Chapter 9

“Coming right to you, Small Jefferson!” he warns when the thwack of the bat sends a hit my way.

I later find out there is another Jefferson, a man six inches taller than I, if not more.

“Why isn’t he Big Jefferson?” I ask William.

“Because he was the only Jefferson, until you came along.” William’s embrace knocks the wind out of me. Like everything else he does, I quickly discover, he hugs with all that he has.

I have always liked singing. The men tell me I am good at it. One soldier, Wade, his brown eyes take in my voice with such adoration, dare I say, that I want to keep singing only for him. “Amazing Grace” is the tune.