Historical Fiction
Date Published: Tuesday, October 8, 2024
Publisher: Peanut Butter Publishing
In rural Radford, Tennessee, in the 1950s, a white family is killed in an
automobile accident.
Upon hearing the news of her parents’ and grandfather’s deaths,
Jessa runs away with her dog, creating problems for her town, especially for
the sheriff, her parents’ friends, and the Black community that falls
under suspicion. Racial distrust shapes the town’s response to
Jessa’s disappearance, and as the weeks stretch out, the weather poses
increasing challenges for Jessa as she shelters in a hollow tree while
attempting to provide for herself and her dog, Cassie. Help appears from an
unexpected source as a family mystery is revealed.
The Missing Girl and the second book, Jessa Is Back, are placed right in
the midst of “the good old days” and serve as a reminder of the
unabashed nature and danger of white supremacy in the 1950s. These provide
us an opportunity to examine the parallels in events unfolding today
Also in the Series
Historical Fiction
Date Published: Tuesday, October 8, 2024
Publisher: Peanut Butter Publishing
Jessa is a different person when she returns to her hometown.
The integrated schools in Oregon allowed her to form a friendship with a
Black girl, and now she sees the local Jim Crow practices in Tennessee with
new eyes. Supported by her Oregon relatives, she becomes an advocate not
only for the inclusion of music throughout the school system of Radford, but
also for friendships that cross racial lines. While she becomes a gadfly to
the school board, her interactions with other members of her town
precipitate crises that uncover support for her position as well as staunch
opposition.
In the South, and also in the rest of the country, a long road stretches
from the 1950s to the present, and we must judge how well we have lived up
to the vision that Jessa’s discovery of interracial friendship
revealed to her.
Contact Links
Purchase Links
a Rafflecopter giveaway
EXCERPT
The Missing Girl
It was already dark in the forest, but Jessa and Cassie knew the way to the hollow oak,
Jessa’s secret tree, where she had a hideout. The tree had been her mother’s secret tree, too, and
of course her grandparents had known about it, but it had only gotten better since her mother had
played there. The entrance into the hollow tree bore the mark of a lightning strike. The gap
opened as a split between two massive roots, revealing the hollow core. Leaves had blown in
and cobwebs caught at her face as she crawled inside, but she brushed them away and collapsed
on the crisp, fragrant leaves. Cassie curled beside her, pressing her body in mute consolation for
the great hurt, and Jessa sobbed until she fell asleep
As she turned to leave, Jessa noticed Grandad’s jacket hanging on the back door. She lifted
it off the hook and buried her face in it, absorbing scents that evoked memories of riding on his
shoulders and being boosted into an apple tree. As she stood there, hugging the jacket,
Grandma’s warm presence seemed to flow down the hall towards her. For a moment, everything
was whole again, and Jessa was wrapped in love. Then the magic was broken, the house cold
and empty, and Jessa in a panic to get out. She shoved the jacket through the open window and
slid through herself onto the porch, dragging the paper bag across the counter after her. She
surveyed the kitchen. Nothing seemed out of place, so she pulled the window nearly closed and
pushed the screen in firmly.
Gradually, Jessa was formulating a plan. She thought: I have lots of skills. If I live here and
take care of Cassie, it’ll prove I don’t need foster parents. After a while, I’ll go back to town and
show them I can cook, keep house, and go to school. I’ll carry on Daddy’s work with the school
board and tell them how much we’ve learned from Mr. Alton’s music program. I’ll convince
them to keep music in the white schools and add it to the colored school. I know I can do it!
“Rick, when you came to our house yesterday, asking about the girl, we both said we hadn’t
seen her. That was true, but at breakfast, reading the paper, I recalled something. You see, I
went home for lunch with Laurene yesterday, as I always do, and I drive right by the Olsen
place. There was this old black pickup ahead of me. It stopped and Mr. and Mrs. Olsen got out.
They turned around, like to thank the driver, then rushed to their garage. Laurene and I figure
that must have been before they set out to get the old man. But the point is, as I was driving by
the truck, I noticed the truck driver was a colored man and I thought that was kinda unusual. It
wasn’t until I read the Landsdowne paper that I realized there was suspicion of foul play, and
thought maybe I should report it.”
“Time to wash up,” she announced. Cassie dashed over, muddy and wet, and they went
down the bank together.
Along this stretch, the water spread out in a wide bend, creating a gravel beach that
extended far into shallow water. Cassie walked out and lapped, but Jessa waded out without
reaching water deep enough to scoop up a drink, so she ventured further. As she scooped up the
cold water her shoes sank deep in the sand. Chilled inside by the cold drink, miserable and
exhausted, she stood there, shaking, realizing there was no one to tell her to get out of those wet
shoes or run her a hot bath. She could hear Mommie’s gentle voice urging her to come in,
Grandad’s concerned admonitions, and Grandma clucking over how she was sure to catch her
death of cold. Nobody was left – Nobody cared… At home, her mother would have stripped off
her shoes and steam would already be rising from the bathtub. At her grandparent’s house, the
bathroom heater would have been turned on and warm water would be running in a tense stream
into the high claw-foot bathtub. Jessa’s teeth chattered. She was alone, frightened, and nobody
cared.
Cassie approached, seeking her hand with her cold nose.
