The Attic Diary

by Derek Miller

  “Hang me,” I tried to say in spite of the gag. “At least let the woman and child go.”

  For a brief moment he seemed to seriously consider my proposal. Then he grabbed the child.

  “Who do you think I’m going to hang first?”

  The woman wailed through her gag. We all strained at the ropes to get free but they were just too tight. The little boy kicked and fought but he didn’t stand a chance against the three grown men. One of the men threw the rope over a low branch. They then tightened the rope around the little boy’s neck.

  “Lyle, I want you to see this family die. You will be the last one I kill and to make it more fun for me, you are going to watch them die slowly.” At this he slowly pulled on the rope. The little boy’s eyes were so wide with fear that all I could think was, “God send down lightning and kill this man!”

  But God did not send down lightning.

  He sent Milly.

  At that moment Byrd’s body twitched as I saw his chest explode. I then heard three more shots in quick succession, and his three cohorts crumpled to the ground as well.

  Byrd’s hand released the rope and the boy. The child fell to the ground unharmed.

  Tears were in my eyes, I don’t know if they were tears of fear, joy, fury, or sorrow but my vision was blurred as I watched two people walk into the clearing. It was Milly and Sheriff Wolfe.

  Milly didn’t come straight to me. Sensible woman she was, she rushed to the boy to get the rope from around his neck. The Sheriff came over to me and untied my hands and got the gag out of my mouth.

  “What happened?” I asked as Milly untied the mother’s arms, and watched the little boy run into them.

  Instead of answering, Milly looked at the sheriff. “Am I under arrest?” she said.

  “You?” The sheriff smiled, although I could still see some shock fading from his eyes. “Never. That was my gun that killed the bad guys. Yours was never even fired. Right?”

  “But I did fire my gun. Four times.”

  “True.” The sheriff searched for another believable story. “You fired, but you missed and as an officer of the law, it was me that took them out.”

  “I missed?” Milly said.

  “I doubt it, “ I shook my head. “Milly never misses.”

  “Listen to me, and listen to me good!” the sheriff said. “It was my shots that took these four men out, and I did it while upholding the law and preventing multiple murders. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Milly and I agreed.

  I won’t go into the details of how we disposed of the bodies or how we got the escaping family out of there.

  But Milly, the sheriff and I, promised never to speak of that night again.

  Still, at night, in the privacy of our bedroom, we both lay staring at the ceiling, holding each other and we talk in hushed tones about what happened.

  “Lyle, when I saw that poor young boy with a rope around his neck, and you struggling to get free--it was like I was possessed. That gun went to my shoulder before I could think. Did I commit murder?” She sometimes says.

  “You had no choice that night,” I always reply. “You did the right thing. You were not the judge that night; all you did was arrange a meeting with God Almighty. You also made it possible for that family to live out the rest of their lives as God intended.”

  Milly would be terrified to know that I put these words on paper. She continues to struggle with the action she took that night. My Milly is a loving, kind woman and even though I know she did the right thing—it was so against her nature that I fear she’ll always be haunted by the sight of those four bodies.

  So out of respect for her and her memory I hide this book so that future generations will know we did what we had to do to make men, women, and children free and safe.

  There was total silence in the attic when Dad stopped reading. Hannah could not believe what she had just heard. Not only was her grandmother a great underground railroad runner, she’d taken out four men to save the life of a child, his parents, and her husband.

  Would Hannah have the strength of character and courage to do such a thing?

  She swore at that moment that someday she would grow into the kind of person who would have the strength to fight for the rights and lives of others. Just like the women whose blood flowed through her veins.

  Women. Because she wasn’t thinking just of Milly. Her mother had a full-time job teaching and advocating for handicapped children. Her grandmother had founded a non-profit business that provided funds to build wells in parts of Africa where there was no pure water. Her great-grandmother—her mom had once told her—had spent time helping with mission work in China.

  And it had all started with Milly’s courage. Generation after generation of strong women helping others.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Discovery

  “I have a flashlight,” Dad said.

  “And I know where there are some shovels,” her mother added.

  “Will we tell the others?” Hannah asked.

  No one questioned what the other one was thinking. Their minds were all asking the same question: was the tunnel still there?

  “No one is here right now,” her mother said. “Except your brother who is downstairs playing with a slingshot he found. Everyone else went home for supper.”

  “Could we have a picnic?” Hannah asked. “You know, kind of like Grandma used to take me on back where the Easter Lilies grow?”

  “Absolutely,” Mom answered.

  The picnic wasn’t elaborate. Some peanut butter and honey sandwiches, chips and pop.

  “Why are we doing this?” Johnathan whined. “You said I could play some video games after my cousins went home today.”

  Dad didn’t answer. He kept poking around among some old stones while Mom laid out the picnic. He finally quit and leaned his shovel up against a tree.

  “We thought you might enjoy digging for buried treasure instead, Johnathan.”

  “Buried treasure?” Johnathan’s eyes grew round. “What kind of buried treasure?”

  Dad shot a meaningful look at both Hannah and her Mom.

  “The best kind of buried treasure, son,” he said. “The kind that money can’t buy.”

  “Cool!” Johnathan said.

  Hannah knew he had no idea what their father was talking about, but he would. In the meantime, she helped her mother divide up the sandwiches while they all listened to her little brother prattle on about all the latest toys he was wanting to buy, and other “ important” information. She realized it had been much too long since she had listened to him talk. She marveled at the fact that just a few short days ago, she’d been too interested in her boyfriend and other teenage activities and interests to even hear her little brother. Now, she realized that she had missed him, and she drank it all in.

  When they had finished eating Dad said, “Well fellow treasure hunters, let’s get to it.”

  It was slow work, and it was not easy. Stones had fallen in on stones. A spring was evidently still there because the land around the remains of the old cellar was marshy.

  “Be prepared to be disappointed,” her dad warned everyone. “A hundred and fifty years of dirt, rainfall, falling trees, moss and who knows what else have probably filled the tunnel—assuming we’re lucky enough to find the entrance.”

  “Tunnel?” Johnathan asked.

  “Just wait,” her dad said. “There might be a surprise here soon..

  “Cool!” Johnathan exclaimed.

  Her little brother was not made to be an archaeologist and was soon looking for “gold” in the creek. Then he lost interest in finding gold and simply began piling up rocks and building walls out of them.

  Then, prying a large stone out of the ground with her shovel, she saw dirt and rocks crumbling inward. Slowly a larger hole was forming.

  “Dad!” she said. “Mom! I think I’ve found it!”

  Before long they had uncovered an entrance about three feet by three feet.r />
  “This is it!” Hannah gasped.

  “Take a look,” Dad said. “You found the diary, you get the first peek into the tunnel.”

  She got the flashlight and peered in.

  It was a bit creepy at first. She looked for snakes and bats but saw none. She bent over and walked in a couple of steps.

  Johnathan had seen what was going and came running.

  “What did you find?” he said.

  “Something amazing!” she answered. “Dad, Mom, you have to come see.”

  Cautiously, they entered on their hands and knees.

  “Look!” she said, as she trained her flashlight on something that had caught her eye carved into the wall.

  It wasn’t legible until she wiped some dirt and moss away, then she found them. There were dozens upon dozens of scratched and chiseled-in names and marks. Some had descriptions beside them such as mom, dad, child.

  “What are these?” Johnathan asked, completely puzzled by the whole thing.

  “We found the gold,” Hannah explained.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Coming Clean

  With undeniable proof that the old diary was true, Hannah finally agreed to tell the rest of her relatives why she had been spending so much time in the attic. Her parents gathered the family together in the living room when they all came back after supper, and she pulled out the book.

  “What in the world is going on?” Aunt Vivian demanded.

  “This is a diary of Lyle Franklin, our ancestor, who—along with his wife, Milly, helped take runway slaves to freedom. They were a major link in the Underground Railroad.”

  All three of her mom’s sisters came to attention.

  “Tell us more!” they cried.

  Hannah very carefully opened the book and began to read aloud from the first page.

  Halfway through, Aunt Phyllis interrupted. “You told us you’d found the tunnel you’re reading about. Shouldn’t we go see it now before it gets dark?”

  “I agree!” Aunt Vivian said. “You must show us the entrance. This is a good story, but I’m dying of curiosity to see it for myself.”

  It was a struggle for some of the aunts to bend over and crawl in the tunnel entrance but all did just that. They were all emotional.

  “I can’t believe we have this history here and to have such proof,” Aunt Ruth said. “This truly is a treasure, but think about how many slaves may have passed through and never made a mark or wrote their names!”

  “That is one of the sad things about it,” Dad said. “We’ll never know. I’m just glad we have the names we do.”

  Eventually everyone had had their fill of tracing names in the stone, and in taking a good look at the tunnel. There appeared to have been a cave-in a little further in, so none of them attempted to explore any more than just the entrance.

  Later, Aunt Phyllis was looking through the book.

  “Hey, everyone. Come here!’ she called. “There’s more written in the very back—past all the blank pages.”

  “There is?” Dad said.

  We all scrambled into the living room where she was sitting.

  She glanced up. “Shall I read it?”

  “Hurry!” Aunt Vivian said, “I can’t wait to hear more.”

  Aunt Phyllis had been a teacher for years, and she put on her teacher voice to read.

  The Gift

  I pulled this diary back out of the wall one last time to write about something that happened several years later. When this last account is finished, I will write no more.

  I was in our garden helping Milly pick some green beans. We were still a little sad over the fact that our only daughter had had to move so far away and was trying to learn how to pick up our lives and go on after she left.

  “What’s that?” Milly asked. Her ears always were finer tuned than mine. “Sounds like someone’s coming.”

  It had been a long, long time since we helped slaves cross the river. That day is long gone, and I’m grateful. We did what we had to do for as long as we had to do it, but it was a relief when it was no longer necessary.

  I’ll go see who it is” I said to Milly.

  My eyes were not what they once were. At first I did not recognize the persons climbing down. I could tell it was two older people and what appeared to be a younger person who helped the woman down. They were well-dressed and looked prosperous. At first I wondered what these strangers were doing here—but as I got closer I could not believe my eyes.

  “Moses…Pansy…is that you?” I asked.

  They were just as grey and old as me but I had never forgotten their faces.

  “You’re right.” Moses chuckled. “It’s us.”

  “This can’t be Nathan!” I said.

  “It’s our boy, alright,” Moses said. “The one you helped save.”

  I was practically speechless. All these years, and I’d never heard a word from any of the people we transported, although I prayed for them daily.

  “We had to come back after all these years, Lyle. Sorry it has taken so long,” Moses said.

  Milly came from around the back, and when she saw Pansy, she practically flew toward her. The two women hugged like they were sisters. I went to shake Moses’s hand, but he pushed it aside as he gave me a hug.

  Nathan stood off to one side with his hat in his hand.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Franklin,” he said. “It is an honor to meet you. Not a day went by when my parents did not pray for you when we sat to eat or any other time they prayed aloud. At Christmas they would always say an extra special prayer and tell me the story of how you found us on Christmas in your barn.”

  My mind flashed back to so many times when I had been in danger as I’d worked to help their people escape. Had Moses’ and Pansy’s prayers been part of my protection?

  “Lyle,” Moses chuckled. “Let me properly introduce you to my son, Dr. Nathan Harding.”

  “You’re a medical doctor?”

  The young man smiled. “I am, sir.”

  “How about that,” I said in wonder. “The Christmas baby Milly and I have talked about all these years is all grown up and a real doctor who will spend his life helping people. Where did you go to school?”

  “The University of Toronto,” Moses said, proudly. “We made it to Canada and had a good life there and we’ll always be grateful for the help you gave us, but even though you did so much for us. I have one more favor.”

  “Name it,” I said, realizing I’d do just about anything for these people.

  “Nathan has been offered a job in the area,” he said. “Do you suppose you could help us find a place to settle? We’d like to be close to our boy.”

  I looked at Milly. She was grinning from ear to ear. We were both thinking the same thing.

  “I believe I know of a place real close to here. Dr. Woodworth and his wife moved to Chicago a few months ago. He was offered a small animal practice there---one that will allow a man his age to still be a vet without having to endure harsh winters helping someone’s cow give birth inside a drafty barn. They had to move fairly quickly, so he asked me to be in charge of renting his house. I believe I just found the exact right people, don’t you, Milly?”

  “That sounds good, but do you think my parents will have any trouble with the locals?” Nathan asked.

  “There might be a few stares, but I think most of the people around here will be right glad to have all of you,” I said. “Maybe if we’re lucky, the others will move away.”

  They laughed at that and then we went inside. Milly and Pansy began to fix dinner for everyone, just like they’d been working together forever while Moses and Nathan and I got caught up. There was a bond between us that I marveled at. Who could ever have imagined that finding a baby in my barn that Christmas could have turned out this well for all of us?

  I’ve done a lot of things in my life time. I’ve cut timber, and taught school. I eventually taught myself to be a fair hand at blacksmithing. I’ve always been a farmer. The
y made me a deacon over at the church where Preacher John and I risked our lives.

  One of the first things I did was fill in the mouth of the tunnel beneath the pulpit. We didn’t need it anymore, and John started putting on some weight as he grew older. I didn’t want to see the floor boards give way some day and John disappear in the middle of a sermon.

  I wish I could say that Moses and Pansy had no problems but there were the negative comments, and people refusing to have anything to do with them. I wish I could really describe the look on some of the faces at church the first time we all walked in together. You would think we had just walked in naked. A few people decided not to keep worshiping at our church but I’m proud to say that most everyone at church has welcomed them with open arms.

  Nathan is smart and kind. He is becoming the most sought after family doctor in the area by both whites and blacks. His reputation for compassion and knowledge grows each day.

  Moses and Pansy have both passed away and we have begun to treat Nathan like a son, and he treats us like a mother and father. Every Sunday he comes to our house for dinner. He got married a few years ago and we sat in the absence of his father and mother.

  Our only daughter has grown up, married and her husband has taken a job in Pittsburgh. Our only connection with our daughter and her family is letters and a visit every couple of years.

  Nathan’s children have became our grandchildren. It is nice to have little ones running around. We sometimes get funny looks from strangers when we have Nathan’s kids with us in town and they refer to us as “Maw” and “Paw.” Milly and I both proudly hold the hands of these grandchildren that God has given us and smile.

  After what we’ve been through—a few stares mean nothing.

  Milly has been very sick recently. Nathan has been here every day. I don’t think she has many days left. She keeps telling Nathan, “Nathan, I’ll be standing beside your mother to greet you when you get to heaven.”

  And fifty times a day she says to me, “I love you, Lyle.” I never cry in her presence but when I’m out of her room, I am sobbing most of the time. Nathan has been my rock.