I set the panel aside, reach in, and pull the object out.

It’s an old journal.

The cover is a faded blue, and there are brass plates mounted to the front and back. A clasp connects them, binding the journal shut. There’s an engraving on the front plate.

These Pages Hold My Thoughts and Fears
And the Dreams that I will Seek.
Wishes and Wonder You’ll Find in These

Beneath the inscription is a circular indentation with three small holes.

I read the inscription again.

It’s not complete. It doesn’t make sense. It’s missing the last line. I reread it, shaking my head. I’m just going to have to break it open.

Then it hits me.

‘Wishes and wonder you’ll find in these … the secrets that I keep.’

*

Climbing the stairs, I keep my eyes forward, but every now and again, I’ll glance behind me, terrified of something appearing at the bottom of the stairs, cutting off my only route of escape. I reach the top of the stairs without incident. The door to the master bedroom is closed.

In Caitlyn’s room, I walk around the bed, and over to the nightstand. The medallion is on the corner, face up. The engraving glitters in the setting sunlight outside the window.

I grab it and sit on the bed with the journal in my lap. I gently place the medallion in the circular opening, but it won’t go in. I check the alignment of the pegs on the back of the medallion with the small holes in the circular opening and see my mistake. I try again, slightly rotating the medallion. The pegs slide home. I rotate the medallion. There’s a light hissing sound as it slides against the rim of the lock.

The words align.

These Pages Hold My Thoughts and Fears
And the Dreams that I will Seek.
Wishes and Wonder You’ll Find in These,
The Secrets That I Keep.

The clasp opens, and I gently lift the cover.

There’s a photo of a young girl pasted on the first page. It’s black and white, and fine cracks run across the surface. The girl’s hair is braided behind her head. She looks to be about seventeen or so. Underneath the photo are the handwritten words: This journal is the property of Rebecca Harker.

Where have I seen this face?

I’ve seen her somewh—

The Kingsbrook Historical Society. The photo from the Fourth of July Celebration. She was the girl that was sitting off to the side. The one who wasn’t looking at the camera in the photo.

I turn the page and begin to read …

April 7th, 1900

I love it. I simply love this journal.

I’ve never kept a journal, but I will try to do so, especially because of who gave it to me, but more on that in a moment.