Jim looked at her. “You mean after he had the heart attack?” She nodded. “If memory serves me… he told her that he had written some important things to be handed down to the boys – your father and your Uncle Bert – and that it was in a secret place. He refused to tell her anything more, but promised to tell her when he got home.”
“Unfortunately, he never got that chance,” Alice said quietly. “Dad and Uncle Bert always assumed he meant the journals containing his observations on the plant life and birds that he found on the farm and in the surrounding area.”
“Your grandmother didn’t agree with them,” Jim said.
Alice shook her head. “Nana always said there was something more, that Grampy would never have lied to her. She thought it had something to do with his years in the war. Dad and Uncle Bert didn’t believe that because they had practically begged him to tell them about it but he never did.”
“Your grandfather was in the war?” Harry said. “And you think…” He said no more.
Jim looked at Alice, then at Harry. “Did you find something out there, Mr. Hogan?”
Harry nodded and told him about the trap door, the little room down below, and the old suitcase. “Finding out exactly what’s inside is up to your wife. It belongs to you guys.”
“What do you think?” Jim asked, looking at his wife.
She nodded her head and then left the room. When she returned she laid an old blanket on the floor and placed the suitcase in the centre. Kneeling on the blanket, she tried to lift the lid. “I think it’s stuck.”
Harry knelt beside her, pocket knife in one hand. Working slowly and carefully, he removed enough rust to flip open the small metal tabs that held the cover down. Then he ran the knife around the seam where the lid met the bottom. “Try it now,” he said as he rose and resumed his seat.
All eyes were on Alice and the suitcase. The lid creaked a little but she had no problem lifting it up.
Inside the suitcase was an old grey army blanket. Alice carefully folded it back, revealing a stash of well-preserved, hardcover notebooks, similar to those on the shelf in the little hideaway room. She picked up the first one and opened it gingerly. “This is it,” she whispered, as tears filled her eyes.
“Alice? What’s wrong?” Jim asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. This is the secret Grampy Sam told Nana about. These journals are filled with the memories of his experiences in the war.” She looked over at Harry. “Thank you, Mr. Hogan. There are no words to tell you what this means to me. It’s… it’s like finding buried treasure.”
“It’s something worth having,” Harry said, “and, in a way, it was buried.”
“Do you have any plans for them?” Bertie asked.
“What do you mean?”
