Page 46 of There Are No Words

“Maria found the trunk,” I pointed out, looking to her.

But she only shook her head. “No. We’re up here for you. You should open it.”

Bianca held the key out for me to take. “She’s right. You open it.”

I held the smooth brass key in my hand, fingering the intricate design. I looked at each of my sisters before taking the first step toward the trunk and bending down to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of it.

By the time I got settled, Maria, Perla, and Bianca were around me, watching, waiting. “I hope this is it. I feel like it couldbe,” I declared as I inserted the key and turned. I felt the lock click and then lifted the lid, the white doily slipping down the back of the trunk as it opened.

This would’ve been the perfect time for chimes or a harp to start playing, but neither happened, so I turned to look back at my sisters. “It worked.”

They each nodded and smiled, coming to sit beside me.

Maria reached in first. “This is it, too,” she said, pulling out a delicate lace gown that one of us (or all of us) must’ve worn to be christened. At one time it must’ve been white, but all these years later, it had a tint of yellow that made me sad.

“It’s so beautiful,” I gushed and touched the skirt. “You didn’t use this for Isabella, did you?”

Maria shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?” Perla asked.

Then Bianca questioned, “Did Mom not offer it to you?”

“She did. But I was gifted another one that I couldn’t say no to. I talked about it with Mom, and she agreed I needed to accept the one that was given to Isabella when she was born.”

“Why haven’t I heard this story?” I asked, my interest piqued.

But Maria only shook her head again. “It’s not important.”

“Tell us,” Perla insisted.

Maria chuckled. “One day, I promise.” Then she looked at each of us in turn. “But this isn’t about me or Isabella. Let’s see what else we can uncover for Allie.”

I wasn’t about to push Maria. Something told me now wasn’t the right time, so instead, I reached in the trunk to see what other treasures it held. I pulled out several articles of clothing, a pair of infant sneakers that were too cute for words, and an old photo album.

“Hey, look, pictures of Mom and Dad!” Perla said and leaned her chin on my shoulder as I started flipping through the pages. “They were so young.”

I nodded. “She was so beautiful.” Our mother had the most regal elegance about her. She had been classy, but in an understated way. And she’d had the most wicked fashion sense. God, how I missed her.

Bianca sniffled beside me and wiped her eyes. “She’s missed so much these past eighteen months.”

“She’s with us,” Maria spoke, the wisdom of her years coming in clear.

I passed the album to Maria and turned to hug Bianca. “I agree.”

“Guys, there’s more,” Perla said, breaking up our moment and waving what looked like an old diary in front of us. “Mom’s diary.” She ran her finger down the spine and flipped the cover open.

I gasped. It wasn’t just any old diary. “It’s Mom’s pregnancy journal!” I practically shouted, in disbelief that we were holding something I didn’t even know existed. It felt like we’d just hit the jackpot. LikeI’djust hit the jackpot.

“ThisI didn’t know about,” Maria said, looking at it closely. “She never told me about it when I got pregnant. I wonder why not.”

Bianca cleared her throat. “Probably because she was with you for your pregnancy.”

She was with me, too, I thought, but kept it to myself. It wasn’t the same, I knew, but it would have to do.

Perla let me hold it and I went to the first page. There was a date at the top that gave me pause. “Uhh. . .”

“What?” Maria asked, looking over my shoulder.

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