Updated: June 18, 2023

Aubrey

            The rain was drumming hard on the roof and against the windows.  We ate leftovers for dinner, and I washed the dishes and straightened up the kitchen while Clay caught up on work. He was staged at the dining room table with his laptop and a stack of files. I was still in the gossamer fog of meeting Miss Abigail. She was the most enchanting, beautiful soul I had ever encountered. I could not imagine anyone not blooming in her presence. It made the most sense in the world flowers and plants responded so immediately to her nurturing.

            I peeked into the dining room to see Clay hunched over his keyboard, his glasses perched on his nose. So goddamn sexy. I didn’t want to disturb him, I knew how much he had sacrificed already to spend time with me.

            I changed into yoga pants and dug out another Clemson tee shirt from Clay’s dresser and went to camp out in front of the fireplace with my iPad.

            “Whatcha fixin’ to do Sugar?” he asked as I attempted to walk by, he wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me toward him. I bent my head to kiss him. His hand gently caressing my ass. I could really get used to spending my life with him.

            “I’m heading in front of the fire to shop on Amazon. We need dishes, and maybe some cutlery that didn’t come from Miss Dottie’s Diner. Then I was going to read some case files.” I handed him a fresh cup of coffee and walked toward the sofa.

            “Here,” he handed me his wallet, “Use my credit card honey, don’t spend your money on stuff should already be here.” He said sweetly.

            “Baby, I’m not spending a lot of money, we just need a few to get by until my stuff gets here from Jersey. I have plenty of everything for the kitchen. Put your wallet away, save your money for my new beach house,” I snickered.

He looked over his glasses at me, smiling sexy. “Let me buy you dishes and forks and a beach house, Sugar. I’m fixin’ to spoil you rotten,” he laughed. “Your new stove will be delivered tomorrow,” he winked.

            “No! Clay you ordered a new stove? You crazy, exquisite man!” I gushed and rushed back to him to hug and kiss him. He pulled me onto his lap.

            “What kind of modern woman are you, getting yo’self all happy with a new appliance? You about to set the femi-nazis back a hundred years.” He laughed into my neck.

            “I’m the kind of woman who loves to cook, it’s my love language. And I’m fixin’ to spoil you rotten too, baby.” I kissed him sweetly and headed back to the living room.

            I nestled onto the thick wide sectional sofa, with my iPad and cup of hot coffee. It was a cozy spot with the rain angry outside. I occupied myself with my online shopping when I heard the sound of Clay’s cell phone ringing.

            “Whatcha got to say for yo’self redneck?” he grunted into the phone. The Lowcountry drawl was thick and delicious. I knew immediately it must be Jimmy Lee. I could only hear Clay’s side of the conversation and the tone of his voice changed.

            “Christ on a bike, already? Well we knew it wouldn’t be but a minute…..uh huh, yeah, okay….. I’ll call LJ next and tell your girls no one comments from our office, the PR staff in the Attorney General’s office is going to field the calls….” He paused listening to Jimmy Lee.

            “Yeah, I know, well fuck her is all I’ve got to say on the matter, I swear on the souls of my grandparents that cu..uh woman is not getting another interview from me unless she pays for it….So you take her if you care to…Have you heard this from Pritchett? Yeah, sure enough, I’ll be looking out for his call……..Sweet Jesus, they found all thirteen? Fuck Jimmy Lee, it’s got to be them, the USC co-eds. This going to be a cluster cock fight. Alan’s fixin’ to be running for Governor next year, his dick will be hard for us to take this case. We’ll hand him the office if we can pin this and make it stick….I’ll be back in on Tuesday, stay in touch with me through the day tomorrow. We headin’ down there in the morning with SLED for Aubrey to go through the house for anything sentimental. They cleared it, no forensics inside…”

            I snickered quietly at his attempt to not use the ‘c’ word. As if he had to sensor himself with me.

            He voice changed, “Yes as a matter of fact I did, and the lady has accepted, so I’m gonna need a best man you ugly bastard. You interested?” he laughed joyously. “Actually it should be my son, you stood for me last time and we all know how that worked out, so it might be you have the bad juju on you. You can throw my bachelor party, you good at that shit.” Clay laughed. “Yes of course you can tell Livvie, sorry I’m gonna miss her reaction,”

             I could hear Jimmy Lee’s laugh from across the room.

            “Alright now, thank you for the heads up, let’s gear up, we still have a full docket and no way to know if we will be allowed near this one. An inch at a time, Jimmy Lee. I’ll holla at you,” he disconnected the call.

            I looked up from the sofa, into the dining room.

            “Press has it right? Gonna blow up tomorrow?” I asked quietly.

            He was dialing another number and peered over his glasses at me,

            “Yeah Sugar, gonna be paparazzi around here like a nest of buzzards come daylight. You ready?” he asked.

            I nodded my head slowly.

            “Lora Jean?” Clay greeted his assistant on the phone.

            “Evenin’ girl. Sorry to call this hour, the press has it, gonna be a shit show tomorrow. Refer all the media inquiries to the AG’s office, their PR team is pitched up for it. And Lora Jean, if that slimy blond reptile tries to wiggle around you girl, you show her your teeth you hear me. I ain’t telling you anything you don’t know…..and Lora Jean, enjoy it, I’m not leashing you back on this, show her who you are…” he paused to listen to her. His voice softened again.

            “I certainly did, Miss Lora Jean, and she graciously accepted. Gonna be sure part of the story tomorrow, so you know, no comment on personal information. No comment on an ongoing investigation, yada yada……Yeah well you can tell her to suck my…..(audible sigh) ..I’m beggin’ your pardon Lora Jean, that was beyond inappropriate. I promise I’ll tell her that myself. Alright darling thank you kindly, my love to Henry and the kids…. I’ll check in with you tomorrow…….Yes Ma’am I will indeed pass on your regards and congratulations. Thank you LJ…..Wait, what’s that?….Well I don’t rightly know if you can be a bridesmaid…I’ll have to confer with the bride on her quorum in this regard…(he laughed happily)….G’ night now you crazy bat.”

            I stood from the sofa and walked quietly toward him. I stood arms akimbo at the other end of the dining room table.

            “Counselor you will not order that slimy blond reptile to suck your dick. She is not permitted anywhere near that masterpiece. That belongs to me, only to me. Are we clear?” I said, stifling a laugh.

            He sat back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head, “Yeah well, your masterpiece is stirring in my sweatpants, just looking at you possessive and territorial. Delicious girl, dressed in my shirt, like a soft little Clemson kitty, and those pretty nipples are showing, they are harder than that rock on your finger.” He stuck his tongue out and bit down on it. The reaction that caused in me could have put out a forest fire.

            I laughed out loud, flushed with arousal.

            “Get back to work you degenerate, your stack of files looks bigger and thicker right now than my masterpiece. If you finish all your homework, maybe you’ll get a treat from the teacher,” I winked.

            It took him about an hour to finish up the work he was doing and join me on the sofa to read depositions. He adjusted us on the sectional to allow me lay between his legs, my head on his chest, reading from my iPad . We were warm and comfortable and knew this would be the last night of peace for a while.

            I couldn’t concentrate on the autopsy report I was reading through, the words were swimming past my eyes. Even with my reading glasses on I couldn’t focus. When this news hit, it was going to ripple through my world entirely. I texted Dean from my iPad.

            “Press has it, announcing in the AM”

            His reply came back quickly.

            “We’re ready, you know what to do. I’ve got your back. It’s time Bree, time to come out of the shadows.”

            I texted back to him again.

                        “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Oh by the way, I’m engaged.”

            He replied,” Good for you, that’s a man of honor, your Daddy would be proud and thrilled for you as I am. Don’t fidget, it will melt, sweetheart, it always does. Enjoy your night.”

            “Thank you so much, you too.”

            I shut the iPad down and put it on the coffee table with my glasses. I shifted between Clay’s legs to lay on my side, my arm draped over his thigh.

            “Sugar you have got to stop your sexy ass shimmying. I’m getting all kind of good feels that are draining blood from my brain to my groin.” He murmured, turning pages.

            “I’m sorry, I don’t want to distract you, I just wanted to get comfortable, I won’t move again.” He ran his hand through my hair, stroking my head. His other hand holding up the file of depositions he was reading.

            “Any idea when you want to get married? Any date means more to you than another one?” he whispered.

            I lay there listening to his heartbeat and staring into the fire.

            “You pick the date Clay, I want to get married on the beach not the judge’s chambers. If the judge will officiate, barefoot in the sand with us, I’ll show up. I want to be near the ocean. Eventually I must live there again, or I’ll be miserable. I’ve yielded to South Carolina entirely, but the beach, it’s something I need.” Tears started to fall from my eyes. I suddenly felt so alone. I had no family. No one who would stand beside me when I pledged my life to this man.

            He dropped his file onto the floor and pulled me up into his arms.

            “Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked alarmed. “What’s got a bee in your bloomers? Of course you can have the beach, we have some of the most sought-after ocean front property in the country here. I will find you your dream house, not your ex-husband’s parents’ house, but your very own. And if I can’t find it, I will have it built for you, from the ground up with every single thing you desire inside it. I will marry you anywhere you want, fuck Sugar I’ll take you right over the border to Georgia and marry you on the grandstand in the middle of the goddamned Peach Festival if you so declared. What’s with the tears?” he was so concerned, his voice tender and calming.

            I wiped my eyes and lowered my head. “I don’t know, the storm is gathering, your Momma told us this afternoon. All this is going to erupt tomorrow, and for the first time in my life, I’ll have a spotlight on me, I’m accustomed to the privilege of anonymity. That’s going to end in the morning.  I have no one, I have no family and no one to answer, ‘who gives this woman to marry this man’ and I just suddenly felt so alone is all.” I whimpered.

            “Alone? Sugar, you have me and everything that comes with me. I will keep you as shielded as I can, but please Bree, don’t feel alone. Yeah, you sure as hell gonna get your fifteen minutes, but soon it will be about those young girls and who killed them. You’ll be the story for three days, maybe four because we’re engaged, but no longer than that,” he caressed my cheek, his voice soft and warm.

            “Sugar, you’re not alone. With the exception of becoming a father, meeting you is the greatest single moment of my life. You freed me from a half-life, this week has filled me with a love I’ve never knew existed. I won’t let you regret your choice to be with me.”

            I leaned in to kiss him, “Why? Your life is turned upside down and tomorrow, all that you worked for these last months will be overshadowed by me and my cursed property.” I sniffed.

            He kissed me again, “Because Bree, I’ve told you, work was all I cared about, because there was nothing else to care about once Tate was grown. That boy left for college, and I packed right behind him. Honey, I don’t give a good fuck what else life wants to throw at us, it’s us now, we are together, and no one can change it. Do you hear me?”

            I nodded hesitantly, I felt so terrible to have brought this down on him.

            “You still feeling like it’s your fault, ain’t you? C ’mere,” he held me to his chest.

            “I’m fixin’ to tell you something very important, listen to me carefully, there is a long-held tradition that no crying is to be done while wearing Clemson clothes, it’s a rule. Now, understand we are the Clemson Tigers, not the Clemson scared ass pussies. You must find your roar, Sugar. Need me to teach you the fight song? It’s the Tiger Rag-the song that shakes the Southland,” he teased, his hands stroking my hair.

            I started to laugh, he was so silly and perfect and just like warm bath water to my soul.

            “I’m sorry Clay, I really am. Every once in a while it all sweeps over me, losing my father is still raw for me and he left me this complete mess to deal with and…”

            “…And he put me directly in your path. Me to protect you—me to love you and take you the rest of the way. He picked a great guy, ‘cause I’m bewitched and bedazzled and besotted with you Sugar. Till death do us part.” He kissed me softly.

            The fire was starting to go out and the rain was driving outside.

            “Let’s go to bed honey, we’ll cuddle up and listen to the rain. We can kiss and talk, feel each other up if you want and I’ll try to convince you how loved you are.”

            We closed everything up and climbed into bed together, snuggled, and secure.

            “I’m sorry Clay,” I whispered. “You don’t make me feel alone, it’s just an abstract.”

            “Sugar, I know this is all so much at once. But you’re the one who explained to the Hoover men at lunch on Saturday, how everything melts. Didn’t you now? So, currently the snake swallowed a bunny rabbit, but time is gonna do what’s it’s designed to do my brilliant girl. We got to ride it out, one day at a time. As long as you are next to me, I can do anything.” He nuzzled my neck and kissed me lightly.

            I sighed with contentment, he was my hero.

            “Baby, I feel that. I feel invincible beside you as well.”

            “Ready to jump off a cliff, Sugar?” he asked seriously.  

            “I’d go to an aardvark race with you Clay Hoover,” I laughed quietly.

            He laughed with me, “That’s a new one, I reckon that’s something to see, but I’m with you, invincible is the best way to describe how I feel with you,” he held me close and caressed my back.

            “It’s not just about the sex, is it Clay?” I asked, not sure I wanted the answer.

            He sat up, disengaging from our embrace.

            “Aubrey Teller, you don’t believe that, please tell me you don’t believe that?” he asked mortified.

            I couldn’t answer him, I don’t even know why I said it.

            “No, I don’t believe that Clay. I’m sorry, my emotions are everywhere.” I hung my head, tears coming to me quickly again.

            He was quiet, collecting his summation. I could feel his internal dialogue gather itself.

            Bringing me back into his arms he tilted my chin to look into my eyes.

            “Aubrey, sex, and love making with you is the most soul altering experience I’ve been a part of. Meeting you and the sensuality and sexual appetite you possess compliments mine perfectly and I couldn’t ask for a more erotic and phenomenal partner. That being said, you are funny, intelligent, a brilliant mind. I love the way you think, the sound of your voice, the intrigue and fascination and your sense of wonder. You are kind and magical, I’m in love with everything about you. I am a family man, one of honor, loyalty, and integrity. I would never casually profess my eternal love and the rest of my life to a piece of ass. They come a dime a dozen, but you my beautiful girl are one in a million and I’m fucking keeping you.” He declared sincerely.

            He exhaled and continued, “Honey I was already in love with you and then I saw you with my mother. That woman, bless her, is the single best judge of character I’ve had in my life, and she knew instantly who you were, she confirmed what I already felt. This is the real thing Aubrey, don’t you ever doubt or distrust it.” He kissed me, and I melted into his arms.

            He held me close as he kissed me, his hands holding my face, “We good now?” he smiled.

            “We are better than good,” I whispered, “Now would you kindly make love to me before I start tearing off your clothes,” I chuckled.  

            He backed away from me, “Nope, not gonna do it, I’m not a piece of meat, Bree. Christ’s sake is that all you want from me?” he tried to be serious. Sitting back against the headboard and folding his arms mutinously across his chest.

            “Suit yourself,” I teased, I undid the clip in my hair, letting it fall to my shoulders and slipped the teeshirt off over my head. Braless and exposed I looked up at him wickedly.

            “Sweet mother of God, you do not fight fair,” he murmured and turned over to bury his head in my chest.  

            “I’m a Clemson Tiger, not a Clemson scared ass pussy,” I whispered running my nails through his hair.

            “That’s my girl, oh I’m fixin’ to make you roar now Sugar, gonna shake the Southland,” he beamed, and made love to me for the next hour.  

Clay

            We opened our eyes at the same time. The house, the outside were both eerily still. The thunder and rain battered around us all night long and the birds weren’t chirping yet, it was barely dawn.

            We had fallen asleep again wrapped in each other’s arms. I started to shift to get out of bed.  She mumbled something incoherent.

            “I’ll be back honey, just running to the head,” I leaned down to kiss her forehead.

            She got up to fix our coffee and we switched places in the bathroom before meeting back in the kitchen. I looked at my phone, she looked at hers, nothing yet.

            It was the eye of the hurricane, the silent stillness before the cresting surge descended.

            I peered out the front window and saw a Sheriff’s car posted at the gate of the property. Pritchett and I spoke late last night, and he promised to send his guys out to keep the press off the land.

            “Good,” I whispered to myself.

            “What’s that baby?” she asked and came behind me to look out the window.

            “Sheriff sent some patrol cars to keep the buzzards at bay. Old Man Higgins will run them reporters off with his tractor they get past that gate.” I laughed.  

            I resided in a small, sleepy cottage tucked on a private corner of the Higgins family farm and hunting lodge. Carl Higgins and my father were childhood friends. He did me a solid when I got divorced and rented the cozy little place he never used to me for a dollar a month. I paid all the utilities and made any upgrades at my own expense. I informed him yesterday what was all going to happen and about the new gas stove being delivered.

Carl took care of the property, raising chickens and boarding horses, riding his tractor tending to the grass and puttering around his sheds and the like.  He hadn’t gotten around to introduce himself to Aubrey. He’s a widower gone on three years and tends to stay away from women as a rule since then.

            As if I summoned him with my thoughts, the knock came to the back door.

            “Clayton? Y’all awake and decent?” He whispered through the cracked open door.

            “We all good Carl, c’mon in ole man,”

            “Sugar, this is my landlord and very old friend, Carl Higgins. Carl this is my future wife, Miss Aubrey Teller.”

            Carl, hat in hand, humbly held out his free one to shake with her, “Ma’am it’s a real pleasure,” he said gently as they shook hands. He is a white haired, weathered old farmer, gentle brown eyes, and a rare smile. He was a big man, but life and age had shortened him some and he’d lost weight after his beloved Trudy had passed.

            “I hafta confess, I saw y’all on the porch chase Miss Tessa back to the gates of perdition where she come from the other day, I laughed so hard I think I pulled out a muscle in my back.” He snorted with laughter as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

            “Some of my best work that day, Mr. Higgins, I’m proud to say,” Aubrey laughed.

            “Ma’am you please call me just Carl, no need to be formal, I’m pleased as punch you here to brighten up the place. Ole Clayton here smiling so much ya think he got himself a new career as a dentist.”

            “Thank you Carl, please just call me Aubrey, he makes me smile as well.” She blushed and took a sip of her coffee.

            I watched the interaction with fascination, Carl laughing, Carl smiling. My woman was magical. I fixed Carl a cup of coffee and placed it before him. Carl handed us a bag, “Here I snuck in some contraband before the vultures start to circle,”

            He brought us hot bagels and three different flavors of cream cheese.

            Aubrey sighed with delight. “Oh my favorite! Onion bagels with jalapeno cream cheese?” You are the perfect man, Mr. Carl.” He blushed again.

            “Wait,” I stopped her, “You like onion bagels with jalapeno cream cheese?” I couldn’t believe it.

            “Yeah my whole life,” she grinned, reaching for paper plates and napkins.

            “Seems to me Clayton, knowing what your future wife likes for breakfast should be something y’all discussed before the wedding date,” Carl snickered.

            “Listen old man, I’ve been out to breakfast with her for a stretch now and she orders grapefruit juice, an egg white and mushroom omelet and home fries with rye toast. Since I laid eyes on the woman she has never asked for this breakfast order. So, you know, go shit in your hat or something.” I huffed, slicing her bagel first and putting it in the toaster.

            “Clay don’t tell me it’s your order too?” she laughed suddenly, understanding my disbelief.

            “Every morning in the office, we have a small coffee shop in our building and Lora Jean usually brings me one with a fresh cup of coffee on her way in.” I explained.

            “See that’s the reason, it’s a work day breakfast item. Not something I’d order out, it’s a being in your office or still in your jams reading email kinda meal. Speaking of which, here we go,” she looked down at her phone and it was starting to light up like the Fourth of July.

            I sat down with the two of them and we ate quietly while Bree and I scrolled though our lock screen notifications. The story had landed.

            Carl finished his bagel and drank the last sip of his coffee, fixin’ to leave. “Well Clayton, gonna be helicopters overhead the next few days again, like with that trial. But at least y’all don’t keep me bored around here. Miss Aubrey, anything you’d like me to do to the place, make it more comfortable for y’all? I can paint the rooms, or change out the cabinets, you just ask Ma’am, I’d be right happy to oblige.” His smile sweet and gentle. I almost laughed at his borderline flirty offer.

            “You’re very sweet to ask Mr. Carl, but I’m quite comfortable for the moment. The new stove will be a great addition.  I enjoy cooking, and I do hope you’ll join us for supper some time.” She offered affectionately. Carl blushed and nodded his head happily.

            “I’d be right honored to, much obliged.” He smiled back at her, I thought his granite face would crack. There she was performing her witchcraft again. Melting the heart of an old stone chested red neck. Fuck, I loved this woman.

            He got up when he finished his coffee and prepared to leave.

            “Good luck to y’all today. I’ll take care of getting the stove installed when it get here, you do what you need to. Miss Aubrey, you be here alone starting tomorrow during the day ain’t that right? I’ll check in–see if you need anything. Days Miss Angelica won’t be here. I can run to a store or the next farm if you hankering for anything. You just give a holla, Clayton will give you my house number. Again it was a pleasure Ma’am, welcome to the farm.” We said our goodbyes and he slipped out the back door just as he had come in.

            I was shaking my head in true astonishment. The man practically purred to my future wife. I really should be watching my back, southern gentlemen, and beautiful women. I ought to have expected it.

            I thought I had seen my share of unexplained occurrences for a lifetime, but then I witnessed Aubrey do something I did every weekday morning, she dunked a corner of her cream cheese spread bagel into her coffee and put it into her mouth.

            “Sweet Jesus, I do the very same thing,” I laughed. “I thought I was the only one,” I sat back completely mystified.

            She chewed slowly and winked. “Made for each other sexy man,” she blew me a kiss.

            We cleaned up and got dressed to leave ready to head out to Saint Helena via the Beaufort Sheriff’s office. When a knock came to the front door.

            I opened it to find one of the Sheriff’s deputies.

            “Sorry to disturb Mr. Hoover, Ma’am,” and he tipped his hat to Aubrey.  “I’m Deputy Don Gleason, Sheriff asked me to tell y’all, press is camped around the outside of the place. He wanted me to inquire if y’all want an unmarked to take to y’all down to Saint Helena?”

            I looked over to Aubrey to gauge her reaction, “It’s up to you baby, I’ll do whatever makes the most sense,”

            “Tinted windows?” I asked the deputy,

            “Yes Sir,” he grinned.

            “SLED meeting us at Saint Helena, not headquarters?” I wondered.

            “Press is all over headquarters, but we got them cordoned off at the beach island, they asked for y’all to go straight there.” He replied.

            “That’s a solid plan, where y’all at? Out back?” I asked.

            “Yes Sir, just behind the tack shed, Mr. Higgins shot down two press drones already this morning startled the bejesus outta us all for a minute.” He laughed proudly.

            “It is a hunting lodge, Son, shooting happens all the time ‘round here,” I chuckled.

            “He’s a great shot, I’ll tell y’all, clipped them right off the tree line.”

            We all laughed and thanked Deputy Gleason before slipping out the back door.

            Aubrey had seen very little of the property before this and it was a short walk to the shed when she noticed the stables. “He has horses?” she gasped.

            “He does, he boards them. Chickens too, they’re his, the coops are round the other side of the stables. He leases out most of the farmland to other farmers, so you will see different workers from time to time wandering around working their fields. I’m sure he’ll be leaving you a basket of produce on the back step once in a while. Don’t forget to check. He’s our own Boo Radley, and he’s sweet on you already. Rarely will anyone come near the cottage. It’s off the beaten path from the lodge and farm side.”

            “What about hunters?” she asked.

            “Only during turkey and deer seasons, way early in the morning they stage, and you might hear gunfire but even that is off in the distance and the house is well insulated only thing you will hear is that monstrosity of a John Deere he runs around this place when he’s mowing grass.”

            We stepped into the back of the black Escalade to be greeted by Deputy David Templeton, a muscled, young, red-haired man with a military style haircut and dressed in black tack gear.

            “Mornin’ folks ready to play some Whack a Mole?” he grinned, his gaze not leaving Aubrey.

            We laughed and adjusted our seat belts as Deputy Templeton navigated us off the property and we saw firsthand the throng of press outside the gates.

            “Whoooee they on the scent now,” Templeton murmured.

            Aubrey and I shook our heads at the cluster of cameras and reporters.

            “They all just left the Lowcountry last Friday after the trial, got to be madder than hatters to turn ‘round and come back,” I chuckled.

            Templeton glanced in his rear view to the two of us, concentrating keenly on Aubrey.

            “Ma’am it’s you owns the Teller land?”

            She looked up and nodded, “Yes Deputy, I inherited it recently.”

            “You not from here?” he asked.

            “No Sir, I’m from up North, New Jersey.” She whispered softly.

            “Well then, welcome to South Carolina. We called in all these folks here to greet you, we plumb out of fruit festivals for the moment, so we threw you a little party,”

            We both laughed as he eased our tension a great deal.

            I reached out to hold her hand, “You okay Sugar?” I whispered.

            She turned to face me, “Jumping off a cliff, right baby?” she answered.

            “Yes Ma’am, together, not another damn thing alone. You and me honey.” I assured her, lifting her hand to my lips.

            “Miss Teller, you know much about the history of Saint Helena?” Templeton asked from the front seat.

            “No actually I don’t Deputy.” Aubrey shook her head and sat back against the seat.

            “We got a good hour ride Ma’am if you’d indulge me, I’d be happy to tell you some,” he smiled gently from the rear-view mirror.

            “I’d like that, Deputy, thank you,” she demurred.

            Aubrey was immediately engaged in the conversation. I chuckled to myself, the Deputy was doing backflips to impress her. I was enjoying this–Southern gentlemen and their reactions to beautiful women, never failed. Twice in one morning.
            She was dressed casually in jeans and a button down pale blue shirt, her hair up off her neck with one of them crazy ass claw clips the girls use. Tendrils of her hair were loose around her face, and she was just breathtaking and lovely. I could still see the faint bruising of one of my love bites fading on the side of her neck.

            Templeton shifted in his seat and began to fill us, or rather just Aubrey in on the history of Saint Helena. I was sure enough, not even in the car according to the Deputy.

            “Ma’am, Saint Helena is an inland sea island, no actual frontage to the Atlantic Ocean and mostly surrounded by expansive marshland. It’s part of the Hilton Head Island and Beaufort area. Since the area is similar to the rice growing region in West Africa, slaves along with native Americans, were clustered there to assist in the growing of rice, spices, and cotton. Subsequently they were so isolated, they developed into the creole speaking Gullah culture…”

            Templeton made a few turns and headed onto US Highway 21 which connected Beaufort to Saint Helena.

            “..During the Civil War, the island fell into the hands of the Union, and held by them through the war. Slaves were liberated and the Penn School was established to educate them. This is where the ’40 acres and a mule’ arrangement was originated as the Union granted each head of household the land and livestock,”

            “I knew my people were coming into this story,” Aubrey laughed happily.

            Templeton preened with the sound of her musical mirth and continued.

            “Yes Ma’am those pesky Yankee boys took over, matter of fact, I’m not sure if y’all familiar with the old spiritual, ‘Michael row the boat ashore’? It was written down here in Saint Helena,” he stated proudly.

            “This is all so fascinating, thank you kindly Deputy. It was very nice of you to give me history of the area.”

            The Deputy was glowing with adulation, it made me snicker and I rolled my eyes.

            Aubrey slid her hand onto my thigh, “Be a good boy,” she whispered. She knew, she could identify a man turned to putty in her hands.

            Before I could answer, the Escalade stopped at a checkpoint at the entrance to the property. It was cordoned off as he mentioned earlier, press lined up around the blockade. Templeton lowered his window slightly and flashed his badge, and we were waved onto the property. Aubrey and I craned our necks to see the surrounding farmland being dug up with hazmat covered teams working a grid for evidence.

            “I’m fixin’ to take you right up to the house, folks. They don’t want y’all wandering on the grounds as y’all know it’s a crime scene.” Templeton mentioned.  He pulled up to the entrance of the main house and parked there.

            “Y’all take your time, I’ll be waiting right here to bring you back to Saint George.” He whispered politely.

            We undid our seat belts, and I went around to open Aubrey’s door.

            “Thank you Deputy Templeton, you’ve been so very thoughtful,” she spoke quietly.

            “Been my pleasure, Miss Teller, you need any help in there, just give a holla,” he turned in his seat to grin at her.

            I reached out for her hand to help her out of the vehicle and closed the door.

            “Sugar, you melting hearts across the Lowcountry, that boy gonna cry all the way home since I locked you down for good.” I laughed.

            She held onto my hand and gazed up into my eyes. “Baby, I’m only interested in one heart in the Lowcountry, and I have been since your opening statement.” She smirked. “Leave the boy alone, he’s trying to cut his teeth to help with his happy hour game. Let him be,” she giggled.

            I bent my head to kiss her, “No one but me cutting their teeth on you Sugar, take that to the bank.”

Aubrey

            Local Law Enforcement referred to it as ‘The Teller Property” but I knew it as Willow Acres. My limited knowledge of it notwithstanding, my father told me things about it sporadically and in a non sequitur fashion. Nothing of note that might have helped the investigators.

            When I arrived over two weeks ago, I never entered the house. I took the keys and left to head into Beaufort. It’s a creepy old run-down one-story rancher style home.

            I held onto Clay’s hand as we headed up the crumbling stairs.

            “Watch your step now, Sugar. No telling what’s sturdy or what’s falling apart.” He warned.

            I used my key and opened the front door. There was no electricity in the house and the interior was dim and airless. Light filtered in from the windows not covered by paper or wood. Dust mites flew into the streaks of sunlight casting a vibe throughout the first floor of an abandoned mine.

            Clay went back to the front door and yelled out to Deputy Templeton, “Hey Son, can we borrow a flashlight, and you got latex gloves in there?” once in his hand, Clay cast the light around the room and shivered involuntarily.

“Like you said, Bree. Creepy as fuck,” he murmured. He handed me a pair of gloves and donned a pair of his own.

            The entire room was frozen in time. Furniture worn and threadbare like it was original from the early seventies. It reeked of dried alcohol and cigar smoke.  We moved around slowly, navigating through piles of newspapers and trash scattered around the floor. I was cringing as I avoided dead vermin and unidentifiable dried excrement.

I made my way to the far wall where photos were on display. Thick with dust, I recognized my parents wedding picture.

            “Sweet Jesus, Bree is that your Momma?” Clay gasped. “Saints alive, she spit you right out her mouth,”

I touched the photo lovingly. My stunning, beautiful mother, I honestly wished I looked exactly like her. She was traffic stopping, a natural beauty. Greatly resembling a young Elizabeth Taylor, her dark hair teased up in the style of the sixties, her body draped like a goddess in her white satin dress. Her eyes were mesmerizing and big, her smile perfect. They were so happy. My father radiated from the picture, she was his heart. He never remarried again, it made me so sad the years he spent alone and grieving for her.

            I found an empty apple crate and carried it around with me, I put the photos I recognized into the box. My parents wedding picture, my father’s Marine graduation portrait–when I found childhood photos of my father and myself.

            “Aww, so cute with those pigtails,” Clay grinned. “I’d have surely chased you ‘round the playground to yank on those, honey.” He chirped, before placing the picture in the box I was holding.

            “I’m surprised to find these here,” I mumbled. “They didn’t speak to one another, how did my grandfather get his hands on them?” I wondered aloud. Not only my childhood photos, but high school and college graduation portraits. And to my dread, my wedding picture with Adam.  

            “Here Sugar, let me carry the box, you sort through, and I’ll shine the light, ahh what do we have here, the famous ex-husband?” Clay asked, taking the picture from my hands, and wiping the glass against his jeans.

            I nodded in affirmation.

            “Sugar, you just keep getting more beautiful. How in the world did this horses ass fuck it all up?”

            I stopped what I was doing and turned to face him. I don’t know why I chose this spot at this time to blurt the truth, but I did. My voice cracked, but I managed to get the words out.

            “He used to hit me…that’s how he fucked it up.” My voice caught in my throat, “He swore he’d never do it again, and after the third time, when he broke my jaw, through the wires, I told my Daddy, and they hauled Adam’s ass off to jail. He’ll never forgive me for the time he served and I’m good with that. It was either him or my father, because Daddy wanted to kill him with his bare hands. I prevented that and agreed to press charges. The rest as they say is history.” I sighed sadly.

            Clay froze, shock and rage had seized him mute. Through the poorly lit room, I could see him turn to stone. He was grasping for words.

            “I’m sorry Clay, sorry to tell you this now and here of all places. It’s all old water under the bridge,” I approached him carefully.

            “Aubrey, my God.. honey, of all the things….” His voice trailed off. “I’m so sorry you went through that…..” He was struggling for something to say, anything to comfort not only himself but me primarily.

            “Later, baby. We can hash it all out later. Let’s get through this so we can get out of here.” I pleaded.

            He paused and reached gently for my hand, his voice apologetic,  “Bree, I’ve been rough with you, aggressive in bed and…”

            “Clay, stop.” I touched his chest with my gloved hand, “You are without a doubt the absolute love of my life. You make love to me the way I enjoy, beg, and ache for. You’re not a fucking animal like that piece of shit is. Do not measure yourself against him ever.” I insisted. “He can’t tie your shoes, baby. Let it go.” I gazed up into his eyes, he wasn’t going to let this go. He was replaying in his mind every time he touched me to double check.

            “Clay, I’m a significantly sexual woman. I have needs only you have been able to match. I enjoy the foreplay, the act and you’re not only what I require, but what I demand. Nothing you have ever done was a violent act. Since I stood next to you in the bar, I’ve felt safe and protected and most of all secure to be who I am.” I assured him. “Now, let’s get back to work, I want to get out of here,” I begged.

            I went through the kitchen and small dining room, cabinets, drawers nothing of any note.

            I headed back toward the bedrooms, the master was in the far rear of the house. Dated, heavy furniture lined the perimeter. I rooted through the nightstand table and found a dusty old copybook with writing inside I put it into the crate. The bottom drawer had a cardboard box stuffed with letters. All unopened correspondence to my father, returned to sender. I handed the box to Clay to bring with us.

            I searched through the dresser drawers, just moth rotted clothes. I checked to see if there were false bottoms on any of them.

            “Pretty little forensic scientist.” Clay whispered with pride. “Woman, I will get you to working on my cases one of these days, I love your brain,”

            I laughed nervously, “It’s habit, I guess. I trust nothing.” I declared.

            The smaller dresser had more of the same, with empty cigar boxes containing fishing lures, old knives, and oxidized coins.

            “Help me lift the mattress,” I whispered. Clay put the box down and we lifted the bottom of the mattress up and he flashed the light between it and the box spring.

            “Bingo,” I whispered. Six or seven ledger books and almost a dozen tattered manilla envelopes stuffed with plastic wrapped cash. Clay held up the mattress as I gathered them up and put them in the box, covering them with the photos.  

            “Did you know?” he asked in disbelief.

            “No, but it was a working farm, and the old man didn’t trust banks, none of his generation did. My father used to joke he was sure all his money was stashed under his mattress. I wanted to check.” I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly.

            “If they cleared this house for forensic evidence, how did they not toss the place?” I asked idly.

            “They’re looking for old blood, tissue, any weapons. Tools for digging, old rags or empty bleach, things of that nature. The rest of this stuff doesn’t interest them, they probably just threw UV light around the interior checking for the actual crime scenes.” Clay answered.

            I searched through the closet and knocked on the wall to be sure there were no hidden hollow panels. We moved onto the spare bedrooms with nothing to show for it.

            “Where is this goddamned clock?” I mumbled aloud walking back toward the front room.

            “You mean that one there?” Clay asked. He pointed the beam of the light onto the wall between a curio cabinet and the front window. It was an old cuckoo clock. I lifted it off the wall and shook it gently. I could hear something rattling inside.

            “This is it. Let’s get the hell out of here,” I exhaled.

            We went back out to the Deputy’s Escalade, and he was talking to someone in a hazmat suit. He saw us coming and opened the back hatch for the box.

            “Aubrey? What in the world are you doing here?” The Hazmat suit turned around and I almost swallowed my tongue. “Travis? Is that you in that getup?”

            Clay was placing the box into the back of the SUV, returning the flashlight, and removing his gloves.

Travis Morrison, stood in front of me, “I’d hug you Bree, but I’m all kinds of contaminated. This is your property?” he asked amazed, while filling me in on his presence.

            Clay returned to my side, “Travis Morrison, my fiancé, Clayton Hoover. Clay this is my old college lab partner, Travis Morrison. He’s the forensic anthropologist assigned out of Georgia for the investigation.” I was surprised by the irony.

            Clay held out his hand, but Travis held up his gloved hands, “No Sir Counselor, I’m not about to contaminate anyone by the pleasantries, otherwise I would have hugged your bride here.” He laughed.

            “Pleasure to meet you,” Clay said politely.

            “Same here Mr. Hoover. Quite an impressive trial and verdict. Congratulations.”

            “Thank you kindly.” Clay smiled.

            “Bree, I don’t know what I can tell you or not. But I’m heading back to the lab tonight to start the x-rays and the tox work. We sent all the DNA we could to the FBI lab. I’ll check with the powers to be and if you can be read in, I’d love to hear your take on this. Take your phone out and I’ll give you my number. Air drop your contact information to me, and I’ll get in touch with you when I can.” He smiled happily.

            We exchanged numbers and promised to connect soon.

            “Great to see you Bree, you look wonderful as always. Good to meet you Mr. Hoover.” Travis left us alone with Deputy Templeton who asked if we were ready to go.

            “Travis!” I summoned him back,

            “Yeah Bree?” he asked walking back to the Escalade.

            “Send the drone up, check to see if there is a pattern with all the burial sites now exposed. Take still shots. Could be something,” I whispered.

            Clay glanced over at me with pride. Once in the car he put his arm around my shoulder after I buckled my seatbelt.

            “Time for that long bubble bath and conversation, Sugar. We have a great deal to catch up on.” He whispered.

             “I know baby, I know.” I relented.