Where Southern Cross the Dog by Allen Whitley

table. Without any prompting, each person reached out and took the hand of those to their left and right. Travis found himself between Hannah and her mother. The circle was now joined.
    â€œLet us pray for God’s blessing,” Mr. Morgan said. His deep voice seemed to draw the circle together. “Lord, we thank you for seeing to our daily needs and watching over us. Let us live in peace with ourselves and our neighbors. Allow us to bring forgiveness into our lives and help us live the Lord’s message with hope, faith, and love. For these and all our prayers, we beseech you, oh Lord. Amen.”
    Everyone echoed the “Amen” and released hands.
    Travis looked at the food crowding every inch of the table. Sliced pork, fried chicken, yams, peas, black-eyed peas, corn, berries, mixed fruits, sauces, pies and cakes, and a dozen other choicesTravis hardly recognized. Some of the fruits and vegetables had once been canned but now were mouthwatering dishes. Everything was displayed in festive dishware, and the table was covered with decorative cloths.
    â€œCome on,” Hannah said, “let’s eat.”
    They both took plates and joined the line at the food table. Travis gradually filled his plate, eventually realizing that his food was piled embarrassingly high. He didn’t want to offend anyone by putting anything back or not sampling something, so he covered his plate with a napkin and followed Hannah to one of the children’s tables.
    â€œHannah,” her father called, “why don’t you sit over here with the grown-ups?”
    â€œWe’re fine over here,” Hannah said good-naturedly.
    While Hannah and Travis ate, the children entertained them with games and stories, and Travis made sure he was an enthusiastic participant. Hannah laughed as Travis invariably guessed the wrong answer or chose the incorrect hand. Before long, they were laughing uncontrollably, the children screaming with delight.
    â€œEverything’s all right,” Hannah said, when one of the adults asked who was making so much noise. “We’ll try to keep it down,” she added, laughing between bites.
    When they had finished, Hannah helped to clear the table, then returned to Travis. “You want to take a walk?” Hannah asked.
    â€œSure,” said Travis. “It might help my digestion, because I definitely ate my share.”
    â€œDon’t miss the fireworks,” her father called after them as they strolled away.
    â€œFireworks?” Travis asked.
    â€œYou’ll see,” Hannah said.
    They walked toward the church and circled around it, past an old graveyard that lay at the foot of the levee.
    â€œSo, do you have a lot of boyfriends?” Travis asked.
    â€œNot really,” she said. “My father doesn’t care for boys. He tells me, when I’m old enough, I can date men. He thinks boys don’t have much sense.”
    â€œI’m sure he’s right.”
    â€œIs that so? Well, I’m not sure you or my father can tell the difference.”
    â€œBetween boys and men?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œMen are just boys with bad eyesight. And we’re taller.”
    â€œBesides, I had some trouble when we first moved back. Now I think most potential suitors are afraid to ask me out.”
    Travis noticed that her tone had changed. He bent down and looked at a headstone that was well away from the cemetery near the church. “What happened?”
    â€œI only know part of the story, so you’ll have to ask my father about the details. But I doubt he’ll admit to anything.”
    â€œSounds bad.”
    â€œI guess you could say that.” Hannah sighed. “I went to a party, and the hostess had invited all sorts of different people. Some of the boys were in school, and there were a few professionals, but somehow the word got out and some, should I say ‘country boys’—uneducated, the rougher