Besides me who else in the group like eating rabbit and gravy I'm from the south Mississippi that is Country Boy fed
Chapter 1: The Taste of Home
“Anybody else?” Earl Jenkins typed, his thumb hovering over the ‘Post’ button. The chipped Formica of his kitchen table felt cool under his forearm. He’d been staring at the question for ten minutes now, a sudden ache in his chest mirroring the emptiness in his refrigerator. He wasn't looking for a recipe; he was looking for… recognition. A little piece of home. He pressed ‘Post’ and watched the little blue bubbles appear, signifying Facebook was thinking.
Earl had left rural Mississippi thirty years ago, chasing a factory job and a promise of a better life in Detroit. He’d found the job, alright, and a wife, Darlene, and two kids, Sarah and Billy. But ‘better’ felt… complicated. Darlene had passed five years back, a swift illness stealing her laughter and her pecan pie recipe. Sarah was a lawyer in Chicago, too busy to call much. Billy… well, Billy was a question mark, drifting through life with a haunted look Earl couldn’t decipher.
The first comment arrived. “My grandpa used to raise ‘em. Best eatin’ in the world.” Earl felt a flicker of warmth. Then another: “Rabbit and gravy is soul food, plain and simple.” Soon, a flurry of responses. But one comment, from a name he didn’t recognize – “MagnoliaBloom78” – stopped him cold. “Earl Jenkins?
Didn’t know you were on here. Been a long time. Remember Old Man Tiberius’s rabbit farm?” A chill ran down Earl’s spine. Tiberius. A name he’d buried deep. A name that tasted like regret and… something far worse.
Chapter 2: Shadows of Tiberius
Earl stared at the comment, his knuckles white as he gripped his phone. Old Man Tiberius. The man who’d practically raised him, teaching him to hunt, to fish, and, most importantly, to prepare rabbit just right. But Tiberius hadn’t just been a mentor. He’d been a shadow, a looming presence with secrets Earl had vowed to forget. He typed a cautious reply to MagnoliaBloom78: "Vaguely. It was a long time ago."
The reply came instantly. “Vaguely? You worked for him all summer when you were sixteen. Said you were saving for college. He always spoke highly of you, Earl. Said you had a knack for… handling things.” The phrase "handling things" felt like a gut punch. Earl remembered that summer vividly. The long days cleaning cages, the strange late-night tasks Tiberius assigned him, the unsettling feeling of being used. He'd never spoken about it, not even to Darlene. It was a darkness he’d locked away.
His phone rang. It was Billy. “Hey, Dad. Just checking in.” Earl forced a cheerful tone. “Doing alright, son. Just… reminiscing about Mississippi.” Billy’s voice was flat. “Mississippi. Right. You never talk about it. I always wondered why.”
Earl’s heart pounded. Billy was a psychologist, trained to peel back layers. He was the last person Earl wanted to confront his past. “It was a long time ago, Billy. Not much to tell.” But Billy wasn't buying it. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re still running from something.” The call ended, leaving Earl feeling exposed and vulnerable. MagnoliaBloom78 had sent another message: “Tiberius passed away last month. His daughter, Delilah, is settling the estate. She’s been asking about you.”
Chapter 3: Delilah’s Request
Delilah Tiberius. The name conjured a fleeting image – a girl with pigtails and sad eyes, often overlooked amidst the chaos of the rabbit farm. Earl hadn't seen her in decades. He cautiously accepted Delilah’s friend request on Facebook, bracing himself. Within minutes, a private message arrived.
“Mr. Jenkins, it’s Delilah. I know this is out of the blue, but I found an old ledger of my father’s. It mentions a significant sum of money he entrusted to you, to be held… ‘for safekeeping’. He said you understood the situation.”
Earl’s breath hitched. Safekeeping? The “situation”? He remembered now. It wasn’t just rabbits Tiberius raised. There had been… other dealings.
Illegal gambling debts, whispered threats, a constant undercurrent of fear. He’d been a naive kid, used as a courier, a go-between. The money hadn't been for safekeeping; it was dirty money, and Tiberius had been testing him, grooming him. He’d kept the money, terrified of what would happen if he crossed Tiberius. He’d used it to escape Mississippi, to build a new life in Detroit. Guilt, a cold, heavy weight, settled in his stomach.
What happened just seconds later left everyone in the room completely speechless… (Continue to Part 2 →)
