Catherine's Cross (28 page)

Hours passed, and at times she thought of Gigi. She missed her sister and felt bitterness over her loss. Her mind traveled to thoughts of Joseph Andrews's description of the beasts that had come from the swamps: “. . . When they snarl at me, they look like the devil.” Because she was completely dehydrated, tears would not even form in her eyes. “Seth, please come for me,” she said in a whisper.

There were loud bangs and Jenks thought that a thunderstorm must be approaching the Walker property. She woke from an anxious sleep and glanced at her watch; it was now late afternoon. As she looked in the direction of the doorway, the latch lifted, and Seth was there.

He quickly came to her and lifted her in his arms. “Jenks, what happened?”

“I was going to pick blackberries, but wild hogs chased me. Thank God for the cabin or they might have cut me to pieces. I'm so thirsty.”

“I have water in the truck.”

He carried her down the steps of the cabin and walked toward his truck, which was about twenty feet away. On the grounds surrounding the cabin were the carcasses of the wild hogs. The first animal she saw was the black boar that had pursued her with a vengeance. Seth had shot them all.

“I'll call Ambrose Gould. He'll collect the hogs and not allow the meat to go to waste.”

He opened the truck door and helped her inside. Jenks grabbed the water and drank ravenously.

“Slow down now. You're going to make yourself sick if you drink too fast,” Seth told her as he pulled the bottle back from her lips, forcing her to slow her pace.

She did as he instructed.

When they got to the Walker's home, Seth helped rehydrate her by giving her glasses of water. He had suggested she lay on the couch, and he put a cool washcloth on her forehead.

“Thank you for taking care of me. I kept praying that you would come and find me.”
Praying for the one I love the most to find me.

“I'm sorry you spent the day in the heat.”

“When I was in the cabin I couldn't get my mind off an account in Joseph Andrews's journal.”

“Please tell me about it.”

“Joseph recorded a story about wild hogs coming out of the swamps near the Andrews's property. The beasts killed the family cat and her kittens. Their bodies were strewn all over the barnyard.”

He squeezed her gently and said, “Nature is in a constant state of change. Even in a place of natural beauty, like this property, there can be dangers. We were recently at the cabin, and there was no sign of the hogs. If you walk this land alone, I want you to be prepared in the future. I'm going to see that you have protection.”

The next morning while the temperatures were still cool, Seth drove Jenks into town to a gun shop, Oakley's. In the rear of the building were lanes designated for target practice. The man who was running the lanes nodded to Seth as soon as he saw him. “Detective Mason, good morning. What brings you to Oakley's?”

“Jerry, Miss Ellington is going to learn how to shoot a firearm this morning.”

“Good, do you have a gun?”

“No, I was hoping that she could use one of your Lady Smiths for practice.”

“Yes, sir. Good morning, Miss Ellington.”

“Good morning,” she replied.

“You've chosen a good instructor,” Jerry said as he rose from his seat and went to a storage compartment on a nearby wall. Unlocking it, he removed a revolver and then opened the cylinder to check the chambers, which he verified were empty. He handed the gun handle-first to Seth and then went back to his desk, bringing out two boxes. “These are reloads. They're easier to fire than new cartridges. You'll appreciate that after you fire the revolver a number of times,” he said to Jenks as he handed her the boxes. “Please use lane eight.”

Seth picked out a target and then handed Jenks ear protection and shooting glasses before they entered the lanes. He placed eye and ear protection on himself and held the door to the shooting lanes open for her.

For the next hour, he instructed her on firearm usage, and she practiced shooting at the target. Jenks found that her hand was becoming sore from firing the weapon.

When she finished shooting the two boxes of reloads, Seth used a toggle switch to bring the target to their position. He removed it from the metal hanger, and they exited the firing lanes. Once outside, they removed their eye and ear protection and looked at the target. Jenks had filled the target with holes, and Seth pointed out that she was prone to shoot a little to the left, but they'd work on that the next time.

Before they left Oakley's, Jenks purchased a Lady Smith revolver. “You can keep it in your glove compartment,” Seth told her. “But when you're alone on the Walker property, you can wear it on your belt with a holster. I don't want you walking the land ever again without protection,” he said emphatically.

The Beaufort County Water Festival began the second week of July. Many of the festival activities were held at Beaufort's Waterfront Park, and on the evening of the talent competition, Jenks and Seth accompanied Rory to the event. They found a parking place on Charles Street not far from Waterfront Park. The downtown was bustling with people who had come to see the performances. Seth helped Rory to a place in the park where he could view the acts in his wheelchair before setting up lawn chairs for Jenks and himself.

“I've been looking forward to this. Last year, a young lady with a powerful soprano voice, like Mariah Carey, won the competition,” Rory commented. The event began, and the first two performers were singers. One of the contestants chanted out a rap song, and Jenks looked at Seth and then at Rory. She noticed both men frown during the performance. When the man finished his act, they clapped for him, but Jenks said to Rory, “I take it you don't care for rap music.”

Rory chuckled. “No—not in this lifetime.”

The next performer was a tall blonde girl with her hair swept to the side. She sang a ballad that she had written herself, and her voice was deep and mellow. Jenks listened to the lyrics of the song and realized the woman was singing about the loss of a loved one in Afghanistan. The words to her melancholy ballad rang out through the park. When she completed the song, there was loud applause. Jenks looked at Rory whose face had turned pale. Seth noticed his demeanor as well and came close to him to find out what was wrong.

“Are you all right?”

Rory looked at him and tears were beginning to well in his eyes. “Her singing reminded me of someone.”

“Do you want to go home?” Seth asked.

“Yes.”

On the way back to the van, Rory was silent. Seth tried to engage him in conversation, but finally stopped when he realized his friend wanted to be quiet. They drove to St. Helena, and when they got on Land's End Road, there was a light in the distance. It was like a lantern light floating down the roadway. When they reached the area where the light had been flickering, there was darkness. The only lights along the country road were the headlights from the van.

Seth slowed the van and they looked in all directions for the source of the light. “What was that?” Jenks exclaimed.

Jenks felt an icy feeling descend upon her, but no one commented on the light or its origin.

They continued on to Rory's home in silence, and Jenks could still feel chills from seeing the lamp. When they reached his house, Seth helped him inside, and Jenks joined them in the kitchen. Rory retrieved a beer from the refrigerator, and she could see that he was in tears.

“I don't think you should have that,” Seth said.

“Dammit, Seth, mind your own business!”

He drank from the beer. “That girl who sang the ballad, she looked just like Sarah Humphries. Even sounded like her.” He reached for her photo on the wall and pulled it down into his hands.

“The girl who died in Afghanistan?” Jenks asked.

Rory took another drink of beer and then wiped tears from his eyes. His face darkened. “She was a wonderful person,” he said, looking at her photo. A deep frown crossed his brow. “She killed herself over there.”

Jenks looked at Seth and their eyes locked. She could see the worried look on his face.

Seth stepped to Rory, patted him on the back, and then knelt down beside him.

Rory looked intently at him with a grim expression. “I could have stopped it, and I didn't.”

“You could not control Sarah's actions,” Seth told him.

“I'm not talking about her suicide. I'm talking about the bastards who drove her to it.”

Seth frowned and said, “What are you talking about, Rory?”

“She was with our unit to act as a liaison with the residents of Afghan villages. Sarah gave them medical advice and helped them get to doctors if they needed assistance. She had such a good heart. I can still hear her voice. She sang to the children. They would crowd around her and listen to her beautiful voice.” He took another drink of beer and continued. “Those two bastards, I heard them talking. I should have stopped them. They raped her. Miles Fisher and David Ross—they're both rotting in hell now. They were in the Humvee with me the day I lost my legs. Both of them were blown straight to Hades, and I should have gone with them.” He looked into Seth's eyes as tears rolled down his face.

Jenks sat down in the chair, shocked by what she had learned.

“Dear God . . . Rory, I'm sorry,” Seth told him.

“She should have gone to our commanding officer, Major Collins, but she told me she was too ashamed. Don't you see? I should have seen him on her behalf. She didn't feel like she had anyone to turn to, but she came to me, and I didn't have the courage to stand up for her.” He stared down at his hands and a looked of desolation descended upon his countenance. “She felt trapped—we should have been looking out for each other—we're our own worst enemies,” he said as he sobbed.

Seth put his arm around his friend and held him while Rory wept. His voice shook as he said, “I should have done something.” He was quiet for a moment, and then he composed himself and slowly said, “Seth—you understand, don't you? Please . . . I just want to go home.”

Seth held his hand tightly and said, “Yes, I understand. You know I do . . . I'll help you get to California.”

Rory looked up at him and nodded and then sat the nearly empty beer bottle on the table.