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Back Low Country Save as PDF
Chapters (25)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. CHAPTER 1
  4. CHAPTER 2
  5. CHAPTER 3
  6. CHAPTER 4
  7. CHAPTER 5
  8. CHAPTER 6
  9. CHAPTER 7
  10. CHAPTER 8
  11. CHAPTER 9
  12. CHAPTER 10
  13. CHAPTER 11
  14. CHAPTER 12
  15. CHAPTER 13
  16. CHAPTER 14
  17. CHAPTER 15
  18. CHAPTER 16
  19. CHAPTER 17
  20. CHAPTER 18
  21. CHAPTER 19
  22. CHAPTER 20
  23. CHAPTER 21
  24. CHAPTER 22
  25. CHAPTER 23

“Well, I sat with her on that porch all morning and listened. I say I listened, but most of the time there were no words—at least, not spoken words—but there was a message given just the same. And she made me realize that I was not here by accident, neither on this planet nor on the island. She told me that my present condition was no accident, either, but was meant to clarify my mind and my soul; and that this morning, in the depths of my despair, I had finally arrived at the place where I could hear, with an open ear, what it was that the world needed of me.”

Parker paused again and gave me a searching look, his eyes shifting back and forth over my face.

“I won’t go into all the rest except to tell you this: Miss Cyriah saved my life. I believe her and I believe in her. I’ve never met anyone else remotely like that dear, remarkable woman, and I’m sure such a person comes along only rarely. Sometimes I am privileged to act as her messenger. And when I do, I take it as a sacred duty, because I have a realization of the importance of her words. So, no, Kennesaw, whatever I deliver to others from Miss Cyriah causes me no curiosity. I know it is something for the greater good, and I am content to be a vessel that helps convey that good.”

I nodded my head in acceptance of his words. “I think you and I are very fortunate to have found ourselves in her realm.”

“I think so, too,” he replied.

With that, we lapsed back into a contemplative quiet. The rain continued to beat a persistent cadence on the deck above our heads, and it wasn’t long before I found my eyelids beginning to droop. I wasn’t the only one hypnotized by the pattering drops. Parker was slumped in his chair, the clipboard and pen resting in his lap, and his chin on his chest. I roused him as I turned out the cabin lights, and with that, the passengers and crew of the Miss Rosalie called it a good night.

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 13

THE WEATHER HAD CLEARED A LITTLE during the night, and the next morning a few shafts of sunlight managed, here and there, to find their way through gaps in the clouds.

I had slept all right but had been awakened once by a recurring dream. It’s one that has its source in my days as a young soldier.