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

a tacky, hand-made shirt with a frayed collar.
    Mama did the best she could when she stitched up the unbleached muslin shirt, but a seamstress she was not. I could hardly wait for cooler weather when I could pack away the horrid shirt that made me look like a throwed-away scalawag, and pull out my red flannel store-bought shirt, which made me feel like a man. I swallowed. If only I could be wearing the red flannel at this very moment. I shrugged. Why should I care? I wanted to deny it had anything to do with Zann Pruitt.
    “Kiah?” She repeated, her smile fading.
    I could see she was fretting over something, the way her brows shot up between her eyes, drooping slightly on either end. When her lower lip quivered, I tried to appear unmoved.
    “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.