Secrets in the Lowcountry--The River

by Janet Cooper

  Jeff appeared so strong, yet his eyes showed his concern. He’d changed his shirt and the lemony yellow cotton emphasis his dark hair and almost black eyes. What was wrong with her? Thinking about clothes when her mother lay dead and with Rod missing. She turned away from him and shook her head. “I can’t go in there.”

  He put his arm around her and led her to the library, the first room to the right of the front door. After she came in, he closed the door, took her in his arms and held her, tenderly. She sobbed against his soft fishing shirt, trying to muffle the sound. Taylor wasn’t sure for whom she cried; her mother, Rod, the teenager, or herself.

  “The hospital called, professional courtesy they said, to tell us about your mom. Mary’s been up since before dawn getting the house in order and feeding the mob. I left late last night, returned about an hour ago. Dad had to know before he heard the TV news.”

  She didn’t remove her face from his chest, but she nodded her head in understanding. The tears had stopped still she made no move to slip away. Jeff enjoyed the torture of holding her as if she were his.

  “Keep talking. Say about anything, the color of the sky, the water, don’t let me think beyond this moment.”

  How long they stood there, she had no idea. What Jeff talked about, she couldn’t have repeated for she’d only listened to the tone of his voice, deep and strong and constant. Finally, she heard her name being called. She stepped back from Jeff. “Thanks for being my friend.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek.

  “No problem, Tiny,” he said, his voice slightly husky.

  “Coming, Sara.” She walked away from him.

  She always did that he thought. Just when he was sure he had her, she turned and walked away. Would he never learn that she belonged to someone else? Accept that he was only her friend?

  At eight a.m., the doorbell rang. Everyone heard the sound and crowded into the hallway, suspecting that the DNR had arrived. Taylor hoped she could handle the situation. She searched for Jeff, grateful for his six feet plus height. Catching her glance, he moved in her direction.

  Jeff maneuvered through the group to her side. Once there, he placed an arm around her waist and gave a gentle squeeze. She raised her face to him. He lightly kissed the top of her head. His gentle affection strengthened her will power.

  Larry Murphy, the DNR person, headed directly toward Taylor and Jeff. They’d both known him for most of their lives and he treated them as his children. He hugged Taylor then shook Jeff’s hand. “Taylor, I need you to come outside and check out the cooler we picked up yesterday.”

  She nodded.

  “Martin, you might want to come, too. Everyone else, please stay here.”

  “Jeff, please come. You’re family.” She placed her hand in his, her face a pale resemblance of itself.

  Larry seemed to expect this for he didn’t disagree.

  Dr. Harris said, “Why don’t the rest of y’all wait for us in the living room? We’ll be there shortly.”

  Taylor gripped Jeff’s hand tightly. The four of them walked outside and around to the back of Larry’s pick-up truck. Although all of them could see the cooler clearly, Larry lifted the blue and white cooler from the truck-bed, placing it on the ground.

  “Taylor, I know this is hard. Do you think this is Rod’s?” He used the tone of a father speaking to a dear, loved child.

  She stared at the cooler, before moving away from Jeff and crouching down. Taylor tilted the box and looked at the bottom. She sensed all their eyes on her.

  A large, gouged mark crossed the entire bottom of the box.

  She dropped the cooler. The box rocked back and forth before coming to a stop. As she stood up, she said, “Its Rod’s. Last time, we were out, he accidently scrapped the bottom with a knife. He almost threw the cooler away when we returned. I told him no one would ever see it. He hated anything that was flawed. You know that Jeff.” She peeked at him, glanced away and focused on the cooler.

  “Strange, if he had bought a new one, I might not have been able to identify it.” She spoke in a distant, almost unrecognizable voice. Her father went to her side. He put one arm around her then cradled her head against his chest with the other.

  Larry cleared his throat. “Taylor, I’m sorry.” He shifted his attention. “Martin, we need to discuss our search.”

  “I understand.” He looked over at Jeff, who stepped closer. “Would you keep her outside for a few minutes while we go over the schedule?”

  “No, Dad, I need to hear what the plans are. Go in. Get started. I’ll be in directly.”

  “Jeff. Please stay with her.” Martin relinquished his position and went inside with Larry.

  Holding her loosely, Jeff nevertheless placed his chin on her head.

  “Give me a minute.”

  “Take all the time you want.” He continued to hold her in a light embrace.

  Her entire body shook, but she didn’t cry. He tightened his hold, willing his strength to fill her and comfort her.

  Taylor stepped away, after what seemed, to him, too short a time. Glimpsing up, she gave him a wan smile. “Thank you.” She took a deep breath. “We must go in.”

  When he and Taylor entered the living room, now doubling as a ‘situation room’, they heard Larry speaking and gesturing at a map being held by two of Rod’s friends. “The Coast Guard helicopter will take the northern sector, while the Water and Rescue ‘copter will take the southern quadrant. Opps, for the civilians, that’s what the Coast Guard calls this area. The Harmony Fire Department will use their jet-boat to check the marshes in the area around Brays Creek. The DNR boats will check the Whale Branch east and west of that creek. Since Taylor ID’d the cooler, the search area is narrower. We won’t need as many volunteers. However, the power of the tides is strong. We must check the river coming off Brays Creek and the smaller creeks both north and south of this point. Is everyone clear?” Larry waited for questions.

  Sara asked, “What can we do? We don’t know the waterways, but we want to help.”

  “Unless someone needs you as a spotter in their boat, very little,” Larry replied.

  “How do we get on board as a spotter?” someone asked.

  “Martin, I’ll let you coordinate that, if you will. You probably know who’s going out and from what locations.”

  “I have a list from yesterday and according to Mary our friends have been calling in all morning waiting to be told where to go and when. After you finish, I’ll start placing people in boats.”

  “I’m finished. I’ll keep in touch.” Larry gathered his map and headed out.

  “For those of you who wish to help,” Martin said. “I’ll place two spotters in each boat, that way both sides of the river can be checked simultaneously.” Most of the bridal party gathered round.

  Sara, another bridesmaid, said, “I got seasick yesterday, but I can man the phone or do anything on land.”

  “As you know from yesterday, I’m no good on the water, in it fine, but not on it,” Tim said, making a jest at his own expense. “Any job on land will do.”

  “No wonder you didn’t go fishing with Rod,” one of the groomsmen teased.

  “Yeah,” another added, “Tim’s only value on a fishing trip is adding chum.” A few members of the bridal party laughed.

  Mary spoke up, “I take anyone who’s willing to help with the cooking and the kitchen duties.”

  The break in the tension appeared to help those gathered in the living room.

  Before Larry left the room, Taylor stopped him. “Could I speak to you?”

  “Sure, honey.”

  “Let’s go in the library.”

  Jeff started to join the group surrounding her father.

  “Aren’t you coming with us?”

  “Sure.” He reversed directions.

  Once inside the room, Taylor shut the door. “Mr. Larry.” A name she’d called him forever. “Yesterday, when we saw the cooler, the entire area was full of alligators, big ones. The o
nly time I’ve seen that many together before was when I visited a ‘gator-farm in St. Augustine.”

  He nodded. “I was on the team that retrieved the ice chest, so I saw them. I’d heard rumors about someone feeding ‘gators, but didn’t know where or who. Still don’t know who, but I discovered where. Normal behavior for ‘gators is to sink into the water when humans approach. They prefer raccoons, small deer, crabs, and wounded animals. But if they’re fed, they forget their fear and look at humans as a source of food. Although it’s against the law, someone has been feeding them.” He shook his head in disgust. “We’ll probably have to remove all those ‘gators. They’re too dangerous to be left.”

  “In other words, you’ll have to kill them,” Taylor said, quietly.

  “Yes.” His face and body language showed his frustration. “They aren’t endangered any longer, but. . .” He hesitated. “I hate to kill any animal. They’re God’s creatures. If man would leave them alone and give them their own space, we could avoid killing.”

  She sent him a soft smile and bobbed her head in understanding. “Daddy told me that years ago you fought to have laws passed to save the alligators. From the numbers I saw, they’re thriving.”

  “Yes, Taylor I did fight for them and yes, the numbers show the program works. Did you know,” he said, warming to his subject. “We tried initially to separate the problem makers and relocate them, but ‘gators have a homing instinct.” He shook his head. “They will come back to the area they were born, even if that spot no longer exists.”

  She touched the arm of this gentle man. “You mean if human development has replaced their river or pond bank,” she added.

  He waggled his head. “Wish we could somehow teach them to stay away.”

  She swallowed deeply. “After you trap them, will you dissect …?” She grabbed the back of an upholstered chair. Her knees weakened. She swallowed hard. Tears formed in her eyes, but she blinked them back. Taylor sensed Jeff moving beside her. A moment later, he placed his left arm around her waist and covered her right hand with his, giving her external support as well as internal.

  Larry cleared his throat and avoided her eyes. “It’s a State requirement. Each ‘gator must be analyzed and documented.”

  Although his voice almost sounded normal, Taylor heard the undercurrent of nervousness and concern. She appreciated his worrying about her and with Jeff’s physical support, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Larry.”

  He stepped around the chair and gave her cheek a peck. “We’ll find him alive, Taylor. He knows these waters. We’ll find him. You have my promise.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I must check with my searchers.” He placed his ball cap on, dipped his head toward her, and left.

  Taylor twisted around and gripped Jeff’s arms. “Damn. Damn. Damn. I’ll kill that man when I see him. I swear I will.” Fury filled her words, yet worry filled her being.

  A second later, she shifted away. She frowned. “Instead of being lost, could he have run away?”

  “Whoa. You’re upset, rightfully so. But, let’s be logical. First, we found his cooler. Since we did, he obviously went out on the river. Why the ice chest washed up on the bank, we don’t know, yet. However, Rod didn’t run away. Yes, he did a stupid thing by going fishing in bad weather, but he loved you and would never leave you.”

  She wanted to hear these words, wanted them to be true, but was Jeff saying this to ease her anger and grief? “How do you know?”

  He gazed directly at face, as if forcing her to keep her attention on him. “Rod has always desired you. I can’t tell you how often he told me. He added that Beaufort held everything he ever required; fishing, crabbing, hunting, golf, position in the community, his business, and most important, and the gal he loved. Why throw all that away? Why start a new life somewhere else? He had established himself here. His business’ and social connections, important when one is a developer and investment counselor, are here. And most important of all, the woman he adores.”

  “He said this?” She searched his face for any sign of untruth.

  Jeff nodded. “Too many times to count. When I moved away, he called me a fool for leaving my network. He added it took too long to develop these associates.”

  Taylor stood silently, considering his words, craving them to be true. “You’re sure?”

  “Totally,” he replied, shaking his head yes, while his eyes stayed on hers.

  She felt her spirits lift. “I best check the horses, but thanks for sharing.” She kissed his cheek lightly and raced with a lighter step toward the barn.

  Jeff stood there for a moment, sighed and went in search of Dr. Harris. When he found him, sitting in the living room, map laid out on the table, paper and pencil beside him, Jeff approached. As he did so he noticed the doctor had aged overnight. “If you don’t need me, sir, I’ll join one of the boats going out to look for Rod.”

  Glancing up from the paperwork, Martin’s face lightened, if only briefly, before he said, “Actually, Jeff, if you could stay here and coordinate the volunteers, I would appreciate that. With Julia Ann’s passing, I must start arranging her funeral. Dear God,” he stopped and shook his head in disbelief, “yesterday was hell.” Sighing, he added, “I fear today won’t get better.”

  “I’ll help wherever I’m needed.”

  “Thanks. Even as a child, one could always count on you.” He patted Jeff’s shoulder, sighed again as if dreading the day ahead. “I’m going to shower and change. Then I’ll be in my study making phone calls on my cell, which will keep the landlines open for incoming calls. If you learn any news, please come get me.” He shuffled to the stairs, his normal stride gone. Grasping the railing, he climbed them very slowly.

  Martin’s behavior reminded Jeff of his own father when he’d lost his wife. Although vastly different circumstances, since his mom had died of cancer, the two men’s reaction almost mirrored each other. How telling. For the first time, Jeff saw how deeply the Doc cared for Miss Julia Ann. Love remained regardless of what else happened, not time, not situation, not. . . He stopped for instead of the Doc, he thought about his own love. Don’t go there.

  Mentally shaking his mind clear, Jeff strolled to the table and surveyed the items on top. The last thing Jeff wished to do was stay inside. With the DNR in charge, the job was much smaller than yesterday. Anyone could man the phones and notify Doc if news came in. Before he could consider which person to tap, Tim, the one who couldn’t go on a boat, appeared from the direction of the dining room.

  “Can I do anything?” he asked, holding a glass of Coke in his hand.

  “As a matter-of-fact, yes.” Jeff took him to the library. “I think we should move the ‘command post’ here. That will free up the living room giving people some place to congregate. Doc Martin’s changing and will be in his study arranging …” Jeff stopped recalling the retreating view of a man he’d always admired. Clearing his throat, he went on, “the funeral for his wife. If any word comes in, tell him.”

  Nodding in agreement, Tim said, “Okay. I’ll ask Sara to help me move everything here since the rest of the crowd’s gone off hunting for Rod. She’s as anxious to help as I am. Between the two of us we can share the job …”

  Sensing uneasiness in Tim, Jeff said, “Do you have any questions? I’m not sure I have the answers, but you can try me.”

  “We’re all wondering, but we don’t want to ask Taylor or her dad or even the guy from the DNR, at least not with the Harrises around. You’re a local. What do you think happened to Rod?”

  Shrugging his shoulder, Jeff said, “I honestly don’t know. Rod’s a boater, has been all his life. That’s what’s scary. Taylor, Doc, everyone realizes this. Yesterday, the weather was misty and light rain, but no wind so there was very, little chop.”

  Tim frowned.

  “The wind will cause waves in the water making the river choppy. The Broad is very wide, almost half-a-mile at certain points and very shallow in many spots. In shallow w
ater, the wind can really stir things up. But the day was calm. That’s why we can’t understand what happened. My theory is he ran out of gas. That happens. And our tides,” he caught himself because he was referring to the tides as if he still lived here, well he did right now, “our tides can run from minus one foot to eleven feet and change every six hours. Plus the speed ranges between four and five knots.”

  “Hold on, how many miles in a ‘knot’?”

  “A little more than one.”

  “So, we have fast running water, but wouldn’t that help him drift to safety?” Tim’s face showed his confusion.

  “Except he probably couldn’t control the boat without an engine.”

  “You said the Broad’s shallow. Why didn’t he get out of the boat, pull it to shore, walk to a road and find help? Or if the water’s too deep, he could have swum to the bank, climbed out and sought help?”

  “Have you had a chance to look at the river at low tide?” Jeff asked, patiently.

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you see the mud on either side of the water, going all the way to the banks?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “That dark brown mud may appear to be plain old mud, but we call it ‘pluff mud’ because it has the consistency of chocolate whipped cream. If you put one foot in, you sink up to your knee. Put the second one in, now you are in up to your knees on both legs. And to make it more comfortable, I use that word sarcastically, oyster shells are often buried in the pluff mud. The local Yemasee Indians used those shells for cutting deer skins.”

  “Ouch!” Tim shivered.