by Mille West
Mills returned to the chapel where a gray-haired gentleman was standing near the front steps. He smiled as she approached. “I hope you don’t mind that I parked my car here. I was exploring.”
“That’s quite all right. I’m making sure that we have heat on in the building tonight. It’s going to be cold, and we don’t want burst water pipes. I’m Ed Seaborne, and you are?”
“My name is Mills Taylor. I’ve just moved to Charleston.”
“Where are you from?”
“Originally, from Virginia.”
“Mills Taylor, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m going inside the church. Would you like to join me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“So, this is your first time to visit Rockville?”
She smiled and nodded.
As he opened the doors, he volunteered, “This community was originally started as an escape for planters during the summer season to avoid fever-producing mosquitos. For many years, there was an annual reunion of Civil War veterans at Rockville until their numbers dwindled. That reunion was replaced by an annual regatta that is held on the first weekend in August. You’ll have to join us. It has become quite a celebration.”
He opened the door to the chapel and Mills was impressed by the beauty of the house of God. The pews were of dark-stained wood, as were the walls and ceiling. At the back of the church was a beautiful stained-glass window of Christ.
“Miss Mills, if you would like to walk along the waterfront, it will be all right. No one will mind, I assure you.” He closed the doors of the chapel and they walked through his own yard to the waterway.
“When South Carolina was under exploration, Captain Robert Sandford and the crew of the Berkeley Bay claimed this area referred to as ‘The Rocks,’ for England and the Lord’s Proprietor. Deposits of iron ore run underneath Wadmalaw, and if you look closely, you can see the rocks cropping out into the water, hence, present-day Rockville.”
“I see them in the river,” she responded.
“Believe it or not, this is actually a creek, Bohicket Creek. It just looks like a river.” He took her hand and shook it. “Now don’t forget about the Rockville Regatta—it’s the first weekend in August.”
Mills thanked Mr. Seaborne for his kindness, and then taking his recommendation, she walked in front of the waterfront homes, enjoying every moment of the experience. Most of the dwellings were historic masterpieces. The last remains of daylight approached and she made her way back to Grace Chapel, where her car was parked.
As she returned to Edisto, she saw a sign for the Angel Oak Tree. Curious, she exited off the paved road onto a sandy lane that led to the massive tree. The limbs of the live oak were, themselves, as large as trunks of most other trees. Some of the branches rested on the ground, spreading many feet from the main trunk. Reading a plaque about the tree, Mills marveled at the ancient oak, which was thought to be the oldest living tree east of the Rocky Mountains. The canopy of the massive branches stood majestically against the waning light of day, and she thought of the tree’s survival through hurricanes, natural phenomena, and human interference. It was a gift from God, she thought.
Mills arrived home at dusk. Cooper’s dog, Sam, came to greet her. Together, they walked down to the marsh front. The scene was beautiful, the last light of a cold winter’s day, red sky, and a few clouds making their way across the heavens. Church bells from Alston Station sounded in the distance, and as they started back up the darkened lane, Sam’s ears perked up.
Crossing their path, about fifty feet in front of them, were five deer. Sam took off to pursue the deer and disappeared into a thicket. Mills called the dog for some time before he returned, still panting from the chase.
“Why don’t you come inside, Sam? We can keep each other company for a while.”
She reviewed her sketches, and the first drawing she had done, the one of the palmetto tree and the two fly fishermen, appealed to her the most. That evening, she worked on variations of the sketch to show to Cooper the next afternoon.
On Sunday morning, she drove to Alston Station to begin her search for a church where she could share her Christian faith. She drove past the two closest churches and continued to one that was a few miles away. The look of the church was old and attractive, like several she had seen in downtown Charleston. Situated in the shadows of live oak trees were a number of ancient gravestones. Mills entered the church and took a seat in one of the rear pews. The sanctuary was not large, but it was lovely, with intricate woodwork and brightly illuminated chandeliers.
A few people smiled and greeted her during the service. After church, a gray-haired woman approached and introduced herself as Christina Shell. “Are you visiting our community?”
“No, ma’am; I’ve moved here to be the director of an educational foundation.”
“What organization will you be working with?”
“The Julia Heath Foundation.”
“Oh, you’re employed by Cooper. I knew his mother. She was a tireless worker with her charities—we have all prayed for Cooper and his wife.” Christina looked closely at Mills.
“Yes, I pray that there will be a positive resolution to her disappearance.”
“We all do—please come back and join us whenever you’d like.”
Before three o’clock, Mills walked to the stables and found Cooper already there and the horses saddled. Ginger was a light palomino mare; she stood taller than the magnificent black stallion that Cooper would ride.
“What’s your horse’s name?” she asked.
“Mephisto.”
“Did you name him?”
“No, ma’am. I thought about changing his name, but he already answered to it. When I first brought him here, he was aggressive; it took a year of working with him to calm him down.” He paused as he patted the horse’s neck and then said, “At one point, this property was a profitable rice plantation, and later, Sea Island cotton was grown here. The ruins of an antebellum home and buildings are near the river. First, we’ll cross the green before entering the pasture. The horses know the way.”
“What’s the green?”
“It’s the front yard, but I call it the green.”
Cooper helped Mills mount Ginger and handed her the reins. “Don’t be nervous; she’s very gentle. You won’t need to hold the reins too tightly.”
As Mills watched Cooper astride Mephisto, she said quietly, “That is a gorgeous creature.”
The riders crossed the green and Mills understood the reason for the name. The green was a manicured lawn almost the size of a football field surrounded by live oak trees. On the other side of the green, the horses followed a sandy lane that ran into the pasture, and their pace quickened as they descended toward the river, through high grasses that resembled fields of gold. The pasture gave way to a forested area with live oaks and scrub palms; shade covered the narrow pathway.
They must have been riding for twenty minutes when Mills noticed an old brick entranceway. Ivy grew on the columns, and Cooper slowed his horse, with Ginger automatically following suit. Ahead were the ruins of the home surrounded by live oak trees. The brick columns were still in place, with five across
the front.
Cooper dismounted Mephisto and tied the reins to a tree limb before assisting Mills with her dismount from Ginger.
“Come this way,” he said. “Carefully.”
There was a set of brick steps leading up to what would have been a front entrance, but the steps led to nothing. The inside of the old mansion was filled with resurrection ferns and old bricks that had collapsed into the interior of the structure. Mills could see the river from this portion of the ruin; there was a clear alleyway from the back of the structure to the waterway.
“What happened to this home?”
“It was burned by Union soldiers when they occupied the Edisto area. Today, less than a handful of antebellum homes survive in this area.”
Mills stood on the highpoint of the foundation and studied the scene around her. “This is amazing,” she observed.
He assisted her through the uneven bricks of the collapsed structure, and they took a path toward the river. Passing canals with dykes to control water flow, Cooper said, “Charles and I have been clearing this area, but there’s still a great deal of work to do. These canals were flooded for rice production. It was quite profitable before the planter system collapsed.”
“What caused the collapse?”
“The end of the plantation system, the end of slavery—at the time of the plantation system it was acceptable to hold other human beings as slaves. We now recognize that the system was brutal, whether to Native Americans or Africans who were forced into slavery—terrible business.”
They maneuvered down an embankment toward the river, and Mills noticed a deteriorated dock extending out into the river. Cooper cautioned her, “I don’t think we should tempt the dock. I haven’t replaced it, because I don’t want the location of this ruin to be noticeable from the water—I have something else to show you.”
For just a moment, she studied the surroundings of the riverfront before following Cooper up the embankment toward a clearing. There were paper whites blooming in the opening, and she noticed early sprouts of daffodils.
“The daffodils are amazing when they’re in bloom. You can’t begin to count them all.”
At the edge of the clearing were numerous small structures that were in a state of collapse. “These cabins are the remains of slave dwellings. If you come down here in the warmer months, I want you to be especially careful around these buildings. The foundations are inhabited by a number of snakes, some of which are poisonous.”
Mills walked closer to one of the cabins, which was in better condition than the others. On the exterior was a rosebush; it had proliferated itself over the front of the structure and onto the roof. Although the growth pattern was wild, the bush appeared extremely healthy.
Noticing her interest in the rosebush, Cooper remarked, “The blossoms are a brilliant white, and it starts to bud in the early spring and will have flowers all summer long. The roses are a beautiful sight among these ruins.”
Near the end of the row of cabins was a large bell that stood about six feet off the ground on a metal pole. Mills rang the bell and, though it was rusty, it gave a loud clang.
“Amazing that it still works.”
“I have one more item of history to show you.”
They walked toward the location of the old mansion and came upon a churchyard and the walls of a decaying building. “This was the chapel for the plantation owner’s usage.”
There were a number of deteriorated and broken grave markers, but the legible stones dated back to the eighteenth century. She paused as she looked over the names and dates on the markers before turning her attention back to Cooper.
“Are you ready to ride back up to the stables?” he inquired.
“Yes, I’ve enjoyed exploring.”
“You should come back when the daffodils start to bloom.”
Mounting their horses, they rode back to the stables and tended to the animals after their workout. While they groomed the horses, Mills mentioned that she had created a sketch that she’d like to use for the invitations to his oyster roast.
“I’d like to see what you’ve done,” he responded, smiling.
Meeting him in the rear courtyard of his home, Mills brought her sketchbook and showed him the drawings that she had made during Saturday’s exploration. He immediately focused on the drawing that she had done of the two fishermen and the palmetto tree. “I like this one the most.”
“That’s my favorite drawing as well. Tomorrow I’ll visit the printer and get the invitations started.”
Before he said good night to her, Cooper told her that he would be hunting in the morning with two friends and that they would try not to disturb her.
That evening, she worked on the sketch until she was completely happy with the drawing. When she finished, she went out onto her screened porch to sit. The sound of piano music came from the main house. While his music was captivating, there was a common element to his songs; they all sounded melancholy. What he must have gone through, not knowing what had happened to his wife. The music stopped, and Mills sat for a few more minutes before she went inside.
Excited about her first day of work for the foundation, Mills woke early and dressed in her favorite navy blue suit. She decided to say hello to Marian before departing for the day. She walked to Cooper’s house and, as she knocked at the kitchen door, Mills could hear Marian’s footfalls moving in her direction, and her kind voice invited her inside.
“Now, you do look pretty this morning,” she told Mills. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”
“Thank you, Marian, but I’ve already had breakfast. I just wanted to say good morning. I’m going to see potential donors after I stop by the printer.”
“You’re going to be a great success! I hope you had a nice weekend.”
“Yes, ma’am, I did. I explored Charleston, and yesterday, I rode horses with Cooper down to the old house ruins.”
“What did you think of the place?”
“I found the ruins to be extraordinary and captivating.”
“I don’t like to go down there. Something about the place bothers me—people say it’s haunted. Cooper and Charles laugh at me when I say that, but I have my own thoughts.”
Glancing down at Mills’s high-heeled shoes, Marian recommended, “You might want to take a pair of low-heeled shoes to wear when you walk around downtown Charleston and change into your dress shoes before your appointments. The sidewalk pavers are uneven in some locations, and I don’t want you to have a fall.”
“Thank you for your suggestion,” Mills responded, as she checked the time on her watch. “I should leave now.”
Marian walked her to the kitchen door and then waved goodbye through the window. As she walked to the edge of the courtyard, Mills was unable to see down the lane because of a camellia bush, and she walked right into a man who approached from the boat dock. He wore hip waders and camouflage, and carried several ducks and a shotgun.
“I was looking for Cooper, but I think I’d rather find you.” Mills thought him intensely handsome with muscular features and clear, blue-green eyes. His blond hair was disheveled from wearing a hunting hat. Study at arm’s length—he cou
ld be dangerous. “You must be Mills—I’m Jeff, Cooper’s first cousin.”
Cooper and Britton appeared on the pathway coming from the direction of her cottage, both dressed in hip waders.
“I see you’ve met my cousin, Jeff,” Cooper said. “We were just looking for you at your cottage.”
“Yes, we were just making each other’s acquaintance—did you have a successful hunt?”
“Cooper did,” Jeff responded.
“I just had more shots than they did.”
“We still had a good time though. Hard not to,” Jeff added.
“Mills have you ever been bird hunting?” Cooper asked.
“No, I’ve never fired a shotgun. I don’t know how.”
“Well, if you’d like, I’ll teach you how sometime,” Cooper said.
“Yes. I’d like to learn.”
Cooper changed the subject. “Jeff owns a real estate company named Radcliffe Real Estate and Development in Charleston. Are you on your way out?”
“Yes, I have an appointment at Collins Printing at eleven. I planned to leave early, just in case I got lost.”
“You’ll be fine,” Cooper said.
She said goodbye to them and started down the lane to her cottage. As she turned to go down the pathway between the camellia bushes, she glanced back and found they had not taken their eyes off of her.
Mills entered the printer’s office at eleven, and a man came out from behind the counter to greet her. “You must be Mills Taylor. I can tell that you’re an associate of Cooper’s—you are on time for your appointment. I’m James Collins.”