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

heard him yell, “Hey, Zann. Fancy meeting you here. Mort and I came to try our luck. I hear the crappy’s been biting. Wanna walk down the branch with us and fish? I’ll cut you a pole.”
    My heart hammered.
    Zann’s soft voice didn’t carry, yet I deciphered enough to know she declined the offer.
    Arnold said, “I suppose you’d rather fish with Hezekiah Grave? What do you see in him, anyhow? He’s a real chump. I think he came to school in first grade wearing that same pair of overalls.”
    Mort Willoughby let out a hearty laugh, which sounded more like a mule braying.
    If it’s true one can feel the blood boil, then I’m sure that accounts for the peculiar stirrings inside my gut. But not wanting to embarrass Zann, I lay low and waited. Surely, Arnold and Mort would leave and go further down the creek where the water wasn’t so shallow.
    My heart pounded as I strained to hear the conversation above me.
    Arnold said, “What’s on your face?”
    There was a pause, and then he said, “No, not there. Let me get it for you.”
    Zann screamed, “What are you doing, Arnold Evers. Turn me loose.”
    I’m not sure if I grew wings, but it seemed I flew to the top of the embankment. I don’t think Arnold had time to see me coming, when Mort hollered, “Let her go, Arn. She ain’t worth it.”
    I didn’t know which one to sock first, so I laid them both out. Knocked the breath out of Arnold, before shoving Mort over the edge and into the shallow water. I’d had plenty of things to rile me in my life, but I never remember being overwhelmed with such rage as when I saw Arnold holding her while she fought him. Arnold jumped up, brushed himself off and grabbed his pole. I snatched him by the shirt collar. “Arnold Evers, if you ever lay a hand on her again, you’ll look like a lone oak at a woodpeckers’ picnic. Do you get the picture?”
    He glared at me and then looked down at Mort who was crawling up the embankment. “You can have her,” he sneered.
    His words made me want to hit him again. How could I respond to such a statement? I couldn’t say, “I don’t want her,” even though I didn’t . . . or at least I didn’t want to want her. Life was becoming complicated. I watched until they were out of sight.
    I turned to look at Zann. Her face was redder than a July tomato. “You okay?” I asked.
    “Yes, thanks to you.”
    I ran my fingers through my hair and mumbled, “I’m glad he didn’t hurt you. You ready to study?”
    “Ready,” she smiled. “But first, shall we have a little refreshments? I made cupcakes last night. I hope you like chocolate.”
    I couldn’t recall the last time I had anything chocolate. She pulled out three cupcakes. Chocolate on the inside and white icing on the outside. She called it a devil’s food cake recipe, and I could understand where it got its name. Anything that good was surely a sin. We’d both eaten one, when she handed me the third. “Here, I brought you an extra.”
    “No, you have it.”
    “Kiah, I made two dozen. There are plenty left at home. I want you to have it.”
    Refusal to accept might seem ungrateful. I could’ve eaten the whole two dozen, but I couldn’t get Mama off my mind. She’d enjoy a cupcake with icing. “Thank you, Zann. I think I’ll save this one and take it home with me, if you don’t mind.”
    She smiled as if she’d hoped I would.
    I pulled out the math book and turned to chapter 13. I tried not to focus on the dab of white icing on the tip of her nose, but the more I tried to ignore it, the more prominent it became. “Uh . . . Zann, you have . . . you have icing on your—” I swallowed. What if she were to think I’d taken a cue from Arnold. “I’m telling the truth.”
    She giggled. “Well, don’t just sit there. Get it off, silly.” She handed me a napkin and closed her eyes.
    I leaned in, and with the edge of the linen cloth, gently wiped the tip of her nose. The mouth-watering smell of chocolate mingled