Catherine's Cross, page 11
“Gigi could be very secretive, though usually not with me,” Jenks said, shaking her head.
He looked at her and then pushed an errant curl behind her ear.
“Well, let’s get busy. I’ll clean the fish and you work on the vegetables.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Before I go outside can I get you a glass of wine?”
“Absolutely.”
After he cleaned the fish, he grilled it over a charcoal fire. When Jenks took her first bite, she said, “I think your trial-and-error method of cooking has paid off . . . this is delicious.”
“Thank you.”
When the meal was almost over Jenks asked, “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Yes.”
“The other evening I asked you why you weren’t married, and you said you had been while you were in the Marines.”
“Oh, you remember that?”
“Yes, I do. What happened?”
“I think I told you that while I was growing up, my father was a strict disciplinarian.”
She nodded.
“Well, that was only part of his parenting style. He could be verbally abusive and controlling. I met Hayden while I was in my second year of the Marines. She was a sweet, young girl with a caring heart. At the time, I didn’t appreciate those qualities, and I didn’t show her the respect she deserved. I confess, at that point in my life I didn’t show any woman proper respect.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’ll explain. One evening, Hayden made a special supper for me. I was tired from work and instead of showing my gratitude, I made an unnecessary remark about her dinner. She got up from the table and told me that she could not stand to live with me any longer and she was going to leave me.”
“Oh, my.”
“You see, the person whose behavior I detested the most was my father’s, and I was acting just like him. She left me, and I don’t blame her for it. We got divorced, and she wrote me a couple of years later, wished me well, and told me she was happily remarried. I hope she’s still content.” He took a sip of iced water and then continued. “I learned something very important from my failed marriage. Before I make a criticism, I ask myself two things—is it nice and is it necessary? If the answer is not yes to both questions, then I keep my comments to myself.”
“The scar on your arm . . . you said you got it in a fight with your father?”
He looked into her eyes. “When I say my father was a strict disciplinarian, I mean that he inflicted severe corporal punishment on both my brother and me.”
“Oh, no.”
“My father, Ed—Ed Mason—enjoyed a daily visit with his favorite bourbon. When Steel and I were eleven, Ed drank himself into a stupor and then decided to get angry over a fishing pole that wasn’t stored properly. Ed couldn’t remember that he had put the pole away, and he decided that either Steel or I were to blame. He beat us both with a belt, and when I begged him to stop, he jerked my arm so hard it came out of the socket. My terrified mother lied to the doctors at the emergency room and told them I had fallen out of a tree. I’m not sure how they missed the belt marks on my legs.”
Jenks cringed with his admission. “I’m so sorry.”
“When I was seventeen, my father had been on a weekend drinking binge. He became angry with me over a spot I missed while mowing the grass, and he started to hit me. He broke a beer bottle and sliced my arm with it. By then, I was bigger and stronger than him, and I fought back. In fact, if Steel had not pulled me off of him, I’m sure I would have killed him. I was beating his head on the concrete floor of the carport when Steel stopped me.”
“Oh, my—please go on.”
“As soon as we turned eighteen, we both joined the Marines and left home. My mother—Eleanor—I don’t think she could stand to be with him anymore, and she moved to Atlanta to be with her sister. My mother was just fifteen when she gave birth to Steel and me. I think she wanted a new life. She was thirty-four when she got remarried and then had children with her new husband. I think she finally found happiness.”
“Didn’t she write to you?”
“A few times . . . Steel and I wrote to her often, but usually our letters weren’t answered. I think she wanted to push her bad recollections aside, and Steel and I were part of those memories. When I finished college, I invited my mother and father to come to my graduation. I didn’t hear back from either of them. Steel was stationed in San Diego, and he came all the way to South Carolina to see me graduate—God, I miss him.”
“I know you do. I have the same feelings about Gigi.”
They both looked at one another for a moment, but Jenks’s curiosity was piqued. “You were going to explain why you didn’t show proper respect to women while you were married.”
He took her hand in his and gazed into her eyes. “I did some psychological research on my own that caused me to do some soul searching. My mother was intimidated by my father, but she didn’t protect Steel and me from him.” He paused for a moment. “It’s true; there were no women’s shelters in the Asbury area.” A deep frown crossed his brow. “I’ve tried hard to overcome my personal issues—and my resentment.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jenks said as she studied his face.
Seth stood up from the table. “Enough depressing talk. Will you please join me in the living room?”
He took her hand and led her into the living room. They stopped in front of the grand piano.
“Steinway. What a beautiful instrument,” Jenks remarked.
He sat down on the piano bench and lifted the fallboard. He smiled at her and then began to play a Burt Bacharach song. Jenks sang along to his music, “You see this guy, this guy’s in love with you. Yes, I’m in love, who looks at you the way I do?”
When he finished, she clapped. “I didn’t know you could play the piano.”
“I’ve been taking lessons for two years. I find playing the piano to be therapeutic.”
“I can believe that.”
“Do you play?” Seth asked.
“‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.’”
He played another Bacharach song and then rose from the piano bench, closing the fallboard. “You should hear Dr. Walker play. He’s brilliant.”
“I think you performed beautifully.”
He took a small bow and then started a CD. Willie Nelson began to sing: “Sometimes I wonder why I spend the lonely nights dreaming of a song. . .”
Jenks listened to the lyrics and said, “Willie Nelson’s rendition of ‘Stardust.’ You played that in the car for me the first time you took me to the Shrimp Shack.”
“Stardust was my mother’s favorite album. She played it often while Steel and I were young. Usually she was in tears when Willie got to the last song, ‘Someone to Watch over Me.’” She needed someone to watch over her. I hope she found happiness.”
“I’m sorry,” Jenks softly said.
“Me too,” Seth said as he stroked her cheek with his hand. Taking her in his arms, he held her tightly and began to slow dance. Whispering in her ear he said, “Don’t ask me to try any other dance style. I’m lucky to be able to figure this out.”
“There are certain advantages to slow dancing,” Jenks whispered back.
“What’s that?”
“I’m in your arms.”
When Jenks woke the next morning, the first thought that went through her mind was about Seth. She had never felt the kind of longing she did for him, and she knew that she was falling in love. Whenever he held her in his arms, she felt her entire existence become fiery hot, so much so that she thought she might melt. Another previously unknown sensation enraptured her when he was near: her body ached with desire for him to touch her.
When Seth had brought her home the night before, she had not wanted him to leave. He had kissed her several times, and with each kiss she felt her passions intensify. The words he said to her the evening she overindulged in bourbon were clear in her thoughts: “I am being extra careful with our relationship.” He was not pushing her into intimacy. They had only known one another a short time, but Jenks felt such longing for him in her heart, she believed he was the man she had been waiting for.
She rose from bed and put on a robe. After making coffee, she turned on her computer and checked her e-mail. A response from the Naval History and Heritage Command in Washington, DC, was in her mailbox:
Dear Miss Ellington:
I have received your request in regard to a ship named Defiance that you believe sank near St. Helena Sound in August of 1862. Preliminary investigation indicates there was not a US ship commissioned with that title at that time. As you stated from your research, you determined there was a Confederate States ship which was operating in the western theatre, mostly in the Mississippi River Delta. The crew burned that ship before it could be taken by Union forces.
I too love a mystery, and I will attempt to dig into the archive records for more information.
Yours truly,
Robert Vance
She replied to the e-mail with a brief thank you and dressed for the day.
The downtown library was bustling with patrons when she went inside. Jenks saw a group of children who were there for a summer reading program. She went to the librarian and asked her if there were any historical documents that might contain information about tides, weather, and sunrise and sunset information from the Civil War period.
“In our old and rare books collection, there is a record that was kept by a Union officer who was stationed at Port Royal during the conflict. I’m afraid the documents are not in the best condition, but I will bring them to the reference room if you’d like to take a look,” the librarian said.
“Yes, ma’am, I appreciate that.”
Jenks sat down at one of the tables and the librarian brought a black leather book that had age cracks in the binder. As she placed the journal on the table, she said, “You look very familiar. Did I help you with this log before?”
“No, ma’am. You may have helped my twin sister.”
“Perhaps that’s it.” She paused for a moment and then continued, “Sam Harper was the officer who recorded this information. He was stationed at Port Royal from the time of the Federal invasion in 1861 to the summer of 1864. Another officer, Amos Butler, continued recording the data after Harper was reassigned to another command. It’s amazing we have this record. The books that had been in the Beaufort Library prior to the Civil War were confiscated by Federal authorities to pay Southern war debt. They were shipped to the Smithsonian Institution for storage, and the building they were placed in burned, destroying the collection.” She shook her head and sighed. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Jenks slowly thumbed through the journal, and like the recordings kept by Joseph Andrews, some of the writing in the book was illegible. She carefully turned the pages until she reached the summer of 1862. Of the recordings she could decipher, she found Harper’s notes to be detailed and informative.
She went through each day until she came to an entry on August 17th. He wrote that a severe storm had come out of the south and heavy rains had fallen all day. The tides were high at 2:30 in the morning, low at 8:45, high at 3:15, and low at 9:30 p.m. on the 18th. Winds were between 20 and 25 knots— sunrise at 5:51 and sunset at 7:10.
On the 18th, Harper notated that the storm was still producing heavy rain and winds out of the south at 20 knots. Jenks concluded that the Defiance must have sailed on the 18th because the 19th was fair with light winds. No other severe weather was mentioned for the rest of the month. Thinking back to her notes—the Defiance sailed at three o’clock and the ship that witnessed the sinking was in port before sundown, which was at 7:10.
“The Defiance sailed with the outgoing tide,” she said quietly.
When she finished with the journal, she returned it to the front desk and thanked the librarian for permitting her to read it. As she started to leave, she saw that one group of students didn’t have an adult volunteer with them. The young people looked to be around eight or nine years old. Jenks went back to the librarian and asked, “Do you need another adult to assist the children with their reading?”
The librarian’s face lit up, and she responded, “Yes, that would be wonderful. Sometimes, we’re short on volunteers, and we could use the help.”
“I teach the third grade in Cary, North Carolina, and I’m here for the summer. My name is Jenks Ellington.”
“Miss Ellington, thank you for the gracious offer. See that young lady over at the table in the corner? That’s Ellen Madison. She’s the director of the children’s summer reading program.” She pointed to a young woman who looked to be about her age and was with a group of five children. Jenks went over, introduced herself, and offered to help. Ellen rose from her chair and thanked her. Jenks showed Ellen her credentials and wrote down her principal’s phone number.
Ellen led her to the table without an adult volunteer and introduced the students and Jenks to one another. Sitting down with the group, Jenks explained that she was a teacher in North Carolina and she wanted to help them. She listened to each of them read, assisting them as they needed it.
When the students were finished with the reading session, Jenks gave Ellen Madison her phone number and offered to help her on a regular basis.
Ellen was thrilled. “It’s hard to get volunteers. Your assistance is greatly appreciated.” The children would be back at the library two days later and Jenks told Ellen she would be available to help.
When she went outside, Jenks phoned Seth, and he answered his phone in his usual assertive manner. “Detective Mason.”
“Don’t you recognize my phone number by now?”
“Jenks, I’m sorry—it’s just a habit.”
“The library had a log kept by a Federal officer during the Civil War that recorded tide, weather, and sunrise and sunset information. I’d like to show you my notes. Seth—I know I’ve said this before, but I just can’t understand Gigi not telling me about her solo diving.”
“Jenks—we can’t know everything about our twins.”
There was silence on the phone until Seth said, “I’ll call you later this afternoon.”
After she finished the conversation with Seth, Jenks went to an appointment with Dr. Wray. She had been notified of a patient cancellation and the doctor was able to see her right away.
That evening Seth came to see Jenks after work. She had made iced tea and they sat on the screened porch to talk.
“Rory did not get the job with Taylor Marine. I spoke to him this afternoon and he was a little down about it. Would you ride out with me to see him tomorrow afternoon?”
“Yes—what time will you come by?”
“Two o’clock?”
“I’ll be ready.”
CHAPTER 6
Fort Fremont
Several empty beer bottles were on the kitchen table at Rory’s home when Seth and Jenks arrived at his home. He invited them inside, motioning with his arm.
“Detective Mason—how nice of you to come by and bring the lovely Jenks Ellington.”
“Rory—I don’t want you to have any more of this,” Seth said as he held up a bottle of beer.
“Oh, come on, Seth. I’m just getting started.”
“No, sir.”
“Look at me, Seth—look at me!” he demanded while pointing at his legs.
“Rory—please let me get you some help.”
“Help! What kind of help are you talking about? Can you reattach my blown-off legs?”
“I want to get a professional to talk to you—get you involved in a support group. This economic downturn is temporary. There’s going to be a good job for you—please don’t get discouraged.”
“Don’t get discouraged! I’ve spent plenty of time with the shrinks. They can’t do a goddamn thing for me.”
He started to drink more of the beer, but Seth attempted to take it from his hands.
Rory struggled to keep the beer, and when he saw that Seth was not going to allow him to continue to drink it, he hurled the bottle into the corner of the room. His face became twisted with anger and then he began to weep.
“The nightmares won’t stop. I can still hear Sarah’s voice. I can hear her cry out for me.”
Seth turned to Jenks and said, “Would you mind taking a short walk?”
“No—I’ll be back in a little while.”
She took a deep breath as she stepped outside onto the deck, and then she walked down the sandy lane toward the waterfront. Jenks could see Fort Fremont in the near distance. Shaded in a dense stand of trees, the fort was surrounded by a chain-link fence. Upon entering the open gate, she began to experience cold chills.
The fort was separated into two sections, and she walked to the right portion of the structure. Openings that looked like caves went into the darkened interior of the fortress, and she walked a few feet inside. Graffiti was painted on the walls, and she stopped her forward progress when she nearly walked into a spider’s web. As if guarding the entrance, the enormous yellow-and-black spider sat motionless in position. The spider had bands on its legs that resembled armor. Jenks carefully backed out of the tunnel and returned to the outside. Walking to the front of the structure, Jenks climbed the embankment of an earthen bulwark that protected the water side of the fortress.
She looked down into the now-empty gun turrets that had supported the weapons meant to protect Port Royal Sound. The noise of a passing motorboat caught her attention, and she walked closer to the Beaufort River. As the boat passed downstream, she began to hear the gunfire of recruits performing weapons training at the Parris Island Marine training station across the river.
Jenks stood near the bank and thought of Rory and his fragile nature. If need be, she would take him to a mental-health professional herself.
She waited for an hour before starting back to Rory’s home. When she arrived, Jenks gently tapped on the door. Seth let her in and patted her on the shoulder as she entered.
