Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

Creak, creak.
    “Yes’m.”
    “He the one give you food fo’ yo’ chil’ren?” Creak, creak.
    “Yes’m.” She couldn’t prod her brain into action fast enough to keep up with the circle thinking of a Cherokee woman.
    “He the one tie up that gray hoss of his in yo’ barn three, fo’ nights outta the week since September?”
    A tornado could have swept up the old cabin, but neither the pace of Becky’s creaking rocker nor the puffs on her pipe would have changed one bit. The aroma from the meatless black-eyed peas melted into the gray pipe smoke and collided with the din in Annalaura’s ears.
    “He the one name of Alexander McNaughton?” Creak, creak.
    Somewhere in Annalaura’s head a long, low, keen moan crowded out the sound of the rocker. Some thing whirling in the core of her being forced her feet out from under her. A woman’s voice that sounded like it might once have belonged to herself screamed at the roof beams.
    “Gawd help me. I don’t want it. I don’t want it.” Annalaura dropped to her knees with no control over her legs, but she felt no pain.
    Like a puppet pulled by a string, her neck arched back, bringing her face up toward the rafters. She slapped her hands together in prayer. “Please, Lord Jesus, take this thing outta me. I don’t want it.” That other woman’s voice had not dropped one octave. The tears flooding out of her own eyes stopped her from seeing anything except the soot-black cabin roof, but the touch of still-strong hands around her shoulders guided her to her feet. Some great force from behind propelled her to the chair. She didn’t know how long she sat there listening to the strange woman’s moans, but something hot and steamy touched her trembling lips. Work-worn, cinnamon-brown hands passed before her eyes as they came to rest over her own. Together, they tipped the container to Annalaura’s lips.
    “How far gone is you, chile?” Becky’s voice sounded like Sister Muriel in the church choir singing “Sweet Chariot.” But the funeral song “Precious Memories” better matched how she felt.
    Again, Becky pushed the cup of thick black-eyed-pea soup to her mouth. Her aunt’s hand pushed down on the back of her head, forcing her to take in sips of the soothing soup.
    “I think he hit right off. September. I think I’m four months.” The words came slow and hard between sobs. With the hot soup and her own shame, the room filled with heat. Annalaura shook her arms out of the coat and let it lie across her shoulders.
    “Why didn’t you come to me right off, girl?” Becky turned the pipe upside down on a pottery plate as she lifted Annalaura’s head to face her. “I’d been able to fix you up some special herb tea then.”
    “I kept thinking it couldn’t be so.” The shaking in her body continued, but now it came inside a room that seemed warmer than the hottest mid-August day. “He don’t have no other children. I thought, maybe, he couldn’t have none. At least, I wouldn’t have to worry ’bout that.”
    Only Becky’s steadying hand kept her from splashing soup on the table. Sucking in her lips until they disappeared into her mouth, Annalaura dropped her head.
    “I haven’t had me no word from John since he took off in June.” She took another gulp of the hot soup. Becky’s hands were still over hers as she tipped the cup.
    “And you ain’t thought that I’d know what to do? That I wouldn’t understand?” The chastising sound in Becky’s voice was unmistakable.
    The tears stopped on Annalaura’s face as she remembered Johnny.
    “I was ’shamed, Auntie.” She whispered the words as her chin dropped down to rest on the blue serge coat. “I’m a married woman. Now, everyone in this whole county will know that I’ve been with another man.” The tears started again and spilled down her cheeks as she finally faced her aunt, her hand covering her mouth. She spoke through barely split fingers. “Don’t matter none that John is off cattin’ around again. That he ain’t never comin’ back to me. Aunt Becky, I’m a married woman.” That other woman’s voice threatened to take over her own again.
    “And what do you think you could have done about it?” Becky’s voice was soft as she tightened her grip on Annalaura’s arm.
    Annalaura dropped her eyes again. She wanted to pull the collar up around her ears. She wanted to climb back inside that coat so deep that nobody in this world could ever look upon her