Page from a Tennessee Journal (AmazonEncore Edition)

tighter.
    “Whoa, boy. You ’bout to choke me to death.” John set the boy back on his feet and held him by his shoulders. “Whoee. You sho’ have growed up. I hope all those new clothes I got fo’ you will still fit.” He jerked a head toward the box as he winked at his son.
    Doug started toward the buggy, but with John’s hands on his shoulders, his feet marked time in place. John’s laugh boomed out in the afternoon sun.
    “Papa, is you rich now?” Doug stopped his fruitless running and looked John up and down.
    “Yo’ papa’s always been a rich man. I got you, yo’ brothers, yo’ little sister, Lottie, and yo’ momma. It’s just that now, I can show you all how rich I am.”
    The stunned look on Doug’s face kept bringing on the pleasure. John couldn’t stop the laughter, and it felt good. He hugged the boy again.
    “Say, why ain’t you in the fields? Ain’t this the first day of plantin’?” He gave the boy a crooked half smile.
    “How’d you know that? You must be a magic man and a rich man.” The surprise on his son’s face slowly gave way to a broadening smile.
    John closed his eyes for an instant. All those Nashville months melted away in just this instant. He looked at his boy again.
    “Is Cleveland in the fields with yo’ momma?” Through all the joy he was feeling, the slim sound of silence broke through.
    More curious than anything else, John stood up and walked around the buggy. With a hand over his eyes to block out the mid-afternoon sun, he scanned the fields near the path. Where were Annalaura and the other children? At least some of them should have been within seeing distance.
    “Cleveland’s plantin’ tobacca with the new man and Momma’s upstairs. She sent me down to bring up the pork chops.”
    For the first time, John saw the covered platter lying on the ground. Doug must have set it there when he first spotted the buggy.
    “Pork chops? Where’d you all get pork chops in May?” That cracker McNaughton was being awful generous to the new hired man.
    To get pork chops at the beginning of planting would have taken an advance so big that most tenants could never pay it back. Too excited to notice Doug’s attempts at a stuttered answer, John grabbed the box from the buggy and headed into the barn.
    Doug trotted along behind him. John barely noticed that there were now three cows in the stalls, and the oinking of the four sows in their pen just on the other side of the wall completely escaped his conscious mind in his haste to climb the ladder to the loft and Annalaura. He nearly stepped on one of the two dozen chickens in his way before he reached the bottom rung of the ladder.
    “Papa’s come home. Momma, Papa’s back.” Doug’s high-pitched voice reached the landing before John could quietly slide the gift box on the floor.
    He turned and tried to shush his son, just as the boy started his climb.
    “Shh. Papa wants it to be a surprise.” He was too late.
    The oval-shaped face of a pigtailed girl of about six looked down at him.
    First, the child scrunched her eyes in confusion then got down on one knee to peer at the face just coming into view. John put a finger to his lips to silence Lottie. But, like her brother, she was having none of it.
    “Momma, Momma. It’s Papa. I know it is. It’s my papa.” She jumped straight to her feet like a Jumpin’ Jill.
    John reached out a hand to stop his daughter from tumbling down the landing opening right on top of him. As he cleared the last rung, he picked her up as she wrapped both arms and both legs around him. The little girl covered his neck and face with kisses. He twirled Lottie around the room in a dance of triumph, bumping into a wall. He paid no notice as his eyes caught their first fleeting glimpse of Annalaura, but a full view of her was blocked by Henry hurtling at him faster than one of those Kentucky racehorses.
    “Lottie, is he really my papa?” Little Henry pulled at the black high-topped shoe on his sister’s foot.
    The thought that the shoe was new and well fitted burst on his brain and fled when he saw Doug dive into the gift box.
    “Papa brought us some presents,” Doug announced as Lottie squirmed out of her father’s arms and nearly ran over Henry getting to the box.
    “Hold on, now. There’s presents for everybody. Lottie, you and Henry, let Doug pass ’em out.” He reached for his new breast pocket handkerchief when his eyes finally lit on the woman sitting at the