Secrets in the Lowcountry--The River (27 page)

The door stood open and the music from the Brody pipe organ rang out.
The t
w
o storied
nave,
w
ith balconies on either side
,
held the family and friends of the
Harris
’
s.
Before them
the long aisle stretched.
A small urn
stood on a mahogany table
in front of the altar rail.
A
n equally
small
, single
bouquet of yello
w
roses also lay on the table and partially blocked the vie
w
of the ash filled urn.
Her mother had loved camellias, but they didn’t bloom in June.
In lieu of other flo
w
ers,
Martin had
requested people donate
to
their
favorite charity.
On
the right side
the collage
she and Mary had finished stood on an easel.
Their priest and friend,
Mike
Campbell
,
stood directly behind the urn.
Hi
s face smiled encouragement. H
e stepped from behind the table to stand at the entrance
to the first pe
w
on the right.

Taylor
focus
ed her eyes
on Father
Mike
afraid if she glanced at the cro
w
d in the church, her thin veil of calm
w
ould desert her.
After
w
hat seemed hours, they traversed the endless path and arrived at their pe
w
.
Father
Mike
gave each a hug of support.
Aunt
Bertha
moved into the pe
w
and knelt.
Taylor
’s
façade
almost broke do
w
n
, as she
, followed by
her father
,
slid into their seats
.
She had kno
w
n Father
Mike
her entire adult life.
He’d often come to
Harmony
,
s
ometimes to fish, sometimes for a meal.
No
w
, he’d help them through this service.

Still t
he tears formed in her eyes and threatened to cascade do
w
n her cheeks.
She had to prevent this.
She must stay strong for herself and for her father.
As they started to move in, Taylor sa
w
Miss Mary standing directly behind their ro
w
. She smiled at each of them in turn.
Next to her
w
ere Jeff and his dad.
Seeing
them
lift
ed
some of Taylor’s distress.

Taylor focused
her attention
on the pulpit that stood four feet above her eyes, she knelt do
w
n and prayed.
She b
elieved her father prayed. A
ll she could do
w
as ask God to give he
r strength to endure the service
and the remainder of the day.
She
remembered nothing of the
service
,
not intentionally
,
but b
ecause her mind refused to concentrate
.
She sat, stood, an
d knelt,
from habit, not from
studied
thought.
She repeated the ans
w
ers, again
w
ithout thinking.
On her le
ft, s
he heard her father’s responses in
a much
w
eaker voice
than normal.
Finally
it
ended.
Taylor
w
as grateful for the short, Episcopal service.

Martin turned
in his seat
. “
W
ould you like to ride
w
ith us
, Mary
?”

“Thank you, but no. I’ll need my car to return to Beaufort.
” She patted his shoulder.

To Taylor, her dad appeared disappointed by this ne
w
s.
No surprise,
she thought,
her dad had depended on Miss Mary for years.

As she rose to leave, the urn caught Taylor’s
attention
.
W
ho
w
ould take it?
Then she remembered
Ginny and
Al
W
hite’s funeral people
w
ould keep the jar
until the internment on Friday.
Everyone stayed in their pe
w
s, as she
,
her father
and her aunt
once more traveled do
w
n the red carpet leading to the exit.
T
he faces blurred. She blinked her eyes the
n realized the reason. The tear
s,
she’
d
pushed back all morning, threaten
ed
to cascade do
w
n her cheeks.
Afraid that once they started she’d lose all control, she s
w
allo
w
ed hard and forced them back.

Normally, Father
Mike
, Aunt
Bertha
, her father,
and
she
w
ould form the receiving line outside the church.
T
hey
w
ould thank everyone
for coming
and invite the mourners to
Harmony
, the family
plantation, for lunch.
Instead, her fat
her had arranged for the priest
to extend the invitation during the service.
She
w
asn’t sure her legs
w
ould support her if she
’d had to stand in a line. N
or did she believe she could hold herself together and talk to their friends
w
ho had come to sho
w
their support for her family.

Taylor stared at
the
arch
w
ay
that
separated the
church yard from the building, beyond stood the
limousine
waiting. A
lmost there.
Befor
e she could accomplish her goal, a
short,
garrulously dressed
w
oman around forty or so stepped in front of them.
Recognizing her immediately, T
aylor groaned
in
w
ardly,
W
hy no
w
?

“Dr.
Harris
.
I’m Ella Mae Lee.
Your
w
ife destroyed my daughter. Y
ou and your daughter
w
ill
pay for her accident!”

Her strident voice surely carried to the entire congregation plus
anyone
w
alking
w
ithin a five block area
.

Martin
, Aunt Bertha
and Taylor
could either stop or run the
w
oman do
w
n. T
aylor considered the latter. Instead
she and her family
hesitated then
remained
motionless
.
Neither
her dad nor her aunt spoke. Taylor fought to find
w
ords, but before she could utter a sound,
Jeff took hold
of the
w
oman’s arm.
“Get in the car.
I’ll handle Ms. Lee.”

W
ithout looking back, t
he
Harris
’s hustled to
w
ard the long, black sedan
, even Aunt Bertha hurried
.
The
driver
, obviously observing the entire scene,
had
the car
open.
Her family
entered in a rush and
found a seat quickly. Th
e
chauffeur
immediately
close
d
the door
,
hastened to the driver’s side
,
and
w
as off before
anyone
had fastened a
seat belt.

“So that’s Ella Mae Lee,” said Martin
, in a flat voice
.
He glanced over his right shoulder.

W
ith a humph, Aunt Bertha said, “She’s a very
angry
w
oman.
Imagine, interrupting a funeral and trapping us on the
w
alk
w
ay. Lord a’mighty. Thank goodness for Jeff.
”

Taylor glimpsed
back, but
by no
w
the brick
w
all
that circled the church
hid the
unpleasant sight
probably taking place.
“Dad, I spoke to her.
Jeff spoke to her.
W
e informed her that
w
e or our representative
w
ould call her tomorro
w
,
after the funeral.”

He nodded.
“Mary talked to her, too.
I’ll call
the Mueller
’s la
w
firm and have
someone
contact her.
”

“Dad, I did this.”

“Oh.
W
ell,
I’ll check
w
ith the girl’s orthopedist about her condition.
Perhaps, he’ll tell me something.
I should have done this before
…
”

“D
on’t berate yourself.
Jeff, Mary and I have all spoken to her.
W
e told her after Mom’s funeral
w
e
w
ould talk to her.
I’m sure the Mueller’s have communicated
w
ith her.
She’s just a pushy, angry
w
oman.
”

“She has a reason to be,” her father said, solemnly.

Taylor considered countering her dad’s comment, but recognized the truth of his
w
ord
s.
For the re
st of the trip, neither spoke. Ho
w
ever, t
hey did squeeze hands occasionally, giving each other strength.
             

Fixing
her eyes on the
w
orld going by,
she tried to focus on the passing vie
w
,
but nothing registered.
She
w
ondered ho
w
long she had to stay at the
house and talk to those
w
ho
w
ould
come back
to give their sympathy
?
Ho
w
many people did she have to greet and thank?
Ho
w
many smiles did she have to plaster on her face?

W
hat had happened to Rod?
W
hy hadn’t they found him?
She grabbed a tissue from her small, black leather clutch and dab
bed
at her eyes.
In her entire life, she’d never cried so much.
Perhaps, if you start crying, you can’t turn off the flo
w
and stop.
W
hat a hell of an idea
.
Her tears annoyed her for they solved nothing.
Taking a deep breath, she resolved to toughen her mind and her heart against the coming onslaught.
Her intention, she hoped,
w
ould
w
ork.