Chapter 30

 

Talan and I continued our jobs at the museum. We spent evenings and afternoons off poring over the letters, newspaper clippings, and photographs from both my own and Walter's research. We even found a photograph of Gil's men, taken in 1858, that included both Hugh and Jasper. Clara's letters had new meaning and insight. We used them as our primary source to tell the story of the cabin and we had three displays up by the end of the summer. It was also through Clara's letters that we learned about the events leading up to Harper's Ferry and that Hugh and Jasper weren't involved. Both of the men continued to correspond with Clara and both went on to fight in the Civil War. Hugh was wounded at the Battle of Chickamauga, but he survived and returned to Ohio. Jasper retired from the military and headed West.

As a keystone of Talan’s internship he decided to take a shot at writing grants and after several after-hours sessions of work we had a strong, well-written proposal. By the end of the summer the museum was awarded a grant to operate the museum from a local family foundation, under the requirement that the museum be a non-profit entity. Shortly after the news, Greer began the process of selling back the museum to the nonprofit foundation and restoring the board. I personally packed up the inflatable guitars.

Fall semester began and with each of us on different schedules, I didn’t see Talan for weeks at a time. We traded days and rarely worked at the same time. One afternoon in October, Talan caught me before I left the museum, ending a nearly five-week separation.

"The pictures from the displays you wanted, I copied them." He handed me a folder.

"Thanks!" I opened the folder and flipped through the pictures. Though it had been seven months, the faces were still familiar – Clara, Hugh, Gil, Jasper. "I'm going to frame them, you know, to have around."

"Yeah, I might too. Um. Here, if you want to add this." He flicked a picture out of his pocket, a wallet sized color image. "I had an extra." He cleared his throat. "Walter's senior picture."

I held the photo with both hands. Walter was sitting in the grass wearing cargo shorts and a teal polo. Messed hair spilled from beneath a black trucker’s hat. The look was completed with mustard yellow Converse shoes.

I couldn't hold back a smile, "It's too perfect!"

Talan was smiling too. "I know, right? He was… is… great." His smile faded as we continued to gaze down upon the photograph. "He had a small family. I don't know how, but it ended up just his mom and grandparents. His mom died right after middle school. Both his grandparents passed away shortly after he graduated. He was 19 so he got an apartment and went to school. Even then he was a loner. I mean, we became like brothers, but he didn't really have any other friends. I never understood how such a good person could have hardly anyone else in the world." He shifted. "Here, at least."

"Thanks," I said again.

"No problem."

I carefully placed the picture in the folder with the others. "I have one more." I went into Greer's old office and opened the closet where I found a box full of pictures from past events we had used for flyers and newspaper submissions. I dug around until I found the one I was looking for and replaced the box in the closet. I showed the photo to Talan before sliding it into the folder.

"Who's that?" He asked.

"His name was… is… Josh."

* * *

Josh. Gil. Walter. Clara. Edgar. Clarence. Hugh. Jasper.

I looked over the faces fixed in a dark wood frame. As I slipped glass over the images, I couldn't stop the ache in my chest due to the fact there was one person missing.

But a photograph, like a headstone, is merely a moment among millions, frozen in time.

As I stood looking up at my memoriam collage, I swear I could feel a hot touch of lips just below my right temple.