When the Tide Ebbs: An epic 1930's love story (A Grave Encounter) (2 page)

“Yeah?”

“Kiah—” Her voice cracked.

After her third attempt, my heart softened, yet I had an image to uphold. Didn’t want the fellows to think I was getting sweet on her, in case anyone happened to be looking.

“Go ahead. Spit it out, Zann, the bell’s gonna ring,” I grumbled.

Her eyes glassed over and she whimpered, “I make A’s in everything but math. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I can’t seem to catch on. I was wondering . . . Kiah, would you mind coming to my house after school to tutor me?”

From where I stood, I could see nothing at all wrong with her. But go to her house? Uh-uh. No way. Not me. I suggested studying down at the old covered bridge, about a mile from the school house. It was my special place. A place of solitude. Except for an occasional kid walking through the woods with a slingshot, I never saw anyone, and I went there often. Problems dwindled and sometimes disappeared whenever I’d sit under the old bridge, listening to the sounds of the forest. Seemed the perfect spot. Besides, no one was likely to see us there.

She didn’t cotton to the idea. So be it. If she really needed help, there were nine other fellows in the classroom salivating for such an opportunity.

In spite of my resolve, it was hard saying ‘no’ to Zann. She was nice. I reckon she was about the nicest girl I’d ever met. I wanted to help her, but I had a dilemma. A real problem
.
In case I’ve given the impression I was afraid of breaking my vow and falling in love, allow me to be frank. That was
not
the dilemma. As beautiful as she was, I didn’t consider her a threat, because I figured if I ever did have a notion to fall for a dame, it wouldn’t be with someone like her. She was . . . well, she was sweet. Not the kind of girl you’d think of in a romantic sort of way. After all, she was the preacher’s kid. And that, in a peapod, became the crux of the problem.

Her daddy being a man of God was the precise reason I couldn’t study at her house. I figured if he did his job, he’d try to convince me to attend his church and then I’d say something we’d both regret. On the other hand, if he
didn’t
try to talk me into going to church, then I’d have no respect for the man, since he’d be neglecting his duty. To eliminate the problem, I’d keep my distance, which meant staying clear of the parsonage
and
the parson.

However, studying at my house wasn’t an option, either. No way would I escort a girl inside the iron fence at Rooster Run, and especially not a nice, refined girl like Zann Pruitt.

I expected her to eventually tire of asking for my help, but for days she pecked away at me like a woodpecker pecking on a chimney, wasting energy and getting nowhere.

“Please, Kiah, won’t you reconsider? I’m going to fail the college entrance exam next fall if I don’t get help, and math comes easy for you. Sometimes I get so frustrated, I just start bawling.”

That’s all it took. The notion of something making her cry made me want to come up with a solution. Yet as much as I wanted to oblige, I remained firm.

“We study at the bridge or you can find someone else to tutor you.”

She nodded. “Okay, you win. This afternoon at the bridge. But I’m warning you, Kiah—”

My teeth made a grinding noise.
Warn me
? Did she honestly think I had an ulterior motive for wanting to lure her off to a secluded spot? Whose idea was it to study together? Not mine. Who sat in class every day, batting long lashes and flashing teeth at whom? Not this cat, and not at her. My jaw tightened. She could find another tutor, if she was afraid of me.

When she finished the sentence, I let out a deep breath and almost laughed aloud

“Yes, I must warn you. Your job won’t be an easy one. I hate math.”

Was that all? That was the warning? When the bell rang that afternoon, she shoved her books into my hands.

“Kiah, I need to run home and tell Mama where I’ll be, so she won’t worry. I’ll meet you under the bridge in about thirty minutes.”

“I won’t hold my breath.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Forget it.”

I didn’t doubt she was telling the truth, yet I didn’t expect her to meet me there. Her mother would put a stop to our little get-together as soon as she heard of her daughter’s intent to meet with Fendora Grave’s son, on a seldom traveled road under an old bridge. I couldn’t blame Mrs. Pruitt. If I had a daughter, I’d be slow in letting her meet with the likes of me in a secluded area, also. Still, it hurt. Would my father’s curse be branded on me forever?

I trudged down the winding, dusty road, kicking sand as I walked. The fluffy white clouds above my head reminded me of the bubbling foam on top of a pot of Lima beans just before they boil over. I sucked in a deep breath. The scent of freshly dug peanuts from a nearby farm hung heavily in the humid air. The kudzu vines, recently brought in by the Soil Conservationists to ward off erosion, had begun to wither and turn yellow, signaling the end of summer.

I pulled off my brogans, tied the laces together and slung them over my shoulder. My overalls were so short there wasn’t much chance in them getting wet in the shallow creek. Still, I rolled up my britches legs a notch or two to disguise the length. With a handful of smooth river rocks gathered from the creek bed, I filled my pockets and trekked down the middle of the shallow stream, tossing the stones one at a time. My toes squished into the cool sand beneath the water. Top minnows nipped at my ankles.

I had a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not so much funny as strange. Like something gnawing at my insides. My heart pounded against my chest and I could hardly catch my breath. I broke out in a sweat. Never had I experienced such a peculiar malady. I concluded that either I’d contracted a serious disease or else…else I was in love. Yet, I wasn’t sure which evil to wish for.

A lump the size of a frog formed in my throat. Just as I figured. She wasn’t coming. It was a stupid idea in the first place.

I must have thrown a dozen or more pebbles, attempting to get at least one to skip on top of the water. Yet, each one went ‘plunk’ and immediately sank to the bottom. I couldn’t count the times I’d repeated this action before, each time with the same results. But there was nothing I hated worse than defeat, so when I’d emptied my pockets, I reached down and picked up more rocks. I’d never give up—not until the day I’d see a little stone go pop, pop, pop, sending out ripples as it danced on top of the water. Mama said I was as stubborn as a three-legged mule, and I reckon she was right.

After wading several hundred feet, I stopped and spun around when I heard Zann yell my name from atop the gorge.

“Kiah, wait, I’m coming down.”

With my hand, I shaded my eyes from the sun and looked up.

She stood on the rickety old bridge, flashing pearly white teeth and waving. She jerked off her shoes and stockings but I turned away when she commenced to tie the tail of her dress between her legs. When I glanced up, she’d magically turned her skirt into a pair of knickers. My Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Stay up there, Zann. You’ll scratch your legs on the briars.”

She proceeded down the embankment and yelled back. “I’m not afraid of a few little scratches. I’m halfway there, already.”

I gasped as she half-walked, half-slid down the steep ravine, overgrown with scrub-oaks and thick blackberry vines.

She stopped to pick beggar lice from her clothes. Then tripping through the underbrush, she hollered, “Hold on, I’m coming. I want to wade with you.”

“No you don’t!”

Her smile faded. “Why not?”

I took long strides, stomping the ankle-deep water as I splashed toward her. “Because.” That was it. No explanation. It wasn’t much of an answer and it didn’t suffice, for her smile returned and she slowly inched her way down to the sandbar. Flustered, I felt a desperate need to stop her.

“You don’t want to wade today, Zann,” I blurted. “The water’s freezing. You’ll catch pneumonia.”

I don’t know what prompted me to make such an idiotic statement. Sure, it was cool, but freezing? I grimaced. The water in Pivan Falls never freezes, and especially not in mid-September in Mississippi but it was the first thing that popped in my mind. I couldn’t have her prancing around barelegged in the water with me, her skirt all twisted between her legs. Jeepers, how could a girl so smart in some things, be so dumb in other ways? Didn’t she know she had no business walking further into the dense woods with a fellow? Any fellow?

“Corn shucks!  I’m not afraid of a little cold water. If you can stand it, so can I.” She kept running toward me, giggling all the way.

I laughed. Partly because I was nervous, partly because her laughter was infectious, and partly because I’d never heard anyone say corn shucks . . . or at least not as an expression. Everything about her was different from anyone I’d ever known. My words had not been a deterrent. She came splashing, right smack down the middle of the creek. Just as she got near, she fell and I caught her in my arms. She seemed to think it was humorous, although I saw nothing funny about the situation.

“You may as well turn around and go back to the bridge, Zann.”

“Don’t be a fuddy-duddy, Kiah. The water’s not cold at all. I love to feel the sand between my toes.”

I glanced down at her bare feet and felt my face flush. “We’re here to work, Zann. Remember?”

“Of course, I remember, but you know what they say about all work and no play.” She reached down with both hands, scooped water in my face and snickered.

“Why you little—”

She’d caught me off-guard and I laughed. Out loud. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed. I pulled a handkerchief from my back pocket and wiped my face. I wanted to splash her back, but I dared not. We were here to study, not to horse around. I stuffed the handkerchief back into my pocket and in a serious voice befitting a tutor, I said, “Sure, I know what they say about all work and no play. It puts a roof over your head and food in your mouth.”

She made a cute pouty face. “That’s not exactly the way I heard it.”

“No, I don’t suppose it is.”

Zann was too sweet to suspect I was being sarcastic, inferring she wasn’t in tune with common people. What would she know about folks having to work for a living? Her father was a preacher.

She followed me as I walked under the bridge. I sat down on an old dead log, expecting her to do the same. Instead, she walked right past me, all the way down to the water’s edge. Where was she going? I squirmed. Perhaps I should’ve waited for her to sit first. If I stood now, would it become even more apparent that I was unaccustomed to being in the presence of a lady? If I didn’t stand, would she think me rude?

Before I could decide which of the two scenarios would make me look less like a backwoods’ nincompoop, she spoke up.

“Mother fixed us a jar of lemonade.”

“You got lemonade?” I flinched, thinking I’d sounded much too eager, but it’d been ages since I’d tasted lemonade.

“Yes. I sat the jar down when I took off my shoes. I’d planned to leave it in the creek and let it stay cool, until we finished studying, but we could have it now, if you’d rather.”

I shrugged, trying to appear disinterested, but she scampered off as if she could read my thoughts. I reached up and blotted the corners of my mouth, in case I was beginning to drool.

She walked back with the jar. I watched as she reached in her pocket and pulled out a red-checkered cloth. When she lifted back the edges, I saw a half-dozen cookies, each the size of a moon pie.

“I made the cookies, myself, but Mother wrapped them for me.”

Puzzled, I stammered. “Your . . . your mother . . . she wrapped the cookies and made the lemonade for you to bring
here
?”

She shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Just as I got home, a neighbor stopped by and said the cow got out of the fence, so I went to find ol’ Bessie. When I returned, Mother had squeezed the lemons and had everything ready for me.”

To stand or not to stand no longer occupied my thoughts. Something more perplexing pressed on my mind.

“Did you tell her you were meeting me? Here?”

Zann’s brow furrowed as if she didn’t understand. “Of course. That’s why I went home. Remember?”

I found it hard to believe. What kind of mother would allow her beautiful young daughter to carouse around with some strange yahoo out in the middle of nowhere? What was wrong with the woman? Not that Zann wasn’t safe with me. She was. But her mother didn’t know what sort of fellow I was, or what kind of impure motives I might’ve been entertaining when I chose this particular secluded spot. I got fired up just thinking how this sweet, innocent girl’s good name could’ve been compromised if I had a mind to take advantage of her. Which I had no intention of doing, but I’m just saying—

I pulled at my shirt collar and flexed my jaw when she plopped down beside me, with barely enough room for a centipede to cross between us.

She unscrewed the cap from the jar, took a swallow, then leaned over and handed me the lemonade. I licked my dry lips, held my head back and took a swig. My pulse raced as our shoulders touched. She smelled like those white flowers that bloom in the spring. Gardenias, I think Mama calls them. I slid down the log. Way down.