Matilda Smith Medford Massey, June 1886: Jenny was married today. I’m sure that it won’t be remembered like the event when the president of the United States married his lady in the White House earlier this month. But to me, it was much bigger since I was right there in our little church with her. I’ve always regretted not having my mother at my wedding, especially the second one, since it was on our plantation. We’ll miss Jenny, but she’s only five miles away, so we can see her every month or so. I’m hoping that her husband is as good to her as William is to me, and that she never has to deal with a cheating man like her father. If she does, I plan to shoot him and drag his body out into the woods to feed him to the coyotes. My mama would have done that for me if she’d known what I was living through in those days.

“Yes!” Holly did a fist pump. “I just knew Matilda had some balls . . . I mean, guts. Will Jenny be the one that gets women the right to vote?”

“I don’t know,” Lily said. “We’ll have to keep reading to find out.”

“I wonder what her wedding looked like.” Holly’s eyes went all dreamy. “I want a big white dress with a train that reaches all the way to the back of the church, and a cake that’s got calla lilies on the top of it. What did your wedding dress look like, Mama? Do you still have a picture of you in it?”

Lily almost wished that she hadn’t thrown the last remaining picture of her in the dress away. “I got married in my mother’s dress. Her wedding picture is on the mantel in the living room, so take a look at that.”

“But Grandma was tall and you’re short,” Holly said.

“Mama shortened it, removed the sleeves, and cut away that high collar, so use your imagination when you look at it,” Lily said.

She closed the journal. “I’m glad that Matilda was happy and that Jenny is living close to her mama.”

“Me, too.” Holly didn’t look up from her notes.

“Good night.” Lily started to kiss her on the forehead but thought that might be pushing it.