Catherine's Cross by Millie West Read Free Book Online Page B

fishing boat. Jenks and Seth watched as he backed into the waterway and headed toward the Lemon Island Marina.
    Seth looked down into Jenks’s eyes and said, “Mose is a descendant of Gullah people who inhabited the Sea Islands for hundreds of years. He’s fished these waters his entire life.”
    â€œYes, I’ve listened to other people speak in a similar fashion.” At this point, she did not mention her visit to Ida Mae and Meta.
    They drove back to the highway toward Hilton Head, and Seth made a turn onto a small rural road that was lined with live oak trees. The window was down on Jenks’s side, and she felt the air become cooler under the trees. After several minutes on the sandy lane, they came to a tabby walled chapel. A cross graced the peak of the metal roof, and the grounds were neatly manicured. A sign near the lane read Rabbit Hash Hunt Club.
    Jenks read the name out loud and asked, “How did this chapel get to be named Rabbit Hash Hunt Club, and why isn’t it utilized as a house of the Lord?”
    Seth glanced at her for only a moment and then returned his eyes to the road. “Jenks, most of the people who worshiped at this chapel passed away, and their offspring either moved away for jobs or chose to worship elsewhere. The chapel ceased to operate and a group of hunters purchased the land and turned the sanctuary into a hunt club. They’ve taken good care of the building, and they’re good folks. I joined the club a couple of years ago, and I hunt ducks, dove, quail, and deer on the land. Twenty-three hundred acres and the chapel were purchased at the same time.”
    â€œHow did it get the name Rabbit Hash?”
    â€œDuring the Depression, the church put on suppers for people who were in poverty, and a number of local farmers and hunters trapped or shot rabbits to donate for stews—hence, rabbit hash. The chapel was formerly known as French Chapel after Alexander French, who owned the plantation where the sanctuary was situated. The church was at one point a chapel of ease for the planters in the area. After the French family died out, the chapel operated until the 1960s, when it was sold to the hunt club.”
    As they continued the drive, the lane became even darker with the shade of live oaks and thickets of bamboo that lined the roadway.
    â€œThis is beautiful back here.” Just as she said those words, they came to a brick entranceway with wrought-iron gates. As the police car neared the gate, Seth picked up an electronic opener and pressed a button. The gate swung open. “This is the Walker’s property,” he commented.
    A magnificent three-story home appeared in the distance, and reflections of light and water danced on the side of the structure. Jenks could see a waterway in front of the home, and she exclaimed, “Wow—this is fantastic. I didn’t know college professors earned this kind of money.”
    â€œThe wealth in the family comes from Mrs. Walker. She inherited three working sugar farms on Trinidad as well as the proceeds from family investments on Tobago. Her ancestors emigrated from Martinique during the French Revolution and became successful planters.”
    â€œI’m speechless,” Jenks said.
    â€œWait until you see the inside.”
    He led her through a ground-level entrance into a large room that housed weights, exercise machines, and a boxer’s punching bag.
    â€œIs this equipment all yours?”
    â€œNo—only the punching bag is mine; the rest belongs to Dr. Walker and his wife.”
    In the corner of the exercise room was an elevator, and Seth said, “You get the full treatment today. After this you’ll have to walk up the stairs.”
    He smiled and led her inside the lift. When they stopped on the second story, the door opened and she had to blink at the brightness of the room. He led her into a spacious living room with picture windows that faced an expansive