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

dreaded giving her the news, but nothing would be gained by putting it off. “Mama, if you were hoping we’d go to Goodson’s this morning to buy the popcorn, he won’t be open today. It’s Sunday.”
    She nodded. “I know what day it is, Kiah. The popcorn can wait.”
    I scratched my head. “But . . . but you look—”
    She laughed. Not a little snicker, but a side-splitting hee-haw. “I declare, Kiah, you must’ve thought I was sweet on ol’ man Goodson, if you believed I went to the trouble of getting all gussied up, just to go to the grocery store.”
    I wanted to deny it, though the notion had crossed my mind. “Then what’s the occasion, Mama? You aren’t wearing lip rouge for me and I know it. What are you up to?”
    “Not up to nothing, son. I’m going to church and I want you to go with me.”
    The breath left me as if someone had socked me in the stomach. Of all the things she could’ve asked, that was the one thing I couldn’t do.
    I sat stirring in my bowl of oatmeal, and the longer I sat, the madder I got. Why would she do this? What was the point? For the first time in months, she was feeling like a human being again, and now she wanted to spoil it by setting herself up for ridicule by a bunch of pious do-gooders. It didn’t make sense and I was quick to let her know how insane I considered the idea to be.
    For years, I’d ached, seeing the hurt in her eyes when women shunned her and crossed over to the other side of the street, just because she bore a child out of wedlock.
    Out of wedlock. That was the decent way of putting it. The more offensive way was to call me a nasty name and act as if Mama and I deserved punishment for breathing their air.
    Her shoulders drooped when I refused to go with her. Apparently, all my rantings and ravings didn’t discourage her ridiculous notion to go, because she picked up her purse and said, “Well, if you won’t go with me, you can at least hitch up the mule and take me.”
    I ran my fingers through my hair and grimaced. “Mama, I don’t think you should.”
    “Kiah Grave, since when do you get off telling your mother what she should or should not do. I’m going to church if I have to walk every step of the way. Dabney said the little young’uns are having a Christmas Pageant this morning and I want to see it.”
    My jaw dropped. “Dabney? Dabney goes to church?”
    “I didn’t know you knew Dabney that well.”
    I smirked. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘that well,’ but I know enough to shock me that she’d have the nerve to darken the doorway of a church.” I rolled my eyes. “Mama, there’s things about Dabney you may not know. I really wish you wouldn’t get so chummy with her. Haven’t we given folks enough fodder for gossip, without you hanging out with the likes of Dabney Foxworthy?”
    Mama glared at me as if I’d suddenly sprouted horns. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but my gut told me it would be best not to ask. She stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. “Are you coming or not? I don’t wanna be late.”
    “Hold on, Mama. I’ll hitch up Dolly and take you, but don’t expect me to escort you into church. I’ll be waiting outside for you when it’s over.”
    “Suit yourself.”
    I could tell she wasn’t happy with me. But I wasn’t too thrilled with her, either. Dabney walked through the gate, as I lifted Mama onto the wagon.
    Mama hollered, “Dabney, wait and you can catch a ride with us.”
    I lowered my head and groaned. Didn’t Mama know what people said about the girl?
    I sat in the wagon, holding the reins, until Mama popped me on the arm. “Where are your manners, Kiah? Help the lady up.”
    Dabney’s face turned red. “I can manage.”
    Mama’s eyes told me I best not keep my seat. I jumped out of the wagon. My fingers almost touched, when I reached around her tiny waist and lifted her up. I flinched when Mama slid over, putting Dabney right smack in the middle. Humiliated, I popped