By Dana Cameron
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Extra resources for A Fugitive Truth
Now there may be a few other folks in and about. We have scholars who visit for a day and a couple of interns to help with the cataloguing and such. And usually Dr. Faith Morgan is up here too, but she’s in Boston for a few days. She’s been studying some rare examples of Antebellum fiction, doing wonderful stuff on the nature of expressed emotion. With such an interesting topic, you’d think she’d be a little more…a little less…you know, more of a people person. I mean, she and Harry get on famously, there’s no denying that—” Something in Sasha’s voice changed and her face went red.
His iron gray hair was expensively cut and blow-dried in the vertically puffy style that Brian would have derisively described as “’possum head,” and he was clean shaven with a tan that bespoke beach vacations or trips to a tanning booth. The whole impact was one of self-indulgence and image consciousness. When I’d explained who I was, he’d snatched my letter from me—resulting in the paper cut—and then studied the paper like it was a fragment of the Dead Sea Scrolls. When I called out again, he took his time sticking his head out the window, moving with the lassitude of a reptile in a cold climate.
What would it tell me about its former owner? Already it was more than I expected: So many diaries were simply sheets of paper sewn together with a little cardboard cover pasted on the end pages, simple recordings of the quotidian facts of a life, sometimes only a list of visitors or chores. This one already struck me as different. It was about eight inches long and six wide, with a faded blue leather cover, leafy vines outlining its edge, tooled in gold leaf that still shone. Although the corners of the book were dog-eared and browned with age, the cover and endpapers were clean of mildew and other decay.
A Fugitive Truth by Dana Cameron