When the Tide Ebbs: An epic 1930's love story (A Grave Encounter) (23 page)

Chapter 20

I jumped up, grabbed my bindle and the sack of cracklin’s. “Goat Hill, you say? This is where I get off.” The strange words, which I’d heard the old man utter, suddenly came to mind. “I was hungry, and ye gave me meat.” I held out the sack. “You hungry, Posie?”

“You kidding? Man, I’m starving.”

I tossed the sack his way. “This is all I’ve got, and it’s not much, but they’re pretty good. You fellows can share what’s left.”

“Thanks.” He sat up, ran his hand into the bag and crammed cracklin’s into his mouth before passing the sack to Hank. “Say, these are pretty good. Yo’ mama make ‘em?”

I shook my head. “The old man gave them to me.”

“Old man?” His brow furrowed.

“Yeah, the one who was riding with us. I reckon he jumped off at the last stop. I was asleep.”

“Ain’t no old man been on this train. Last stop was at Paint Rock, and nobody got off there, except the hooligans arrested for the fight that broke out.”

I shook my head. “No, the old man was here after we left Paint Rock. He was here when I went to sleep. You saw him. I know you heard him talking to me.”

Posie lifted his brow. “Don’t know what you been drinking but if you have any left, I’d be obliged if you’d give me a swig. I’m telling you kid, ain’t no old man been on this train.” He gestured toward Hank and Coley playing cards in the corner. “Just been the four of us, since the three of us jumped aboard at Paint Rock.”

I pounded my palm on the floor. “He was beside me. Right here in this same boxcar with us. There’s no way you could’ve missed him.” The other two stopped playing, and were staring in our direction.

“You sick?” Hank asked, his brow furrowed.

“You talking to me?”

“Yeah, you. What’s all the talk about an old man?”

I chuckled. “Posie seems to be having a memory lapse. Pretends not to know about the old man who rode with us.”

“But there ain’t been nobody, except—”

I yelled, “I know . . . nobody but the four of us. Are y’all crazy?”

I didn’t know what was going on, but the furor stirring inside me continued to build. I fought to stay calm, though I felt I was losing the battle. Why were they lying? What reason would they have? Posie was in his mid-fifties—a family man, who proudly passed around pictures of his wife and children. He seemed honest enough. I even sensed compassion in his voice, when he said, “Kiah, don’t let it upset you. I ‘spect you’ve been under a lot of stress, and your mind is just a little mixed up. I’m sure you’ll be all right.”

I felt as if I’d fallen in a black hole. I yelled, “But he was here, I tell you. I didn’t make him up.”

“Okay, kid. Maybe we just didn’t see him.”

I sucked in a deep breath. It would’ve been impossible for them not to see him. He was lying right beside me. “Didn’t you hear us talking?”

Hank looked sheepish. “We heard
you
talking, all right. You kept waking me up, mumbling in your sleep, something about visiting prisoners and naked people. That was some kinda weird dream you were having.”

“No, no. That wasn’t me. It was him. I think he was quoting something from the Bible, but he never did say.”

Posie’s voice sounded patronizing. ”Okay, so maybe he was here and we didn’t see him. Let’s leave it at that. Where did he say he was going?”

I remembered the old man’s words, when I asked him the same question. Did I dare tell the fellows he said he was on his way to heaven? They really would think I was ready for the loony bin if I tried to explain. I shook my head. “Dunno.”

Coley stopped playing cards. “What was his name?”

I could tell he didn’t believe me either. I suddenly realized the old man and I failed to introduce ourselves. “Dunno,” I mumbled. Then I thought of something weird. Though I

hadn’t told the old man my name, I distinctly remembered him calling me Hezekiah before the other dudes boarded. How could he have known my name?

Was I losing my mind? No. He was real. He was as real as I was. And I had a sack of cracklin’s and a wool army blanket to prove he was on this train. But how could it be that I was the only one who saw him? Were these guys pulling my leg?

In a condescending tone of voice, Coley said, “I hope your friend sprouted wings if he jumped from this train. We ain’t slowed for even a crossing since leaving Paint Rock.” Hank snickered.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me,” I mumbled. I thought about where the ol’ codger said he was headed. And I thought about his invitation for me to join him there. Well, maybe I would. But I couldn’t go yet. I had something to do first, and it had nothing to do with Arnold Evers. Bumping him off was a foolish idea. It wouldn’t bring Zann back. But I’d made Mama a promise and I intended to keep it.

I grinned, at the mental picture of me going to Heaven and knocking on the door of Mama’s mansion. I imagined her shaking her finger in my face and saying, “Did you do it, Kiah? Did you do what I asked? Did you go meet your daddy?” I wouldn’t be able to lie to her—not with God looking over my shoulder.

The train slowed for a stop, and I grabbed my bindle.

Posie said, “What’s in Goat Hill?”

I smiled. “Just a promise.”

“A promise of a job?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s personal.”

“Well, if you need a job and you’re a mind to pick cotton, you might wanna go to the Gladstone Plantation and ask for a man they call ‘Mr. Will.’ He owns it. I don’t recollect his last name, but I hear tell he’s a right nice fellow to work for. I’m going on to Mobile, myself. I’m gonna try to get on at the paper mill.”

“Lancaster,” I shouted, standing in the doorway with my bindle over my shoulder, ready to jump.

“Huh?” Then his eyes widened. “Yeah, that’s it. Will Lancaster. You know him?”

“No, but he’ll know me before I leave Goat Hill.”

I jumped from the train and caught sight of a brand-spanking new Model A Ford, driven by the prettiest girl I’d seen since Zann Pruitt died.

She and her girlfriend soared past the depot, full throttle. When she spotted me, she slammed on the brakes but didn’t bring the car to a full stop. She turned, smiled at me and threw up her hand. Though the car was still in motion, I ran toward the vehicle, thinking she’d slowed down to offer me a ride. I stopped in my tracks, when she kept inching forward while eyeing me in her rearview mirror. I could hear her laughing, as if she’d pulled a prank. She drove down the road a piece. I felt a little put-out at first, thinking she’d played me for a sap, making me think she was gonna give me a lift. But suddenly, the brightly colored scarf tied around her neck flew off and hit me slap-dab in the face.

I chuckled when she looked back and winked. That’s when I caught on that she meant to let go of the scarf. The little flirt. But why would a gorgeous rich dame flirt with a scrubby-looking hobo? Was I fantasizing? Maybe she hadn’t winked. Perhaps there was something in her eye.

I kept walking toward her, and she kept easing forward, as if to tease me. She drove several yards, and the car stopped. She backed up, then cut the wheels and lunged forward, heading straight for the ditch. It was almost as if she aimed for it.

I stiffened when it looked as if she might hit the fence. I ran toward them. “Miss, can I help?”

She tucked a strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear and flashed a quick smile. “Why, thank you. I certainly hope so.” She tried to feign a look of desperation, but I’d seen better actresses in Grammar School plays. She raised her brow as I stepped back and eyed the imbedded tires.

I tried to keep a straight face. “Don’t worry, Miss. It’s not as bad as it looks. I’ll run up the road and see if I can find something to put under the wheels.”

She smiled, kind of coy, like. “You’re very kind. You can throw your . . .” She looked at my bindle and fumbled over her words. “Put that . . . I mean your—”

I raised my brow. “Rags? Is that the word you’re choking on?” She shot her chin in the air. “I wasn’t choking. I simply didn’t know what to call it.”

“Allow me to educate you, to keep you from appearing ignorant in the future.” I held my bindle in the air. “This elegant red bundle dear lady holds my winter wardrobe. The only difference between a vagabond and a banker is that we men of distinction pack our morning coats in red flannel when we travel, to keep from lugging around a smelly old cowhide suitcase.”

She hid her mouth with her hand. “Sorry.” Flipping her hair back with a toss of her head, she said, “You don’t have to be so snippy. I was merely telling you to toss it on the rumble seat.” Then she giggled. I didn’t know whether to laugh with her, or give her the what-for.

My jaw jutted forward and I snapped, “I suppose you’re accustomed to telling folks what to do, but I don’t happen to be in the habit of taking orders.”

She seemed amused. I took a step backward and tried to appear agitated, although I must admit I enjoyed the banter. The girl had spirit. Her quick wit made me laugh and feel alive again. She was lively and sharp-witted. She took my sarcasm, rolled it up with her own, and socked it back in my face with a punch as powerful as a mule’s hind legs. Never had I come in contact with such a gutsy female. Nothing shocked her, but I can’t say the same for me. I was unprepared for her smart-mouth. But I suppose that was part of her appeal. She was different. There was nothing about her that made me stop to compare her with my darling Zann.

Instead of stirring up feelings of melancholy, she stirred something else inside me, though I couldn’t define it. I figured if I ever did fall in love again, no doubt I’d wind up with someone like this exasperating little poker. That’s exactly what she was—a fire poker. She managed to stoke away at love’s left-over ashes, and without my consent rekindled a tiny, live ember in the depths of my heart. When Zann died, I was certain the fire she lit under me left and that I’d never see the light of love again. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

The blonde smiled when I laid my bindle against the fence post. “Don’t forget to come back,” she said with a giggle.

I raised the corner of my lip in what I hoped resembled a snarl. “And you don’t forget to stay put.”

She need not worry her pretty little head. I’d be back. And I hoped she’d still be waiting. I wasn’t convinced the car was really stuck, and I had a feeling that neither was she. I grinned, thinking there was barely enough clay to cover the tread on the tires. A slight tap on the accelerator would send the car in either direction. Nevertheless, I’d return with the boards, and we’d both pretend I saved the day.

As I turned to walk away, she yelled, “Where you going?”

Had she not been listening? “To get the boards,” I said, rather sharply.

“No, silly, I mean what are you doing in Goat Hill? Where are you headed?”

I chuckled. “To see a man named Will Lancaster. Know him?”

“Everyone knows ‘Mr. Will.’ She looked at her friend and giggled. If you help get us out of this mess, I’ll drive you there.”

After rounding the bend in the road, I saw a deserted barn in the distance where I might be able to salvage a couple of old boards. My heart beat double time. Conflicting emotions gnawed at my insides. What was wrong with me, allowing a snobby, smart-alecky girl to steal a corner of my heart, when it belonged to another? I didn’t even know her name, or why I was instantly attracted to her. A sassy little thing, she had a come-back for everything I said. So why did I enjoy scrapping with her?

I jammed my hands in the pocket of my overalls and stepped up my stride. Confusion wracked through my body like an electric current.

She was nothing like sweet, agreeable Zann, who was as lovely on the inside as she was on the outside. The mere thought of the treasure that ebbed from my life without allowing me to say goodbye, made me ache all over. I felt like a knife had been thrust through my heart. I’d become proficient at conjuring up her image in my mind, which I sometimes viewed as a strength. Other times, it became my weakness. There seemed to be an almost intoxicating effect, whenever I’d reach into the confines of my memory bank and pull her near me. The mind can do strange things when employing a wild imagination.

I’d never needed Zann to come to me as I needed her now. With a heavy heart, I sucked in a breath and there she was, as plainly as if I were gazing at her through a looking glass. The proficiency with which I’d learned to pull her into my thoughts with such clarity, had come through hours of practice. Having a mental picture of her steadied me, as it always had. Though I could see her image, I’d never again be able to feel the softness of her skin, any more than one can feel the warmth of flesh by laying a hand on a mirror. Yet, there she was, in the corner of my mind, smiling back at me. Her long, black curls blowing in the wind—her lips like plump, luscious pomegranates and those big brown eyes twinkling as she smiled. I could hear her giggling as she twirled around and around in an elegant gown—a gown, I’d only seen in my thoughts, yet she’d described it so perfectly, I could see every detail. After all these months, I still missed her terribly. Such a lovely creature, yet she never grasped how stunningly beautiful she really was. Humility was only one of her many virtues.