Free Forever by Linda Cassidy Lewis

were the reborn Jacob and Maggie. But if she could prove those two had really lived when and where he suspected, maybe he would accept the truth. “You get a second chance,” Kate had said, and Annie hoped to convince Tom of that.
    He’d probably tried to call her by now, and that’s exactly why she’d left her phone at home. She didn’t want to talk to him until things were straight in her mind. Her heart, like a dry sponge, ached to soak up any love it could. She couldn’t trust it. Her heart had led her into the nightmare of her marriage. She had to listen to her head this time. Another bad choice might kill her.
    The morning rush hour was over, but traffic had backed up. Road construction or accident? She tapped her nails on the steering wheel and read the bumper stickers on the car in front of her. One of them read—I’M AWESOME. DEAL WITH IT. Was that meant to be a statement of fact or just amusing? If bumper stickers described your life accurately what would hers be? The answer came to her immediately. “Unlucky in Love.”
    That wasn’t the way it worked, though. It wasn’t a matter of luck, it was a matter of choice. After last night’s confession to Kate, she’d cried herself to sleep wondering if she would ever see Tom again. That she shouldn’t see him again crossed her mind, but she hushed that thought. She had to see him. The visions had brought them together for a reason.
     
    Annie had gone to the wrong place. A librarian at Central told her the records she wanted were at the Indiana State Library. Several minutes later, Annie stood in that library’s genealogy room explaining to another librarian what information she hoped to find.
    “I suggest looking for this man in the census records.” The librarian walked to a row of cabinets and pulled a small box from one of the drawers. “This is a film of the 1830 Hendricks County census book.”
    “But the man I’m looking for might have died before then,” Annie said.
    “Well, then your search is going to be more difficult. At least one white settlement was located in the area before 1820, but the county wasn’t formed until 1824. The records don’t start before then. I’m afraid 1830 is the earliest census taken in that county. Why don’t you check this film anyway?” The woman slid the drawer closed and walked toward a nearby doorway.
    Annie followed her into the darkened room. She showed Annie how to load the reel of microfilm on the reader and gave her instructions for using the printer function of the machine.
    “If you’re not familiar with it,” the librarian said, “the handwriting in these old records can be difficult to decipher. If you need help, I’ll be at the front desk.”
    Within thirty seconds of viewing the film, Annie understood the warning. Not only was it a struggle to decipher the names on the pages, some of the pages were blurred or spotted, or had crumbled edges. The census taker had apparently recorded the information in the order he made his rounds, and the entries had not been rearranged alphabetically or even indexed. This particular census consisted of fifteen pages. The only Stout was listed on the thirteenth.
    Only the heads of households were listed by name. The entry she found was for Charles Stout. Not Jacob. But Charles was marked in the age range of 20-30 years, so she couldn’t ignore the entry. Maybe Jacob was a middle name. Also listed in this household was a female in the same age range, and one female and three males, all under the age of ten. Annie assumed this was Charles, his wife and their five young children.
    Was this couple Jacob and Maggie?
    Nothing within her responded. There was no thrill of discovery, no quickening of her heart. To her, that lack of a sign was in itself a sign. Charles was not her Jacob. Annie rewound the film and returned it to the librarian.
    “Where else could I look for him?”
    “They’re incomplete, but we have deeds and probate records beginning in 1825.