Free When the Tide Ebbs: An epic 1930's love story (A Grave Encounter) by Kay Chandler Page A

conversation proved one thing. He didn’t know about my situation. If he had, he wouldn’t have referred to pecan trees being on “my place,” as if Mama and I might own a plot of ground and live like normal, decent people. I didn’t need a college education to look around at the residents of Rooster Run and know there was nothing normal about those of us who lived there. The frightening idea occurred to me that no one in the camp would consider themselves to be abnormal, even though I was quite sure they all were. I felt normal, but maybe I wasn’t, and like the others, just didn’t know better.
    Zann stopped long enough to peck her father on the cheek, and then she ran over and handed me a croaker sack. “I’ll bet I can beat you filling up a sack,” she giggled.
    The sound of her voice caused the tension to leave my body. “No fair. My sack is larger.”
    After we both had picked a good ten pounds or more, Zann said, “Kiah, I have a favor to ask.”
    I slung the sack over my shoulder. “Your wish is my command, m’lady.”
    “Great. I’d like for you to escort me to the church Christmas party on the 20th.”
    She hardly got the words out of her mouth before I shook my head. “Sorry. I can’t go.”
    Zann had the unique ability to smile and manage to look sad at the same time. I think it was those big brown eyes. They twinkled when she was happy, and looked sort of pitiful like a basset hounds whenever she wasn’t pleased. But her lips always curled up at the edges—sometimes slightly, sometimes stretching from one ear lobe to the other.
    “But Kiah, you have to go. Mama’s made me a gorgeous baby-blue gown from a Vogue pattern, and I’ll have no other occasion to wear it. It’s simply divine and I want you to see me in it. You will go, won’t you?”
    I shook my head. “I can’t go, Zann.”
    “What do you mean, you can’t? Do you have a good reason?”
    “Sure, there’s a good reason.”
    She waited. I could tell she expected me to explain. I sighed. This moment was bound to come.
    “Zann, you might want to sit down on the grass. We need to talk.”
    Her brow furrowed. “You’re scaring me, Kiah. What’s wrong?”
    “It’s a long story.” The moment I said the words, I sensed a panic surge. What was I thinking? How could I explain why I didn’t go to church? Why I’d never go? My initial intention was to enlighten her about spiteful hypocrites who crushed a little boy’s spirit, years ago. Yet, there was much more to my story than I was at liberty to tell. How could I make her understand my point of view, without explaining what the pious church folks held against us—the humiliating part I hoped we’d never have to discuss.
    She laid her bag down, sat on the ground and leaned back on a tree. “I’m listening.”
    I might as well get it out in the open. I couldn’t hide the truth forever. I leaned against a tree and blurted out the words. “Zann, I live with Mama in Rooster Run.” I watched for a look of astonishment but her expression didn’t change. I waited.
    She looked neither impressed nor shocked. Not even a slight gasp.
    Bumfuzzled, I asked, “Did you know already?”
    She shook her head. “I didn’t know where you lived, but I know where Rooster Run is. But what does it have to do with the Christmas party, Kiah? I don’t understand. Why won’t you go with me?”
    Didn’t she get it? Go with her ? “Zann, have you ever been beyond the gate at Rooster Run?” I expected her to say no. Her answer stunned me.
    “Sure. Many times. Our maid lives there in #3. You may know her. Dabney Foxworthy. Not only is she our maid, she’s also my best friend.” She paused. “Do you know Dabney? She’s a couple of years older than us.”
    My pulse raced. “Yes. I know Dabney.” I snapped, “I’m quite sure I know more about her than you do.” I picked up a pecan and slung it as far as I could throw it.
    Zann frowned. “You act as if there’s something wrong with