The Cast Net

by Mille West

  The conversation centered on a residential development project on a pristine section of the Edisto River. “Cooper, I heard that you and your neighbors are trying to block the development of the old Youngblood tract,” Jeff said.

  “We’re attempting to get information on the development at this point, but I don’t think this area is in need of a seven-hundred-lot development. The building of new homes results in runoff from fertilizers, which will foul the waterways.”

  “Cooper, I hate to tell you this, but sooner or later, development is coming. You can’t stop it, and you can’t purchase every tract.”

  “No, but I can take a stand against poorly planned expansion. Growth doesn’t always mean progress.”

  Britton joined the conversation, “Jeff, I think you would even cut down the Angel Oak if you could make enough money from developing the land around it.”

  “Even I’m not that greedy.”

  “One day, someone will be that greedy.”

  “Speaking of greed, Mills got a substantial donation for Cooper’s foundation from Piet van der Wolf.”

  “Piet van der Wolf,” Murphy repeated the name. “Cooper, what are you doing letting her take a donation from that reclusive old vulture?”

  “How can I forgive the actions of my own family if I can’t forgive Piet?”

  “That’s different,” Murphy interjected.

  “Is it really?”

  “Cooper, let’s not discuss our ancestors today. You know that I’m not apologetic like you,” Jeff said.

  “You brought up Piet.”

  “Okay, Cooper, where are they?” Jeff inquired.

  “In the usual place.”

  Jeff went into the house and returned with four cigars. “Mills, you don’t look like a cigar smoker, so I didn’t get you one.”

  Even in the open air, the cigar smoke was overly pungent to Mills, and she stepped to one end of the porch. The conversation evolved to a discussion on the excavation of a ship that had gone down in a hurricane off the coast of the Carolinas in the 1850s and the rights of the recovery team versus the government and insurance companies.

  Mills remembered that she needed to visit Dawkins’s Market for a few items, so she thanked the group for including her in their party. Cooper followed her to the bottom of the steps and said, “Don’t let them upset you about Piet van der Wolf. I’ll explain about him tomorrow.”

  When she reached Dawkins’s Market, church bells tolled the hour and Mr. Dawkins greeted her by name. She smiled and went toward the bread aisle, almost colliding with a child who was racing through the store. Mills stepped aside quickly, but the boy continued on his path without a word. She recognized him as the eldest of the three children she had seen at Dr. Will’s clinic on the day she had donated blood. Her eyes followed him until he joined his mother and two siblings. They all appeared to be in better condition than when she had last seen them; their clothing was clean and well fitting, and they all wore shoes. They must have met their guardian angel.

  After selecting a loaf of bread, Mills passed by the group on her way through the market. The woman smiled at her, revealing the poor condition of her teeth, and wished Mills a pleasant evening. Mills wished her the same and continued to shop.

  When she finished, she went to the checkout aisle. Several cartons of eggs were stacked on the counter, and Mr. Dawkins said, “I get these eggs from a local farmer, and I think you should try a dozen.” He opened a carton, showing her the eggs, which were brown and of various sizes.

  She paid for her items, which included a dozen eggs, and thanked Mr. Dawkins as she picked up her grocery bags. He went ahead of her, opening the door. As she left, he thanked her for the invitation to the oyster roast, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  The evening turned to dusk as Mills drove back toward Cooper’s property.

  In the dim light, Mills passed the mother and her three children who walked on the side of the sandy road. She stopped her Volkswagen after passing them and called out to the woman, “It’s getting dark, can I give you a ride home?”

  The group neared the vehicle and Mills noticed a sad and lost look in the children’s eyes as they huddled near the side of her car.

  “Thank you for offering, but we don’t live far from here, and we don’t mind the walk,” the woman responded.

  “Well, good night,” Mills said as she drove away from the group, leaving them beside the sandy roadway in Alston Station.

  After church on Sunday, at one-thirty, Mills knocked on Cooper’s door to accompany him to the Freedom Road Schoolhouse. Curious to hear the explanation as to why Murphy referred to Piet van der Wolf as a reclusive vulture, she readily took a seat in his study after she was welcomed inside.

  “I told you I would explain about Piet and the past. First of all, Piet is a highly successful businessman. Like his forefathers before him, a great deal of his wealth has been accrued through speculative business dealings, many of which have been in real estate.” He paused before continuing. “This history goes back to a time when many people in the south were thrust into poverty. Piet’s ancestors were adventurers from the north who became wealthy on land investments and, later, in the phosphate business.”

  “Why did you say that if you could not forgive Piet, then how could you forgive the actions of your own family?”

  “My ancestors in my mother’s family were some of the first settlers who helped colonize Charleston. They arrived from Barbados in the late 1600s and were successful merchants, which provided them with the capital to become planters. Acquiring substantial land holdings in the Low Country, they first planted indigo and rice, and later, cotton. Do you remember who Henry Laurens was?”

  “I think so. He was a Revolutionary War patriot from South Carolina.”

  “Yes, that’s true—he was also one of the most profitable slave brokers in eighteenth-century America. My family made some of their money in the same way. While many of the companies that engaged in the slave trade were based in Liverpool, England, or Boston, they had local brokers with whom they dealt in the Charleston area. Thousands of slaves entered America at Sullivan’s Island and were auctioned off to the highest bidder. Some of Jeff ’s and my ancestors were brokers in ‘Black Ivory,’ and they made a fortune off the horrendous acts of selling human beings. They were industrious individuals, some of the richest in colonial America, owning several plantations and hundreds of slaves. I think the institution of slavery was this country’s anathema.”

  “I think so too,” Mills responded.

  He paused for a moment, “It’s true that my family lost almost everything they had after the Civil War, but that’s over and done with. We’re all here together, and we should try to look out for one another. While I can’t apologize to people who died hundreds of years ago, I can help now. That’s the reason for the educational foundation.”

  “Why are Jeff and Murphy hostile toward Piet?”

  “I think it’s because, at times, he has conducted his business dealings in a morally questionable manner. He is a land speculator and has made large profits at the expense of other people. I know that some people consider Piet a smart business man, and perhaps some of t
he things he’s accused of are simply untrue. I can understand that, as well.”

  “You mean he has a reputation for being ruthless in business.”

  “Yes ma’am. Mills, there is one policy I’d like for us to observe in the future: let’s keep the names of our donors to ourselves. I know that you didn’t mean any harm discussing Piet van der Wolf with Jeff. He is, after all, a member of my family, but I think we should keep their identities private.”

  “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to cause a problem.”

  “It’s all right. I didn’t give you any guidelines on this issue, but I think we should observe that policy from now on.”

  She nodded in agreement but felt embarrassed that he had corrected her.

  “Are you ready to go work on the schoolhouse?” Cooper asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Hope

  T he schoolhouse, surrounded by a grove of live oak trees and the thick vegetation of scrub palms, was situated on a rural sandy lane. A sign—“Freedom Road Schoolhouse Restoration in Progress”—stood in front of a small, white building that was in poor condition, with broken windows and rot damage to its fragile frame. The double doors of the building stood open and stacks of fresh lumber were in the schoolyard.

  In front of a roaring campfire, an old white-haired gentleman stooped, his back bent over as he warmed his hands near the flames. A group of young children played near the fire and Mills heard the sound of hammers echo from inside the building.

  As soon as the man noticed Cooper, the ancient wrinkles on his face transformed into a beaming smile. “Cooper, it’s been months since I laid eyes on you. Who is this young lady?”

  “Mr. Camp, this is Mills Taylor. She’s the director of the Heath Foundation.”

  Cooper introduced them, and Mr. Camp added, “Cooper is a fine judge of character, so I know that you’ll do a fine job for Miss Julia. Cooper, where have you been keeping yourself?”

  “I’ve been busy with work at Heath Brothers.”

  “You have to get away from there sometimes. I think you’re the hardest working young man I know.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Camp.”

  “Edmund is in the building with the others. My arthritis is so bad these days that I can’t use a hammer, but I brought Edmund with me to help. I decided to sit by the fire with the young folks while y’all work. It helps to get out sometimes—well, I know you want to get started—we’ll talk after a while.”

  Cooper shook his hand before turning toward the building. He asked Mills, “How old do you think he is?”

  “Maybe eighty-five.”

  “On his last birthday, he turned one hundred and five years of age. He’s the son of former slaves and a walking history book. His son, Edmund, is in his seventies, but he looks much younger.”

  They stopped and looked at the building before entering. “This schoolhouse was abandoned in the 1950s and fell into near ruin, but the people in our area want to restore it and make it a community center for young people.”

  “I think that’s a great idea.”

  When they climbed the steps to the entrance of the building, the workers inside enthusiastically greeted Cooper and Mills. Introductions proceeded and Mills met about a dozen of Cooper’s friends and neighbors. The pastor she had met from the Edisto All Saints A.M.E. Church, Reverend Smalls, came forward to greet her, accompanied by another local minister, Reverend Johnson. Charles and his wife, Elizabeth, replaced rotten wood on a windowsill, but they stopped their work to greet Cooper and Mills.

  One of Cooper’s neighbors, Joe Caldwell, called to them, “I could use some help with these floorboards.”

  As Cooper and Mills helped him pry up damaged flooring, Mr. Caldwell observed, “It looks like termites did some hefty damage to the flooring in this area, including the sill.”

  The flooring was heart pine, and Mills noticed that the workers attempted to match the planks with similar wood. After a few minutes, Mr. Caldwell’s daughter, Susan, who was about the same age as Mills, joined them. She said, “We’re Cooper’s closest neighbors to the north side of his property—we’re looking forward to the oyster roast. It’s become quite a social event.”

  Mr. Caldwell changed the subject back to the renovation, adding, “You know, so far we must have removed thirty birds’ nests and a family of raccoons from this building. I’m afraid to see what kind of snakes come out of the woodwork as it begins to get warm.”

  When the workers took a break for refreshments, Mills spoke with Edmund Camp by the campfire and, just as Cooper had told her, he appeared young for his age.

  The elder Mr. Camp asked, “Well, how is it going?”

  “We’ve made progress, but we have a long way to go,” his son replied.

  “Edmund, can you remember what it was like to go to school here?”

  “Just like it was yesterday. We all tried to contribute—even if it was just gathering firewood for the next day. Our books were used ones, but we were just thankful for the opportunity to learn. Pops, there’s just a little more light left in the day—I’m going to work for a while longer, and then I’ll take you home.”

  As the sun began to set, the warm glow of the embers from the dying campfire cast shadows against the old building and the volunteers began to pack their tools. Mills stood beside Susan Caldwell as they both warmed their hands above the fire. She found Susan to be friendly and very excited about her upcoming nuptials, which would take place in April. Cooper joined them at the fire and after Edmund secured the front doors of the building, he walked toward the group. Mills loved the smell of the fire and she breathed deeply, inhaling the light wood smoke that rose from the embers.

  The elder Mr. Camp volunteered, “Cooper, we’ll be at your oyster roast, but I won’t be able to stay very late. Edmund’s wife makes me go to bed early. She says that I’m ornery if I don’t get a good night’s sleep.” He chuckled. “I think it’s wonderful that this building is undergoing restoration.”

  “So do I,” Mills replied.

  Edmund added, “I hope that when we finish, the youths in this area take advantage of the opportunity to use this building for worthwhile activities, the way we did when we went to school here. We’re planting seeds; may they grow and be nurtured.”

  Edmund drowned the fire before helping his father into their Ford pickup. As he sat down in the cab, the elder Mr. Camp said, “Cooper, do you remember this truck? I drove it to your place when it belonged to your parents. It’s a bit rusty, but it keeps on running—just like me. You know, I can still remember teaching you and Beau to throw a cast net . . . didn’t take either one of you too long to catch on. That summer, you must have been twelve or thirteen. I’m proud of you. You sure did grow into a fine young man.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Camp.”

  Mr. Camp gestured to Mills to move close to the car window, telling her, “Young lady, I enjoyed meeting you today, and I want to tell you something: Cooper Heath is one of the finest men I’ve ever known. Don’t let anybody tell you different. Oh, and mighty fine artwork on the oyster invitation. Good night.”

  On the drive home that evening, Cooper asked her to make
an appointment for both of them to visit Piet van der Wolf to thank him for his generous gift to the Heath Foundation.

  Before they turned down his driveway, Mills added, “I invited Joshua White to the oyster roast. I think I know why you changed the subject the last time we discussed him.”

  “You noticed that—Jeff and Joshua White’s former wife are partners on real estate development projects, but their friendship goes deeper than that. I’m not sure that I understand their relationship.”

  “Yes, he explained about them.”

  “I told you before that you’re in charge of this operation, and that includes guest geography.”

  Mills approached the front gate of the Heath Brothers parking lot just before two o’clock on Wednesday afternoon. The Heath Brothers building was in a remodeled warehouse near the Columbus Street Shipping Terminal. Container cranes towered above the waterfront and the building and the adjoining parking lot were surrounded by a high metal fence. When she reached the security house, the guard opened the door for her and, with an enthusiastic voice said, “I think you must be Miss Taylor, but per company rules, I need to see a photo ID.”

  Mills removed her driver’s license from her wallet and showed it to him. Looking at it carefully, he said, “I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Bob Eastman, Director of Security for Heath Brothers.” He pointed to an exterior door, and said, “If you’ll take that door, the staircase will lead you to the second floor, and Cooper’s office is the first one on the right—it’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Taylor.”

  As Mills entered the second-floor hallway, she could see Cooper at his desk, talking on the telephone. As soon as he noticed her, he motioned for her to come in and sit down. When Cooper finished the conversation, he rose from his chair and greeted her, “Good afternoon, Mills.”