Jillian turned slowly around the small empty dining  room. Only pieces of memories came to her." This is good.” She whispered.
The hazy blue printed wall paper had been replaced with new wallboard and stark white paint.
She still could not believe the old man had left the house to her. When the lawyer called she thought it was someone playing a cruel joke. She had just returned from her father’s funeral and was still feeling the sting of her older brothers and sister’s stares. Yes, stares. Not hugs of recognition as a family should have. But then what did she expect? She only saw them the few times she could remember that Aunt Gildie had brought her to visit. There were just too many years between the three of them and her.

Aunt Gildie had called her a  change of life baby. She never really understood what that meant until she grew into a woman. She spent her childhood believing it meant that Aunt Gildie’s life had changed when she came to live with her.  Aunt Gildie was her mother’s youngest sister and never had any children of her own. Her Uncle John was a kind hearted man who allowed Aunt Gildie to make all the important decisions and died when Jillian was barely into her teens.
 
She almost didn’t accept this gift her father had left her. He never showed any affection. Never made any attempt to visit her and when Aunt Gildie brought her along for a visit with her mother , she  was ushered out to the dining room or back yard to be under the care of the older children, already in high school.. She knew now that Aunt Gildie was trying to protect her from the fear that must have showed on her face, seeing the sick, withered woman lying in the small bed of the parlor. She had hid behind Aunt Gildie’s chair . Afraid to look. Afraid to catch the sickness this poor woman was dying of. The parlor was gone now, replaced with a larger more modern living room.

Billy was pulling her hand and she shook off the thoughts and turned her attention to her lively ten years old. “Mom, Look! I found the room I want! Come see.” He chanted as her pulled her toward a door and a dark stairway she did not remember.
”Oh Bill. You don’t want this place. I remember now. It’s the attic. I never was up these steps but I remember that is where they go.” “Yes. Yes mom” he pleaded.  “I really want this for my room. Please!” ”Let’s see first “she told him following his already disappearing figure.

She reached the top and entered a large room with sunlight filtering in from two windows. One was to the south and faced the back yard and small orchard. The other faced north, the front yard and main street. The floor was solid oak boards and the roof had been covered with a shiny silver insulation to create a ceiling.

”Tell you what Bill. I’ll make a deal with you. We’ll have to clean out all this old stuff they left and then if it looks safe, I’ll let you try it.” She said glancing around. Billy was already dragging out boxes to see what was in them. Old books, rags and useless discards were what he found in the first few. ”Come on Bill.” She said, reaching for his hand. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow moving. Let’s grab a burger and finish packing at the apartment.”

She watched her fair haired son bound down the stairs two at a time and scramble into the car. “This is for him.” She thought,” I can do it for him.”

She knew this was the only way her son would be able to run outside and play or own a bike. The apartment had served them well for the past few years but she was always saddened by the look on her son’s face as he stood staring out the window at the cement walks and busy asphalt street below. She had tried to get their own home but it was almost impossible with her lack of credit and being a single mom.

Things had been hard for her, raising Bill alone with no support from his father and no moral support from Aunt Gildie. The minute Jerry found out she was having a baby he left town and Aunt Gildie being a stout religious woman had turned her back on her in shame , allowing her to stay but treating her as a burden . No more hugs. No more good nights. And when Bill was born and she refused to let him go, Aunt Gildie told her she was no longer a part of her family. At only seventeen years old and no high school diploma she struggled to provide for this sweet boy.

The friends she had made along the way insisted she had so much to be proud of, Raising Billy alone. Finishing high school and junior college,  all the while working a full time job. Even though she never felt like a success she knew in her heart they were right. One look at Bill told her that. He was healthy, smart and safe with her. And most of all loved. She never let one day go by with telling him she loved him. It was something she missed in her childhood. Something she would always wonder about. Did her mother want her? Did she love her with the fierce love she had for Bi?

 

When they were cleaning out  the attic of the old house they almost Missed the old steamer trunk. It was hidden in the shadows of the eves where the new addition was added. They tried everything they could to open it aside from breaking the lock . It was curiosity nothing more.  They were all so sure it was empty.

Then she remembered the ring of keys Bill  played with. It was filled with an assortment of keys in all shapes and sizes, old and new, given to him by friends, whenever they traded for a new car, or just found one they could not connect to a lock.

They looked over the ring and decided the only ones that might fit were the skeleton keys The first one was too short to reach the inner mechanism , the second was to thick to turn. But the third one worked like a charm.

They stood in amazement when the trunk lid was raised to find it full to the top and the inside like new. The smell of cedar penetrated their nose and sinuses. The first item carefully laid out was a silky white shawl. She knew her father must have placed the shawl there after her mother was gone. They each admired the rose pattern delicately knit into the shawl and then removed the layer of tissue under it.

There they found a scrapbook filled with cards and letters and a few pictures of children smiling at the camera and crayon drawing that said "I love you so much Mom". Oh My! Jillian knew she had found her real mothers things. A mother she never knew. A mom who died when she was a baby and was sent away to be raised by her aunt Gildie. She studied each photo and page. She could see her older brothers and sisters were well loved. The others grew impatient with her so she laid the book aside to cherish later.

The next tissue removed revealed a lovely baby dress with a small card attached that read "For my new baby girl". The fabric was very sheer and had been smocked at the breast and had tiny hand made roses on it. Jillian just knew it must have been made for her. She felt a tear swell and tried to hide it. She had always wanted to know about her mother but the subject was always closed with Aunt Gildie.

The next layer was a wedding ring quilt, worn but in great condition. When they picked up the quilt, a marriage certificate and a train ticket fluttered to the floor. "Look!" she cried." This must be from their wedding trip". Under the quilt laid a well worn diary of deep purple satin and trimmed with gold at each corner and a bundle of letters tied with a red satin bow.  Jillian laid them aside by her scarf she had removed from her hair. She would read them  privately after the others left.

More tissue. There was another smaller older, black scrap book. Inside were a graduation certificate, dance card, which was full, and then a picture of her mother!  She was so pretty!  She was standing in the snow with a brilliant smile. She was wearing a fluffy wool jacket and floor length flowing pale skirt. Her long Black hair cascaded on her shoulders in ringlets. A few class certificates and another picture of her as a child sitting in the grass holding a doll.

The last tissue removed revealed that same doll, very well cared for and loved and some old well worn baby shoes. Jillian cried then. She could hold it back no longer. Here were the treasures of her mother’s life and now she could connect to a real person. Now she could know she was wanted and loved, she saw her own image reflected in the smile of this woman. In her own mother.