Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

Annalaura let his hands lean her body against his chest. Alex stroked a finger from her breast to the baby’s puffing cheeks.
    “He ain’t comin’ after me again, Alex. He already took out his mad on me.” She was too tired to move her body, and there was no time to push back how good she felt. “He won’t hurt the baby either. When he takes one look at her, he ain’t never gonna want to see me or her again.” Maybe telling Alex the truth would get him out of the cabin.
    If John Welles wanted her dead, he would have done the job when he first saw her fat belly in their barn. Cleveland, and his pitchfork, would never have stopped John if he’d really meant business.
    “How long before he gets outta Lawnover?” Alex’s hand played between the baby and her breast. His voice carried more calm, but Annalaura heard the purpose in it.
    “If he don’t meet up with you, no more’n a week.” She tried to make her own voice sound casual as though his life and John’s life weren’t hanging on a thread thinner than any ever sold by Mr. Bobby Lee to colored.
    “Can’t wait no week.” Alex raised up on the bed and fumbled through the blankets until he uncovered her shirtwaist and skirt. Shaking them free, he pushed them toward her. “Soon as you feed the baby, put these on. Night air or not, I’m gonna take you both to my place.”
    “We can’t ride out nowhere, tonight.” Annalaura shuddered, and the baby’s tiny mouth fell away from her breast. “In a week, maybe…”
    Alex bounced off the bed. Scouring the floor, he reached down to retrieve her boots.
    “Let’s get some clothes on you.” He grabbed at her foot and tried to jam on the shoe. She pulled her leg back.
    “Can’t do it, Alex.”
    “I know it’s soon. You can rest when I get you home.”
    “That ain’t it.” She swallowed trying to bring up more strength.
    He stopped buttoning the boot to look up at her face.
    “Me bein’ there might not set too well with yo’ wi…with…Miz McNaughton.”
    Clutching the sleeping baby, Annalaura watched Alex’s brow furrow into a scowl. He looked like he’d just heard her say that roses bloomed straight out of snow for all the sense her words made.
    “What in the name of the Good Lord has Eula got to do with this?” He stared at her. “I left her asleep.” Alex slipped another button through its loop, looked up at her, his eyes bright. “Matter of fact, once you finish yo’ layin’ in, you can help her with the cookin’ and cleanin’ and such. She’ll thank me for bringin’ in help.” He went back to the shoe.
    “Thank you?” Annalaura fought back a tremble that shook her shoulders. “Alex, it’s just that I fear that the surprise of me and little Dolly livin’ there without much notice might…well…it could be a might sudden.”
    He fastened the last button.
    “Besides, I got fo’ other children.” She kept her voice as gentle as she could.
    He slipped on the second shoe.
    “I don’t reckon yo’ missus wants fo’ children and a baby clutterin’ up her house.”
    His hand on the bottom shoe button, Alex looked up at her at last. Annalaura took in a breath as she watched the slow nod of his head. He had heard her after all.
    “Well, a house full of youngsters might take her a spell of gettin’ used to.” Alex tapped at the shawl-wrapped baby as his eyes settled on the far wall of the cabin. “I reckon Cleveland and them can stay here with yo’ aunt.”
    “This cabin sets on Thornton land, Alex. Mr. Ben Roy might not take too kindly to…” Annalaura bent her head toward the baby, but she let her eyes search out Alex’s face.
    “Could be so…if Ben Roy…Thornton land…” When he raised his eyes to her, they blazed. “Then I…we…me, you…the baby…we can all go off to Chicago.” His hands dropped from the button as he moved back to the bed. “I’ve got enough money to get us a start up north. Eula can have the farm. I can find a place for Cleveland. Maybe for Doug, too, if I pay a farmer for his keep.”
    Annalaura couldn’t tell if the pile of words spilling out of his mouth were for himself or for her. Either way, his second plan was worse than the first.
    “I reckon the colored preacher will take Lottie and Henry if I give him some money.”
    A second tremor shook Annalaura. Did he really believe what he was saying? Chicago. She’d never seen any colored person who’d ever come back from that northern paradise once they’d left Lawnover,