Meet Me at the Arbor

By Jane Patrick Walls

General fiction | Paperback, eBook


Tamara gulped a few times fighting back tears as she remembered each detail. She continued shuddering, "I was led by two people. I could smell aftershave but they didn't speak. A hoarse voice finally said 'watch your step going down ten.' I was kept from falling by them but I remember the smell of dirt, musky dampness, grime and smoke. I was forced on a bench and they handcuffed my arms to something on each side. I was lying in the darkness as the hood still covered my head."



Meet Me at the Arbor is dedicated to my grandmother, Letha Hill McCray. Her first name I later learned was Eletha. My grandmother raised her three daughters and four sons after the death of my grandfather, Robert Burris McCray, in 1916 when my mother was twelve.



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