Chapter 56

An Explanation

I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Ginnie Lee,” Grandpa says.

Shrugging off his hand, I spin around. I want to scream, but no words come out. My eyes fill, and I cry like a young’un with a scraped knee. Grandpa offers his handkerchief, but I wipe my tears on my sleeve. Other folks look at us, but I don’t reckon crying in a cemetery startles anyone.

“Ain’t no call ta git blazed up, Ginnie Lee. Ya got ta let me explain.”

I look him in the eye. “Explain why you asked Chance to marry me?”

“Not marry him today. Git betrothed now and git married in a year or two.” His eyes stay on mine. “On account’a Rebecca’s Branch.” He reaches for me, but I push his hand away.

“On account of our stream?”

His eyes plead. “Rebecca’s Branch ain’t just a stream. It’s you and me and all the ancestors what come afore us. Each passed our land to the next, and we got ta make sure there’s a next ta pass it to.”

It makes no sense to me.

“So this is about land,” I say flatly. “The land is more important than my feelings, more important than me.”

He shakes his head. “Ya don’t understand a’tall. The land isn’t more important’n you. It is you. Rebecca’s Branch is us, our history and our future. If’n ya don’t git married and have babies, Rebecca’s Branch will end with you.”

“I got plenty of time to think about getting married.” I raise my chin. “And Mama’s having another baby.”

His leathery face pinches a bit. “I hope your ma’s baby thrives, but she already lost six. We cain’t be certain. As fer you havin’ plenty’a time, Freddie done told me fer years she’d git married one day. Only one day never come, and now she’s a’ old maid. Onliest way ta be sure is fer you ta git married. If it ain’t that Yankee boy, we’ll find somebody else.”

The anger that had stopped to simmer boils up fresh and furious, and my mind recollects something that had retreated to another place. That long ago day in May when I heard Grandpa talking at Granny Kent’s grave, what did he say? I know she’s young, but it’s got ta be took care of. It’s my bounden duty.

“You never aimed to go to the Reunion, did you? Your plan was to come here and find me a husband.” I overcome a catch in my throat to add, “But you never told me.”

Grandpa chuckles. Chuckles! “The Reunion give me a place ta look. If I’da told ya, ya might not’a been so eager.”

I want to snatch the chuckle right out of Grandpa’s mouth. I want him to feel the hurt he caused me. His scheme was merely to continue the family line, no matter my feelings. I recall what Westy said about a veteran feeling blame for those he killed.

I point at graves around us. “How many babies weren’t born on account of these men died?” If Grandpa grieves over men he killed, I aim to open the wound. I jab my finger in his face. “How many families did you kill the last of?”

My bare feet stomp out of the cemetery. I don’t look back.

                     *    *    *

I slip quietly into the boarding house, hearing the rest of them at noontime dinner. In my alcove, I write to my brother.