Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

aisle, deep in sleep, his head resting against the hard armrest of his seat, Doug smiled like he was dreaming of books with more words than pictures. Henry, Lottie, Cleveland—she owed them all the promise of hopes and dreams. And John. Annalaura let her eyes travel to the front of the train car. The head of the man she’d promised to love and obey ’til death parted them rose over the seat back, rigid, like he was waiting for something important to be settled before he could allow himself to drift into his own sleep.
    The Land of Lincoln, the Land of Promise. She had promised John. She had promised Alex. Choose one, and all her yesterdays with the other had to be forgotten. Pick an anonymous name on a train schedule, and her new life would begin with John. He would take Dolly as his own. Love her as his own flesh. Choose Chicago, and become a raisin in a bowl of milk. A raisin waiting for Alex to knock on her door—to claim her as his own.
    The train lurched around a curve. Annalaura felt Lottie’s body burrow deeper into her aching chest.
    Choose, John had made it clear. Two towns. Two men. A shaft of moonlight so bright that it won out against the gaslight in the coach car, bounced off the window, and settled across the back of her hand. She stared at her arm. A slight movement across the aisle drew her gaze to Becky. She shifted her eyes from the old Cherokee to her hand cradling Dolly, and back again. For the first time, she realized that she didn’t need her aunt’s second sight to give her the strength to do what she must.
    Annalaura bent down to the shawl-covered bundle and kissed her daughter on the forehead. Choose, John had said. I forgive you. She took in a gulp of air and stared long seconds at her hand. Though the errant speckles from the moonlight had slipped away, her fingers still showed golden. The ache in her head that had held fast since John left her a year back slipped away. The velvet night outside the train window sparkled as clear as her mind felt. Annalaura looked up the aisle toward her husband. Bless him for his love, but she needed no forgiving. She had done no sin against her God, nor against her husband. Her eyes went to Dolly. Alex, trapped in his own world, had tried, like John, to force a choice out of her. But how could any choice belong to her when it was someone else who laid out only what he knew?
    Her free hand fumbled over the thin, wrinkled slip of paper John had thrust at her. She caught her breath as she let the fingers that had caressed Alex’s naked body play across each of the lined-over letters that spelled out CHICAGO. She lowered her eyelids to block out all sight in the train car. Her hand began a slow slide down the page. A raised place in the paper stopped her. She eased her eyes open and stared down at the letters on the smoothed-out sheet. Her answer had lain there all along. The pain in her heart eased. Choose, said John. Choose me, Alex had said. But she had a choice neither man had given her. Annalaura stroked Lottie’s arm and settled into sleep, her mind at peace. All of her tomorrows belonged in only one set of hands—her own.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
     
    Page has been a story demanding a voice for almost one hundred years. Thank you, Teresa LeYung Ryan (author of Love Made of Heart ), for being the first to let me believe that I could pull one woman’s story out of the dark world of secrecy and into the light. Bless the California Writers’ Club—Berkeley Critique Group/David Baker and Anne Fox—for forcing the tools into my hands to allow me to put thoughts to paper. To that first batch of brave readers—Tootsie, Gloria, Juanda, Dora Jean, and Rozelle—I owe you an immeasurable debt of gratitude for wading through my sea of words. And just when I thought Page would forever languish on a bookshelf for my eyes only, Gilles, you gave me the encouragement for that final push.
    I will always be in awe of whatever force directed Terry Goodman, senior acquisitions editor at AmazonEncore, to choose Page from all the manuscripts submitted to him. Terry’s input, encouragement, and support have been incredible. A special acknowledgment to the entire team at AmazonEncore. They’ve made this an experience of a lifetime.
    I thank my family, Hank and Doug, for putting up with me these past six years. But, most of all, Grandma, this is for you.