The Diary

All-in-all this has been a crappy year, so when a heavy package arrived from the law firm of Holland, Scharz and Jacobs I was expecting the worst. Inside the padded manilla shipping envelope were two items.

The first was an antique leather-bound journal with a worn strap holding its covers shut, the second was a heavy envelope with my name, Melissa Gordon, written on it in neat (if old-fashioned) cursive hand. The letter inside was typed on expensive heavy-weight paper that had the company watermark in the center of the page. The letter explained that the law firm had been retained by a small, independent museum to find and return the accompanying diary to the nearest living heir of the doner. According to the note, the museum found the contents of the journal inappropriate for either display or academic study.

The letter ended with a brief but firm postscript that the museum in question wanted to avoid any notoriety that might come with the publication of this journal. Furthermore, with their delivery of the package to its rightful owner, the firm's obligation to any involved party was now ended.

The letter raised far more questions than it answered. Who wrote the diary and when? Who donated it to the museum and how were they related to me? What museum would not want an original document from probably the 19th century, and how could a diary possibly be 'inappropriate for either display or study'?

The best place to start answering these questions it seemed was in the leather-bound volume laying on my table and with a fair amount of excitement and curiosity I unbuckled the straps and opened the cover.

I was struck immediately by the picture of the young woman expertly inked neatly onto the opening page. She was beautiful and elegant, but what caught my eye was the mischievous look captured by the artist. The inscription written in faded ink under the picture answered at least one of my questions.

To my beloved Bianca, May the light that shines in your heart light the world - Mama

Based on this initial page it seems that the author of this mysterious diary was the striking 19th century woman of the picture. It did not, however, explain why the museum curators felt that the item in question could not be displayed or even kept in their collection.

Turning to a random page near the center of the volume I gasped when I saw the sketch of a naked black woman on her knees. I was beginning to understand the issue, but in order to fully come to grips with why this ancient journal ended up in my hands, I will need to do a lot more research - starting with reading the diary.