by Mille West
Eula understood what Mills meant, and she smiled. “Thank you, Miss Taylor. I won’t forget.”
Mr. Caldwell went up the steps of the schoolhouse and thanked the group of volunteers who restored the old building. When he finished, Mr. Camp, the oldest member of the community, spoke to the group. “I’ve seen many events in my years, some good and some that touched my heart and soul with sadness, but opening this old schoolhouse as a community center is a wonderful thing for our young people. It’s a place for gathering in friendship—it’s a fresh start for all of us.”
He then led the group in a prayer and thanked the volunteers, also noting the financial contribution that had been made by Mr. Caldwell, his son Edmund, and Cooper. When he said “Amen,” the bluegrass band began to play and people prepared their plates from the covered dishes.
One of the first songs the band played was a song Mills knew the Rolling Stones had made famous, “Wild Horses,” but she had never heard it performed in a bluegrass style. Mills noticed that Cooper listened intently to the song. I seem to recall “Wild Horses” is about lovers who hurt each other. What is he thinking? He has an odd expression on his face. He looked into her eyes and asked, “May I have this dance?”
She nodded and he placed his left arm behind her and took her right hand in his. He held her tightly and she felt like she was swept up in rapture as he moved them rhythmically to the music. He was so smooth and strong and she allowed him to take her in his powerful lead.
After their dance, Mills watched as Cooper danced with Williston and then with Susan Caldwell. She had not been to a community dinner like this since she was a child on a visit to her grandmother’s in Georgia. As the afternoon went by, Mills was having such a nice time that she didn’t realize that it was almost five-thirty and people were gathering their empty dishes to take home.
Approaching Cooper, Mills said, “I’ve had the best time. I could have danced all afternoon.” I know it’s wrong, but I could have danced with you all afternoon.
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. I’ve had a nice time as well. We’re going to give Williston a ride home. She came with the Davenports and they’ve already departed.”
On the trip home to Alston Station, Mills left the window down on the Suburban to inhale the fragrances of newly opened perennials that filled the evening air. When Cooper, Mills, and Williston arrived in town, there was a commotion at the landing; several police cars and an ambulance were parked near the boat ramp.
“I’ll see what’s happening,” Williston told them as she got out of the vehicle.
She showed her credentials to a police officer and they walked to the waterfront together. After several minutes passed, Williston returned and explained that fishermen had found the fourth victim of last Sunday’s boating accident and the body was about to be removed.
“Not a pretty sight, having been in the water for a week,” Williston commented. “I’ll walk the rest of the way to my house—see you both later.”
As the corpse was being loaded into an emergency vehicle, the sheet over the body was caught on a tree branch and jerked to the side. The dead woman was exposed, revealing a horribly bloated face and blond hair about the color of Elise Heath’s. Jesus!
Cooper took a deep breath at the sight of the corpse and Mills said, “Let’s go home.”
He didn’t say a word, but drove Mills back to his farm. They reached his home and she accompanied him inside, stopping in the kitchen to pour him a glass of water. When she turned to give him the drink, he was gone. Where is he?
“Cooper?” she called out.
There was no response.
She walked to the front foyer and peered into the study. Cooper was seated at his desk—his back to her—and in his hands was the photo of his wife. He softly said, “‘And this maiden, she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me’—I’m lying to myself.”
She called his name, but he continued to stare at the photo—looks that her grandmother called the thousand-yard stare. She touched him on the shoulder, startling him, and some of the water spilled to the floor.
“I’m sorry, I was deep in thought. Please forgive me.”
Cooper bent down and wiped the water off the floor with his handkerchief. Then, taking the glass from Mills, he took several large sips.
“Would you like to talk?” she asked.
“I think I need to be alone for a while.”
“If you need me, I’ll be next door.”
“Thank you, Mills. I’m grateful for your friendship.”
As she walked to her cottage, his words resonated in her ears, “I’m lying to myself.” What does he mean?
One Monday morning, Mills placed her first phone call to Lucille Simmons to make an appointment with Cooper concerning Lucille’s son’s education. The meeting was set for late Wednesday afternoon and Mills could hear the joy in her voice.
When she left her cottage, she found the farm bustling with workers who were beginning the spring planting. As she passed by Cooper and Charles, she heard both men converse in Spanish with the workers. As the men began to disperse into the fields, Cooper joined Mills as she passed by.
“The farm is very busy this morning,” she observed.
“Yes, there will be workers here through the planting season. Hopefully, we’ll have a successful crop.”
“I hope so too.”
He cleared his throat. “Thank you for being so understanding last night.”
“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through—if you want to talk, I’ll be glad to listen.”
“Thank you, Mills. Give Dr. Warren my regards.”
“I will. I want to remind you that Vivien is going to be here on Friday.”
“And your birthday is on Saturday. Don’t forget that I’d like to entertain you and your sister over the weekend.”
“I can’t wait!”
He walked her to her Volkswagen and opened the driver’s side door. As she drove away, she could see him in the rearview mirror, watching.
Mills met Dr. Warren at Williston’s clinic in Alston Station and they decided to ride together in Dr. Warren’s car. The first house they visited was on a sandy road a few miles away, and when Mills knocked on the door, an elderly woman opened it.
“You must be Miss Taylor and Dr. Warren. Come inside, please. I’ll call my daughter. Mary? Miss Taylor and Dr. Warren are here. Come and talk to them.”
After a few moments, her daughter, who Mills thought to be in her late fifties, emerged from the hallway. She smiled brightly as she shook their hands. “Thank you for the visit. I’m Diana’s grandmother and she stays with me. Diana’s mother—my daughter—works in Philadelphia and visits when she’s able. Please sit down.”
She motioned for them to sit at her dining table. The aroma of freshly cooked gumbo was in the air and Mills took a seat opposite from Mary and Dr. Warren. An old RCA television was turned on and the volume was unbearably loud.
“Mama, will you turn down that TV while Miss Taylor and Dr. Warren are here?”
She turned back to them and said, “Mama can’t hear too well, and she says her hearing aids hu
rt her, so the TV is usually turned up to where it deafens me. I have to work in another part of the house. I sew for a living.”
Mary stopped for a moment before saying, “I hope Diana will qualify for Mr. Heath’s scholarship. She is a nice girl, works hard, and don’t hang out with troublemakers. Her grades are good and she wants to become a teacher—she would be the first member of our family to go to college. I’ve been saving for her, but I don’t have enough money, and she wants this real bad.”
Dr. Warren took papers from her briefcase and handed them to the woman. “This is the criteria for the Heath Scholarship, and I have included information on other programs that Diana can apply for as well. I’ve looked at Diana’s grades and she’s doing well.”
Mary looked at the paperwork and said, “I am a widow. When my daughter had Diana, the father of the baby took off right before her birth, and we haven’t seen him since. He is no longer welcome in Diana’s life.”
Mills nodded sympathetically and Mary continued.
“I have tried to instill a proper work ethic in Diana by setting an example for her. When I sew, I do the very best job I can for my customers, and she understands this. I want her to get an education and have a career—make something of herself. Diana and I will work on this paperwork and get it back to you. Thank you for your help.”
As they continued to meet with families, Mills noticed a similar pattern; women were the heads of households and, often, grandchildren lived with their grandparents.
One home they visited would forever be etched into Mills’s mind. She and Dr. Warren were invited inside by the grandmother of Jerome Watson and they sat on a couch beside a coffee table. Mills began to assemble the scholarship paperwork, but noticed that small cockroaches were crawling on the table. Jerome’s grandmother spoke, “Dr. Warren, my daughter is at work right now. If you’ll leave me the paperwork, I’ll see that she gets it. Jerome wants to become a mechanical engineer.”
Jerome was one of only eight boys who had expressed an interest in the scholarship, while there were more than thirty girls. When they left the house, Mills had to take a deep breath. I’ve never seen such poverty—their living conditions are shocking. There was no foundation wall around the house, which was built on piers, and Mills could see small children playing behind the house. One of the children pulled down his pants and defecated in the yard. How pitiful!
“Dr. Warren, I hope that Jerome will qualify for the scholarship,” Mills declared.
“I hope so, as well.”
For the next several days, they continued to call on the homes of students. In the afternoons, Mills would visit the school district office to review the applications for students who would attend college in the fall. All of the youths who had applied were qualified for the program, but Mills was surprised that more students weren’t involved. Dr. Warren pointed out that many students who could have financially qualified had not worked hard enough on their studies to meet the academic criteria.
“I don’t think some young people realize the opportunity being presented to them. A good education starts at home—we have to keep educating them and their parents.”
On Wednesday afternoon, Mills went with Cooper to Williston’s clinic to donate blood. She made it a special point to eat well before going. When they returned to Cooper’s home, there was a 1960s Oldsmobile parked in front of the house. As Cooper pulled in, a middle-aged woman and a teenage boy got out of the Oldsmobile.
“Are you Mr. Heath and Miss Taylor?” the woman asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m Lucille Simmons and this is my son, Barry. Thank you for seeing us this afternoon. The lady inside invited us in, but I thought we should wait for you out here.”
“Come in, Mrs. Simmons, Barry. Miss Taylor and I just finished donating blood.”
They entered the house through the front door and Cooper called out to Marian that they were home. Cooper invited Barry and his mother to join him and Mills in his study and they sat down in front of his desk.
Barry wore wire-rimmed glasses on his rounded face. His hair was cut short and he was smartly dressed in khaki dress pants and a short-sleeved shirt with a tie.
“Mr. Heath, Barry wants to attend the University of South Carolina. We have already applied for scholarships, but we haven’t received any responses yet. I read in the Charleston Dispatch that you run a scholarship program for young people who are willing to work hard and mind their behavior. Barry wants to be a journalist and we investigated the journalism program at Carolina. I work in the cafeteria at his high school and I don’t make enough money to send him to college. I read that you help young people in Charleston County, and we’re next door in Colleton. I was hoping that you’d make an exception for him.”
“Barry, how are your grades?”
“Mr. Heath, I have a 4.0. I’ve been able to maintain that GPA since I started high school.”
“That’s outstanding. Why do you want to be a journalist?”
“I want to be an investigative journalist like Bob Woodward.”
“I know an investigative reporter who works for the Charleston Dispatch.”
“Yes, sir, Lee Mencken. I’ve read his articles about you.”
Cooper smiled at the young man. “I’ll tell Mr. Mencken about you the next time I see him. He strikes me as the type of person who would be glad to give a fellow journalist some pointers. Are you writing for your school newspaper?”
“Yes, sir, I’m the editor.”
“I think that’s wonderful. Mrs. Simmons, why don’t you have the administrator of his high school send his transcript to Miss Taylor? This is the application for the Heath Scholarship,” he told her, as he handed her the paperwork. “Please return this to Miss Taylor.”
“Thank you, sir. Mr. Heath, what encouraged you to set up a program like this for young people?”
“My mother, Julia, started the program.”
“Is she still involved in the program?”
“No, I’m afraid she passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Heath.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Simmons, but her illness had debilitated her and her death was deliverance.”
“I understand.”
“Barry, Miss Taylor and I will look forward to receiving your application and transcript. I’ve enjoyed meeting both of you, and Mrs. Simmons, I know that you went to some trouble to come over here.”
“We appreciate you taking the time to see us and give my son your consideration for the scholarship program. Barry, would you thank Mr. Heath for meeting with us? Wait for me in the car. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Barry shook Cooper’s hand, and then excused himself, exiting through the front door. As soon as the door closed, Barry’s mother said, “Mr. Heath, it is Barry’s dream to be a college graduate and my dream for him. He works hard to keep good grades and he behaves. I’m afraid that some of his peers ridicule him and tell him that he’s trying to be something he’s not. I fear the sacrifices of men like Dr. King have been lost on some people. I want to see Barry achieve his goals. Anything you can do to help would be appreciated. He’ll pass it on when he’s in a position to do so.”
“That young man is going to be a success. He’s very precocious. Mills, as soon as you verify his grades and qualifications, you can call Barry’s mother and let her know we’ll help him.”
That’s wonderful!
CHAPTER 16
The Barbadoes Room
V ivien’s flight arrived on schedule on Friday afternoon and Mills hugged her as she came off the jetway into the terminal. “God, you look great!” Vivien exclaimed.
“How was the flight?”
“Uneventful, which is fine with me.”
“Cooper made arrangements for us to go out to dinner tonight and he has plans for us while you’re visiting. I told him you want to explore.”
“Cooper is being very gracious.”
“He’s always like this. Oh, you said that you had two surprises for me.”
“I’ll share one with you now, and save the other for later.”
She held out her left hand in front of Mills. A diamond ring was on her left ring finger, and she enthusiastically announced, “Tim has asked me to marry him!”
Mills hugged her again. “That’s wonderful! Have you set a date?”
“We’re still talking about it, but I think, next spring.”
“I’m so happy for you.”
They put down the top on her car and drove around Charleston’s downtown. “My goodness, it’s beautiful here!”
“Cooper gave me the keys to his townhome. We’re almost there.”
Within a few moments, Mills had turned onto Tradd Street and she parked her VW near his home. “Cooper wants to meet us at five-thirty at the Mills House Hotel for a cocktail and I told him we’d be there.”
