Last Light over Carolina (23 page)

September 21, 2008, 3:30 p.m.

McClellanville

P
uddles of rainwater
glistened in the late-afternoon sun. The air held the crisp freshness that often followed a quick storm. The McClellanville docks were bustling as trawlers, fishing boats, and all available seaworthy craft began heading out in search of Bud Morrison and the
Miss Carolina.

Carolina stood on the dock and watched as a line of boats filed down Jeremy Creek. In the lead was the
Cap’n and Bobby
, taking the curve wide, followed by the
Winds of Fortune
, the
Miss Ann
, the
Village Lady
, the
Miss Georgia
, the
Betty H
., and the
Ms. Shirley
. Her lips moved in prayer for each boat, begging God to help one of them to find Bud. To find him alive and well. That was all she prayed for, not wanting to ask too much.

After the last boat left the dock, Carolina turned to go home. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a solitary figure standing at the far end of the dock, shoulders slumped, watching the boats head out to sea. He bent his head as his shoulders shook.

It was Pee Dee.

Carolina walked the length of the rotting dock to his side. Pee Dee stared out to sea like a half-drowned river dog looking for his master—skinny, long-nosed, sniffing the wind. His clothes were drenched and hung from his body. Rainwater streaked his angular face. She wondered if he’d been standing there throughout the storm.

“Pee Dee,” she said gently.

He swiftly wiped his eyes, then shifted them to her, swollen and red-rimmed.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He shook his head, spraying drops of water. “It’s my fault he’s out there alone. I never meant to be late,” he cried, looking at her with a plea in his wild eyes.

“I know,” she replied. Pee Dee seemed frantic, at the breaking point. “They’ll find him.”

“No, they won’t!” he exclaimed, his voice rising to hysteria. “They don’t know where to look! They’ll go to all the wrong places. I’m the only one who knows his secret spot. He never told nobody about this one. Nobody!”

“Pee Dee, do you know where Bud might be?”

“That’s what I been saying, ’cept no one will listen. When I heard them say where he was last spotted and which way he was headed, I knew. I swear I know where he is.”

“Then you’ve got to tell them! Why didn’t you tell them?”

“I tried! There ain’t nobody who’ll listen.”

Carolina’s eyes darted to the curve in the creek. The last of the line of boats was disappearing around the bend. Too late. Her mind worked fast. Time was running out.

“We can radio them.”

Pee Dee shook his head with remorse. “I already told ’em—told ’em all. Nobody’d take me on board. They shoved me away. Called me bad luck.”

Carolina knew the local captains had followed Oz’s lead and blamed Pee Dee for Bobby’s death. In the end, Pee Dee had borne the guilt of the tragedy for all of them. He’d become a pariah on the docks, an outcast. Bad luck. He’d always been a drinker, but after the accident, Pee Dee had turned to hard drugs for escape. He did his work, but he couldn’t hold his life together. It was a downward spiral, sad to witness. Bud had provided him safe refuge, and Pee Dee remained slavishly loyal.

Still, Pee Dee was who he was.

“Pee Dee, if you’re drunk or making this up—”

“I’m not. I swear on my life. Bud’s like my brother. I got to find him.” Pee Dee ran his hands through his hair, squeezing water down his back. His eyes looked wild. “If I can’t get a boat, I’m gonna swim….”

Carolina took his arm. “Hold on. I have an idea. Come on.”

Pee Dee followed Carolina as she sprinted to the Coastal Seafood office. It was nearly empty now, though the smell of sweat and tobacco lingered. Gloria sat at her desk. Lee manned the radio. They both looked up when she entered, surprise evident on their faces.

Gloria began to stand. “Carolina, I—”

Carolina waved her off and went directly to Lee at the radio. “I need to contact Josh.”

“What for?” asked Lee.

“Just get him, damn it!”

Lee’s mouth thinned, but he turned and connected to Josh’s channel. When he made contact, he handed her the mike.

She cleared her throat. “Josh? You there?”

“Yeah.” The voice was crackling but audible. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Carolina. Are you coming in?”

“No. I pulled in my nets and waited out the storm. I’m joining the search. What’s up?”

“Pee Dee thinks he knows where Bud might be. Nobody else is listening to him. I really think he knows. But he needs a ride.”

There was a pause.

“Are you sure you can trust him?”

Carolina looked over to the door where Pee Dee stood, shifting from left foot to right, anxiously clenching his fists.

“Bud did.”

There was another pause.

“Good enough for me.”

Lizzy thanked Odelle, then brought the casserole to the kitchen and set it on the table beside the apple pie, the lasagna, and the boiled shrimp. Neighbors and friends had been stopping by the house for the past hour to offer food and words of encouragement since word had spread that the
Miss Carolina
was overdue. She peeked into the small family room beside the kitchen to check on Will. He was sitting on the floor beside Skipper watching television. Skipper’s mother, Tressy, lifted her face when she heard Lizzy approach, eyes questioning.

“More food,” Lizzy told her friend. “A casserole from your mother.”

Tressy made a face. “She can’t cook worth a darn. Do you want me to make you up something?”

“No thanks, I’m not hungry. It’s enough that you’re keeping an eye on Will.”

The doorbell rang again.

Lizzy sighed. “I’ll get it.” She knew the support was well-meant, but right now all she wanted was to be left alone with her family.

She opened the door and was stunned to find Ben Mitchell standing nervously on the stoop, clean-shaven and smelling of cologne. He smiled expectantly at her. Then, catching her puzzled expression, his smile fell.

“Am I too early?”

Lizzy blew out a breath, recalling her dinner date with Ben for that evening. She’d completely forgotten. That breakfast conversation at the restaurant seemed a lifetime ago.

“You didn’t hear?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

“My daddy. He’s overdue.”

Ben’s features immediately sharpened. “Have they started the search?”

She nodded. “Coast Guard’s out. Most every boat in McClellanville is.”

A siren sounded down the road, coming closer. Then another, louder. Ben turned his head to watch the ambulance race down Pinckney Street toward the docks. Right behind it was the town fire engine, casting its macabre, twirling red light across Ben’s face as it passed.

Lizzy put her hand to her chest, feeling her heart quicken. Fire and rescue were in a holding pattern for her father. Her eyes filled with tears. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

Ben stepped forward to hold the door open and guide her inside.

“You shouldn’t be alone. I’ll stay with you.”

“No, I’m okay. There’s nothing you can do.”

“I can keep you company. I’d like to—”

“No. Thank you. I’m with family,” she said, releasing her elbow from his hand.

Her grandfather Oz had once told her that shrimpers were clannish. They had their own way of life, unique customs and traditions. They took care of their own and didn’t let outsiders in. This town and these people were her family; she saw that now. And she was proud to be one of them.

“Really, Ben.” She met his gaze. “You should go home.”

Understanding bloomed in his eyes. He took a step back. “You take care, Lizzy. If you need me, please call.” He turned and closed the door behind him.

Lizzy leaned against the door and felt a cry well up inside her.

“Daddy,” she cried. She wanted her father here, safe. After her divorce from Josh, they’d made a tenuous peace. Lizzy adored her father. She wanted him back. She wanted to be “Daddy’s girl” again.

She closed her eyes and recalled a favorite memory of her father. Bud had taken the family on one of his fishing trips to Florida. Lizzy was around five years old. She remembered that it was right before New Year’s Eve. Bud had already taken the boat down to Florida with Pee Dee, then driven back to McClellanville in a rental car to spend New Year’s with Carolina and her. When it was time to head back to the boat, he couldn’t find Pee Dee. Her daddy was fit to be tied. She’d never seen him so angry. He’d come storming back into the house and told her mama, “Get your stuff, woman! We’re going to Florida.” He’d left his boat in dock, and every day off the water was a day he was spending money and not earning any.

Her mother started throwing clothes and toiletries into bags. At the last minute, she drove their miniature poodle, an apricot sweetie named Lucy, to the kennel, but it being a holiday, the kennel was filled up. So they brought Lucy along. They piled in the car and drove six hours to the coast of Florida, arriving around ten o’clock that night. In retrospect, the hotel
wasn’t much, but it had a small swimming pool, and at age five, Lizzy thought it was luxurious.

The next morning when they boarded the
Miss Carolina
, her mother had a hissy fit about the condition of the boat. She began spouting about how, when she was the crew, they could eat off the floor, and how no child of hers was going to sleep in that pigsty of Pee Dee’s. Carolina had rolled up her sleeves and scrubbed every inch of the cabins and the galley with Clorox bleach.

Lizzy was sick the first few days. She wasn’t sure what was worse—the smell of Clorox or the diesel fumes. Even the dog had the dry heaves. But as her parents promised, in a few days Lizzy had her sea legs and loved being at sea.

For the next three weeks, Carolina once more was Bud’s crew. Lizzy had never known her mother to be happier. They all were. Those were the best days of her life. What child wouldn’t love to watch a pod of dolphins race alongside the boat, playing in the wake? Or to run stark naked along a deserted beach, arms outstretched, with Lucy barking at her heels?

But now her father was missing. Lizzy felt a hot tear slide down her cheek. There was only one man in the entire world who could call her “Daddy’s girl.” She might never see him again, might never be held in her father’s big, strong arms, see his gentle smile.

Lizzy heard footfalls rushing down the stairs and lifted her eyes to see her mother approaching clad in the white boots and yellow rain slicker worn by deckhands. She seemed hell-bent in a hurry, but stopped when she saw Lizzy.

“Oh, honey,” Carolina murmured, and gathered her daughter in her arms.

Lizzy rested her head against her mother’s shoulder. “Mama, what if we don’t see him again? I didn’t tell him I love him.”

“He knows, Lizzy. He knows.” Carolina smoothed Lizzy’s hair and smiled with encouragement. “We have to be positive.”

“Where you going?” Lizzy followed her mother to the kitchen.

Carolina grabbed a brown bag and lifted the platter of lasagna and some biscuits into it. “To find your father.”

“What? How?”

Carolina moved to the fridge and began adding bottles of water and soda to the bag. “Pee Dee thinks he knows where your daddy might be. Josh is coming in with the
Hope
. I’m meeting him at the dock.”

“Josh?”

Lizzy’s gaze shot to a painting that was leaning against a kitchen chair. Carolina noticed and followed her gaze.

It was a moody painting, rich with blues and blacks. A young woman sat like a shadow on the dock, pensively gazing out to sea. Far out in the blue, a shrimp boat sailed, its rigging unfolded like wings as gulls circled, mere dots on the horizon. The painting elicited a keen sense of longing.

“It’s one of John’s, isn’t it?” Carolina said. She walked closer, lifting it higher to study it.

“Mr. Dunnan dropped it off when he heard about Daddy,” said Lizzy. “He thought it might bring me comfort. He saw me sitting there this morning. I didn’t know he painted me.”

Carolina nodded slowly in comprehension. She stared for a long moment at the painting of the shrimper’s wife and saw herself—the young wife sitting on the dock, staring with longing at her husband’s boat. She set the painting on the floor.

Then she turned to face Lizzy, swiping tears from her face. “Listen to me, Lizzy. I love you, but you’re letting your life pass you by. Don’t sit and wait for what you want to come to you. Maybe I was a poor example for you. I don’t know. But Lizzy, life is short. You never know when you’ll get a second chance. So if you know what you want, you get up and grab it, hear?”

Carolina held her daughter’s face and bent to kiss her cheek fervently. Turning, she grabbed the bag of food and raced out the door.

“Mama?” Lizzy called, following her to the door. Her mother didn’t stop. She jumped into the car, backed out, and roared down the street, her wheels spitting gravel.

An ambulance, a fire engine, an emergency rescue vehicle, two police cruisers, and two local television-station trucks clustered around the dock. Men and women in rescue gear chatted in small groups, waiting for word. The
Hope
was already in dock when Carolina returned. She was a smaller boat, but pretty. The pilothouse sat forward, with the rigging and single winch on the aft deck. Though she was an older boat, she was freshly painted. Spots of rust were wearing
through the white, as was often the case with vintage vessels. It was obvious that Josh worked hard to maintain her. The
Hope
was aptly named.

Josh was coming out of the warehouse, walking fast. He wore his yellow slicker, and his dark hair was still damp from the storm. He lifted one hand in a wave. When he reached Carolina’s side, she saw his dark eyes survey her work gear with a frown.

“I’ve finished unloading the shrimp and we’re gassed up,” he said. “Pee Dee’s on board. We’re about to shove off.”

“I’m coming with you.”