Last in a Long Line of Rebels (24 page)

I walked quietly past, into the parlor. The morning light reflected off the gold lettering of the Bible's spine as I pulled it from the shelf. Kneeling, I opened it to the front page where Silas Whittle's name was still legible.

“God,” I whispered, “thank you for saving my house, for giving me a new brother, and for letting Isaac go to UT.” Wow, this had been some summer, after all. I sat, thinking. “I'm sorry I thought you were a fuddy-duddy, and don't take this the wrong way, but if my brother ever says a stupid prayer, could you just let it slide? Amen.”

I turned to the back and pulled out Walter's letter to Louise, then placed the Bible as high on the shelf as I could reach.

“I thought I saw you come in here.” Bertie leaned against the door frame. “Don't hide that Bible. I may need it sometime.”

“No way! I'm putting this Bible away. I don't think you can be trusted.”

“You could be right.” She smiled. “And have you had enough excitement for a while?”

“Totally, although I can see now why you love history so much. It's actually kinda awesome.”

“Now that you like it too, you can be the official family historian.”

I stared at her. “Is that a real thing?”

“If it's not, it ought to be. Somebody's got to make sure we don't forget what's important.”

I nodded. “That's the only reason I can stand looking at slave quarters in the backyard. It's our job to remember.”

“That's my girl. You want to volunteer sometime at the museum with me? We could take turns driving Thelma Johnson crazy.”

“Sure,” I said. “It was fun learning about Walter and Louise. Daddy's family was pretty cool.”

“Oh, that's nothing. You should hear some of the stories about
my
side of the family.”

I laughed. “I can't wait!” I handed her the letter. “This was in the Bible. I thought you might like it for the museum.”

She read it carefully. “This is remarkable. And it was in our Bible the whole time?”

“Yep. Maybe somebody should have opened it a little more often!”

Benzer yelled in to me from the front door. “Lou, are you coming? Franklin got word that Sally Martin and her friends are at the Piggly Wiggly. If we hurry, we can catch them. I can't wait until you tell her about your summer. She might be shocked speechless for once!”

“I'll be right there,” I shouted back. “Bertie, it's so amazing to think this house was part of the Underground Railroad. Louise and Olivia must have been seriously brave.”

“Yes,” Bertie answered. “They ultimately rebelled against their own neighbors
and
the Confederate government. That took a lot of gumption.” She put a hand on my cheek. “You know, that sounds a lot like you.”

“I only rebelled against Pete Winningham.”

“And Coach Peeler,” Bertie said. “Girl, you come from a long line of rebels. If these walls could talk, you'd be one of their stories!” Bertie gave me a hug. “I'm proud of you, child! You've got more backbone than a peacock's got tail.”

“Thanks, Bertie. But in case you haven't heard, Mayhews are made of steel!”

She laughed. “They sure are. But I'm not a Mayhew, remember. My people are made of spunk, and it looks like you got your fair share of that too. We may be more alike than you think.”

I looked at where Benzer had been standing moments ago. “You know, I'm beginning to think that's not such a bad thing,” I said, smiling. And with a wink, I raced outside.

From the diary of Louise Duncan Mayhew
July 1865

I can scarce believe the War has ended. I am much changed from the girl I was when this conflict started, as is this Country, but I'd have neither of us return. So many things I held to be true have been proven false. The desolation is all around us, in the ruined homes and broken families, yet I do not fall into despair for there is also hope. I see it in the lavender violet just beginning to bloom in the meadow, and on the faces of my resilient neighbors.

Yesterday, Mr. Harris delivered a crate addressed to Olivia and me. There was no name attached, but upon opening I knew immediately that it was from Samuel. Inside was a wood chest adorned with beautifully carved buntings. It contained a single piece of paper with drawn instructions on how to open a secret compartment. On the back, a drawing of a tree with three birds perched and singing from its branches. Olivia said I must keep it, as a “tangible symbol of my redemption and efforts toward the cause.” Yes, there is hope for us all yet.

Speaking of secrets, Diary, I do have one more to impart. I have not seen the doctor, but I know, a woman knows. We are going to have a baby! I will tell Walter tonight. Imagine, a baby of our own, to carry on the Mayhew name. God is so good.

 

T
his book would be nothing but a dream of mine without the wonderful encouragement and guidance of so many. I am eternally grateful to Deborah Osgood and Steve Bock, who have cheered for Lou from the beginning; to Cay Drew and her sons, who gave Lou her first middle-grade stamp of approval; to Coach Matthan Houser (who is everything Coach Peeler is not) for sharing his vast football knowledge; and to Pastor David Eldridge for encouraging me to do my “deal.”

Thank you to the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators for their kind support and the Middle Grade Mafia for their friendship. The feedback from friends and fellow writers Debbie D'Aurelio, Alison Hertz, Kim Zachman, Kevin Springer, L. S. Bridgers, and Kristine Anderson was invaluable.

I am profoundly thankful to my agent, Susan Hawk. I've heard there is no such thing as a perfect agent, but, Susan, you are proof that there is! To my incredible editor, Nancy Paulsen, you have been a beautiful blessing on my life. Every round of edits made this book better, and it has been an honor to work with you. Thank you to Sara LaFleur and the entire team at Nancy Paulsen Books for your hard work behind the scenes to make this the best possible version of
Rebels
. Gilbert Ford, you are an artistic genius.

To Tania Stephens, Ellery Lewis, and the rest of my crazy family, your sense of humor has heavily influenced my life and this book. To my friends in Hog-Eye Country, your presence is in every line.

Thank you, JD and Rachel, for your unwavering belief that this day would come. I can't imagine life without you by my side.

And finally, I pray every word of
Rebels
gives truth to Colossians 3:17.

Lou's search through her history was painful, but in the end there was redemption. I'm thankful that no matter what our own pasts contain, there is hope for the same.

Thank you for reading.

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