Joelle's Discovery

Joelle pushed open the dusty door, the squeak of its hinges following her into the room. The attic was more of a loft, the ceiling low but high enough for Joelle to stand up, and sloping downward under the house’s peaked roof. The whole house looked as though it was still living in the early 20th century, and in a way, it was. It had a full porch where sat two wooden rocking chairs with faded cushions, now empty. It had a steep and narrow staircase to the second floor and “servant’s stairs” to the attic that were even steeper and narrower.

Joelle had just climbed the servant’s stairs to the room in which she was sure many a servant lived at one time. It was filled now with old furniture and boxes of long ago forgotten possessions. Joelle breathed a gentle sigh, thinking of all the work she had before her. She began opening the boxes, deciding that the ones in front of her were as good as anywhere to start. She pulled items out and sorted them, her mind full of memories.

Joelle’s grandparents had lived in this house for so many years that every part of it held memories for her. They were peaceful people who liked a simple life, content with their home as long as their family was near. Joelle remembered sitting on her grandmother’s knee, reading stories and eating cookies. And every time she lost a tooth, grandpa would give Joelle a dollar. After Joelle grew up, she was surprised grandpa was so free with those dollars. Her grandparents had lived through the Depression and wars and knew how to save anything they thought useful.

Her grandparents, for all their frugality, had acquired collections that could sell for a pretty penny. Joelle remembered her own parents adding to those collections over the years. They had collector plates, spoons, dolls, Armani figurines, paintings and a good amount of furniture.

Joelle heard a creak of the staircase and turned to look through the doorway. It was Jake, her fiancé. He promised he would come help Joelle when he could make it.

“Hi, Jake,” she greeted, smiling briefly before turning back to her work.

“Hi,” he replied as he stepped into the room, “How long have you been here?”

Joelle glanced at Jake. He was looking around the messy room. “Maybe half an hour,” she told him.

Jake knelt down beside her. “What can I do?” he asked.

“Um…” said Joelle with a sigh, “Just pick a box.”

Jake began to work alongside Joelle. She was so absorbed into what she was doing, she barely looked up at him. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” she assured him. She paused and looked around the room. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with this place,” she added softly.

She was not simply cleaning out the attic to put the house up for sale, she had inherited the property. Joelle’s siblings had often suspected she was grandma and grandpa’s favourite, but Joelle did not want to believe they played favourites.

Jake watched her closely. “We could move into it…” he said hesitantly, “You know… after our wedding.”

Joelle met his gaze. The expression in his blue eyes was open and almost wistful. “We could move into it,” she echoed.

Thinking of their coming wedding and the idea that they could live in the house Joelle had loved so much her whole life, she was struck with an unexpected uncertainty.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” asked Jake.

Joelle’s shoulder lifted in a shrug. “I guess I would. If I could only stop remembering.”

“Aw honey,” he said, giving her shoulder a little rub.

Joelle smiled. “I do love this house.”

“What I want to know is what we’re going to do with all this stuff,” said Jake, looking at the items in his hands.

“I’m going to bring it to my parents’ place. They’ll want a say in what happens to it.”

“Joelle, if they want to decide what happens to it, why aren’t they here now?” asked Jake as he continued to sort items.

Joelle shrugged. “Mom’s too upset, dad’s too busy… probably.” The last word came out as a mumble as Joelle picked up an old book. It was unfamiliar to her.

Joelle opened the book and flipped through the pages. Jake watched her face as she looked through the book, seeing her expression change from curious to confused.

“What is it?” he asked.

Joelle glanced at him. “I don’t remember my grandparents having this book in their library.”

“I’m sure they had books you didn’t read, Joelle,” replied Jake.

Joelle shook her head. She was scrutinizing the first few pages. “I wonder when this was printed…and where,” she spoke, “The publisher is not familiar.” Joelle worked in publishing and knew many publishers.

Jake came close and also looked at the book. “Maybe it was self-published.”

Joelle began to read. ‘When I was five, I was given a doll for my birthday. It was the only doll I ever had to play with, and I still have it. I brought that doll everywhere with me. When we had to move from Ashburn to Port Perry, it was a long way then and I remember sitting in the back of that little car with my doll on my lap…’

“I think you might be right,” she told him, flipping the pages over and scanning bits of the story, “And I think my grandmother wrote this.”

“Her autobiography?” Jake had been reading over Joelle’s shoulder.

Joelle nodded. “Her mind was so sharp until the end…” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she blinked and willed them away.

Jake brought his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze. “Why don’t you keep that one. Grandma might have liked you to read it.”

Joelle smiled and nodded. “I think I will.”