip through, finding June first. I scan the page. Most of it is normal, day to day things, nothing to note. Then I find June 17th.
I don’t know that writing this down will make the situation any better, but he deserves to be remembered. What happened should be recorded if for the sake of a reminder to us all.
Jasper Radcliffe was killed in cold blood by Casandra Jameson’s father, Conrad. He is the mayor, the richest man in Black Lake, and the leader of this town.
Sheriff Sawyer hardly batted an eye. Many of us tried to stop it. Cassandra, even in her state, threw herself in front of Jasper, but he begged her to step away. Let him bear the brunt of the consequences so that she and his future child would not have to.
Cassandra held him in her arms as he took his last breath, and it tore me apart to watch her anguish. Normally, I would never quote a curse from anyone. They have a tendency to dig claws into those that repeat them. But I believe it is worth the risk. I must pass this information down because I believe it hastaken hold of the people of Black Lake. I sensed the shift the moment Cassandra said the words. It is as if we cannot escape death despite its natural occurrence. It is as if death has come here to make its home. God help us.
I curse this land you have spilled blood on. For generations, you will see death and blood. You will pay for what you have done!
Lily goes on to explain the details of what happened, and the Spirits go wild within me. As if they are reacting to something I was meant to find. Yes, Lily is a great-grandmother, but it feels like more. It feels like a door, long shut, is cracking open, but I am the one who has to push it wide.
We buried him at their favorite place, next to Black Lake.
