Secrets in the Lowcountry--The River (18 page)

A
s she entered her home,
the phone rang
;
Taylor considered letting the voice mail ans
w
er.
Ho
w
ever, she feared her father
w
ould pick-up.
H
e had enough on
his
plates. “Hello.”

“Is this Taylor
Harris
?” a harsh, gruff voice asked.

“Yes.”

“Thi
s is Ms. Ella Mae Lee.
” Taylor blinked,
clearing her head.

The caller continued, “
Someone by the name of Jeff Benjamin called me yesterday.
”

The dots
connected
,
Ella Mae Lee,
the mother of the injured girl. Taylor gave the conversation her full attention and hoped she hadn’t missed anything important.

“…
He told me not to call back until after the funeral.
Y
our mother’s funeral is tomorro
w
but I
w
ant ans
w
ers today!”

Taylor eased the phone a
w
ay from her ear
before the
w
oman’s voice broke her ear drum.
“Ans
w
ers about
w
hat?”

“Ho
w
dare you ask that
!
Your mot
her ruined my daughter’s life.
Y
our family
w
ill
pay.
I’ve checked.
Your
father’s a chiropractor
w
ith a large practice
A
nd he
o
w
n
s
a t
w
o thousand
acre plantation.”

W
hich my grandfather bought,
Taylor considered
adding
. Instead she
brought herself back and
listened intently so
she c
ould hear everything the
w
oman said.

“…
horses.”

“Excuse me
.
W
hat about the horses?”

“Yo
u have horses
,
a lot of horses.
Y
ou can’t have horses and
a barn
unless you have a lot of money,” the
w
oman snapped.

“I run a stable. Most of the horses board here.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, Ms. Lee rampaged on. “
Your family has plenty
.
I
w
ant
some for my pain and suffering.
”
By the time
she finished
she
w
as
screaming
.

“Please stop shouting at me.
” Taylor
managed
a
civil tone. Inside, her head almost exploded
w
ith anger. “D
on’t you mean
your daughter’s pain and suffering?” Taylor challenged her
as
the control slipp
ed
.

“Of course
, but I’m suffering, too. I
’ve
spend years of my time and a lot of money to get my
daughter trained as a gymnast.
I
pinch
ed
pennies
and
w
ent
w
itho
ut so that she could have
lessons and classes.”
Th
e volume and the tone
blasted.
“Your mother destroyed e
verything
. She’
s to blame! Your family o
w
es me!
”

“Ms. Lee, please.
M
y mother’s funeral is tomorro
w
.
I promise you
I or someone represent
ing the family
w
ill
call you.”
Taylor tried to control her
rising
temper by digging the fingers of her left hand into her palm.

“If no o
ne calls, I’ll call my la
w
yer.
I kno
w
my rights
”
Ms. Lee
marshaled her
w
ords.

“I’m sure you do. Good-bye, Ms. Lee.” Taylor hung up the phone, before she cursed the
w
oman.

As she thought back on the conversation,
guilt flo
w
ed through Taylor. She’d been as angry as Ms. Lee
w
as, but Taylor directed hers to
her
o
w
n
mother.
She’d
acc
used her mother of being drunk,
w
ithout
any facts
, evidence
or doubts
. Since
that
had
been
her
mother’s solution to every problem for as long as Taylor could remember
,
she’d
blame
d
her mother.
R
emembering her conclusion made her queasy and slightly sick at her stomach.
Oh, you of little faith.
This Bible verse blanked out any other thought.
Initially, learning her mother
w
as sober had t
w
eaked Taylor’s conscious. The conversation
w
ith Ms. Lee stabbed her
w
ith pain.
W
hy hadn’t she had faith? Her father and Miss Mary told her that her mother had joined AA, told her of her mother’s success. Yet,
w
hen Taylor heard about the accident, she tried and convicted Julia Ann
w
ithout proof.
Julia Ann. Taylor didn’t even like to recall her as her mother.

Taylor
craved
an outlet,
to escape and not think,
and
to be out of the house.
She dashed up the stairs to her room, thre
w
off her good shorts and cotton blouse and grabbed her jeans and tee shirt.
Instead of talking to Miss Mary, Taylor chose
w
ork.
Mucking out a fe
w
sta
lls
w
ould burn up her energy,
maybe cool her anger
, and perhaps let the guilt ease
.
Running do
w
n the steps, dashing out the f
ront door, she headed to
w
ard
w
hat she considered her ‘safe haven’.

Even as
a small child, being around
horses and
/or
at the
stables
had
filled her soul
w
ith peace.
Jean Wolffe
, her partner in the
Harmony
Riding Academy, ran the day-to-day operation,
w
hile Taylor handled the PR, the advertising, fin
ances, and helped teach. Their
combined talents made the school
a success.
Anything connected
w
ith horses, they did.
Jean
, a classmate of her parents and Mary,
ha
d
graduated from the local technical college
w
ith
a degree in horse management,
w
hile Taylor’s degrees lay in
managing
the business.
Before partnering
w
ith Taylor, Jean had
run a small facility until the o
w
ner of the land decided to sell the pr
operty to a company about a year ago,
Rod’s investment
and development
company.

In fact, t
he only disagreement
during their partnership
centered
around
Rod.
Jean’s
dislike of him
w
as so in
tense that she’d
refused to attend
the
w
edding.

For almost a
w
eek
after declining the invitation
, her
friendship
w
ith Jean
and the business stood on very shaky ground. Finally, they
settled their problems by agreeing
that Rod
w
ould stay a
w
ay from the stables, unless absolutely necessary.
This
w
ouldn’t prove a hardship because of h
is antitheist to horse
s and anything connect
ed
w
ith riding
.

These thoughts pointed Taylor to
another problem.
If Rod didn’t return,
w
ha
t
w
ould happen to his company and the people
w
ho had invested
w
ith him?
He
’d ru
n a one-man operation or almost, telling Taylor keep
ing
money flo
w
ing honestly mandate
d the boss oversa
w
everything.
W
hom could she ask about this? Then she remembered. Jeff.
He taught investment counseling and
real estate
development management.
She could call the family’s la
w
yer,
but
w
hy bother him?
He certainly hadn’t specialized in
either
.

Upon reaching
the barn
, she surveyed the area, looking for her partner
.
The
w
hite stable
w
ith its U shaped entrance and
small
door
above
the larger opening,
w
here the barn stored
the hay
,
greeted her
, as did the quiet
. She took a deep breath and the
familiar smells of horses, feed
, liniments,
even manu
re caused
her to smile, slightly.
W
alking through the ten
-
foot
-
w
i
de opening, she began calling,
“
Jean
?”
Upon reaching the end
w
hich faced the pastures, she briefly glanced at the
trio of
horses gathered in the nearest fenced in areas.
Rocky, her first
dressage
horse, neigh
ed as he ambled close to her. S
he strolled over to
the fence and ga
ve him a pat. He rubbed his nose against her shirt
w
hile she rubbed the far side of his large head
w
ith her hand. They communi
cated silently,
and
she shared
her concerns and fears
w
hile
he listened
quietly. “Thank
s for being here, Rocky.” S
h
e
gave him a final pat before continuing
do
w
n the left side
of the barn
, checking each stall as she did, calling
Jean’s name
. Not seeing anyone, she retraced her steps and repeated this procedure
on the right
w
ing
,
s
till, nothing.

Deciding not to keep search
ing
for
her friend
and a
w
are the
remaining
horses
w
ould be out in the various pastures
at this time of day
, she grabbed a rake and a bucket
, proceeding
to the nearest
un-s
w
ept
stall.
Currently, the stable
held t
w
enty horses, three-quarters of them
boarders.
Of the remaining
five, t
w
o enjoyed their t
w
ilight years eating and occasionally taking a small child for a ride.
The others
w
ere
reserved for the
Horseback
Heroes
program,
w
hich allo
w
ed handicapped children and adults to learn to ride.
The volunteers,
w
ho manned the activity, and the riders,
w
ho pa
rticipated, didn’t start to arrive
until after school.