“And speaking of work, it’s time to get back to the office.” Justin stood. “I’ve got to hit the road.”
I wanted a goodbye kiss, but he obviously had other things on his mind. I shrugged, suddenly feeling a vast emptiness. I wanted to convince him that he wouldn’t be a ‘Four D’ guy with me. I want to explain that I wasn’t a horrible person. But my mouth went dry and nothing came out except, “drive safe.”
He paused for a beat, as though he wanted to say something, too. But the moment passed. “Okay, then. Call me if you need anything, Jaxie, and I’ll see you back in Atlanta.”
I gave him a nod. A short, professional nod. “Sure.”
We went inside, where Justin said goodbye to Pop and Avery.
I shoved a bag at him. “These are cookies for Aaron, from Millie. And one of Elwood’s carvings I bought for Sheila. Would you please take them?”
“Be happy to,” he said politely.
I tried to keep my voice pleasant, but the words came out stiff. “Thank you.”
Avery’s eyes ping-ponged between us with raised eyebrows. Before he could ask questions, Justin gave his brother a hug and disappeared.
I finished my coffee and told Avery I was at his disposal for the day. Helping him would keep me occupied, at least and keep my mind off Justin. As long as I didn’t look at the sculpted jaw line. Or star-quality smile. Or Avery’s well-toned build. All of which were interchangeable with Justin’s. Crap, crap, crap.
“Wanna tell me what’s going on?” Avery said, when Pop went into the kitchen to feed the animals.
“Other than your brother is an asshole? No.”
He didn’t press the issue. “I’ve got a tidbit for you, then.”
“Go.”
“The town slogan? It’s not Y’all Hideout,” Avery said.
“But I read it myself. That’s what the sign says.”
“Originally, it was ‘Yawl Hide’. Y-a-w-l, like a small sailboat. Somewhere along the way, the word yawl got changed to y’all. And the word hide changed to hideout. I asked around and one of the old-timers gave me the story. Actually has an old black and white photo of a kid standing next to the sign. And get this. The original sign had crisscrossed swords at the bottom.”
“Hmmm. A yawl and swords. You think a pirate used to hide here?”
Avery shrugged his shoulders. “Pirates were known to run the coastline of North and South Carolina for a period of years back in the early seventeen hundreds. But I doubt a single pirate hid here. The more likely scenario is that pirate gangs came and went. And because the locals couldn’t adequately defend themselves, they would have cooperated with the pirates. Sold them supplies like fresh water and food and tobacco. Or bartered.”
“But I thought pirates commandeered big ships.”
“Well, sure they did. But the big ship would carry a smaller sailboat with it. A yawl. They’d anchor the ship offshore and use the yawl to come ashore.”
I had trouble envisioning swashbuckling pirates tearing up sleepy, quiet Rumton.
“Tough to say what Rumton might have been three hundred years ago. It could have been a crazy, swinging, lawless place!”
“How do we know Rumton was even here, way back then?”
“Family bible. It’s stayed with the house all these years, believe it or not. And it dates back to the year seventeen hundred. So whether there was an actual town or not, I don’t know. Probably there were homesteaders. And most definitely a plantation owner, who built himself a little beach getaway place. Pop’s ancestor.”
“Your ancestor, too, then,” I mused. “You think Pop would let me look at the bible?”
“Of course. A few pages are missing, though. And some of the writing is faded beyond recognition. It’s really well preserved, though, considering how old it is.”
Thinking of the aged book, I got a strange sense of déjà vu. “Isn’t it odd to think about your ancestors from centuries ago? Especially the ones that lived right here? Stood in the exact same spot we’re standing now?”
“Puts time in a whole different perspective,” he agreed. “Justin and I never did any historical research on Rumton, other than what we learned about Pop’s place. But you’ll want to check with the lifetime locals and see if any of them heard tales from their parents or grandparents. Word-of-mouth stories get skewed from generation to generation, but usually there’s a smidgeon of truth in what filters down.”
My ad seeking information in the Rumton Review produced zero results. Not a single phone call, even though somebody somewhere had to know something. And they all read their weekly newspaper, according to Billy. These were not proactive people. Or else they didn’t believe in what I wanted to do. I needed to speak at a town meeting, present my case, and ask for help. Pop came back in the kitchen, Bandit on his shoulder and Flush at his heels. Seeing the three of them, I smiled.
“They always think they deserve more food than they get,” he explained. “So they’ll stick with me for the next ten or fifteen minutes. See if more chow is coming.”
“Perpetual optimists,” Avery said.
I told Pop I was researching Rumton’s history and asked if I could look at his family bible.
“It’s tucked away, but I’ll find it for you.”
“What about your friends?” I had a gut feeling that learning about Rumton’s past would somehow help me figure out how to revitalize their future. “Are there any locals that would be good to interview?”
“Gertrude can spin a tale. Check with her at the pharmacy. And Mad Millie would give you an earful. But don’t let on that you’re there for an interview. You just want to stop by for a cup of coffee. The woman’s not so awful once you get to know her.”
I almost sneezed at the mere thought of her cats. “What if we just talk here? She’s coming to get her car today, anyway. She said she’d walk over sometime this afternoon.”
Pop frowned. “Coming ‘ere?”
“It looked to me like you two were getting along just fine at Duckies,” I challenged. “You should be happy for her to pay a visit.”
Pop harrumphed.
“So, what’s the game plan?” I said to Avery. “What can I do to help?”
“Why don’t you see what you can learn about The Aldora? Check the library—it’s a small collection in the town hall, or rather the movie house. It’s a long shot, but see what you can find online. And get with our research guru to see what he uncovers. If I know him, he’s already made a few phone calls to various specialists, to get the ball rolling.”
“Justin?”
“Unless you know any other research geniuses.” Avery diagramed something on paper while he spoke. “Meanwhile I’m going to finish your environmental survey. Finding the bell got me sidetracked, but I’ve got to get busy. Do a rudimentary map of developable areas. Overlay wetland areas. Get my perk test and soil compaction results. And further explore Devil’s Tail. Look at some satellite photos. Mother Nature just might be giving you your water access back.”
I asked how long everything would take.
“I passed my next contract job to a buddy. So I can stay here longer. I’ll have some preliminary results for you in a week. But I’d really like to get a few brand new satellite pictures as soon as possible.”
“How does that work?”
“There are several companies with camera-equipped satellites in orbit, approximately four hundred and twenty-five miles up. You order images, which are basically aerial photography, but on a much larger, much more detailed scale. People often think that only the government uses satellite imaging, but in reality, anybody can order them for about five grand apiece.”
“Amazing.”
“I’d like a couple of full color shots from one of Digital Globe’s satellites. And, I’d want a second set from Space Imaging. They’re old shots of the U.S. coastlines, originally taken by the government. That way, I can compare the old one to the new ones to see an overview of what’s changed. We can receive the images b
y email in as little as three days.”
“What’s the price tag for your pictures of Rumton?”
“I’d want two, full spectrum. About a sixteen kilometer square of coverage. It’ll run ten thousand dollars for both.”
I dialed my boss’s direct number and told him what we wanted. “I can’t justify spending the firm’s money on it, Jaxie, but like I told you before, this project means a lot to me. I have a vested interest in seeing you succeed. Go ahead and order what Avery wants. I’ll pay out of my own pocket.”
“You’re sure?”
“Have Digital Globe call my secretary. She’ll give them a credit card number,” he said and disconnected. Getting the go ahead was a good thing, but the fact that my boss was now investing his own money made me a little nauseous. What if I failed to make anything happen in Rumton? I laid my head on the table and moaned. The raccoon hopped on my back and chirped.
“Still mad at Justin, or it is pressure from work?” Pop said.
I jerked up, sending Bandit to the ground with a disgruntled squeal. “How did you know I’m mad at Justin?”
“I’m not blind, Lass. But I think you might be getting all riled up for naught. Just do the best you can, and move on.”
My eyelid twitched. “I think I’m in way over my head,” I admitted, rubbing my temples.
“With a brilliant scientist doing your survey? And a top-notch researcher at your disposal? And Pop looking after you?” Avery said. “You got it made, sister!”
The twitching stopped and my eyes teared up. “You’re right. I think I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well.”
The phone rang and Sheila’s cheerful voice surged through the line when I answered by hitting the speakerphone button on Pop’s new fax phone. “Hey, you! How is everything in Rumton?”
I wanted to tell her what happened with Justin, but not in front of an audience. “Hey, back at you! I sent a souvenir…; via the Justin shuttle. Hope you like it.”
“Oooh, a present. I love presents. Excellent.”
“Things here are clipping right along. What’s happening at the agency?”
“I think Pepsi is going to go for our campaign! They loved the idea of using jungle animals in the city to push the low sugar, high energy concept. And they agreed to leave out the artificial sweetener. Plus a teeny bit of ginger and ginseng. Sales will be off the charts!”
For a microsecond, jealousy hit and I wanted to be part of the Pepsi presentation team instead of the pro bono project lead. In the next moment, I thought of all the people in Rumton whose lives might be changed by what I did, and the jealousy vanished.
“Sheila, that’s awesome!”
“Yeah, I’m jazzed about it!” she said. “Listen, I just called to say hello, but the interns have some ear food for you. They’re in my office now. I’ll put you on speakerphone.”
Their news on grants wasn’t great. They found several that Rumton could apply for as a municipality, but only after the revitalization effort was already under way. It was a catch twenty-two dilemma – Uncle Sam didn’t think it prudent to put money into a venture unless they knew there would be a return in the way of tax revenues.
“Any good news for me?” I said into the machine.
“We did find one very promising grant that could be used to build a museum of historical significance. It’s available from a newly-formed historical foundation, so there shouldn’t be a lot of applicants this first year. And it’s worth up to five hundred thousand dollars! But you have to show a community interest in history and have some actual artifacts to preserve. Plus you have to prove the means to keep up the museum once it’s built. Like by doing tours and charging admission, or something.”
It was a start. “Good job, guys. Do it.”
“Apply for it? What artifacts do you have? What history?” The two of them spoke at once, their voices muffled by the speakerphone.
“I’ll email you a list of historians who reside here and a synopsis on why preserving the history of the town is significant.” I just had to get some residents on board to help with the details, and designate a few of them as historians. “Anything else you need? Make it up. Create a vision. Go for the emotional, small town appeal. This foundation has money to spend, so treat them like a client,” I said. “Sell them on Rumton!”
“But, make stuff up?”
“Look,” I told them. “If you’re going to get anywhere in the advertising and public relations business, you can’t let a little thing like a lack of tangibles hold you back. Come up with a vision, capitalize on the revitalization effort, and complete the application. Throw in something extra to make it look pretty, and Fed-Ex the thing to me. The mayor and council members will sign it, and I’ll mail it in. We’ll fill in the blanks later, when we need to.”
“Okay,” they chimed, and clicked off the speakerphone.
Laughing, Sheila came back on the line. “They’re about to blow a brain fuse over this project of yours.” She paused to take a drink of something. Probably the Pepsi energy drink prototype. “By the way, the boss is paying you a visit soon. I overheard him telling Janice to mark a few days off the schedule because he’ll be in South Carolina.”
“Aaron? Here? He hasn’t said anything to me.” Maybe he didn’t think I had it under control. Or maybe Justin had called from the road and given him dismal feedback. My eyelid twitched all the way up to my eyebrow. A headache threatened to invade my skull. I continued rubbing my temples in a circular motion.
“He hasn’t said anything to me, either,” Sheila said in a low voice. “I overheard it, so don’t tell him I told you. He’ll think I eavesdropped. Anyway, didn’t he grow up there? He probably just wants a stroll down memory lane. And he thought it would be fun to surprise you.”
“I miss you,” I told my best friend. “I wish you were coming instead of him.”
“If it makes you feel any better, we’re planning a huge welcome back party. But don’t tell yourself. It’s a surprise.”
I hung up smiling, but felt like crying.
Pop patted my hand. “Things will work out, Lass. They always do.”
Chapter 10
After a loud and full few days, the house was suddenly quiet and I was alone. Pop left a note to tell me that he’d gone to the movie house to meet some buddies for coffee and doughnuts. Thoughtfully, he’d propped the piece of paper against a blueberry muffin, brewed a pot of coffee for me, and put the family bible on the kitchen table.
Avery was gone, too. Out in the field, as he liked to say, my volunteer scientist was busy doing whatever it was he did. Even the animals were gone, and I missed them all. Pop, Avery, Flush, and Bandit. I missed Justin, too. I couldn’t get him out of my mind despite the fact that I was mad about being snubbed. Our last evening together, the kiss mostly, kept replaying in my head and I wondered if he was thinking of me as much as I was thinking of him.
I set my coffee cup far away from the bible before carefully picking it up. Bigger than an Atlanta phonebook and just as heavy, it was bound with thick brown leather and in surprisingly good shape. I unbuckled its tarnished brass clasp, slowly opened the cover. An earthy smell of aged paper wafted out. It reminded me of bargain hunting in a used bookstore. Except this book had the scent of leather and something fragrant mixed in. Lavender, maybe.
It was the standard King James version bible, printed in a fancy font that I hadn’t seen before. Perusing the pages, I saw that some lines of scripture were underlined, and notes were periodically scribbled in the margins. In the very back, pages of Pop’s family tree were recorded in various handwriting. Mostly, there were births, deaths, and marriages with an occasional description of the event like, “curly red hair straight from the womb”. I took notes as I pored through time-darkened pages.
April first of the year 1700 began the entries, written in what I guessed to be a woman’s handwriting. The parents’ names weren’t written in, but the baby was christened Mary A. Barstow. I figured the bible had been a gift
to the child, and based on what Pop told me about his house, Mary was the daughter of the plantation owner who’d built the original structure. Sixteen years passed before the next entry. A boy named simply Simon was born on May fourteenth of the year 1716. The mother was Mary A. Barstow, and the father was not listed. This entry was probably written by Mary herself, and the handwriting was petite and flowery with a left handed slant.
I sipped some coffee and absentmindedly chewed a bite of blueberry muffin. At sixteen years old, I’d been cheerleading, going to the shopping malls with my friends to talk about boys, and studying for my driver’s test. This girl had become a single mother. What a scandal that must have been!
The next pages appeared to have been torn out, and the births picked up again in the year 1822. The entries were sporadic, and only a few of the death dates were filled in, but seeing the sketch of Pop’s family tree back to the eighteenth century – however incomplete – fascinated me.
Even more interesting, I came across a section of blank pages with notes jotted in them, almost like diary entries. Faded and smudged, the first was not readable. But the next page, written in the same precise, loopy handwriting as the birth entry announcing Mary A. Barstow in 1700, grabbed my attention:
My darling child,
Thou have yet to come into the world. I cherrish thee alredy and wish thou hold dear this place as much as I. The cotage by the sea is built, and tho small, is my favorite place to be. I come for the fresh air and brillant sunrises. Tis a strolle to the shore, but worth the sweet voice of rolling waves. I am next to heaven here. Close to God. Thou fater comes only to trade with the seamen who saile skiffs up the canal. The joy of the land is lost to him. We speak not of it, tho. He says matters of busyness be not my concerne. He wishes a boy, tho I am certan a girl thou ar. Be strong, as he will love thee just the same. My sikness worsens with each sunset. I grow weak. I am at peace and pray for thou. I pray God see fit to keep me of this earthe til I birth you. I pray the a good life. I love you alredy.
Carolina Booty Page 10
