To Wager Her Heart Page 33

  “And you were so right.” Laughing, she accepted the diploma and his hug. “Thank you, Mr. White, for giving me the opportunities you did.”

  A twinkle lit his eyes. “I suspect, Miss Jamison, that the opportunities for you are only beginning.”

  As she retraced her steps back down the stairs she spotted Vinson, Lettie, and Brister sitting together and clapping, along with so many others. But it was seeing Ella standing with the other singers, smiling and cheering, that brought tears to her eyes. On her way back to her seat, she stopped and hugged her friend tight.

  “You did it!” Ella cried.

  “We did it.” Alexandra drew back and looked into Ella’s lovely gray eyes and knew in her heart, as she had for some time now, that God had given her the sister she’d always longed for.

  Later that afternoon, during the graduation festivities, Mr. White pulled her aside. “Let’s you and I and that man of yours have a discussion this next week before the singers and I resume our tour. We’re opening a freedmen’s school in Denver, Miss Jamison, and are in need of a head teacher.”

  Alexandra smiled, then saw Sy looking their way, and she sensed that Mr. White and Sy had already spoken. “As it so happens, Mr. Rutledge and I leave for Denver next week. Right after our wedding. And yes, I’m most definitely interested. But as I’ve learned so well over these past few months . . . whatever the Lord wills, Mr. White. Whatever the Lord wills.”

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for sharing your valuable time with me—and with Sy and Alexandra and the Jubilee Singers. When I first read about the history of Nashville’s Fisk University and learned about the singing group, I knew I wanted to incorporate a portion of their journey of courageous faith and hope into a novel. Finally that opportunity came with To Wager Her Heart.

  One of the first questions my editors asked after reading the first draft was, “Is the story of them finding the chains real?” Yes, it is. I took artistic license in how they found them. But it’s true that the rusty chains and manacles from an abandoned slave pen of the city came into possession of the school, were then sold, and the money used to purchase Bibles for spelling books.

  It’s also true that Fisk University was first housed in Union Army barracks that were swiftly decaying. Also, it was George Pullman himself who—after hearing the Jubilee Singers in concert—offered one of his own Pullman Palace cars to them for their use.

  There really was a “trip preceptress” who accompanied the singers. Hence, the idea for Alexandra to play that role. The real preceptress’s name was Mary Wells, principal of an AMA school in Alabama, who brought along her eight-year-old ward, “Little Georgie” Wells.

  The persecution endured by the Jubilee Singers as portrayed in the novel is only a fraction of what the real singers endured. Yet in less than three years of touring, they returned to Fisk University with nearly one hundred thousand dollars. And during that time they had been received by the president of the United States, performed before the Queen of Great Britain, and breakfasted at the table of her prime minister. As J. B. T. Marsh cited in his wonderful book The Story of the Jubilee Singers (published in 1881), “Their success was as remarkable as their mission was unique.”

  And on a sadder note, though Thomas Rutling searched for his mother for the remainder of his life, he never did find her.

  Many of you have grown to love Uncle Bob just as I have. He really did marry Ellen Watkins, and they lived in the old Harding cabin and raised seven children there. Uncle Bob’s dying wish was to be buried at Belle Meade, which he was in 1906. Unfortunately, the actual placement of his grave and that of his wife, who followed shortly after him in death, have been lost to time.

  The train accident in this novel is also, tragically, based on a real accident that occurred in 1918 outside of Nashville on Dutchman’s Curve. With few exceptions, the facts presented in the story about that horrific event are consistent with history. It’s reported that up to fifty thousand spectators showed up throughout the day to see the disaster for themselves.

  The Ashtabula accident is also based on a real event. Philip Paul Bliss was a nineteenth-century songwriter and composer who wrote many beloved hymns, which I grew up singing. He and his wife were killed in that train accident in December 1876. If only he knew what an impact his songs have had on so many through the years. Then again, maybe he does.

  If you’re one of those readers who appreciates additional information about the real events in a novel, I invite you to visit the To Wager Her Heart book page on my website (www.TameraAlexander.com) and click the link entitled “Truth or Fiction?” In addition to sifting the truth from fiction, you’ll find pictures of the real Jubilee Singers and other real-life figures from this story, images from the accident at Dutchman’s Curve, and much more.

  Coming in October is a novella—Christmas at Carnton—that launches a brand-new series set at Nashville’s own Carnton Plantation. Three novels will follow, and I’m so excited to share these stories with you.

  When you’re next in Nashville, both Belle Meade Plantation and Fisk University welcome your visit. If you’re part of a book club reading one of my books, I’d love to join your meeting via Skype for a twenty-to thirty-minute call. Visit the Bonus Features page on my website and click “For Book Clubs” for more details.

  Finally, each month I offer exclusive giveaways to my newsletter friends. So be sure to sign up for that when you’re visiting my website. I love staying connected with you!

  Until next time,

  Discussion Questions

  1.Sy and Alexandra come from very different backgrounds. Discuss those differences and how their varied perspectives shaped their personalities.

  2.Alexandra always wanted a sister, a confidante. Do you have that in your life? How is your family dynamic similar to or different from Alexandra’s?

  3.Before reading this novel, had you heard of the Fisk Singers (or Fisk University) before? Do you share an affinity for music? And if so, what kinds of music?

  4.Alexandra’s mother states (ch. 2) how the world was changing for women. Discuss the changes she referenced and contrast those with today’s culture. What advancements have been made? What common battles are still being fought?

  5.We often assume things about one other upon first impression just as Mr. White did with Alexandra. Identify his misassumptions and discuss the challenges that come with making broad assumptions, both then and now, especially in regard to race and culture. Share specific examples from your own life.

  6.The tragic accident at Dutchman’s Curve in Nashville really did occur—on July 9, 1918. Tamera took artistic license in placing the accident in her story (in 1871) in order to include it in the historical fabric of this novel. But the majority of facts presented about the accident are true. The “Great Cornfield Meet” still stands as one of the worst railroad accidents in American history. Were you aware that there were Freedmen railroad cars? Discuss how social norms and discrimination played a role in that accident.

  7.Sy’s thoughts during General Harding’s prayer (ch. 10) are revealing about his character. Can you relate to where Sy is in his character journey in that part of the story? Contrast his beliefs then with his later growth in the story. Have you visited any of the places he and Selene Harding discuss in that scene (current-day Garden of the Gods)? Share your personal experiences.

  8.Alexandra meets Ella Sheppard, the real-life character who was both Mr. White’s assistant and the first black teacher at Fisk University. Discuss their awkward first encounter and Alexandra’s thoughts and reactions relating to that experience—and how it served as a catalyst to their friendship.

  9.Racial discrimination is certainly a core theme of To Wager Her Heart, as are cultural differences and the ways they can divide us. Discuss the various prejudices you noted while reading and contrast those to current-day struggles.

  10.Mr. White, another true-to-history character, often quoted in real life, “A
nyone devoted to his books is on the road to freedom, while anyone ignorant of books is on his way back to slavery.” Do you agree with that statement (for both then and now)? How have you experienced the freedom that comes through learning? Give personal examples from your life or the lives of others.

  11.Alexandra and Mr. White discuss her lingering fear pending her decision (ch. 22), and Mr. White challenges her on how she’s viewing her situation. Read the portion of White’s dialogue beginning with “I fear the Enemy has entangled you . . .” and then Romans 8:35–39 and Hebrews 12:11. Discuss how you believe God uses suffering in a believer’s life, and how he used it in Alexandra’s and Sy’s lives.

  12.Standing for your principles takes courage and almost always comes at a cost. What price did the various characters in the novel pay for their convictions? Or for the convictions of others? Specifically Alexandra, Sy, Ella, the singers, Barrett and Laura Jamison, etc.

  13.Share your favorite character and scene from the novel and the impression they made on you.

  14.Be sure to take a picture of you (or of your book club) holding up your book(s) and send Tamera a copy of the photo at TameraAlexander@gmail.com so she can post it on her website (www.TameraAlexander.com).

  Acknowledgments

  With gratitude to . . .

  My family for your tireless love and support—especially on those late, late writing nights.

  Daisy Hutton and L.B. Norton, whose expertise and passion made this story so much better than it would have been on my own.

  Natasha Kern, my literary agent, for being your wonderful, encouraging, and challenging self.

  Deb Raney, my writing critique partner, for all the catches, suggestions, and TorTs (aka Take or Toss comments)!

  The staff at Belle Meade Planation for inviting me (and all my readers) into the Harding’s beautiful home. I couldn’t have written these books without you.

  You, my reader . . . The true joy in writing comes when you connect with these characters and their journeys, and then reach out to me. A thousand thank-yous, and I hope to hear from you soon!

  The original and ever-inspiring ensemble of the Fisk Jubilee Singers—Ella Sheppard, Isaac Dickerson, Greene Evans, Benjamin Holmes, Jennie Jackson, Maggie Porter, Thomas Rutling, Minnie Tate, Eliza Walker, and Phebe Anderson. And, of course, their memorable leader, George White.

  Jesus Christ, who sees each one of us and knows us intimately. I’m so grateful you love us enough to show us what (and who) we’d be without you. Help us to see each other through your eyes and to love as you love—unconditionally and without measure.

  Alexandra’s Chocolate

  CHESS PIE

  3 eggs

  ¼ cup milk

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  1 stick margarine

  3 tablespoons powdered cocoa

  1½ cups sugar

  In a mixing bowl combine eggs, milk, and vanilla and stir well. In a saucepan, melt margarine over low heat, then stir in cocoa and sugar and mix well. Then add the egg mixture (eggs, milk, and vanilla) a little at a time until well combined. Pour into unbaked pie shell and bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes (or until the center is set).

  AN EXCERPT FROM

  Christmas at Carnton

  BY TAMERA ALEXANDER

  Chapter 1

  November 13, 1863

  Franklin, Tennessee

  21 miles south of Nashville

  Very nice stitching, Mrs. Prescott.”

  Aletta looked up, not having heard her employer’s approach. Focused on her task, she was determined to leave the factory on time that afternoon. It was a special day, after all, and Andrew would be excited. Her son needed this encouragement. They both did. “Thank you, Mr. Bodeen, for your kind words.”

  “You always do excellent work, Mrs. Prescott. Every stitch so straight and even, perfectly matching the one before.”

  She smiled her thanks despite perceiving a negative quality in his voice. Not that Mr. Bodeen ever sounded jovial. Unmarried, not much older than she was, he always seemed a sad sort. A discontented, melancholy man. But then, how could any able-bodied, healthy man maintain a sense of self-worth, much less pride, when he’d chosen to stay behind and work in a factory instead of joining the rest of the men who’d left home and loved ones to fight in the war?

  Like her beloved Warren had done.

  Her throat tightened with emotion. Would it always hurt this much? She swallowed. Nearly one month to the day since she’d received the letter from the War Department, yet she still had trouble believing he was gone. Perhaps if she could see his body one last time, she’d be better able to accept that—

  “Would you join me in my office, Mrs. Prescott?”

  “In your office, sir?” Aletta paused mid-stitch and looked across the rows of seamstresses to the clock on the factory wall. A quarter past four. Almost another hour before her shift was over. Then she felt the stares.

  She looked around only to see the other women quickly bowing their heads and turning curious gazes back to their work. Except for one woman. On the opposite side of the factory. Aletta recognized her. Marian, she thought her name was. They’d begun working at Chilton Textile Mills about the same time. Marian was gathering her coat and reticule—and wiping tears from her eyes.

  “Mrs. Prescott.” Mr. Bodeen gestured. “My office, please.”

  Aletta laid aside the garment she’d been sewing, bothered by having to set it aside unfinished, while the greater part of her sensed that unfinished stitches should be the least of her concerns.

  She followed him down the aisle, then past rows of coworkers, the click of her heeled boots marking off the seconds as the tension in the room swiftly registered.

  Mr. Bodeen’s office proved to be considerably more insulated from winter’s chill than the factory, and she rubbed her hands together, welcoming the warmth while also trying to control her nerves. Her knuckles were stiff and swollen from long hours of stitching. But she had only to think of what Warren had endured to silence that frivolous complaint.

  He’d always been careful not to reveal too many details about the war in his letters. But one night during his furlough home in April—the last time she’d seen him—after he’d banished any doubt she might have had about his continued desire for her, he’d lain beside her in the darkness and talked into the wee hours of morning. He talked all about the battles, life in the encampments, and the countless friends he’d made—and lost—during the war. “Friends as close as any brothers I might’ve had,” he’d whispered, his strong arms tightening around her, his breath warm on her skin. “There’s one fellow from right here in Franklin. Emmett Zachary. You’d like him, Lettie. Maybe you and his wife, Kate, could meet up sometime.”

  She’d never heard him go on like that. So unfettered, as though the weight of his soul had grown too heavy for him to bear alone. His words had painted indelible pictures in her mind. Images she’d have wished to erase, but for Warren’s fingerprint on them.

  Anything from him was something she wanted to hold on to.

  She’d made a point to look up Kate Zachary, and they’d even had tea on two occasions. But the hours in each day seemed to fly, as did the weeks, and she hadn’t seen Kate since the afternoon she’d visited her to tell her about the letter she’d received from the War Department. “. . . slain on the battlefield, having given the ultimate sacrifice for love of home and defense of country” is how the letter had been worded.

  The notice had arrived only two days after she’d received a hastily written letter from Warren telling her he was faring well enough and that he’d penned two more letters to her that he would send shortly. The letters never arrived.

  What she wouldn’t give to have them now. To have him back.

  “Please have a seat, Mrs. Prescott.”

  Aletta did as Mr. Bodeen asked, her gaze falling to a handwritten list atop his desk. Was it a list of names? She attempted a closer look as she sat. It was hard to read the writing upside down, and
yet—

  She was fairly certain she saw Marian’s name, the coworker she’d seen crying moments earlier. Aletta swallowed, panic clawing its way up her chest.

  “Mrs. Prescott, you know how much we appreciate your work. How you—”

  “Please don’t take away my job, Mr. Bodeen. Reduce my hours if you need to, but—”

  “Mrs. Prescott, I—”

  “I’m behind on the mortgage, Mr. Bodeen. And keeping food in the pantry is already a challenge. Mr. Hochstetler at the mercantile has extended my credit as far as he can, and I don’t know what I’ll—”

  “I wish there were something else I could do, ma’am, but—”

  “I have a son, sir. Andrew. He’s six years old. Today, in fact.” She tried to smile and failed. “He’s waiting for me even now because we’re supposed to—”

  “Mrs. Prescott!” His voice was sharp. “Please do not make this more difficult on me than it already is. You are an exceptional worker, and I’ve written you an outstanding reference. Which is more than I’m doing for the others.” He pushed a piece of paper across the desk.

  Numb, Aletta could only stare at it, the words on the page blurring in her vision.

  “With the war, customers aren’t buying clothing like they used to. And there’s simply not enough work for the seamstresses we’ve employed. I’m sorry. You were one of the last women we hired, so it only seemed fitting.”

  “But you complimented me a moment ago. You said I always do excellent work.”

  “I know what I said, Mrs. Prescott.” He averted his gaze. “I was hoping to . . . soften the blow.”

  She blinked and moved a hand to her midsection, feeling as though she’d been gut-punched, as Warren might’ve said. It had taken her weeks to find this job, and that had been almost a year ago—after she’d lost her job at the bakery. The town of Franklin was in far worse shape economically now than then. Up until a couple of months ago, the Federal Army’s occupation of the town had made for a tenuous existence for Franklin residents. Especially considering the garrisons of soldiers encamped in and around Fort Granger while thousands of Confederate troops were entrenched only miles away.