Prologue

Our love was sweet and tart like lemonade on a sun-scorched day or the sweat that runs down your lover's face. It was bittersweet, more bitter than sweet. But by the time you find this, you gonna get to the sweet, cause me and Joe done worked out all the bitter.

This is my story, mine and yours, my children of grace....

I'm writing these words so everybody can know that God be real. Spirit be real. Love be real.

I don't know how I come to do it. But I am. I ever learn to write or read. But here I be doing it. All I know is I got to do it fast, cause my life here ain't gonna be long. I gotta do what I'm sposed to. I guess this been the reason all along. I never knowed why a person has to go through so much pain, just to get to the comfort. But I reckon comfort only comes to those who suffer.

I better write now, fore this power leave me.

Cosina Brown, or Miss Cozy, as she was known throughout the literary community, relaxed herself into her favorite chair and smiled. "Hello, old friend," she said to the book, Children of Grace, she held in her lap. Even though she loved books passionately--she sold them for a living--this book was special.

"Been a long time since I read you. Something's telling me to read you again, and you know I always listen to the 'some-things.'

"Sweet Honey got a song about that. It says listen more often to things than to beings, because in them we hear the ancestors' prayers."

Miss Cozy shifted herself in the overstuffed chair, and got more comfortable. Reading this book always brought on change. A major shift was coming, Miss Cozy could feel it, so she knew she had to get ready. As she beg...