A Following Sea

by Michael Lindley

  He felt a sense of comfort and satisfaction he was growing more accustomed to as his personal life came to include Hanna Walsh. She was an incredible woman; caring and confident, and maddening at times as well, as her Scots temper could flare at a moment’s notice. They had been together now as a couple for several months.

  After her husband's murder case had been solved and they had been able to safely bring her son back, Alex had kept close to Hanna to help her through those tough days of recovery and return to a somewhat normal life. Their relationship had grown from police officer and crime victim, to friends and now lovers. He hadn't been this close to a woman in years since his divorce from Adrienne. The memory of his ex-wife put a quick damper on his good mood as he poured a cup of coffee and returned to his desk.

  On the top of the not so urgent pile was a call from his father, Skipper Frank. He was about to put it aside until later when he thought better of the notion and reached for the phone. His father rarely called. I'd better check on what the surly old bastard has to say.

  He heard the phone ring in the kitchen of their house in the village of Dugganville, a small fishing and shrimping hamlet just north of Charleston. The house was set in along a row old houses along the river behind big docks with shrimp boats tied up. Alex still couldn't get the boyhood smells of the river and the shrimp and the diesel oil from his mind. His father and grandfather had run the Maggie Mae as shrimpers out of Dugganville for many years. Alex had grown up on the boat and for a time, always thought he and his brother would take over the business. Then, the war in Iraq changed everything.

  The ringing stopped. "Yeah, what?" he heard his father grumble.

  "Hey, Pop, it's Alex. You called."

  "Yeah, right. Haven't heard from you in weeks."

  "Likewise."

  "What the hell you been up to?" his father asked, clearly not really caring about an answer.

  "Just work, Pop."

  "Heard you got a new squeeze."

  Alex cringed. "Where'd you hear that?"

  "Have to hear it from my first mate on the boat. My own son won't tell me when there's a new woman in his life."

  Charles "Chaz" Merton had worked for the family on the Maggie Mae for years and was a close friend of Alex. "I ran into Chaz a couple of weeks ago here in Charleston," Alex said. "He was down visiting some friends and was in a place I go for breakfast. Must have mentioned Hanna."

  "So, Hanna's her name?"

  "Hanna Walsh. She's a good lady."

  "Well, good for you," the old man said.

  Alex was surprised. His father rarely had much nice to say. His sour demeanor had begun when his wife and Alex's mother, Katherine, had died years ago after a car accident. Alex had seen little improvement in his attitude since. His father's drinking didn't help and a string of bad choices in women had continued to deepen the man's gloom and dark outlook on the world. His only comfort seemed to be his time out on the water on the Maggie Mae harvesting shrimp. It still grated on the man that his own son hadn't joined him in the business.

  "So, why'd you call, Pop?"

  Alex heard his father cough on the other end of the line and then churn up a big gob to spit into the kitchen sink.

  "Late night, Pop?"

  "Had a few down at Gilly's with the boys."

  "A few, right." Alex said, seeing his father sitting at the bar with his shrimper buddies, telling tall tales and bad jokes, the beers and shots of whiskey going down far too long.

  "When are you gonna come out and have a beer with us, son?"

  Alex hesitated. "Soon."

  "Right. Look, I need to tell you something," his father said. "I ran into Adrienne last night."

  Alex felt his heart sink in his chest. His ex, Adrienne, had also grown-up in Dugganville and her mother still lived there, another drunk that spent too much time at Gilly's. His father had a brief fling with the woman that ended as badly or worse than Alex's marriage to the daughter.

  "Adrienne?" Alex heard himself say, the bile rising in his throat. He and Adrienne had met in high school and had fallen in love, or so he thought in those days. He still wondered at times about the intensity of his feelings for the girl. They had been together two years as graduation from Dugganville High School approach and were trying to sort out college or shrimping, or whatever was to come next. Adrienne clearly wanted to get married. Alex was leaning toward going away to school in Columbia.

  Then, his older brother, Johnny, was killed in action in Iraq. His Marine unit was attacked outside Mosul. He was shot and killed in a fierce battle that took three other Marines. One month later, Alex was enlisted in the Marines and on his way to nearby Parris Island for Basic Training. In his mind, it wasn't revenge that drove him to want to follow his brother to the war, but more a sense of duty to help finish what his brother had lost his life in trying to do. He had also decided to marry Adrienne before he left.

  "She was down at Gilly's with her old lady." Alex could hear the displeasure in his father's voice in even mentioning Ella Moore.

  "So, she's back in town. Thanks for letting me know."

  "She needs to see you, kid."

  Alex could feel a cold sweat all over. He didn't answer.

  "Alex, I don't know what it is, but she seems real set on talkin' to ya."

  "That's been over for a long time, Pop."

  The old man said, "She looks pretty good."

  "Come on, Pop!"

  "Why don't you come out for dinner tonight. She is my damned daughter-in-law for God's sake."

  Alex said, "Have a good time. Give her my best." He hung up the phone.

  Chapter Four

  Hanna parked in the drive next to an old Victorian house back in Charleston the next morning. She had run the free legal clinic for many years and restored the old house near downtown for her offices. She had an assistant and usually two or three volunteer lawyers who helped to serve those in the city who had no money for attorneys.

  Since she had lost her family home in town on the Battery in the financial scandal her husband brought down on them, Hanna had converted the upstairs of the clinic into a small apartment she used when she was in the city. She found she was staying at Alex's townhouse far more often in the past months. Shortly after Ben had died and the troubles had all been resolved, she had also accepted a paid position with a small law firm on Pawleys Island to help pay the bills, and she split her time between the two locations.

  Her assistant, Molly, was already in the office when Hanna came through the door. Molly was on the phone but nodded and gestured to a woman and small boy sitting against the far wall. Hanna immediately saw the frantic look on the woman's face and dark bruise beneath her right eye. She walked over and held out her hand. "Good morning, I'm Hanna Walsh." The woman shook Hanna's hand and then reached for her son.

  Her voiced cracked when she spoke. "I'm Jenna Hall. This is William," she said looking down at her son. The boy appeared to be around five years old. His blond hair had recently been combed back wet.

  "Hello, Jenna. And William, good morning to you." The little boy kept looking down at the floor.

  "Do you have some time to see us?" Jenna asked, almost pleading.

  "Of course. Come back with me." Hanna led them down the hall and into a small kitchen. She poured them both coffee and got a bottle of juice from the refrigerator for William. "Let's go back to my office."

  They sat around the small conference table in Hanna's office. "What's happened to your face, dear?" Hanna asked.

  The woman hesitated and looked over at her son. Hanna went to her desk and called Molly out in the lobby. "Can you come and get William? I think he'd enjoy seeing your laptop and how the printer works."

  When they were alone, Hanna asked again, "What's going on, Jenna?"

  The woman was mid-twenties at best, Hanna thought. She was gaunt and pale, and beyond the bruise on her cheek, she could see a pretty face that obviously had seen some very bad
times. Her sandy brown hair was pulled back tight from her face in a long pony-tail. She wore jeans that needed a good wash and a t-shirt with some rock band name that Hanna had never heard of. One arm was full of colorful tattoos all the way down to her wrist and another peeked out from her shirt on the right side of her neck. Each ear had multiple piercings and earrings and she had a gold ring through the right corner of her lower lip.

  Jenna Hall finally gathered herself, took a sip from the coffee cup and said, "We've been staying down at the women's shelter for a couple of weeks. We lost our apartment when Moe lost his job."

  Hanna saw a thin silver band on the woman's left ring finger. "And Moe is your husband?"

  Jenna nodded.

  "And where is Moe?"

  Tears welled-up in the woman's eyes. "I don't know."

  "Did he hit you there, on your face?" Hanna asked.

  Jenna nodded again. "The clinic helped me get a restraining order against him," she said slowly, almost trance-like. "But, he knows where we are, and he tried to take William."

  "Have you talked to the police?"

  "I don't want him arrested," she said defiantly.

  Hanna reached out and placed her hand on Jenna's. "How can I help you, dear?"

  "The clinic sent me here. They said you've helped other women."

  Hanna said, "Yes, that's true, but you already have a restraining order to keep this man away from you. The police can help you enforce that."

  Jenna stood and walked to the window that looked out across the backyard of the house. She spoke, still looking away outside. "I thought maybe you could speak with Moe... speak with both of us. Help us get back together and sort this all out. I just need someone who can get him to listen."

  Hanna took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to control her anger at another man and the unimaginable behavior she saw too often in this office. "I thought you didn't know where he is."

  Jenna turned. She stared at Hanna for a few moments. "It's just a matter of time before he tries to take his son again. I could call you."

  "This isn't the first time he's hit you, is it?"

  Jenna shook her head and quietly said, "No."

  "I don't want to frighten you anymore, but this can be a very dangerous situation for both you and William."

  "You think I don't know that?"

  Hanna said, "Look, I certainly don't know much about the two of you and what's happened, and I'm not a counselor, but my experience has been to have a woman in your situation get as far away from men like this as possible."

  "I don't have anywhere to go!"

  Hanna nodded. "I know the clinic is locked and you're safe there."

  "We can't stay there forever, and William needs to get out to go to school."

  Hanna stood and walked back behind her desk. "You can stay here for today. We'll get you some food and Molly can go out and get some toys for your son. I'm going over to the clinic. I know the director and I want to hear what she has to say.".

  "Don't get me in trouble there!"

  "Of course not," Hanna reassured her. "I just want to know what they've done to help with all this and then we can figure out how best to proceed."

  "Thank you."

  "I've got an empty office down the hall that you and William can stay in today. You're obviously not taking him to school?"

  "No, I don't want Moe near him again until we can all talk."

  Hanna had come back from the women's clinic and was returning phone calls and catching up on other client's files when Molly stuck her head through the door. "Your father is on the line."

  She felt the same old sense of dread every time she heard from her father. They had a long history of always having to apologize for their last encounter. The most recent blow-up had been months after Ben's death when her father had called to admonish again her for staying in South Carolina after so much chaos. It was a consistent theme with the man, even before Ben's troubles.

  Her father, Allen Moss, was managing partner with the prominent Atlanta law firm of Moss Kramer. At 72, he was still among the city's most sought-after attorneys by the elite and upper crust of Atlanta society who needed help with their frequent divorces or the many other unfortunate legal entanglements the rich seemed to find themselves in. Hanna had followed her father into the legal profession, not because she wanted to work with his affluent clients, but rather those who needed the most help but couldn't afford it. Under duress, she had returned to Atlanta after getting her law degree at Duke. She reluctantly agreed to join her father's firm when he had the first of his three heart attacks. Two years was all she could take.

  She had met Ben Walsh in law school in North Carolina. They had dated and near graduation it had escalated to a fairly serious relationship. Ben wanted to return to his home in Charleston to practice and Hanna felt compelled to return to Atlanta to help her father. They continued to see each other on occasional weekends. Just when things were continuing to deteriorate for her with her father and her law career at Moss Kramer, Ben asked her to marry him. Charleston and a new start away from her father and the firm seemed the best new path.

  Somehow, nearly twenty years had passed, and her father never gave up on his attempts to get her back. His efforts only escalated after Ben died.

  Hanna looked down and saw the light blinking on her phone. "I'll take it, thanks." Molly closed the door.

  She picked up the receiver. "Hello, Allen." He didn't like it when she called him father or dad. It wasn't professional in his mind.

  "How's my best daughter?"

  "I'm your only daughter." She heard his laugh on the other end of the line. His most recent cardiac event had been just two years ago, and his voice sounded frail and tentative. It was the first time she remembered ever hearing him sound anything but forceful and totally in control.

  "And how is my grandson?"

  "You should call him."

  He didn't respond.

  "So, Allen, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call today?"

  She heard her father clear his voice and what sounded like taking a drink of water.

  "I wanted you to know I have to go in for another procedure."

  "For your heart?" she asked, a cold chill running through her. She really did love her father and his health had been so worrisome as he had repeated episodes over the years. He always insisted on going back to work much too early and here he was at 72, still working seven days nearly every week.

  "Do you think you can come home on Thursday?" he asked. "Martha would appreciate your company. I'm afraid it's going to be a long day at the clinic. A couple of bypasses, I'm afraid."

  "Oh, Daddy. I'm so sorry," she said, truly worried now and dropping all previous formalities. Martha was Martha Wellman Moss, her father's second wife. At 48, she was hardly much older than Hanna and she seriously doubted the woman would appreciate her company. Martha had married her father ten years after the plane crash that took Hanna's mother and brother. Their father was piloting the family plane to the Bahamas with the whole family onboard. He had insisted on leaving Atlanta even though the weather report was sketchy. It was typical of the man's arrogance, Hanna had always thought, and she had never forgiven him for his foolishness that day. The storms blew up on the crossing and he crashed the plane in the water short of the runway coming into Nassau. Her mother and younger brother were killed on impact with the water. She and her father were pulled out of the wreckage before it sank by two fishermen who saw them go in. Hanna had a long and painful recovery and still had trouble with her back. A small scar along her jawline was a constant reminder of the tragedy. She had never been in a small plane since.

  "The doctor says it's preventative, whatever the hell that means," she heard her father say. "Seems they should just pull the damned thing out and give me a new ticker."

  "You're talking about this Thursday?" she asked.

  "Yes, dear. It would mean so much to us if you could com
e up."

  "Of course. What time is the surgery?

  "You should come in the night before. Stay with us at the house."

  Hanna thought about her childhood home, the vast estate on West Paces Ferry Road in one of Atlanta's most prominent neighborhoods. The thought of an evening with Martha in the big old house was not appealing.

  'I'll be there," she finally said. "I'll let you know when I can get away to drive up."

  Chapter Five

  Hanna and Alex sat across from each other at one of their favorite restaurants in Charleston, Magnolias on East Bay. Hanna liked the wine list. Alex liked the "down south dinners", particularly the Shellfish over Grits that now sat before him. He scooped another scallop up in the creamy white grits and closed his eyes as he savored the flavors.

  Hanna scrunched her face. "Never could see the fascination with grits," she said. "Tastes like sand."

  "It's the lobster sauce."

  "There's not enough sauce to make grits edible," she said, reaching for the bottle of Cabernet between them and refilling her glass. Alex hadn't touched his first, yet.

  Alex finished his mouthful and said, "You uppity Atlanta types just don't understand good Southern food."

  Hanna just shook her head and then took another sip from her wine.

  "Tough day?" Alex asked.

  Hanna forced a smile. "I've had better. My father called. He's having another heart procedure in three days."

  "I'm sorry. Is it serious?"

  "Another bypass," Hanna said. "This will be the third one for the old coot. He wants me to come up to Atlanta to hold Martha's hand." She did little to disguise her frustration. She had told Alex about her stepmother and he was aware of Hanna's disregard for the woman. "I hate to say this, but I feel like she's just waiting for him to pass so she can have all the money and start chasing her next catch. Is that harsh?"

  "Just a bit.'

  "You haven't met her."

  The waiter came and checked in on them. Hanna hadn't even started yet on her entree of planked salmon.