When the Tide Ebbs: An epic 1930's love story (A Grave Encounter) (10 page)

The pupils in her eyes darted back and forth. She whispered, “Yes, but she isn’t seeing anyone. You’d better go, young man.”

“Will you tell her I’m here? I’d really like to see her.”

“That’s not possible. Please leave.”

“Yes’m, I’ll leave if you want me to, but can you tell me what’s wrong. She doesn’t have . . . scarlet fever . . . does she?” My heart pounded as I waited for her answer. I’d heard of a couple of cases in Tylertown, which wasn’t too far from Pivan Falls.

She clenched her lips together.

My question was a simple one. Why couldn’t she give me a straight answer?

She mumbled. “I’m sorry. You’ll have to go.”

“Yes, ma’m. But will you tell her I came?” The door slammed in my face. I stormed back across the road and climbed in the wagon. I don’t know which emotion stirred the most pain. Was it sorrow for not being able see Zann? Or the intense anger I felt toward her snooty mother who’d apparently learned of my background and decided her daughter was too good for me.

The last Christmas carol was sung, and the parishioners filed out the door of the little white church. I flinched, seeing Mama and Dabney come out of the building, holding hands. Mama waved at me with her free hand. I crouched down, pretending not to see them. I didn’t want folks looking toward the pecan orchard to see who Mama was waving to.

When they crossed the road, I jumped out of the wagon and helped them up, before Mama had a chance to scold. I asked all sorts of questions about the pageant—questions for which I had no interest in learning the answers, but I stalled for time, waiting for everyone to leave. I didn’t want to get on the main road and risk being seen with Dabney Foxworthy sitting beside me in my wagon.

Mama was quiet as we made our way home. Had she been given the Rules of the Fellowship? Served her right. I wanted to punish her for not listening to me. “So, Mama, you finally got your wish. Tell me, did the good Christian folks welcome you with open arms?”

Her face lit up. “Kiah, they were wonderful. Such a sweet bunch of folks, and the pageant was adorable. You should’ve seen the tyke who played Joseph. When the Innkeeper forgot his lines, sweet little tow-headed Joseph helped him out.”

Dabney chimed in. “Though I felt sorry for the cute, pudgy kid as he stood stone-faced trying to remember, I couldn’t help giggling when Joseph stepped up to help him. He said, ‘Well, Mister Innkeeper, you ain’t said, but I don’t reckon there’s no room in your Inn, so where you gonna put us?’”

Mama could hardly speak for laughing. “Kiah, you would’ve loved it. It was precious.”

I suppose I had a quizzical look on my face, because I still didn’t understand what was so funny about a kid forgetting his lines.

Mama shrugged. “I reckon you just had to be there, son. I’m so glad I went, but I’m feeling a mite wore out, after such a big day. Kiah, would it be asking too much for you to fix your lunch when we get home? I think I’m fixing to lie down for a spell.”

“Sure, Mama. That’s a good idea. You do look a little peeked.”

Dabney glanced at me and nodded in agreement. “Fennie, I put on a mess o’ turnips before leaving this morning. I’ll bring you a bowl full with some pot liquor and a couple of corn pones soon as I can fry up the bread.”

Maybe Dabney caught me drooling, for she said, “Kiah, the butcher gave me some ham hocks, so I’ll fix you a plate and make sure you get plenty of meat. Your mama told me you like meat.”

Mama patted Dabney’s arm. “Bless yo’ heart, that’s mighty neighborly of you, sugar. I’ve had me a real hankerin’ for some greens, lately. But no need in you having to bring ‘em over. Kiah can go get ’em.”

I winced. Since when did Dabney Foxworthy start calling Mama by her first name? This relationship had gotten a bit too chummy. But I couldn’t deny the sound of turnips, ham hocks and cornbread could turn a man’s head and change his way of thinking. Dabney was looking better all the time.

After putting Dolly in the barn, I ambled over to #3 and glanced about to see if anyone was looking. I could smell the turnips, even before Dabney opened the door.

“Come on in, Kiah. It’s almost ready.”

I entered and looked about. She walked over, closed the door softly behind me, and mumbled an apology for the disarray. I saw no reason for her to be embarrassed. The room was spotless. A pretty lavender crocheted bedspread covered the cot. I wondered if she made it. Somehow, I’d never considered Dabney to be the domestic type. White ruffled curtains hung over the window. The cabins were all the same size, but hers looked spacious. Maybe because it was less cluttered. Mama stayed too busy washing and ironing for other folks, to fret over how our house looked. And I had to admit, I wasn’t much help when it came to prettying up the place.

Dabney went back to the stove to tend to the greens. I popped my knuckles—a nervous habit I couldn’t seem to break.

“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll only be a minute.”

“I’m fine,” I muttered, shifting from one foot to the other. I wanted to get the turnips and get out as fast as I could. Why she frightened me so, I really can’t say, but I was as nervous as a cat staring into the mouth of a burlap bag.

The ticking of the Grandfather clock on the mantle seemed to grow louder and louder, shattering the uncomfortable silence between us.

My eye caught sight of a one-armed baby doll with molded hair propped on the mantle next to the clock. In a pathetic attempt to initiate a conversation, I walked over and picked up the toy. “Whose doll? Got a kid stashed away somewhere?” I pretended to be looking under the cot.

She whirled around. Hot darts couldn’t have melted the sharp icy-stare she shot toward me. “Please. Put her back.” Though her voice was soft, there was something in her tone, which told me I’d hit upon a sore spot.

The girl was weirder than I thought. I shrugged and laid the toy back where I found it and sat down in a high-back rocker with a cowhide bottom. The chair squeaked as I rocked back and forth, faster and faster as I nervously waited. How long did it take to fry a few corn pones?

I jerked at the neck of my flannel shirt. Here I was, sitting inside Dabney Foxworthy’s cabin. What would the guys think if they got wind of this? They liked to make up tall tales about their trips to visit #3, as if it were something to brag about. Yet, here I was inside her cabin and scared out of my gourd someone would find out. Maybe I was the weird one.

Her back was to me, as she pumped water into a dishpan and washed her hands. I had a chance to stare without being noticed. She wore a white bib apron, with a sash tied tightly around her trim waist. Her hair was the color of golden rods and today, it fell loosely around her shoulders. She wasn’t bad to look at. Not bad at all. It didn’t take much imagination to conclude that for a good-looking dame like Dabney, peddling her illicit brand of wares would be a cinch. I wondered how much money she made in a night. I’d heard tales, but I couldn’t believe half of what I’d heard. I sat biting my nails and staring at her fine form. Yep, she was quite a looker. I felt my face flush, as if she might turn around and read my thoughts.

Dabney dipped the turnips into a bowl and then reached in a box and pulled out two yellow onions. “You can’t eat turnips and corn pones without a juicy onion to go with it.”

I popped my knuckles and mumbled a brief ‘Thank you.’

“Shucks, it ain’t much.” Her face turned scarlet which stunned me. I hadn’t considered that anything might embarrass a girl of her reputation.

The hot bread lay on newsprint to soak up the grease. I watched her pick up the pones and wrap them in white cheesecloth.

I grappled with a question, which gnawed away at my gut. There was no one else to ask. I swallowed and blabbed it out. “Dabney, what’s wrong with Zann?”

Her brow furrowed and her eyes shifted away from me. For a minute it appeared she wasn’t going to answer.

“She’s sick, Kiah.”

I jutted my jaw forward and winced. She was being as evasive as Mrs. Pruitt. But why? Rolling my eyes, I said, “Well, I figured she was sick. Is it anything serious? There are all sorts of things that can make a body ill. She could have something as simple as the sniffles or as serious as smallpox. But you know what’s wrong with her, don’t you? I know you do. You see her every day.”

She turned her head.

Her peculiar reaction made me more curious than ever. “Dabney, I went to see her today while I waited for you and Mama to get out of church, but ol’ lady Pruitt came to the door. She acted like I had a transmittable disease, and slammed the door in my face. Wouldn’t let me see her. I don’t think she’ll tell Zann I was there. Will you tell her? Will you, please, Dabney?”

Dabney shoved the bowl of turnips in my hands, as if she were holding a hot iron. Then, acting as if she hadn’t heard a word, she said, “Kiah, tell your Mama I hope this makes her feel better. She wasn’t up to par this morning, but I could tell she enjoyed the pageant. I’m glad she got to go.” She held the screen door open. “Bye, Kiah.”

I didn’t have to be hit over the head with a two by four to figure out she was trying to get rid of me. Maybe she didn’t want to answer my questions. Or maybe she was expecting company and needed me out of the house. Whatever her reasons, it was apparent I wasn’t going to get the information I wanted. Not out of her. Not today, anyway.

When I walked in the house, Mama was stretched out on the bed. “You go ahead and fix you a plate, Kiah. I’ll eat d’rectly. I’m just a mite wore out right now. Think I’ll rest.”

I sliced the onion and sat down to a big bowl of turnips and fried bread. It had been a long time since I’d tasted anything so delicious. Not only was Dabney a great housekeeper, she was a fabulous cook. Too bad she wasn’t the marrying kind, because she could’ve made some man a good wife. I chuckled at the amusing thought as I took a bite of a crispy corn pone. I glanced around at our unkempt cabin and made a new resolution. We couldn’t help being poor, but after seeing Dabney’s place, I knew we didn’t have to live like slobs. Mama, being sickly had more on her than she could handle alone. The blame belonged to me. After Christmas, I’d buy a can of paint and spruce up the place. I cringed when I looked at the ratty cotton quilt slung over Mama. Maybe I could ask Dabney how much she’d charge to crochet two bedspreads.

Monday morning I awoke early. I brought in the wood for the stove, started the fire under the wash pot, and after breakfast, I hitched up the wagon. “Mama, I’ve got some running around to do, so I’ll pick up a few groceries and get the popcorn while I’m out. Anything special you’d like me to bring home?”

“The popcorn is special enough, shug. I’m glad you didn’t forget.”

Mr. Farris, my employer at the stockyard, had taught me to drive the hauler so I could transport hogs to the out-of-town buyers for him. He said I could make more money as a long-distance driver on week-ends than I could make in a month as a stable boy. I’d managed to save thirty-nine dollars and sixty-five cents, though Mama didn’t know it. That was the most money I’d ever had in my pocket at one time. But I didn’t plan to hold on to it. I made Mama a promise and I was out to keep it. This was going to be a Christmas she wouldn’t forget.

I stopped at Goodson’s and bought the popcorn. I took care of that first, to make sure I didn’t forget, since Mama was counting on it. I bought a half-dozen Florida oranges, a few sweet potatoes, some dry lima beans, a bottle of Karo syrup, five pounds of Domino sugar, a sack of flour and a pound of butter. The popcorn was for Mama, but the syrup, sugar, flour and butter was for me. I wanted to make sure she had everything she needed to make a pecan pie.

Then I rode over to Pascagoula to do a little Christmas shopping. The day started out rather warm, but the temperature was dropping fast. It was beginning to feel more like Christmas.

As I rode into town, I admired the many wreaths, which hung from windows and doors of the stately Victorian homes lining the Avenue. I turned onto Main Street, and the spectacular Nativity display in the square made me wish I’d brought Mama along. The town was gaily decorated with rows and rows of colored lights strung from one side of the street to the other. Huge boughs of greenery graced every street lamp. I was fascinated by the number of automobiles. People honked and waved as they passed on the street. For the first time in my life, I understood what it meant to get into the Christmas spirit. I took Dolly over to the livery stable and walked around the corner to the Five and Dime. With money in my pocket and a full Christmas list, I could hardly wait to shop.

I bought a bag of gum drops, a box of shiny Christmas ornaments, and a large bottle of Evening in Paris perfume for Mama. I considered giving her White Gardenia, but changed my mind. It didn’t seem right somehow, my Mama smelling like my sweetheart. Evening in Paris came in a pretty blue bottle, and I knew she’d be real proud. I didn’t reckon she’d ever had any perfume, or at least not since I’d been born. The nice sales lady told me to take it to the back of the store, and they’d wrap it for me. I could hardly wait for Christmas day to see the look on Mama’s face.

The next item on my list wouldn’t be as easy. I wanted to buy something really nice for Zann, but I couldn’t find it in the Dime Store.

Not knowing what I was looking for made the task difficult. I walked down the street, looking in every window. Then I spotted it. Displayed in the drugstore show window was the perfect gift. I had to have it. A miniature cedar chest with shiny brass hinges and filled with fine linen stationary. The druggist pulled it out of the window for me, and when he opened the lid, it played a pretty melody. He called it The Blue Danube Waltz.