November 27, 1940
Dear Queenie,
Thank you for the books. My patrons were thrilled to receive them. I was pleased to learn of your grand news that the education in librarianship is nearing completion and your graduation is almost here. Librarian! It seems only yesterday when you left Troublesome. I am happy your family is well, and pleased to inform you we are fit too.
I’m much obliged for the new book you sent Honey for her fourth birthday. It’s one of her favorites. She demands I read it to her at first light and every night, and insists I call her Mei Li.
Yesterday, my daughter declared she will be a librarian, and I dream it for her.
The new library building is coming along, and soon Troublesome will open its first borrowing branch. Last month, I received an invitation from the Kentucky Federation of Women’s Clubs in Louisville, and was given an award for outstanding service and dedication to the Pack Horse project.
Much to my surprise and Harriett’s loud protests, when I returned to the Center, Eula quietly took down the ‘No Coloreds’ sign and tossed it out into the trash.
Jackson is doing well, though I fear he still suffers from the beatings and hasn’t fully healed since his release from prison. He has been looking for a place for us up north near Meigs Creek in Ohio. He learned the community is also in dire need of the Pack Horse librarian services.
Mr. Dalton has been most generous. Since one of the conditions of Jackson’s release was that he cannot reenter Kentucky for 25 years, he has been helping us out and was finally able to privately sell the last tract on Lovett Mountain. Though Davies Kimbo was voted out and never reelected, I’ve been told he watches around town for Jackson’s return and has made it his moral duty to keep him banned.
We pray that the laws of the land will change to favor all unions, all folks one day. I remain hopeful for our safety and our future.
I must close for now and pass this to Mr. Taft so that he can post it safely over in Warbranch for me tomorrow. Give my best to Willow and the boys. Write to me soon.
Your friend,
Cussy Mary
“Mama, I wanna read the book Miss ’Retta gave me,” Honey called out.
I raised the tip of the pencil and paused at my signature and pulled my gaze up from the letter, the brown parchment buckling, rippling under my hand.
Honey held up the colorful storybook, The ABC Bunny. A crooked smile sat soft on her pale-blue face, brightening the shadow-darkened cove and warming our cabin that Pa’d built for me and Mama long ago.
“I read you happy story, Mama.” Honey hoisted the book higher. “’Bout Bunny makin’ different friends. ’Bout Kitten, Funny Frog, an’…oh! Porcupine!” She marched over to me. “Books’ll learn you, Mama. I’m Book Woman, an’ I read you this one.”
“Come on, li’l Book Woman, let’s read on the porch while your mama finishes her letter,” Jackson said to Honey, and lightly squeezed my shoulder.
He’d be gone back to the Tennessee hills before sunrise but couldn’t get enough of Honey—or me of him—on these precious secret visits.
I tilted my chin up to meet his eyes.
“I want to hear our happy story.” Jackson’s gaze lingered briefly on mine, and then he scooped up a squealing Honey and carried her outside. “Read to me, li’l Book Woman,” he sang out. “Read your papa the happy story.”
My heart lifted, and I smoothed down the thick paper with my palm and penned Lovett to my signature with a hope-filled prayer.