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

long, thick curls over her right shoulder. I glanced away when she caught me staring.
    The sound of the school bell caused me to breathe a long sigh. Something strange was happening to me, and I needed to put a stop to it before it went any further.
    Zann wrapped everything in the checkered cloth and laid it in the basket. “Kiah,” she said, “you will tutor me again today, won’t you?”
    I hesitated. I wanted to do the right thing, but I wasn’t sure what the right thing might be. Should I think of myself and put as much distance between me and the object of my frustration as possible? Or should I consider her dilemma and agree to help? Did I have a choice? I’d feel awful if she failed her college entrance exams because of my refusal to tutor her. I had to put these nonsensical feelings of love out of my mind.
    She pulled my arm. “Kiah, will you? Please?”
    My face burned at her touch. I glanced around to see if anyone was watching. I pressed my lips together and nodded. “Sure, Zann. I’ll meet you at the bridge after I run home to see about Mama. She’s not been feeling well lately.”
    “Oh, I’ll walk with you. I’d love to meet your mother. Maybe she could tell me her secret to making biscuits.”
    “No!” I winced at the sharpness in my voice. I tried once more. “Today wouldn’t be a good time. I won’t be long, I promise.”
    “I understand. I told Mama this morning not to expect me home after school, but I’ll run to the house and pack a couple of cupcakes and a quart of lemonade for us to munch on.”
    The mention of cupcakes and lemonade made my mouth water, but at the same time, guilt plagued me, knowing how much Mama loved sweets. If only she could have something good to eat—something like cupcakes with frosting and a big glass of Zann’s delicious lemonade made with so much sugar one could sop it with a biscuit.
    After school I ran all the way to Rooster Run, jumping two fences along the way. Mama had an iron sitting on top of the stove, heating, and she held another in her hand as she pressed down on a man’s starched white shirt. Folded ironed clothes were neatly stacked on both cots. Mama smiled, but her eyes looked hollow, like two big sinkholes. The sparkle left them long ago.
    She said, “You look as if you’re in a fine mood. Did my Kiah-Cooter have a good day at school?”
    I groaned. The affectionate term was okay when I was a child, but I was a man now, and I constantly feared she’d slip and say it front of someone. Perhaps I was being paranoid. After all, she never saw anyone except the neighbors at Rooster Run and the snobs who brought their laundry and worked her for a pittance. Why should I care what they thought?
    “Mama, I brought you a surprise.”
    She sat the iron down on a tin plate and smiled. “A surprise? For me?”
    “Yep. Sit down, close your eyes and hold out your hand.”
    “Oh, honey, you’re so sweet to want to give me something, but I reckon we’d better wait until I finish ironing. I only have three more garments, and Mr. Easton should be here to pick them up soon. Did you pick your Mama some wild flowers on your way home?”
    I placed my hands on her shoulders. “Nope. A heap better than flowers. Now. Sit down and close your eyes. If you aren’t finished ironing when Mr. Easton comes, he can wait.”
    “Kiah, I really . . .” Before she could finish, I guided her to the rocker.
    “Sit!” I chuckled at the quizzical look on her face.
    When she closed her eyes, I pulled out the chicken and placed it in her hand.
    She gasped. “I don’t have to open my eyes to know what I’m holding. I can smell it. But where? Where did you get fried chicken?”
    “Someone at school had extra pieces at lunch and shared with me.”
    Mama choked up. “Kiah.” She paused. “Honey, was it because you—”
    I bristled. “I know what you’re thinking, Mama, but you’re wrong. She doesn’t even know—” I stiffened. I hadn’t intended to say