Secrets in the Lowcountry--The River (25 page)

He held her and patted her back
in a paternal manner
.
“Sorry I missed you before.”

The comfort of his hug gave her additional strength.
Her father depended on him for spiritual help, plus conside
red him one of his best friends,
w
hile she regarded him as a loving uncle.

She blotted her eyes
w
ith her palms. “Dad and I are out of the deck. Come join us for a glass of tea.” A nanosecond later, she heard the back door slam close follo
w
ed quickly by her dad’s
w
elcome.

“
Father
Mike
. Good to see you. Come join us on the deck and enjoy the lovely breeze.”

“Don’t mind if I do. Beautiful
w
eather tonight,
lo
w
humidity, great temperature,
and no mosquitoes,
I hope.”

They all laughed.

Once seated and relaxing
w
ith their s
w
eet tea, Father
Mike
spoke. “Are there any questions about tomorro
w
?”

Taylor and her dad shook their heads, no.

“Good. Any other questions?” He glanced from one to the other.

She and Martin peeked at each other. Taylor gathered her courage. “Dad, may I speak to Father
Mike
for a minute or t
w
o,
alone?”

Her dad stood up. “I’ll carry these dishes to the kitchen. Come get me
w
hen it’s safe to return.” He smiled.

As the door closed, Taylor moved for
w
ard in her seat. “Father
Mike
? Do you believe in people in love having a connection
w
ith one another?”

“Definitely. Many couples understand
w
ithout speaking
w
hat their partner is thinking. Others, especially those married a long time, sense problems
w
ith their spouse before the issue is identified. Some even say they can sense if their other half is in danger. Ho
w
ever, almost an equal number say just the opposite
. Personally
,
w
hen I lost my
w
ife and our t
w
o children in the auto accident
ten years ago
,
I recall
feeling a sense of loss. This
w
as
before being
notified by the police
.
W
hether this
w
as God’s
w
ay of preparing me
…
” He shrugged his shoulders.

Taylor knelt at his side and stroked his hand. “I remember that after losing them you came back to Beaufort.”

Father
Mike
placed his hand over hers. “St. Alban’s rector had just retired and the congregation sought a ne
w
priest. The Bishop suggested I thro
w
in my hat.
Returning home to dear, old friends
and
,
of course
,
my sister, Mary,
eased my grief.

“Enough about me. Tell me
w
hat’s troubling you.” He helped her to rise and
to
settle back on the
padded,
w
rought iron chair.

“Rod.”

He
w
aited.

“
They’ve called off
the
search for him.” She stopped. “I’
m not naïve. I kno
w
they think he’s gone.” She blinked back the tears
filling
her eyes and surveyed Father
Mike
.
“
W
ouldn’t I kno
w
if he’d …
died?” Her throat threatened to close.
“
W
ouldn’t my heart tell me?”

Standing
,
and
then moving directly in front of her, he gently grasped her shoulders
w
ith his large hands.
“Dear child, I can’t ans
w
er your question.” He
lifted her chin and focused entirely on her
. “Each of us is an individual.
W
e
face
situations in
life in totally diverse
w
ays, because
w
e are unique.
Our
w
ays of handling
circumstances
differ.
W
hat
w
e experience
internally and externally vary greatly.
W
hy do you love riding?
W
hy does Martin love being a chiropractor?
W
hy does
Mary prefer taking care of you and your dad to teaching
? For me, only God understands our exclusive natures, characters and emotions.

“I’m sure my comments don’t ans
w
er your question, but I
can’t give you a definitive response.
” He stood quietly.

Reluctantly, she bobbed her head. Had she truly expected an ans
w
er?

“
Any other things troubling you?”
he asked in his gentle voice.

She nodded and he sat once more.

“I’m so angry
w
ith him.
W
hy did he go out on such an important day, especially
w
ith the spitting rain?
W
as fishing more important than our
w
edding?” She spit out the last
w
ords.

“Taylor, Rod al
w
ays cared for his o
w
n
w
ants before anything else. Remember
w
hen you and he
w
ere in pre-
w
edding counseling
,
and you both filled out all those forms?”

She shook her head yes.

“One of the issues
w
as putting himself first. He didn’t change. He
wanted
to go fishing, so he did. That’s part of his personality.
Something he can or
w
on’t change.
W
hen
w
e discussed this
in one of our sessions
, you didn’t challenge him.
”

Taylor
w
anted to speak, yet Father
Mike
stated the facts
accurately.

Perhaps sensing her need, the priest held up his hand.
“Another
thing, his childhood
w
as quite different than yours.
W
hen
w
e discussed the
w
edding and I asked about his parents, he told me they
w
on’t come. He inferred there
w
as a problem.”

“
W
hen he
w
as a sophomore in colleg
e, they moved
.
W
hen I asked
w
here, he told m
e didn’t kno
w
and didn’t care. Everyone in high school kne
w
he didn’t get along
w
ith his parents, but not
w
hy
. I asked
w
hen planning the
w
edding
, but he shut me do
w
n.”

Mike
nodded.
“Y
ou had a difficult time
w
ith your mother, but you had a loving family. In his case, he had only himself.
W
hen one lives alone, one becomes much more self-reliant and in some cases selfish. He
w
as both.

“Dear girl, I’m not trying to be cruel.
W
hat I’ve stated is simply the truth.
”
He reached across and patted her hand,
w
hich clenched the armrest.

“I kno
w
.”
She rose
as did he
, then they hugged each other
.
Taylor gave a quick squeeze and stepped back.

Father
Mike
let her go. “Think about
w
hat I said. He didn’t act out of disregard for you. He follo
w
ed his natural desires.
”

She needed time to refle
ct
on his comments, forcing a smile she said, “
Thanks
, Father
Mike
.
I’ll send Dad out.
”
Taylor planted a kiss on his cheek
then headed inside.

*~*

Strolling out to the porch, Martin asked, “Can I get you more tea,
Mike
?”

“I’ll just finish
w
hat’s here.”

Martin
w
alked to the steps leading to the Camellia garden.
Ho
w
to start?
“Beautiful night.”

“You said that
earlier,
”
Mike
’s tone noncommittal.

Ideas flo
w
ed through Martin’
s head, but none struck the right cord.

“Sit do
w
n, Martin.”

He did.

“Although I’m a fe
w
years younger than you …
”

“Hold on there,
Mike
. As
w
e get older, t
w
o years is nothing.”
Martin tried to lighten the mood.

“As I
w
as about to say, talk to me, tell me
w
hat’s troubling you.”

Martin leaned for
w
ard, bo
w
ed his head, placed his elbo
w
s on his knees, and allo
w
ed his grasped hands to s
w
ing,
slightly. Failing to gather his thought
s and keeping his attention on the flagstones covering the porch
, he decided to say
w
hat ate at his gut. “Julia Ann.”

“Yes.”

“
Mike
, my heart and mind are confused.” His gaze remained on the rectangular shaped
flag
stone directly in front. “I adored her.
W
hen she left t
w
enty years ago, my heart broke. Each time she sobered up then fell off the
w
agon, my soul cracked. If she caused a scene, I
would
strived to prevent her from making a bad situation
w
orse.
W
hen she embarrassed Taylor, my
w
hole body ached to protect my daughter
,
not my
w
ife.
F
or the past
four or five
years, I tucked Julia Ann into the furthest reaches of my mind.
Days
w
ent by and I didn’t think about her at
all
.” He pushed off the chair and rene
w
ed his aimless pacing.

“
W
hen I learned of her death, instead of grieving, I experience
d
relie
f. Relief that my
w
ife had died!”
He kept his attention on anything except his friend. “
W
hat kind of man am I?”

Martin felt
Mike
’s hand on his right shoulder.
He hadn’t heard the priest approach.
“Come back to the table.”