Destiny Ever-Changing by Tasha Ivey Read Free Book Online Page B

ornate gold frame, and there are various pictures of family around the room. There are two doors along one wall of the room: a bathroom and a closet. Just past the living room, there is a set of double doors that lead to a balcony, which overlooks the backyard and the ocean.
    "Nana, this room is amazing!"
    "I told you that I fixed it up! Did you see the balcony on the back? It has its own set of stairs, so you can walk down to the beach anytime you like, without having to go through the garage."
    "I don't know what to say! Why haven't you made this your bedroom? It would be perfect!"
    "I like my bedroom just fine," she answers. "Anyway, I couldn't get up and down these stairs all day long. It just makes me happy to know that I have a nice place for someone to stay when they visit."
    "I may never leave," I joke.
    She hugs me. "I may never let you, either!"
    Nana walks to the closet and opens the door. "Darn, I thought the extra quilts and pillows were in this closet. I guess I never got around to getting it all back down out of the attic to bring over here. I'll have to try to get up there and see if I can find them."
    "No way! I'll go up and get them myself. Just show me the way."
    We walk back over to the house, and she shows me the door that leads to the attic. I don't ever remember going up there as a child, and I find out why when I make it up the steep stairs. There is hardly any walking room up here. It's packed with boxes, furniture, stacks of magazines, plastic bins, and a multitude of things that are so dust-covered that I can't tell what they are. She said the extra quilts, sheets, and pillows were in a big plastic tub, so I begin opening each onewithout having much luck.
    I turn toward the door to ask Nana if she is certain that they are up here, and I notice another plastic bin on a wide shelf. There isn't any dust on it, so I can tell it hasn't been up here long. I have to squeeze between an old armoire and the wall to get to it. I pull the heavy tub off of the shelf and open the lid. I have finally found the right tub, but I am unsure how I am going to get the large bin out through that tight space; it's too heavy to pick up very high. There is a dusty, old desk with a large enough opening at the bottom for the bin to fit through, so I shove it through the hole and go back over to squeeze past the armoire again.
    As I walk over to pick up the tub, I notice a small box in front of the bin.  I must have pushed it out from under the desk when I shoved the bin through. I pick the box up to return it to its place, but I notice the name "Regina" is written across the front. Curiosity gets the best of me, so after placing the box on top of the desk, I carefully pull the lid off of the top.
    Inside, there are some dried flowers, seashells, a piece of rope tied into a loop, some carnival tickets, a bundle of letters, and a book. The book draws my interest, so I pull it outcareful not to crumble the dried flowers. It's a faded, burgundy leather-bound book with a thin ribbon tied around it to keep it closed. On the front, the word "journal" is inscribed in gold lettering. This must be my mother's journal.
    I put the lid back on the box, and I set it on top of the plastic bin, carefully carrying them back down the attic stairs.
    When I reach the bottom of the stairs, Nana calls me into the kitchen.
    "Did you find it, honey? It's a real mess up there."
    "Yeah," I tell her as I walk into the kitchen, happy to be able to put the tub down for a moment. "That's not all I found."
    "Oh, you found another box of your mother's things. There's no telling what of hers is up there. I packed up everything she left behind when she married your dad. But . . ." She picks up the dusty box, studying the name on it.
    "What?" I ask.
    "Well, this isn't one of the boxes I packed. Her name is written in her handwriting. She must have put it up there, because I don't ever remember seeing this one before."
    She opens the box, peers inside,