by Mille West
“A glass of ice water, please.”
“I’ll be right back.” Cooper went to the kitchen to retrieve her drink, and Mills sat down in a rocking chair.
“What did you and Cooper do on the farm today?” she asked Charles.
“We worked on Cooper’s dove field. We’re going to be planting sunflowers, sorghum, millet, corn, and wheat. He has an annual dove shoot on the opening day of dove season—it’s a big social event for Cooper’s friends.” He cleared his throat. “Last year, Cooper canceled the shoot—we were too busy trying to find Miss Elise. A terrible thing.” He shook his head. “We’re also increasing the amount of acreage we farm each year, and Cooper has been restoring the fruit orchards . . . years ago, this property was known as ‘The Orchards’ for its abundance of fruit trees, but they gradually died out due to neglect and disease.”
“I’ve noticed that Cooper works almost all the time.”
“I think he was born industrious, but if you’re working, there’s less time for thinking.”
“What do you—” Before she finished the question, Cooper returned with her glass of ice water. As she sipped it, she listened to the men discuss their plans for the next day. What did Charles mean by less time for thinking? Mills listened to Cooper’s voice—it was smooth and calming to her, and she found herself at peace in the rocking chair. She was suddenly aware that Charles was speaking to her.
“Miss Mills, good night. I’ll see you tomorrow.
“Oh, Charles. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I was so relaxed.”
“Have a good evening,” Charles said as he left the porch. Within a few minutes, his truck passed by as he drove home.
Dusk approached. The gas lights on either side of the front door warmly lit the porch. Mills turned to Cooper and asked, “Why don’t you have a southern accent?”
“I do. It’s just not as pronounced as it used to be. The years that I was away in the Air Force caused me to lose most of it.”
“I like to listen to your voice. It comforts me.”
“No one has ever told me that.”
As she took another sip of her water, she thought of Max and Paul. “Do you know the works of Claude Debussy and Erik Satie?”
“I’ve played Debussy before, but not Satie.”
“Would you do me a favor? Would you play for Paul and his friend, Max? I’m afraid that Max is very ill and homebound.”
“I can’t do it tomorrow. Charles and I are working on the farm.”
“I can’t go tomorrow either. I’m meeting Britton for lunch.”
Cooper gazed at her for a moment. “See if Thursday will work for Paul and his friend.”
“I’ll phone Paul—have you ever seen the movie Roman Holiday?”
“Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck?”
“Yes. Do you remember how she cuts her hair extremely short in the movie?”
Cooper nodded, and Mills continued, “Paul said that I would look good with my hair cut like that.”
“You’re lovely. Don’t change the way you wear your hair.”
“Thank you, Cooper.”
She gently rocked back and forth and brought up an issue that was bothering her. “I’m worried about something.”
“What’s that, Mills?”
“I think someone is following you and canvassing this house. Saturday night, that man came out of nowhere, and there have been a few instances when I was supposed to be alone that I thought there may have been an intruder on this property.”
“Are you afraid to be out here? You can move into the townhouse on Tradd Street.”
“It’s you that I’m worried about.”
“Please, don’t worry. If there’s someone following me, they’ll eventually make a mistake.”
“I don’t want to move into town. This is my home.”
The next morning, there were details of the boating accident on the Edisto in the Charleston Dispatch. The body of one of the women had been recovered by fishermen the day before. When the boat hit the dock, the men—who were taller than their wives—had been hit across the neck by the pier section of the dock, while the woman whose body had been recovered was struck in the forehead.
As she started out for the day, there was an invitation on her screen door to go fishing Friday morning with Cooper and Williston. Mills wrote a note back to Cooper and left it on his kitchen door that she had no appointments on Friday morning and that she would meet them at the dock.
Britton was waiting for her when she reached the Baker’s Café at noon. He already had a table, and he stood as soon as she entered the restaurant. Helping her with her chair, he smiled, saying, “I’m so glad that you could join me for lunch, Mills.”
“Thank you for the invitation.” She sat across from him. “I’d like to know more about your job.”
“I assist the ships’ masters in navigation in and out of the port of Charleston.”
“How did you learn a skill like that?”
“I was in the US Navy, but I’ve been around ships my entire life. Most of my ancestors made their living off the sea, and my father had me on the deck of a ship before I could walk.”
“How did you get to know Cooper and Jeff?”
“I was Beau’s best friend all the way through school.” He paused then added, “I still can’t believe that he’s gone, and I remember exactly what I was doing when I learned of the accident. Cooper was able to save Jeff’s life, thank God. For someone as nice as Cooper, bad luck seems to follow him around. I feel terrible about Elise. Cooper adores her—what a beautiful woman. We searched for her for months, put up missing person posters all over the Low Country. If someone knows anything about her disappearance, they haven’t come forward. People who don’t know Cooper have made terrible accusations about him, but if I was in trouble, and I could only make one phone call, it would be to him. I know he’d come to my rescue.”
Mills nodded. If I was in trouble, Cooper would be the one I’d call too.
The luncheon date was pleasant, and Mills found that, after Britton got over his nervousness, he was talkative and very nice. He explained that he had been married while in the Navy, but the long-term separations had been overwhelming for his wife and she had found another love interest. Britton also told her that he expected Jeff to remain a bachelor—he found too much excitement from having several different girlfriends at the same time.
CHAPTER 14
The Bösendorfer
M ills and Cooper arrived at Paul’s residence on Thursday afternoon at two. During their walk to the Queen Street townhome, Cooper said, “I have a surprise for you after we visit with Paul and Max.”
“Can I have a clue?”
“Nope—no clues,” he responded with a smile.
Mills rang the doorbell at the townhome, and Paul answered the door, inviting them inside. He looked at Mills and then at Cooper. “Thank you for your kind gesture. Max is waiting for us in the living room.”
Seated on the couch, Max made an effort to rise when they entered the room, but he did not get up. Cooper introduced himself and shook Max’s ha
nd.
“Mills has told us that you’re a marvelous pianist, but I’ve heard that from others. Thank you for coming here to play for us.”
“You’re welcome.” Cooper walked over to the piano and raised the keyboard cover. “Bösendorfer—a beautiful instrument, Max.”
“My mother gave me the piano when I graduated from college, years ago.”
“Mills said that you enjoy the music of Claude Debussy and Erik Satie. Is that what you’d like to hear me play?”
“Yes, the sheet music is on the piano.”
Cooper sat down on the piano bench and looked through the sheet music before asking Mills if she’d turn the pages for him. He indicated that a nod of his head was the signal to turn the pages, and she joined him on the bench. He played the first composition. Unbelievable—he sight reads as if he’d practiced the song a thousand times.
She watched his strong hands on the keyboard, and as a tree outside the window rustled in the wind, intermittent waves of lights entered the room. Cooper’s wedding ring caught the light dancing on the keyboard and glistened on his finger. As he continued to play, Mills was captivated by the works of Debussy, especially the composition, “Reverie.” Mills looked at Max as he wiped tears from his face.
Cooper completed the songs and there was silence in the room. As he composed himself, Max said, “Debussy and Satie were mavericks for their time. Besides being friends, they were often referred to as impressionist artists, although Debussy disliked the description.” Max’s voice trailed off as he continued, “Some of their works have strange but beautiful harmonies.” Then his attention focused on Cooper. “Debussy himself could not have sight read any better than you.”
“Thank you, Max,” Cooper responded.
Mills gazed at Max. He has a look of peace on his face.
“I assure you that I will never forget this. Thank you, again,” Max said.
Before they left, Cooper and Mills shook both men’s hands, and Paul showed them to the door. Cooper descended the steps to the sidewalk, leaving Mills alone with Paul. He took her hand before saying, “You and Mr. Heath are exceptional people. I’m afraid that Max and I are present-day lepers. I’ll never forget your kindness. God bless both of you.”
As they walked back to Heath Brothers, Cooper said, “I’m afraid that Max is very ill.”
“Thank you for playing for them this afternoon.”
“I was glad to, Mills.”
“What is the surprise you were going to show me?”
“I wanted to give you a tour of one of our container ships. The Mary B. Chesnut is in port this afternoon, and I’m going to see her captain.”
“Yes, I’d like to go with you. Who was Mary B. Chesnut?”
“A well-connected Civil War diarist and South Carolina resident, also an early feminist. Julia named most of our ships and I’m sure that’s what got her attention.”
When they reached the Columbus Street Terminal, the last container was being loaded onto the deck of the massive ship. Cooper handed Mills a hard hat and then placed one on his own head before they boarded. As soon as Cooper came on deck, the crew members greeted him as “Mr. Heath.” Cooper showed Mills around inside the bridge and introduced her to Captain Van Dyke.
The captain was a burly man with a barrel chest, but he gently led her around the bridge, explaining the operation of the mechanical equipment. After he kissed her hand, he excused himself and started a conversation with Cooper. Mills noticed a familiar face approaching the container ship. Britton was coming on board, and when he came on deck, he greeted Mills and said he would be the harbor pilot guiding the Mary B. Chesnut out to sea.
After several minutes, Cooper rejoined her and spoke to Britton before departing the ship. Mills turned around and noticed that several crewmen were staring at her. Feeling self-conscious, she asked Cooper, “Is there something wrong with my attire? Some of the men are staring at me.” My face is getting hot.
“No, Mills, there’s nothing wrong with your appearance.” He noticed her blush, and said, “Rosy cheeks and all.”
That night before she fell asleep, Mills thought of Paul and his statement, “Max and I are present-day lepers.” Is he sick as well?
Friday morning, Mills arrived at Cooper’s dock at six-thirty. Williston and Cooper were already on board, and the fishing poles were rigged. Cooper handed her a life jacket. “You should wear it; it will help you to stay warm.”
Once away from the dock, Cooper pushed up the power on the engines and they motored downriver toward the Atlantic. On the way, Cooper pointed out trunk systems used for regulating the flow of water onto land. “You’ve seen them at the old house ruins,” he reminded Mills.
Cooper anchored the boat near a grassy area and shut off the engines. “Redfish get into the marsh grass, so cast just outside of it.” Numerous oyster banks were exposed that morning and Cooper explained that the lunar phase was the cause of the extremely low tide.
As they sat in the marsh area, an eerie sound of laughter interrupted the silence.
“What’s that noise?” Mills inquired.
“Those are marsh hens—they sound like they’re laughing at you. They’re in season in the fall and easier to hunt during spring tides.”
“Spring tides?”
“Yes, unusually high tides. They occur in September.”
“Mills, you’ll have to try Cooper’s marsh hens prepared on the grill. They’re a delicacy.”
Williston’s cork went under water and she jerked the line before reeling in a fish. “Not a keeper—too small.”
“What kind of fish is that, Williston?”
“That’s a redfish. See the spot on its tail? It almost looks like an eye. That’s to fool predators.”
There was a blowing sound nearby and Mills looked around the marsh for the origin of the noise. Several dolphins came toward their boat and, as they exhaled, water was released from their bodies.
“My goodness, there are several of them.”
“They’re chasing fish, could be redfish.”
Wow—I’ve never seen dolphin up close before! Mills watched them until they disappeared from sight.
The next time Williston hooked a fish, it was a large redfish, and she excitedly said, “This one’s a keeper!”
As the fishing trip continued, Cooper reeled in a Spanish mackerel, and Mills kept reeling in small sharks. Cooper would remove them from her hook and toss them back into the water. “Sorry you keep catching the sharks—they’re nuisance fish.”
“I keep getting duds.” I feel like Charlie Brown on Halloween. He kept getting rocks instead of candy.
“Here let me cast your rod for you,” Cooper said. Mills handed him her rod and he cast the line right beside the grass.
The marsh area was extremely quiet except for the flyover of a jet formation that Cooper identified as C-141s from the Charleston Air Force Base.
As Mills looked into the tea-hued waters of the river, she asked, “Where does the name Edisto come from?”
“It’s from the tribe who inhabited this area before the arrival of Europeans. In th
e early 1700s, the Edisto population declined from diseases and wars. Some of the remaining natives may have joined other tribes, but gradually, they disappeared,” Cooper explained.
“That’s very sad,” Mills replied.
Williston cast her line next to the marsh grass and began to quietly talk. “Eula and her children are coming to the opening of the Freedom School on Sunday. They’ve moved back into the trailer from the women’s shelter. She’s doing much better and there has been no further contact from Lee Roy. I understand from Reverend Smalls that she has returned to work and to her studies.”
“That’s wonderful,” said Mills.
Williston jerked her line and reeled it in a couple of feet. “I think she did the right thing for herself—thank God, she still had a legal alternative. I pray that the day never returns that poverty-stricken women like Eula have to return to the back alley.”
“Julia felt that way too.”
“I know.”
Before they returned to Cooper’s dock, Williston invited them both to her home that evening, saying that she would prepare the fish they caught for dinner.
That afternoon, Mills placed phone calls to the parents of children who wanted to participate in the Heath scholarship program. In between calls, her phone rang and a woman who identified herself as Lucille Simmons explained that she lived in adjacent Colleton County and wanted to make an appointment with Mr. Heath in regard to the scholarship program. She had read about the program in one of the news releases that Mills had written for the Charleston Dispatch; Lucille wished to learn if her son, Barry, would qualify for the scholarship. Mills told her that she would speak with Mr. Heath about her son and call her back. Before their conversation ended, Ms. Simmons said that Barry was at the top of his class academically, but that financial issues might prevent him from attending college.
