The Complicated Life of Darlene Jean Lemay

She wipes the forming fog from her window and peers across the street at the looming painted lady, so out of place in the run down neighborhood. A handmade sign in big red letters is stuck crookedly in the front lawn and reads, "Estate Sale Friday and Saturday 8-3". Working for a used book store was her dream job and this was her favorite part. The treasure hunt! Flipping the hood of her coat up, she sprang from her car and made a bee-line for the front door, stumbling a bit on the crooked flagstone walkway.

Stepping onto the once grand, covered porch, she shook as much of the rain off as possible, turned the crystal door knob and fell into the bright warmth of the foyer. Slowly turning around and taking it all in, she saw a grand staircase with worn green carpet, a crystal chandelier layered with dust and a little card table with a young woman taking money from patrons of the sale. It was easy for her to get lost in her own imagination when she stepped into someone else's home like this. Who were the owners? What tragic events befell them? What secrets did they take with them?

She began slowly working her way through room after room in the gigantic house, pausing periodically to admire a piece of art or handmade quilt. Pushing through a heavy wooden door, she found what she had hoped, a library. Floor to ceiling, dark wooden shelves lined all four sides of the room, with only small openings carved out for the door and a window. She began to run her fingers along the spines, searching for treasures. At about the half-way point, she already had a small stack of dusty books that would fit in just right at her shop. She crouched to view the books on the shelves below the window and her eye scanned over, almost missing, a small, plain black spine.

Curious, she pulled the little black book from it's place among it's peers, leaving it's imprint in the dust where it had obviously rested for many years. Running her hand over the soft, coal black leather cover, she turned it over in her hands, examining the front, back and spine. Nothing. There were no markings, no author names, nothing that would elude to it's contents. She slowly opened the little black book and peered down at the thick, creamy page that lay before her. Written in ink as black as the book itself was the name, "Darlene Jean Lemay".

"Can I help you find anything?" a voice startled her from the library door way.

"Yes, how much are the books? I have a small pile here if you want to look at them?"

The girl, the same who had been at the card table in the foyer, gave a fake little smile and, nodding at her pile of treasures said, "Books are 50 cents each or 10 for $1." Shocked by this, she looked from the stack of books, to the one she held in her hand and back at the girl.

"10 for a $1? You don't want to even see what I have?"

"These are all old, outdated books my grandma had. There is nothing in here anyone wants and I want to get rid of them. So the more you buy, the cheaper I will go just so we don't have to haul them all to the Goodwill." With that she turned and was gone. She stood there flabbergasted for a minute. How could this woman's own granddaughter not appreciate this amazing collection? She added the little black book in her hand to her small pile and began pulling more books from the shelves. Soon she found herself surrounded by growing piles.

One by one, she took each pile of books to the checkout table and watched as the girl, maybe 20 years old, counted her books.

"That will be $10 please." She quickly dug out two five dollar bills from her wallet and handed them over. She was still thinking the girl would realize her mistake at any time and demand more money for the piles of books stacked on the floor all around her. Scooping up the first pile of books, she stepped back out on the porch and saw that the rain had subsided while she had been lost in the library. She quickly made trip after trip to her car, stacking books lovingly in her trunk and then in the backseat until every inch of available space was covered. She smiled and looked up at the painted lady in her rearview mirror as she drove away. What mysteries do you hold?

Back at the book shop her manager was ecstatic with her purchases. As she carried in stack after stack, her smile widened and reached the level of the Cheshire cat when she shared how much she paid for the whole lot.

"That is amazing! I will reimburse you double and why don't you pick out a few to keep for yourself?" She didn't have to ask her twice! She grabbed two she had been hoping to read and then turned and saw the little black book perched on top of one of the stacks. Without hesitating, she scooped it up and added it to her little stack. This was the one she was most anxious to read. Tired and sore from all the lifting and sorting of the new books, she drove home that night daydreaming about the bubble bath she would indulge in that night and the little black book.

Slipping into the warm bath, she reached up to the vanity and slid the little black book into her hand, careful to keep it above the steaming water. Opening to the first page again, she studied the beautiful cursive script that spelled out the name. Turning page by page, she began to learn about Darlene Jean Lemay, in her own words and writing, as the little black book morphed into an amazing memoir filled with romance, heartbreak and loss. Darlene had poured her soul into her words, sharing her deepest secrets and most intimate thoughts.

The bath water grew cold, but she barely noticed it as she remained engrossed in the words that seemed to leap off the page and into her imagination. A beautiful young woman in love with a soldier. She marries another when she believes her true love is killed at war. He is alive! But she is already married. They rendezvous and remain lovers until her husband catches them and threatens to kill her true love. Torn from his arms, she knows she can never see him again so that he can live. He disappears. Her husband is evil and treats her as if she were a slave, beating her often. She finds herself with child and knows in her heart it is was created with her true love as she peers into the same blue eyes. Always suspicious, her husband needed a male heir to carry on the family name so never questions her. But she knows he knows.

Tears run down her cheeks as she processes the end of the life of Darlene Jean Lemay. She died alone, never knowing what happened to her true love. Her son grew to look just like his father and reminded her of him every day. Her heart ached for him until she drew her last breath.

Turning the last page she saw that, even though the story was over, the mystery continued. Scrawled across the final page, in the same script were the words, "Dearest Stranger, If you are reading this, I know you must be a stranger, as my family does not care to value my cherished library as I once did. My library was my escape, where I would go to lose myself in my imagination when life got too hard to bear. I ask that you take good care of my collection and that it provide the escape you too may need from everyday ordinary life. As a thank you I offer you a prize that can be found beneath the board of the window sill in my library. My hope is it will help you live a life filled with love and hope and that it will get you closer to your dreams coming true. All my love, Darlene."

She sat in stunned silence for a moment. These words sprang off the page as if Darlene herself were standing next to her speaking them aloud. She climbed out of the bathtub and into her worn, terry cloth robe, the shivering finally starting to set in. She would fill her dreams tonight with the life of Darlene and tomorrow, she would pay the painted lady another visit.

The sun was shining and she took her time on her approach to the house this time noticing every little detail. The bird feeders and houses hanging from the trees. The little stone statue of a dog in the overgrown flower bed. A mosaic stepping stone with a small child's hand imprinted in the center in the dirt next to the stairs.

Slipping in the front door, she made her way immediately to the library. Finding it empty, she closed the door behind her and breathed in the familiar scent of the books. Slowly crossing the room to the window she ran her hands ran along the bottom of the window sill and gently pulled up on the ledge. The wood gave way and a dark, empty space about six inches deep peered up at her. She reached down in the space and her fingers found a thick stack of papers and envelopes. Pulling them into the sunlight, she saw they were held together with a purple ribbon. Slowly she untied the bundle of papers, which looked newer than she expected and found another handwritten note. While on modern paper, it was the same familiar handwriting.

"Dearest Stranger, By being here and holding this letter I know you will care for this library as I did. You will find with this letter three envelopes. Two are for you and one is for my true love should he ever return. I assure you I have all the proper paperwork filed with my attorney so that none of my family can contest my wishes. May you find your true love and live the wonderful, happy and prosperous life I always dreamed of. All my love, Darlene."

Opening the first, thick envelope, she gasped as the sunlight revealed a stack of money. Thumbing through it slowly, she counted $20,000 in crisp $100 bills. The second envelope was much thinner and when she opened it the paper inside was old and worn. Carefully unfolding it she began to feel dizzy as she read the word "Deed" at the top. She leaned against the window sill for support, not believing what she was seeing. She quickly returned the paper to the envelope and stuck the first two envelopes in her purse. She stared down at the last sealed envelope that had the words, "My Love" scrawled across the front in Darlene's writing. She wondered what it said, but would never betray her friend's trust. Her friend. How could she become so close to someone she had never met just by reading her story in a little black book?

She quietly stepped out of the library, closing the heavy door. She smiled knowing she would be back and that Darlene's books would be lonely no more. As she stepped into the sunshine and started towards her car, she noticed an elderly man standing in the yard gazing up at the colorful home looming above him. A single tear was slowly falling down his cheek. Noticing her, he smiled a sad smile and his blue eyes sparkled in the sun. Her breath caught. She walked to him and, without a word, handed him his envelope.