We all have secrets, every one of us. Some secrets are so precious we dare not lay them aside even for a moment, holding onto them tightly wherever we go, like the sound of trailing footsteps, as close as your own shadow. Then there are those secrets that forever haunt a place, intertwined with the soil, water, and buildings, and sometimes, even a few wild orange groves. Fleeing from such places is pointless; there is no escape- not really. Traditions are a sacred, sometimes too sacred, way of life in the South, invoked to purify or shroud all manner of sin. The murky waters of history surge...