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Microsoft Word - 2014_Great_American_Fiction_Contest-12_Miles_48_Stops-by_Robert_Steven_Williams.docx

the rest of their life.” The afternoon sun streamed through Granny Jack’s kitchen window as she refilled the reverend’s cup and bustled about, wiping off the Formica countertop out of habit. She’d swapped her house dress and apron for a pair of designer slacks and a yellow blouse, bargains Davida had picked up at the Riverside Goodwill a few weeks back. She wanted to look her best for the reverend because she needed his help in the worst of ways. “Davida had to work,” she said. “I called to tell you, but there was no answer.” “Someone stole my cellphone, haven’t had a chance to get a new one.” He shook his head. “Nothing’s sacred nowadays.” “You eat up now, reverend. Can I get you anything else?” “Sit, please.” He ate the last bite on his plate and smiled. “You make the best pie in our congregation, and I’m not just saying that because you’re our star vocalist.” Granny Jack blushed. She’d made a name for herself in a number of local and regional bands back in the ’60s, met her late husband through music too, but after Charles got killed in ’Nam, Ruby Jackson fled town with her baby boy in tow. She didn’t talk much about those dark times, but, by the time she returned 10 years later, humbled, cleaning houses to make ends meet, she’d pledged not to sing another note, believing her voice was a curse. Then, after she confronted the reverend on the day of the


Microsoft Word - 2014_Great_American_Fiction_Contest-12_Miles_48_Stops-by_Robert_Steven_Williams.docx
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