Secrets in the Lowcountry--The River Read online

  Secrets in the Lowcountry—

  The River

  By,

  Janet Cooper

  Copyrighted 2012, by Janet Cooper Kuchler

  All rights belong to the author and without her written permission cannot be used by anyone else.

  Illustrator: Covers by Cali, [email protected].

  DEDICATION:

  To Dylan, Andrew, Jared, Luke, Ethan, and Lucas, my six wonderful grandsons:

  May you always reach your goals and having done so strive for the next.

  Lots of love,

  Nana

  Chapter One

  Lowcountry, South Carolina:

  Taylor Harris turned the oval shaped brass handle and opened the door wide. The dark, amber, heart-pine walls lining the hallway contrasted strongly with the light green shades of her bedroom. She paused a minute for her eyes to adjust to the muted light. She glanced at her gown, her gloves, and the tips of her shoes. So this is what a proper Southern lady is supposed to look like? I’d rather be in my jeans. The previously muted music from the piano on the patio echoed up the curved stairway and flowed down the hall to her. With thoughtful steps, she placed first one foot and then the other on the thick red oriental runner that appeared to race before her. Normally, she loved this rug, one her grandmother had bought for the house years ago, but somehow today the color caused chills to race up her spine and she shivered. She shook off her disquiet and checked her dress. Her wedding gown flared beyond the width of the brightly patterned rug and rubbed against the old heart-pine baseboard. For a moment, she feared dust might mar the hem of her grandmother’s off white gown and just as quickly dismissed the idea. Miss Mary, the housekeeper, would never allow a smidgen of dirt anywhere in “her” house. Taylor turned as she reached the top step, glanced at the landing, and took a deep breath.

  Why had she sent her friends ahead? The doubts, that had plagued her for most of the day, actually for almost a month, remained just as strong. Now, they grew in intensity. Perhaps if she had shared her apprehension, her friends could have persuaded her that her nervousness was natural and normal. She tried to be logical and forced herself to push the negative thoughts aside. This wasn’t a hasty marriage. She’d known Rod since middle school. They’d been engaged for what seemed like forever. Yet, the uneasiness persisted. Below family and friends waited, not some mythical monster ready to attack and destroy her. The knots in her stomach refused to untangle. Why? Was this wedding a mistake? One she’d regret for the rest of the life?

  An instant later, as if sent to calm her jitters, the late afternoon sunlight bathed the stairwell, chasing the shadows that had claimed this spot. She stared at the huge picture window directly in front her and sighed thinking of the old wives’ tale about rain on a wedding day. The day had cleared, finally. Her gloved hand grasped the rounded-banister railing that so many people had worn smooth over the seven decades of life in this house. Unused to so much skirt, carefully, she placed her white linen slipper on the top riser and began descending the wide pine stairs.

  As she crossed the wide landing, she hesitated for a nanosecond, and then placed her foot on the final set of steps. For the first time since she’d left her bedroom, Taylor lifted her chin and looked ahead. Her father stood at the bottom of the wide stairway that opened onto the foyer. He looked splendid in his white tux jacket and midnight blue trousers. His blonde/white hair puffed out to hide the thinning spots that only someone very tall could normally see. Martin’s outstretched hand welcomed her, but unshed tears glistened in his eyes betraying him. Did he feel as uncertain as she did? Were their emotions normal for such an occasion? Being an only child, she had no siblings to discuss what she was feeling nor had her father played this role before today. She couldn’t allow him to suspect her own insecurity or doubts, nor could she force her lips to move and give him a reassuring smile. Instead, once the sole of her white linen shoe touched the heart-pine floor, she stretched out her arm, took his hand in hers and squeezed.

  Before she could say or do more, her bridesmaids flocked around her. Their dresses, all different shades of a rainbow, reminded Taylor of a bouquet of fresh flowers. They busied themselves straightening her veil, smoothing the heavy folds of the dress, and arranging her train, finally her maid of honor handed her the bride’s bouquet. These dear friends reminded her of buzzing bees all talking, no whispering, at once. Taylor couldn’t make out any distinct words nor did she try very hard to do so. She could only hear the piano playing loudly in the tent just beyond the center-hallway rear door. As to what song was being sung by the soprano hired to entertain the guests before the wedding, Taylor couldn’t decipher the tune.

  Suddenly, the music stopped. A moment later, the activity and the voices of the bridesmaids slowly ceased and silence filled the air. Her friends stared at her as if expecting an answer. She shrugged and shook her head, careful not to dislodge any of the pins or the small cornet that held the veil firmly to her thick brown hair. The hairstylist had taken what seemed like hours to do the upsweep, allowing the head piece to nest safely on her hair. The uneasiness, which she’d finally controlled, returned twelve-fold; she cast a bewildering look at her father.

  He frowned then smiled broadly, his eyes twinkling. “Your Aunt Bertha has probably dropped the sheet music.” He spoke softly, but his words carried to those surrounding her.

  Guarded, unsure, almost embarrassed giggles escaped her bridesmaids’ lips. The sound lifted Taylor’s spirits. “You must admit, Aunt Bertha does play well,” she said to her father, wanting the reason he gave to be right.

  His eyes twinkled. “But her repertoire is limited to church music and a few bawdy songs that she only plays after a martini or two,” her father continued and, staring at his daughter while his smile expanded, added, “And everything she plays is …”

  “Loud,” they said together and chuckled. The tension melted. This was one of the many times they’d played this game of completing one another’s sentence. Aunt Bertha wasn’t the only victim. With a family as peculiar as theirs, she and her father had many opportunities to make this and other jokes. Over the years, making light of tragedy was often the only way the two of them had coped.

  The bridesmaids looked bewildered at the jesting. “Let’s line up,” Taylor said quietly to reassure them, “I’m sure Aunt Bertha will find the piece of music she needs soon.” With a blur of color, her attendants quickly took their positions, checked each other carefully, smoothing a wrinkled free skirt or dabbing at perfectly quaffed hair, before obediently turning toward the closed screen doors. They had hardly settled themselves when the two seven-foot tall doors leading to the back yard burst open then clattered against the walls. The sound reverberated in the long hallway, and Taylor thought, probably throughout the house and the outside area. Decorum had certainly fled this wedding.

  “He’s not here!” the best man, Tim Jenkins yelled, dashing into the house and running up to Taylor. His disheveled hair, red face, and the beads of sweat on his forehead increased her concern.

  “Who’s not here?” her father demanded as he grabbed the sleeve of Tim Jenkins’s white tuxedo jacket, turning the best man to face him.

  “Rod!” Tim took a deep breath and shifted his attention between Taylor and her father before wiping his brow with several tissues he’d grab from the small table at the foot of the steps.

  “Absurd.” Her father’s no-nonsense tone took charge. The one he used when displeased with any situation that he could not or did not control.

  Shaking his head in denial, Tim reiterated, “He’s not here. He didn’t come back.”

  “Come back? Come back from where?” she asked, wondering whe
re Rod would go on his wedding day. Ideas flashed through her mind, but nothing popped up. Before she could say anything else, her father interrupted.

  “Where is he?” her father questioned at the same time, obviously trying to find an answer to what seemed an impossible condition.

  “I don’t know.” Tim flushed as if realizing his answer solved nothing.

  “As the Best Man, you are responsible to see that my future son-in-law appears at the ceremony.” The color of his face matched the younger man’s.

  The bridesmaids gathered closer and listened. Their expressions full of concern.

  “Daddy, please,” Taylor broke in before her father could say anything else and escalate the tension. “Tim, when did you see him last?” Her voice sounded strange almost guarded as she attempted to suppress her anxiety.

  He dedicated his attention to her. A partial look of relief showed as if he preferred speaking to Taylor rather than her father. “He left early this morning, before breakfast.”

  “Did you speak to him?” she inquired in a tone calmer than she felt, while squeezing the bouquet that she suddenly realized she still held. She glanced down and threw the crushed flowers on the small arm-chair near the dining room door.

  Looking as if he couldn’t believe the situation, Tim pulled at his cravat. “Rod woke me.”

  “And …” She encouraged when instead she wanted to ring his neck for taking forever to tell what happened.

  “Said he was going fishing and asked if I wanted to go.” He seemed to gain a small degree of his normal self.

  Taylor glanced quickly out the front window, while listening intently. The rain, which had begun before dawn, had stopped, but when? With all of her preparations, she’d not looked out until she walked down the stairs and seen the sun. She’d no idea when the storm had passed. Fixing her attention again on Tim, she said, “And …?”

  “I told him only a fool went out in a driving rain storm. Rod said that this was only heavy mist for the Lowcountry.” Tim shook his head and light-brown strands partially covered his damp forehead.

  She nodded. “He would say that. Rain never kept him from the river.” A foreboding filled her. Dang Fool.

  “So …” Her father pushed, wanting more information.

  “That’s all.” Tim shrugged his shoulders, but worry and regret covered his face perhaps because he hadn’t done more.

  Seeing his expression and hoping to relieve at least a portion of his guilt, Taylor said, “When he made up his mind, nothing would ever stop him.” Her intonation showed sadness as she fought to absorb the news.

  “What about the wedding?” her father insisted, as if trying to focus on the current problem.

  “Oh.” Glancing back toward Taylor’s dad, his face once again showing pain, the best man replied, “Rod said that he’d be back before noon and not to worry.”

  “Didn’t you think it strange when the groom hadn’t appeared by lunchtime?” Martin pushed. The anger scarcely contained. However, he couldn’t control his facial reactions which hardened with every word nor the redness creeping up his neck. The vein on the side of his skull stood out and appeared to throb and Taylor worried he might have a stroke or a heart attack.

  “Dad, please.” She took his arm and hugged him. “Everything will be fine.” She hoped her words and actions conveyed more hope than she felt.

  Her dad regarded her, before patting her hand as if to reassure her. His body lost a fragment of its rigidness revealing his fight to control his deep concern.

  Tim opened his mouth, but before he could speak, her father said, “Didn’t you think it unusual when everyone around was dressing and preparing for a wedding that the groom hadn’t appeared for his own wedding?” Her father’s sarcasm deepened with every word, but his face no longer held the bright red tone and the vein had receded.

  “Sure.” Tim defended himself, gaining confidence. “Around three, I sent some of the guys to check the other rooms in the carriage house.”

  “Three? You didn’t wonder when Rod failed to return before that? Did you think about telling anyone?” Martin’s words pounded on the defenseless man.

  He shrugged his shoulders, again looking guilty. “I got talking and. . .” Tim squirmed visibly.

  “So, around three, people started searching for him and. . .” Martin glared at the younger man.

  Moving his eyes as if to avoid seeing Martin, he said, “We couldn’t find him. I kept hoping he’d come back, so I didn’t say anything. With everyone getting ready for the wedding, I didn’t want to disturb things. I figured he’d be back in time. When he hadn’t arrived by quarter to four, I sent Josh to the dock, but the boat wasn’t there.” Now, he glanced at Martin, as if hoping the man would understand.

  She tightened her grip on her father, trying to keep herself upright. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Even if her words sounded normal, her mind flowed over with doubts. “Did you try his cell phone, Tim?” Surely he did, but she required all the details.

  “Yeah. I started calling just before three, but it went directly to his voice mail. I tried texting, too. Nothing. Either he turned the phone off or the battery’s dead, because he’s not answering.” Talking had helped Tim regain his self-control.

  “He could be in a no service area,” Emily, one of the bridesmaid offered, stepping forward slightly. “Service in this area is chancy at best.”

  Emily’s voice brought her back to her surroundings. Taylor nodded and clung to the suggestion. She had been so wrapped up in Tim’s story she’d forgotten everyone else. A quick glance around revealed her friends remained near, wanting to help in any way they could. To show her thanks, she managed a smile and received similar ones back.

  “Possibly.” Her father nodded his agreement to Emily’s statement. “If his boat ran aground, high-tide came in hours ago and would have lifted him off. While motoring back he could have called to explain.”

  “Unless he ran out of gas or he had engine trouble.” Taylor sighed. “Rod often forgets to check the gas tanks. When we boat or fish together, I make sure they’re filled.” She hated saying this and waited for the explosion from her father.

  “He what?” Her father swirled around and stared at his daughter. “That boy’s lived here for 20 years. To chance running out of gas in the Lowcountry with almost no marinas available for miles is reckless. And not keeping a boat in top running order is equally stupid ...”

  Taylor interrupted, keeping her voice calm, “Dad, after we find him you can rage about his imperfections.

  “Oh, my gosh, Dad. You must tell the guests what’s happened,” she almost shouted. “I’m sure they are all wondering what’s going on in the house.”

  “You’re right.” He grasped her shoulders, looking with concern at her face. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

  She bobbed her head, although she’d never felt less all right in her life.

  He walked stiffly through the open door, stood on the stone patio, and waited for a minute as if to gather his thoughts.

  Taylor and her bridesmaids followed him outside. The whole situation appeared bizarre.

  The guests had moved from the tent and stood gathered closer to the back of the house. All the talking and whispering stopped. One hundred people stared at him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I fear the Groom is missing.”

  Surveying the crowd as her father spoke; she saw the shocked expression on every face.

  Her dad continued, “Rodney took a boat out around dawn this morning, and he has not returned. Since we need a groom to have a wedding, I am asking for help to look for him. Once he’s found, we can return, enjoy the ceremony and the party afterward.”

  A few people chuckled, but everyone else remained quiet as if waiting to learn more.

  “Those of you from the Lowcountry understand how dangerous the Broad River can be. My plan is to blanket the river and its tributaries with boats and searchers. The sooner we find him, the sooner we can start celebrating. Fo
r those staying on Plantation, we’ll meet on the front lawn in fifteen minutes. That gives you time to change. If you live nearby, as soon as you are ready, get your boats and come back for an assigned search area.

  “For the rest of you, we require your help, too. After you return home and have launched your boats, call here. Until the authorities take over, we’ll handle the search by allocating a team a section to inspect. It’s essential we get as much help as possible.” After a quick glance at his watch, he added, “I’d say we have a little over three hours to bring the missing groom back. Thanks in advance for your assistance.” He turned away from the guests. “Tim, Emily, and Katie; the sheriff, the Coast Guard and the Department of Natural Resources must be notified and the situation explained. Divide the calls. Please.”

  After a brief conference, the three moved away to make their calls. Having a job appeared to help each of them.

  The guests remained relatively quiet, almost subdued, as they exited the backyard, except one woman. “Taylor, my poor baby.” She pushed others aside as she scurried toward the house. Her light blue long dress skimmed the grass and her arms wide open. Tears ran down her face, but she ignored them. “My darling, daughter!”

  “Oh, no,” Taylor cried. “How did she get here?” Furious, Taylor glanced at her father and glared at him. “Did you invite her?”

  “Honey…” he said, in a low apologetic tone. “She’s your mother.”

  “Dad, how could you? She has destroyed every special event in my life.” Taylor ignored his offered hand, turned hastily, gathered up the skirt of her wedding dress in her hands and started back to the house as quickly as she could. She wasn’t fast enough.

  “Taylor.” Her mother pulled level with her, grabbed her arm, and managed to stop her daughter.

  Taylor fought to control herself so that she didn’t make the scene with her mother worse. The hatred and embarrassment that had built up for half-a-lifetime threatened to boil over and consume Taylor. Her raw emotions bubbled near the top. With difficulty, she wrestled them down. Releasing the hold on her skirt, she tried to pry the hand off. Although slight, the woman held on with a death grip. Taylor ached to lash out at the woman who had ruined her own life as well as her daughter’s and her husband’s lives. Fearing she might spew her anger, Taylor sought to escape the woman who called herself her mother. Gratefully, Taylor’s oldest friend, Jeff Benjamin, stepped forward.