I met her a few years ago, and she told me she’d ridden into town on a train. That’s right, a train, but she hadn’t purchased a seat; she had hidden in a boxcar. Now, in the 40s and 50s, you might have witnessed train-hopping, but we don’t see much of it these days. But on that day, I’d met Trish (not her real name), and I’d given her the first three novels in my “Annie Grace Kree Chronicles” series after she saw the books in my trunk. She’d asked, “Why would you write about a hobo girl? And why make her ten?” I sighed, “I think it’s because when I was ten, my family moved away from a city where dark secrets were tucked inside my heart, a place where a babysitter’s husband once hurt me. Ten was also when Christ rescued me and called to me.”