A Lowcountry Christmas

by Mary Alice Monroe

  Bill Chambers was a forester called in to assist the search. Lean and deeply tanned, he quickly took a map from his inside pocket and spread it out on top of the wagon.

  “Where’d you say we are, exactly?” the sheriff asked, drawing near to the wagon.

  Bill bent over the map and studied it a few seconds, then pointed to a spot on the map. “Here.”

  The sheriff bent and drew an X on the spot, then drew two circles around the X. “Now this inner circle is about three miles in diameter. This outer one is six miles. Fifty percent of lost hikers are found in this here inner circle.” He straightened and addressed the men. “Take a look and copy the circles on your own maps. Then let’s split up in teams and proceed outward to the three-mile points on the circle. Keep whistling and calling, make lots of noise so Miller can hear you. If you find him, call it in on the walkie-talkie we issued. Likely your phones won’t get reception in here. You can also blow on those whistles we gave y’all—three times. I’ll stay here and set off a flare gun. Hopefully with all this noise and commotion we’re making, he’ll find his way back to us. We’ll all meet back here in one hour. Four on the dot. It’ll start getting dark. I don’t want to have to send a search party for anyone else today. By nightfall, if we have to, we’ll turn it over to SAR. Okay?” Satisfied with the response, the sheriff turned to me. “Missus, you ought to return straight home.”

  “No. I want to be here looking for him.”

  “Now I know you do,” Cable said in a conciliatory voice. “But you need to be home in case your son finds his way back. We could be looking for him while he’s safe at home and watching the TV. That doesn’t make sense, does it? Why, he might be home already.”

  I could see the sense in that. “You’ll call as soon as you find him?”

  “Of course.” He looked at me, his brows raised over bright blue eyes. “That goes both ways, hear?”

  I smiled, appreciating his optimism. I walked to Alistair and we hugged, sharing our fear, despair, and hope in that one embrace. Then, without another word, I turned and made my way back along the familiar path. As I walked, I thought how quickly life could change. How just yesterday we were all upset about such things as holiday trees, puppies, presents. This day brought into sharp focus how meaningless those things were and what really mattered in this short span of time we spend on earth.

  Glancing up at the sky, I prayed with each step that when I returned home, I’d find Miller sitting at the kitchen table, as I often did, his face smiling up at me when he saw me, calling out hello.

  I returned home to find my son at the kitchen table, but not Miller as I’d prayed.

  Taylor sat hunched over a grilled-cheese sandwich. He looked up when I entered, and his face seemed more relaxed, not tight with pain. “Where is everyone?”

  I don’t know if it was because I’d reached home and didn’t find Miller as I’d hoped, or if I felt I could let down in Taylor’s presence, or if I simply could not hold my angst inside any longer, but I burst into tears.

  Taylor leaped to his feet and put his arms around me. “What’s the matter, Mama?” His voice was the most tender I’d heard it since he returned home.

  “Miller is missing,” I choked out.

  I felt Taylor’s arms stiffen. “What do you mean, he’s missing?”

  “He went out with Thor early this morning. We found the wagon and your father’s ax missing and figured out he went to the Marion National Forest to cut down a tree.”

  “You’re kidding.” Taylor wasn’t joking. He was as stunned as I had been. He pulled back to look at my face. “He’s been missing since ten o’clock?”

  “Earlier. He was gone when I woke up at nine.”

  Taylor released me and put his hands on his hips, his face sharp with concern.

  I quickly brought him up to speed. “Alistair and I looked everywhere, then notified the sheriff’s office. A group of us went out to the path Miller and I take for our Christmas Forage trips. Sure enough, we found the wagon and a cut tree along the path.” I lifted my hands in desperation. “But he wasn’t there!”

  “Thor was with him?”

  “Yes, thank God. I feel much better knowing he’s not alone out there.”

  “So what are they doing now?”

  “They’ve broken into teams and are searching for him. We all have maps.”

  “Show me.”

  I pulled out my map and handed it to him. He immediately opened it and spread it out on the table. He pointed to the X that I’d marked as instructed. “Is this where he was last seen?” he asked tersely.

  “Yes.”

  “Where’s the entrance?”

  I pointed that out as well.

  He marked it with a pen, then folded the map in quick movements. He had become another person. His eyes were alert, his stance erect. He was in command. I thought this was what he must’ve been like in war.

  “Why didn’t you wake me earlier?” he asked tersely.

  “You had a migraine. I thought—”

  “No matter.” He lifted his hand to halt my excuse.

  “Taylor, don’t go. It’s going to be dark soon. I don’t want both my sons lost.”

  “Don’t worry, Mama. This is what I’m trained to do.” He bent to kiss my cheek. “I’ll find him and bring him home. I promise.”

  “I wish,” Scrooge muttered, putting his hand in his pocket, and looking about him, after drying his eyes with his cuff: “but it’s too late now.” “What is the matter?” asked the Spirit. “There was a boy singing a Christmas carol at my door last night. I should like to have given him something: that’s all.”

  —A Christmas Carol

  Chapter 21

  Miller

  I followed the sound of Thor’s barking through the trees, several branches clutching my coat and scratching my face. I called for him over and over, “Thor!” Finally I heard the thunder of his paws in the composted woods as he ran back to me. His tongue was wagging low and he had a goofy look on his face like he’d just had the best time. I wanted to be mad at him, but I was just so relieved to see him I put my arms around his neck and hugged him.

  “Where’d you go, boy?” I asked against his velvety fur. He was warm and panting hard after his run, and his heat was comforting against my chilled body. Even with my long underwear I was starting to feel cold, and my fingertips were biting inside my gloves.

  “This is as good a place as any to take a break,” I told him, letting loose my backpack. It fell to the ground with a soft thud. I pulled out a few of the carefully packed snacks from the bag. I brushed away mold and bugs from a fallen log and sat. It felt great to give my legs a break. I was more tired now than I’d ever been on any of the Christmas Forages with my mother. Part of it was the cold. My fingers smarted in the few minutes I took my hands out of my gloves to parcel out the snacks. I shared my cookies and nuts with Thor, and he ate them greedily. Then I drank water from the plastic bottle. Even though the air was cold, I was thirsty from all the walking. I poured some water into the plastic cup I’d packed for Thor and held it out. This, too, he gratefully slurped up. I watched as he drank, amazed at how long his pink tongue was. When he drank the last drop, I put the cup back into my backpack and zipped it up. In the back of my mind I wanted to be sure I had some for later . . . just in case.

  “As nice as it is to sit,” I said to Thor, “we’d best get moving.” I looked around to gauge which way I’d come running after Thor. We were surrounded densely by trees of every kind, mostly pine. Everything looked pretty much the same. I didn’t have a clue which way to go. I felt a shiver of fear and walked around in a circle, hunting for a broken twig or footprints or anything that looked familiar. I saw depressed earth that could have come from my heels. It was the best clue I had.

  “Let’s go that way,” I said to Thor.

  Thor followed me trustingly, walking at my heels. But his tail was dragging low. I was feeling the cold in my fingers and toes and stopped from time to time
to stick my gloves under my arms. I was worried about Thor. He didn’t have boots on his paws. We plowed on through the forest, past thickets of trees so thick I had to detour. When I reached a small, open arena where soft, jagged-leaved ferns blanketed the ground, thick and lush like a soft green blanket, I stopped. My heart began to pound in my chest. I’d never seen this spot before. My mouth went dry.

  “I think I made a wrong turn somewhere,” I said to Thor.

  Thor sat on the ground, his big tongue lolling out of his mouth, foamy at the top. I could see he was getting as tired as I was. I felt my first panic. I couldn’t deny it any longer. I was well and truly lost.

  I was feeling plain scared now. Thor depended on me to get him out of here. I tried to calm down and think back to when I went hiking in the forest with my Boy Scout troop. My Scout master had told us what to do in case we ever got lost. And the first thing he said was not to panic! To remember that my best tool was my mind.

  I puffed out some air, then talked aloud to Thor, hoping he’d find comfort in the sound of my voice. Plus, it helped me, too, like I wasn’t all alone in these big woods.

  “We’ve been doing this all wrong. We need to stay put. We’re getting tired walking around and have to conserve our energy. First we need to find shelter.”

  Thor followed me, sniffing the ground as I searched for someplace I could keep warm. A few yards off I spied a huge oak tree that looked like it had been struck by lightning. It was fried. The whole top was blown off and lay on the forest floor. It must’ve happened a long time ago because the inside of the trunk was completely hollow. It looked like some kind of cave, perfect for hiding in. I approached the mouth of the trunk slowly, afraid some critter might be hiding in there. Bears, large cats, snakes, and other unfriendly animals lived in these woods, and they’d be looking for shelter, too. But to my luck, the trunk was empty, save for spiders. A pine branch with needles was perfect for sweeping it out, then I added more soft pine branches to make a floor. I looked for a few more large pine branches to close us in and keep the cold out.

  When I was satisfied I’d made a decent shelter, I pulled the red scarf from around my neck and tied it to a skinny sprout tree near my fort like a flag. At least if someone was looking for me, they wouldn’t walk past me. I wished I knew what time it was. But it had to be getting late. The temperature was dropping as the sky darkened. I could feel something happening in the clouds, but it felt too cold for rain. I sure hoped it didn’t rain. My toes felt real cold, too. I tossed my backpack into the shelter, then crawled in. The wood was burned and moldy, and it smelled musty inside the trunk. But the pine needles were pretty comfortable. All in all, it wasn’t too bad, I thought.

  “Come on in, Thor!”

  Thor wasn’t sure he wanted to come in to the cramped, dark space. He stood stubbornly at the entrance, legs wide and his big eyes staring at me with doubt. But I sweet-talked him and eventually he squeezed in beside me. It was right cozy in the dark space, like a cave. There was just enough room for me and Thor if he put his head on my lap. I was pleased I’d created such a nice fort; my Scout master would have been proud of me. But my pride was short-lived when I considered what a dope I was to get lost in the first place. And worse, how I’d not bothered to write a note telling anyone where I was going. Who’d be looking for me? I wondered.

  “At least we have each other, don’t we?” I gave Thor a squeeze.

  His body warmth was comforting and I patted his head, hoping he was reassured. I figured if we could sleep here tonight, we could start looking for a way home tomorrow. I reached out to place the extra pine branches in front of our fort, closing us in. Once done, there wasn’t a breath of wind. In the dim confines of our fort I heard my stomach rumble and realized it had been a long time since my snack. I wished I’d packed a proper lunch. I pulled everything I had left in my backpack out and divvied up the food. As Thor and I ate the remaining nuts, I wondered what Mama was planning for Christmas Eve dinner. It was usually a picnic before the fireplace, under the Christmas tree—thick sausages, pickled shrimp, chunks of cheddar cheese, Mama’s biscuits, maybe some hot soup. Wine for the grown-ups, soda for me. Mama called it her fun dinner before her feast on Christmas. I missed Mama so much. I almost wept I was so hungry.

  Light was fading. I packed my trash in my backpack and leaned back against the rotting wood, so tired I didn’t care if there was a spider. I thought about the Christmas tree I had cut down and had left behind.

  “You shouldn’t of run off like that.” Thor had to face the truth. It was his fault we got lost. “Now who is going to bring home the Christmas tree?”

  Thor whined and looked at me with uncomprehending eyes. I couldn’t stay mad at him. He didn’t ask me to run after him, after all.

  “Well, maybe we’ll find it tomorrow on our way home. Yeah, in the morning we’ll see our tracks and probably pass right by that tree. Then we’ll drag it home, same as we planned.”

  That thought gave me some comfort. I was feeling warmer in the cramped space of my fort. Thor was like a space heater and he snored when he slept, louder even than my daddy. I felt my lids lower and I yawned wide, feeling the fatigue of the day’s walking. I laid my head against the dog’s velvety fur. Now there was nothing left for us but to wait. And pray.

  “Good Spirit,” he pursued, as down upon the ground he fell before it: “Your nature intercedes for me, and pities me. Assure me that I yet may change these shadows you have shown me, by an altered life!”

  —Scrooge, A Christmas Carol

  Chapter 22

  Taylor

  Any hint of blue had leached out of the sky by the time I entered the Marion National Forest. Not a hint of sunlight was behind the graying clouds. I followed my mother’s now well-worn path at a brisk pace, picking up at least a dozen footprints. I slowed when I spied Sheriff Cable in the distance beside what looked like my brother’s wagon. I figured this was their ground zero. I didn’t need the sheriff giving me directions, so I detoured, stealthily going east to the three-mile perimeter. I used my compass to guide me while I kept my eyes peeled for any sign of broken twigs, dog or human prints, anything. My guess was that if Miller had run off from his wagon and ax, he was chasing Thor. Thor could cover a lot of distance without taking a breath, so if Miller had run after him, plus walked for another couple hours, he more than likely was in the six-mile radius. That’s where I headed first.

  The woods swallowed me whole. In all directions the sights were the same to an unskilled eye. I was trained to see the minutiae, however. Bent branches, broken twigs. Pine needles when dry didn’t bend when you stepped on them, they broke. At last I got my first break. I followed a narrow path where the moss was smashed, leaving prints much like on a thick carpet. I crouched low to the ground to read the signs. My heart beat faster when I found footprints in the pine needles and leaves. I rose and followed the trail for several more yards, then I spied a bit of black nylon caught on the end of a branch. I rubbed the fabric between my fingers. No doubt in my mind it came from Miller’s parka. I lifted my head and sniffed the air in the faint hope I might catch the scent of smoke. I caught nothing but the crisp scent of pine and the pungent odor of molding leaves.

  I wasn’t disheartened. The darkening sky, the lowering temperatures, did not discourage me. I’d been through worse. I was a trained Marine. I had a mission. I felt stronger and sharper witted now that I had a purpose. I could use my skills again for the first time in months. I shifted the bag on my shoulders and kept going.

  Another piece of good luck came farther up the trail. I found an empty plastic water bottle. I picked it up and put it in my pack. At least Miller had had the good sense to bring water, I thought. I figured Miller had been outdoors for at least seven hours. Most of the day the weather had been near forty degrees, a blessing. But on checking my temperature gauge, I saw the weather was nearing freezing as night was going to fall. Unbelievably, the weather reports predicted snow. I could imagine how many families
were excited at the prospect of a white Christmas, so rare in these parts. For me, it was a complication. The snow would cover up any tracks. I looked up past the regal, tall longleaf pines to the small square of sky visible above.

  A snowflake landed on my face.

  Jenny

  People were coming over to the house in droves, dropping off food. My table was groaning under the generous offerings. I looked around at the ten women who’d stayed with me to help ready the food for the search party, to tidy the house, and to keep me company. It was already half past four o’clock. I still hadn’t received word from Sheriff Cable, but knew they’d be calling off the search soon. And not long after that the sun would set.

  My boy must be getting real cold now, I thought with a shiver. And frightened.

  I walked alone to the rear window of my kitchen, crossed my arms, and stared out into the shadows. Across my yard my neighbor’s Christmas lights sparkled along her fence line like countless brilliant stars in the fog. Looking up, I couldn’t make out any stars behind the thick cloud covering. Then I gasped.

  “It’s snowing!” I exclaimed.

  The women in the room stopped what they were doing, and with high-pitched exclamations, they hurried to gather at the window and marvel at the rare sight of snow in McClellanville.

  “The last time it snowed was the Christmas after Hurricane Hugo,” Della said in her raspy voice. “December twenty-fifth, 1989.” Della was eighty-six years old, as thin as a rail with a shock of white hair always worn in a bun. Della could still tell you the date and time of every significant event in the town of McClellanville.

  “It’s so pretty,” remarked someone with awe, putting her hand on the glass.

  “It’ll make it hard to track,” said Melissa Rogers, the town’s manager. Someone quickly hushed her and looked meaningfully at me. Melissa was not one to be hushed. “Just saying,” she said with a curt nod.