He shook his head. “It was a long time ago. I was fine.”
“Okay then, now, about Lucas. Are you sure you don’t mind having him? He can be a handful.” Mack frowned. She was a lot younger than Thomas was, and Lucas could probably tire an elephant out with the amount of energy he seemed to have. Heaven knew the number of times he’d tired her out.
“Don’t worry yourself. If there’s a problem, I have your cell number, and I only live five minutes down the footpath.”
When Lucas reappeared, Thomas stood up from the table and took hold of his hand. “Bye, Auntie Mack.”
Mack smiled. “Bye, Lucas. You behave yourself if you want any chance of being invited back.”
Lucas grinned. “I will.”
“See you, Thomas. And thank you again.” She watched them walk off down the footpath hand in hand. They looked good together. She really wished she had her camera nearby so she could capture the image.
“Mr. Degan,” Lucas asked. “How old are these comics? There’s a lot of dust.” He started sneezing.
Thomas couldn’t help but laugh and cough at the same time. “I’ve had these since I was a youngster. I started buying them with my allowance in 1942 and bought them for about five years, I think.” He frowned. “Call me Thomas, okay?”
Thomas didn’t understand why parents insisted on children calling adults Mr. and Mrs. It drove him crazy and always had. As a child, he would push his mother’s buttons and call one of her friends by their Christian name, and then act shocked, as though it was a slip of the tongue. It used to embarrass his mother something wicked. She eventually stopped taking him with her, which of course, had been what he’d intended.
“Okay. Can I have a look inside this one, please?” Lucas asked, waving around a rather gruesome covered comic.
“That’s the Halloween edition. Take a seat, and I’ll bring you some milk and cookies.”
“Yummy.” Then he remembered his manners. “Thank you.”
Thomas headed into the kitchen, trying to remember the last time he’d had so much fun. Sadly, he couldn’t. His wife, Janet, had died when they were both fifty-six. That was twenty-four years ago. They hadn’t been blessed with children of their own. Janet had been an only child, and both of Thomas’s siblings had died years before, so he had no nieces or nephews, just children of friends, who he’d be
come an honorary uncle to over the years.
It had really been too long since a child had visited inside his house.
Mack was back downstairs after she’d finished emptying the boxes of clothes and books. She hadn’t realized just how many of her books she’d brought with her. They were now in neat piles on the top shelf of the closet, in the hope that Lucas couldn’t reach them.
With the boxes dismantled, she decided to store them up on top of the kitchen cabinets. Dragging a chair over to the kitchen counter, she climbed up, hoping there were no spiders and carefully reached up to place the flattened boxes on top. A thump and the boxes not sliding into place stopped her and she noticed what looked to be a book on top of the cabinet.
As Mack reached for the book, she silently thanked God when no spiders accompanied it.
Her feet were planted firmly back on the kitchen floor when she grabbed a cloth to wipe the thick covering of dust from the book.
Due to her love of all things historic, her skin tingled as she held the long forgotten tome. This one looked really old, especially with all the dust. It must have been up there a long time. Mack stroked the front of the soft, leather-bound book before peeling it open to the first page . . .
This is the diary of a Rose
March 4, 1947
“Oh, my.” Mack lowered herself onto a kitchen chair. Stunned. The diary was . . . sixty-eight years old, and who was Rose? Why was her diary on top of the kitchen cabinets? Mack could hardly contain her curiosity.
“Auntie Mack, I’m home!” Lucas ran into the kitchen.
Mack tried to calm herself. Her heart was beating like a freight train with excitement at her discovery. She certainly didn’t want Lucas getting wind of what she had; otherwise, he would be searching high and low for it, so he could read himself.
Thomas walked into the kitchen, took one look at her, noticed the book in her hand, and looked shocked, as if he recognized the object in her hands.
“Do you know anything about this book, Thomas? It says ‘this is the diary of a Rose,’ and it’s dated 1947.” Mack waited for his response. “Thomas, are you feeling all right?” she asked, going over to him.
“Yes, yes, fine. I need to get home.” He started to move toward the door.
“But isn’t this yours? After all, it’s your family’s cottage.”