The house was old-really old-and it needed a lot of work. It was all Jess could afford though, since leaving Tyler had left her practically broke. Her new job didn't pay as well as her old one, but oh well, it was a fresh start. She looked at the house the same way. It'll take time, but I can fix it up, Jess thought.
The house was decent sized and being built in the early part of the 19th century had a certain charm to it. Of course, it had been renovated here and there a few times over the years, but the most recent occupants had left 20 years ago. It almost was turned into a museum, but for whatever reason that idea fell through, and Jess was able to snatch it up on the cheap, since the place had essentially been abandoned. Now this historical beauty was all hers. She didn't have too much to move in, and what little she did have was confined to just a few rooms. She especially loved the parlor, which had been kept to look like it did in the 19th century. It had a large fireplace which Jess was in love with, and beautiful built-in bookshelves.
On the chilly evenings after work, Jess would spend her time sitting in front of the fire, sipping some tea and reading a book. For her, it was heaven.
About a month after she had moved in, on one of her days off from work, Jess decided to go into the attic to explore a bit, and to put some of her moving boxes up there. The attic was large and cold, dusty with the occasional spider web, but other than that it was not in horrid condition. Jess scanned the room. There was an old dusty mirror, and a chair in the corner, but other than that it was empty. Jess went over to the mirror and wiped some of the dust off it in a circular motion, and in doing so saw something in the reflection behind her. There was something hidden behind an opening in the attic wall. She turned around and went over to it. Reaching into the wall opening, she pulled out a small brown box, which was clearly very old and worn.
There a brass lock on it, but as she searched around the immediate area, she could find no key. "Damn" she thought. "The key is probably long gone. Maybe I can pry it open." She carried the box downstairs to the kitchen. After trying to pry it open with various tools, Jess had no luck. "Ah forget it. There's no getting that thing open." Discouraged, she decided since she was already in the kitchen she would make some lunch.
Jess spent the rest of the day cleaning, rearranging furniture, and running a few errands. She was exhausted by the evening, and still frustrated she couldn't open the box. She decided to go to bed early. As she began to climb the stairs to go to bed, something caught her eye. She could see something small and shiny underneath a knothole in one of the stairs. The hole was too small for her to be able to reach whatever it was with her finger, so she tried using some tweezers to reach into the opening to retrieve it. The trick worked. To her shock, it was a key. A shiny brass key.
The box. Jess rushed to the kitchen with the key in her hand. Her excitement was so great her hands shook, but she quickly was able to unlock it. She took a breath as she pushed the lid back, but then felt a small rush of disappointment when all the box seemed to contain were some letters and a small, brown book, which seemed to be some type of planner? Or diary? "Why would anyone hide this in a locked box?" Jess thought.
Her curiosity got the better of her though, and she opened the little book. As she cracked it open, a small black and white photo fluttered out onto the floor. Jess picked it up and noticed a name on the back: John. Flipping the photo over she stared at the image. It was a young man, in his twenties probably, dressed very nicely, and what she guessed was in a Victorian manner. He had dark curly hair, a mustache, and a very intense look in his eye. Jess found him captivating, and wondered if he had to have been someone important by the way he looked. She set the picture down and began to thumb through the little book, albeit gently as it was very old and delicate, and she was fearful it would fall apart.
Jess discovered it was a pocket diary, dated 1864. She began to read as best she could, since some of the writing was smeared and unintelligible. As she read, she surmised the diary had belonged to a man, most likely the one in the photo. She became fascinated. He spoke about his life, his dreams, and the things in the country that were happening that upset him. He had apparently been an actor, but became a soldier to fight in the war, despite what his mother had wanted. He loved his mother very much, but the patriotic call to him was too great. He was in love with a young woman and wanted to marry her, but her father didn't approve.
