When the Tide Ebbs: An epic 1930's love story (A Grave Encounter) (14 page)

Chapter 11

Dabney didn’t have fine clothes, but what she had fit her nicely. Almost too nicely. She had three dresses. She had a red one with ruffles, which left little to the imagination when she leaned over. My favorite was a yellow polka dot blouse with a matching tight skirt, even though it hiked up above her thigh when she tried to sit down. And then there was the green striped dress she wore to church every Sunday. I was positive if she sneezed while wearing the green one, she’d pop every button down the front.

So when she stopped wearing those dresses, I assumed she was trying to dress less provocatively out of respect for her employers, the Pruitts. Personally, I didn’t like the new look. She looked drab and sloppy with clothes three or four sizes too big for her. I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I tried to be subtle. “You don’t ever wear your polka dot blouse and skirt. Why not?”

She dropped her head. “It doesn’t fit me, anymore. I bought me two skirts and a couple of shirts at the rummage sale a few weeks ago.”

I tried to dismiss my suspicions, but soon it was impossible to deny, when her stomach protruded from underneath the oversized men’s shirts she wore. I felt sick inside.

Knowing her past, I figured there was no need in asking who the father was. Whoever he was, he needed to be hung. But what if—

I tried to dismiss the crazy notion that I could’ve been right about the parson. But the nagging, unanswered questions pestered me. Dabney had worked for the Pruitt’s since Thanksgiving. She’d led me to believe she gave up her former life whenever she went to work for them, and I had no reason to doubt her. Why would she lie to me? My imagination went wild. Was this why Zann was sent away? Had Mrs. Pruitt discovered her husband’s infidelity and sent Zann away to keep her from hearing nasty rumors? Zann liked Dabney and the feeling was mutual. They were near the same age and talked about a lot of things. Zann had told me of their conversations. Was the parson afraid for Zann to stick around town? Afraid Dabney might let the bee out of the bucket?

I grew sick every time I looked at Dabney’s protruding abdomen. I understood firsthand the kind of life this baby was in for. If I hadn’t been so in love with Zann Pruitt, I would’ve married Dabney myself. I wasn’t in love with her, yet I couldn’t stomach the idea of another little boy being subjected to the kind of life I’d had. Funny, how I assumed the life growing inside her to be a boy.

I couldn’t sleep nights for worrying about her. She’d made a horrific mistake and now she’d have to live with it. The child wasn’t responsible, and yet he’d have to pay. Perhaps of the three involved, he’d pay the most. I recalled with a bitter heart, all the years I yearned for just one little store-bought toy at Christmas, and the nights I went to bed so hungry I cried myself to sleep. But even so, I was lucky in a way, because I was born smart. I had that going for me. I’d always held to the notion that if I could survive childhood, when I grew up I’d be able to rise above my circumstances. But what about this little fellow who had not yet been introduced to the world? What if he was like his mother? Dabney was a sweet girl with a lot of wonderful traits. She was prettier than most, no doubt about it. But in spite of her outstanding qualities, no one would ever pick her for the brightest rose on the bush. She said she dropped out of school in the sixth grade, and I could believe she wasn’t at the head of the class when she made the decision. How would she be able to take care of a baby by herself? I told myself it wasn’t my concern. Still, I worried.

I continued to mark off the days, waiting for Zann to return. School was scheduled to start September 24
th
. When we lived in Oklahoma, classes began the first Monday after Labor Day, but school always started later in Mississippi. Farmers were busy getting the cotton ginned and needed their children to help pick.

Zann had promised to write, and in the beginning she did. But her letters became shorter and then fewer. I had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions and I tried to shove plaguing thoughts to the back of my mind. Still, I wondered. Had she found someone new? Maybe she only fell in love with me because her choices were limited in Pivan Falls. There’d be lots of fellows to choose from in the big city. And it didn’t matter how many girls were there, none could compare with Zann Pruitt. She’d be swamped with admirers. I consoled myself with the belief that even if she found someone in New Orleans to turn her head, she’d have to come home and then I’d do my dead-level best to make her forget him. I’d been so sure when she left that she really loved me, yet time and distance was messing with my mind. Sometimes the fears were so troubling, I wanted to hitchhike to New Orleans and have her reassure me of her love.

Would Zann be stunned if she came home and heard nasty rumors about her father and Dabney Foxworthy? I’m not saying I’d heard any such rumors, but it wouldn’t take long for tongues to start wagging. Poor Mrs. Pruitt. I’d only met her once, briefly, although Dabney spoke highly of the woman and she appeared nice enough to me. Too nice to be married to a rotten, two-timing hypocrite.

But could I really justify excusing Dabney’s part in this lurid affair? The parson wasn’t the only guilty party although he was the only hypocrite and if there’s one thing I can’t abide, it’s a low-down hypocrite. Dabney never pretended to be anything other than what she was. Still, I couldn’t understand how she could betray Mrs. Pruitt, who according to Dabney’s own admission, had always treated her with utmost kindness. How could Dabney betray her? Didn’t she care that if the truth came out, she’d be responsible for breaking up the woman’s marriage? Who would take care of Mrs. Pruitt and Zann if it came to a divorce?

Here I was, practically sending the Pruitts to see a divorce lawyer and I had no proof Dabney’s child was the parson’s offspring.

I worried about Dabney. Her baby was due in a couple of months and she was working too hard for a woman in her condition. Not only did she continue to work full-time for the Pruitts, she hired on as a picker at the Elmore Farms. Mr. Elmore was a truck farmer, and hired folks to pick vegetables in the summer. Several residents from Rooster Run worked for him every year. They went to the fields at five o’clock in the morning and picked for about three hours. Then they went back at five in the evenings and picked another couple of hours. I didn’t get off work at the stockyard in time to pick in the evenings and Mr. Elmore wanted workers who could work both shifts. But Mama hired on, and she affirmed my fears that Dabney was working too hard.

But now there were two of them I worried about. Mama’s health seemed to improve in the spring, and I told myself all she needed was a little sunshine. But lately, she’d started going down again. She tried to relieve my mind by telling me she’d never felt better in her life, although I found it hard to believe.

Dabney proved my fears to be unfounded. She could out pick anyone in the fields, work all day at the Pruitts, and still have more energy at the end of the day than I started out with. I was glad her pregnancy was going smoothly. Mama’s health continued to decline, though she tried to pretend all was well. She now walked with an unsteady gait, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Dabney confided she’d been worried about Mama for several weeks. Said Mama passed out in the field on two separate occasions. Naturally, Mama failed to share the information with me. I begged her not to go back to the fields, but it was like trying to convince a rooster not to crow.

As much as I complained about Dabney working in her condition, I can’t deny I was glad she was there for Mama.

Saturday, September 17
th
is a day I’ll never forget as long as I live. I’d hauled a load of cattle to Biloxi and didn’t get back into Pivan Falls until almost nine o’clock. I ate a bite of supper and went straight to bed.

I woke up in the middle of the night and heard a car pull up next door. I almost threw up when I looked out and saw Parson Pruitt’s car in front of #3 at ten o’clock. My window was open and Dabney came running out the door.

I heard him say, “I feel like we’re sneaking around. I’m not sure this is a good idea, Dabney.”

“It’s the only way. It’ll all work out. You’ll see,” she said.

I’m not proud to admit it, but I think I hated her at that moment. And I know I hated him. How could they? Had he no shame?

Sunday morning, Mama was frying bacon whenever I crawled out of bed. I grabbed my jacket and headed toward the door. Mama’s eyes widened.

“Kiah? Ain’t you gonna eat? Breakfast will be on the table in less than five minutes.”

“I’m not hungry, Mama.” I growled.

She scooped up the bacon and laid it on a clean rag to soak up the grease. “Are you sick, shug?”

“Yeah. Sick of being stupid.”

“Land sakes, what kinda stinking thinking is that? Didja get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

I huffed. “No. Someone else crawled in on the wrong side last night.”

Mama rolled her eyes and let out a little chuckle. “You ain’t making a lick of sense. What you talking about?”

“Nothing Mama. Forget it.”

I walked over to #3 and knocked. I figured she was still sleeping, after such a late night rendezvous. Well, she could get up. With both fists, I pounded on the door as hard as I could.

Mama heard the racket and opened our front door. “What’s wrong, Kiah? Is Dabney not home?”

I walked back toward the house. “I don’t reckon she is, Mama.” I didn’t have the courage to tell her what I saw and heard the night before.

Mama’s eyes lit up. “Oh, my! You reckon she’s done gone off to have the baby?”

I shrugged. “I doubt it. Where would she go?” I think deep down I wanted Mama to know the truth. I didn’t want Dabney to get away with her little charade, and yet I didn’t want to be the one to tell Mama, knowing how it would break her heart.

Mama dried her hands on her apron. “Dabney told me she talked to a midwife in town who don’t charge but two-dollars to deliver. I told her when it got time that you’d hitch up Dolly and take her to the midwife’s.”

Mama’s brow furrowed and she clicked her tongue. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed or just aggravated Dabney didn’t come to her for help.

“I declare, she hates to put anybody out. I s’pose she didn’t want to wake us in the middle of the night. Well, I hope the little thing gets along okay. I wish I’d known. I woulda gone with her. Law, I hate she had to walk. Her in her condition.”

I smirked. “Oh, no need to worry your head over Dabney Foxworthy. She’s a big girl, Mama, and I got a feeling she was well taken care of last night.”

Mama’s always been slow to catch on to sarcasm. “I’m sure you’re right, son. She’ll get along fine. Midwives know what they’re doing. It’s just she ain’t got nobody and I sorta feel responsible for her.”

The knot in my stomach tightened. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Mama. She got pregnant, didn’t she? Doesn’t that give you a clue she has
somebody
?”

“Well, she’s never let on about the baby’s father, and it ain’t my place to snoop. What I’m sayin’ is she’s got nobody to look after her besides us. And the Pruitts, of course. They’ve been mighty good to her . . . treat her just like one of their own, she says. But still, bless her heart, it ain’t the same as having blood kin with you when you’re having a baby. That’s all I was talking about.”

“She’ll manage. You did, and you didn’t have anyone to care about you.” I bit my tongue the minute the words came from my lips.

Mama’s eyes glistened. “I reckon that’s what’s been weighing heavy on my mind. I know how it feels. If only I’d asked the whereabouts of the midwife, I’d get you to drive me there. But I ain’t got no inklin’ where to find her.”

I bit my lip to keep from blurting what I’d witnessed the night before. I would have too, if I hadn’t been afraid of breaking her heart. She loved Dabney. And she loved the parson and Mrs. Pruitt. The bitter truth would crush her. Not that she’d set herself up as judge. My mama never judged anyone, but she hadn’t made many friends in Pivan Falls and Dabney was special to her. She’d find out sooner or later, but I wouldn’t be the one to deliver the dreadful news.

I cringed whenever she said, “Kiah, get the wagon. I think I’ll go to church. Maybe the parson knows where the midwife lives. If Dabney’s delivered, we might need to bring her back home.”

I drove Mama to church, parked in the pecan orchard and told her I’d wait for her in the wagon. I’ll admit I always felt a little guilty sitting outside when it would’ve meant so much to Mama for me to go inside and sit on the pew with her. But when I saw Dead-eye Dan and his ol’ lady walking up the church steps, I felt justified. Dead-eye was the biggest moonshiner in all of Mississippi. According to rumors, he lost his eye from buckshot when the revenuers shot at him back in the early twenties. I figured if they really wanted to shut him down, they could have. It was no secret where the still was set up. Hypocrites. They were all a bunch of hypocrites, though they’d tell you in a flash they were bound for Gloryland. If they couldn’t fool me, how in the name of Dixie did they think they could fool God?

When it was about time for church to be over, I heard the organ playing. I leaned forward and tried to listen to the words they were singing. I soon caught on they were singing the same tune over and over. The words rang out, “
Just as I am . . . I come to Thee. Oh, Lord, God I come.”
I rolled my eyes and smirked. If God accepted that bunch of hypocrites into his heaven—just as they were—I surmised I’d get the red carpet rolled out for me. I wasn’t half as bad as a few of the folks I saw darken those doors. Mama excluded, of course.