It was a beautiful, sunny morning. After breakfast, Mary kissed her husband Jeff, and he went off to work as a bank vice-president. Mary loved the old Victorian House they moved into a month ago. She decided to enjoy a second cup of coffee and then go out into the backyard and plant the two pink flowering hydrangea bushes she bought the day before. She reasoned they would be perfect in the old Victorian garden she was planning for the backyard.

She changed into her Levi bib overalls, which she had had since she was a teenager. Took herself out to the garage and selected a spade and then ventured out into the late morning sun. She knew the exact location she needed to dig two holes six feet apart and two feet deep in the yard that was partially shaded, following the directions the Garden Center man had given her.

The sun was warm, and the ground was hard, but with the pointed spade she could remove the soil even as sweat beaded on her forehead. “This bush better be worth the effort,” she muttered. “This darn digging is killing my back. Hey, bush, you better produce beautiful flowers in the many summers ahead.”

Just as she was about to turn the last spade full of dirt, she hit something solid. It didn’t cling like metal. She pushed the spade under the object and lifted, exposing a wooden box. She stooped and brushed away the dirt. My gosh, it’s a mahogany jewelry box. She raised the box, her heart beating faster. Maybe I’ve found a treasure. She imagined diamond rings, bracelets and necklaces along with matching earrings. Things a first-class lady of some time ago would display in style at balls and cocktail parties.  

Brushing off the remaining soil, she noticed a tarnished plaque that read, “For My Dear Eliza, 1865”. Mary carried the box inside, her mind racing with possibilities. She carefully took a damp cloth and wiped off the residue dirt and opened the cover. Inside, there were jewelry items, but the box had two levels. She removed the top shelf and a musty scent, like old, dusty books, she sneezed.

As she glanced down, laying on faded red velvet was a leather-bound book with a gold leaf pages. Mary’s heart quickened. Was this Eliza’s secret diary? The jewelry is nice, but this is a real treasure. Mary was excited about reading the thoughts of someone who lived in Civil War times. As she lifted the journal and opened the first page, she discovered it was filled with elegant handwriting. On the first page was written, “This book is a most wonderful gift from my beloved husband, Captain Jonathan Petersen to keep my secret thoughts while he is away.” The next page began with Eliza’s fear of what might happen to her husband, who was serving as an artillery commander assigned to Fort Sumter, given that South Carolina had seceded from the Union and the state militia had laid siege to the fort. Eliza wrote about the relief she felt after the fort surrendered and the Union soldiers were released and sent by ship to New York. Page after page traced the travels of her husband and told of the intense anxiety, she felt with each new battle that was fought. Mary spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon reading about Eliza's thoughts during the first year of the war. Mary sensed Eliza’s fear as she read about Eliza’s reticence to look in the newspaper for the lists of those who had been killed, wounded, or went missing during the latest battle.

When Mary finally looked at the clock, she realized she had to make supper. During the meal preparation, she thought how fortunate she was that her husband, Jeff, never had to go off to war. When Jeff came in the front door, she ran to him and kissed him. Jeff hugged her, tipped her chin and looked deep into her eyes and said, "I have good news and bad news. I'm being promoted, but I am also being transferred to open a new branch bank, but it is downstate. We’re going to have to move and I'm so sorry we have to sell the house.

"Oh, Jeff," Mary said, tears glistening in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mary, I really don't have a choice."

Mary’s mind reeled for a few seconds, then she recalled the trials that Eliza had to endure while her husband was sent into battle after battle. Mary smiled softly and said, "It’s okay. I’m happy for you and I love you. We can find another house. As long as we’re together, we will have a good life." 

Two months later they were living downstate in a Victorian house. As she worked in her garden she thought back to Eliza, and said to herself, "I'm so fortunate. I wish there were other journals Eliza had buried. I wonder if her husband survived and came home to her after the war."

Mary decided to research Captain Jonathan Petersen. She found Captain Petersen in the National Archives and Records Administration of Civil War Soldiers. He died at the Battle of Gettysburg and is buried in the Gettysburg National Cemetery. Eliza Peterson was listed as living in Chicago in the 1870 census, residing in a boarding house. Her occupation was seamstress. There was no record of her in the 1880 census. Then she thought about the 1871 fire and hoped that was not the reason.

Mary felt a deep sorrow at what happened to Eliza and Jonathan. But she contented herself with the realization of how fortunate she was to have married Jeff. Yes, there are ups and downs, but at least they faced them together.