Page 19 of Where the Rivers Merge

Freshwater ponds within the ACE Basin play an important role in the overall ecosystem. While the ACE Basin is known for its rice fields, expansive salt marshes, and tidal systems, small freshwater ponds contribute to the region’s biodiversity and provide a valuable water source for wildlife and plants.

1914

Our summer days were winding down as my mother’s threat of us leaving Mayfield for Charleston schools became a reality. It wasn’t love but school that was breaking up that old gang of mine.

Heyward and Hugh were returning to the Porter Military Academy. Lesesne was registered at the Gaud School for Boys. Many arguments ensued between my parents about Covey joining us in Charleston, but ultimately they reached a compromise and agreed that Covey could join me in Charleston in exchange for our promise to follow Mama’s instructions and for me to willingly comport myself as a lady. Covey was enrolled in the Avery Normal Institute. And I would attend Ashley Hall School for Girls. Tripp was traveling the farthest, all the way to Massachusetts. Our troop would be physically divided, but geography was never what bound us.

During those final dog day afternoons, Sweetwater Pond became our daily destination to swim, picnic, and lollygag. On our last day, the air smelled sweeter, the water felt more refreshing, the sun shone brighter, and being at Mayfield with my friends was all the more precious.

As we approached the acre-wide pond on horseback, the deep green of summer leaves on surrounding trees reflected in the water to make it appear a shimmering emerald. I shared my father’s desire—no, his visceral need—to keep hold of Sweetwater Pond. I was proud of my role in bringing it back to Mayfield. I wanted to hold tight to every precious acre. I brought my horse to a stop. The Captain whinnied and shook his head, feeling tension.

As I peered over Sweetwater Pond, I wondered how all this land, this wilderness, could truly belong to my father. Or Heyward, or even me. Did owning a piece of land mean I owned the animals who lived on it? That didn’t seem right. Does the snake bend to my wishes? Of course not. The Bible said God gave humans dominion over animals, but I believed that meant we should have reverence for all life.

What I wanted to do was not rule over the wild creatures of the land, or the fish in the water, or the birds in the sky. I wanted to defend and protect this pond, this land, and all the animals that lived on it. I felt within me the same ferocity of territorialism that any bird or animal in the wild did. This was my home. Mama might be able to move me to Charleston, but she could never tear me away from my feelings for this land.

“Lizzie!”

called Heyward. “What’re you doing back there? Giddyup!”

I saw the troop had dismounted and were already setting up camp. I clucked my tongue. The Captain was eager to join the others.

We unpacked a picnic of ripe tomato and cucumber sandwiches, cold chicken, and watermelon. We put our stone jugs into the pond so we’d have refreshing, chilled water on such a steamy day.

After everything was unpacked, Covey and I removed our skirts and waded into the pond in our britches and shirts, like the boys did. While the boys roughhoused, Covey and I swam across the pond and back, matching strokes like synchronized swimmers. I loved the freedom of kicking and stretching without fighting the current of the rivers or, hopefully, alligators. When we finished we climbed ashore, panting from the exertion, and lay on the shorn, soft grass to dry off.

The intense heat dried my skin and hair in no time. Scandalous as it was, I loved my hair being short. I could rake my hands through the curls and be done with it. No more rat’s nest or itchy hair down my back.

I was just sliding into sleep when I felt a shower of cold droplets. I shrieked and opened my eyes to see Hugh shaking his head over me, laughing.

“You are a dog,”

I cried, pushing him away. “That’s mean. I was just drifting off.”

He stretched out beside me on the blanket, radiating cool from the pond. Lifting my palm to shade my eyes from the sun, I peered at him. He leaned over me, his face damp and tanned, his eyes as blue as the sky over his head. I wanted to touch his face, so close, and as though sensing my thoughts, Hugh reached out and pulled on a short dark curl, then let it spring back. The touch sparked my heart and I saw something shift in his eyes, from amusement to a smolder I felt myself.

“Hey, you two,”

shouted Tripp, trotting up to us. “Want something to eat?”

He plopped himself down on the quilt at my bare feet and began to tickle them.

I pulled my legs up, swiftly maneuvering to sit. “Stop!”

I moaned. “You know I hate being tickled.”

“You let him tickle you?”

asked Hugh, also shifting to a cross-legged sit. His smile shifted to a frown.

“All the time,”

I said, annoyed, and delivered a quick kick to Tripp’s leg that only made Tripp laugh again. “Quit it.”

“Aw, you love it,”

said Tripp, grabbing for my feet again.

Hugh stretched over to grab Tripp’s hand and hold it. “She’s getting pretty old for tickling, don’t you think?”

he said, a tone of warning in his voice.

Tripp nonchalantly brushed his hand away. “Oh, it’s been ages since I tickled her.”

He snorted a laugh. “Or she let me.”

Covey and Heyward joined us with the picnic basket. Heyward gave Tripp a loaded glance as he passed him a sandwich. “She’s too old now,”

he said with finality.

My brother settled on the blanket beside Covey, and they commenced passing out lunch—sandwiches, apples, carrots. I watched Tripp sitting cross-legged, eating, a bemused expression on his sunburned face. I smiled at his childlike joy. I loved Tripp like a brother. I never thought that his tickling or shoving or boyish gestures as anything other than brotherly fun. Tripp was still slight of build, and his pale skin was freckled rather than tanned. He’d started wearing glasses—round wire rims that encircled his large eyes with eyelashes so pale they were barely visible. They gave him the appearance of an owl.

I glanced back at Hugh. In contrast, he was chewing moodily, studying Tripp with a strange intensity. I knew I’d react very differently if Hugh tickled me. My heart fluttered. I definitely did not think of Hugh as a brother.

“Make room!”

called out Lesesne as he clumsily planted himself on a blanket beside Tripp. Dripping, he swiped his hair from his face then leaned back on his arms to catch the sun. Drops of water clung to his long lashes. My younger brother was filling out, becoming a handsome young man. He’d lost his boyish softness to the chiseled cheekbones and jawline that both my brothers inherited from Daddy.

“Hey Tripp,”

Lesesne said, grabbing Tripp’s foot. “Want me to tickle you?”

Tripp kicked his foot away, laughing. Instead, he reached over to hand Lesesne a sandwich. They exchanged smiles.

As he chewed, Lesesne’s gaze was fixed on Tripp, who was busy talking with Covey.

“Les,”

I called out. “Are you all packed up for school?”

Lesesne turned my way and offered a shrug of indifference. “Mama’s just going to repack it all anyway, so I’m leaving it to her.”

Typical, I thought of my lazy brother. But I couldn’t argue. Mama would likely go through my suitcases as well. I lifted my chin and moaned loudly, with frustration. “I can’t believe this is our last day.”

“Stop whining,”

said Heyward. “I’ve gone to Charleston for the last two years and believe me, time goes by fast. Mama will make sure you’re busy every minute.”

He smirked. “I’m sure she’s filling your dance cards even now. Her obvious goal is to find you a suitable husband,”

he added teasingly.

Tripp forced air thorough his nose and pushed back his eyeglasses. “Makes me mad that I have to be stuck in Massachusetts when you finally come to Charleston, Lizzie. It’s not fair. I’d take those dance cards and put my name in every slot.”

“That’s kind of you,”

I said, amused. I couldn’t imagine going to dances.

“Don’t you worry none,”

Hugh said, stretching back on his arms and crossing his legs at his ankles. “I’ll make sure Miss Rivers’s dance card is filled.”

Tripp swallowed hard and wiped his mouth with his hand. “As long as you know that I’ll be escorting her to the St. Cecilia Ball.”

“Oh really?”

Hugh drawled. “Is that arranged too, by your mothers?”

“As a matter of fact, it was,”

said Tripp, coloring. “Eliza and I are to be married.”

“Tripp, stop,”

I said with an annoyed laugh.

“We are,”

Tripp declared, and there was no humor in his voice.

This was met by a strained silence. It was a family joke that Tripp and I were to be married. Something we played at as truth when we were little. But I was now fourteen, with Hugh sitting beside me, and the joke was no longer funny. I looked at Tripp’s face, flushed and adamant, and felt a fissure of worry that Tripp actually believed it.

Lesesne moved to lie on his side and tossed some wild grass toward Tripp. “You’re plumb crazy if you believe that. Your daddy’s a second son, like I am. He hasn’t got one dime to rub against the other. No way you can win Mama’s approval when other offers come in.”

“Les, that’s a horrible thing to say,” I said.

“It’s true,”

Tripp replied without remorse. Then he sat up straight. “But I’ve got it all planned out. I’m going to Amherst, and it being a top-rated high school, I should get into a first-rate college to study veterinarian science. Then I’ll open a practice in Charleston. I’ll be able to take care of Eliza comfortably.”

His face appeared almost smug.

I was struck speechless that he’d planned out our future. That he was serious about us getting married.

Les hooted aloud, causing Tripp’s cheeks to flush.

Hugh intervened. “Seems to me you forgot an important step.”

Tripp tilted his head. “What?”

“Well, sir,”

Hugh said as he moved to an upright position. “Seems to me what’s most important is asking the woman if she wants to marry you, rather than assuming she will because her mama mandates it. I mean, we’re living in the twentieth century!”

Heyward laughed and muttered, “Hear hear.”

“Right,”

said Covey, surprising us with her voice. “We women want to determine our own destiny. We want the right to education. We want the right to vote without prejudice due to our sex or the color of our skin. And most certainly we want the ability to choose our own husbands.”

She paused to take a breath. Then, plucking bits of grass, she added, “I may never be able to marry the man I love. But I won’t settle.”

Looking back at Tripp, she said, “If it’s not for love, I won’t marry. I’ll take care of myself, thank you very much.”

I listened to Covey’s rare outburst with wonder. Where did such a declaration of passion come from? Everyone seemed moved by her confession. Tripp’s lips were tight, perhaps from embarrassment. Heyward looked out at the pond. Hugh studied his sandwich like it held the secrets of the universe. Lesesne looked at Heyward, then at Covey with a fixed gaze.

Hugh turned to me with a question burning in his eyes. “What about you, Miss Rivers? What is your view on marriage?”

“I think all this talk about marriage is making me itch,”

I said, slapping a mosquito from my arm. I glanced at Tripp and my heart ached to see that he was hurting. “I’m getting eaten alive. Come on, Tripp. Let’s pack up and go home.”

His eyes filled with gratitude, and he immediately began returning food to the picnic basket. “Lead the way,”

he called out, “and I’ll follow.”

* * *

That night a strange rapping sound at my window awoke me from my sleep. I slipped from my bed to push back the lace. The window was wide open to catch the night’s coolness. I looked out, seeing a full moon that lit up the earth like a theater.

“Hey, Eliza Rivers. You asleep?”

I looked down to see Hugh standing below my window, a shadowed figure in the moonlight, looking up.

I called back in a loud whisper, “What do you think?”

I saw the whites of his teeth when he grinned. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”

He put his finger to his lips then waved that I should come down. Filled with expectation, I shrugged on my eyelet robe and hurried barefoot down the stairs. At the door I slipped into my muck boots and stepped outside. The night air was balmy, and I stood for a moment, letting my eyesight acclimate to the night. The song of the cicadas swelled in the gray moonlight as I searched for Hugh. I saw his silhouette in the dusky light. He waved and walked quickly to my side. The whites of his eyes shone like beacons in the night. My heart skipped a beat in anticipation when he took my hand.

“Where are we going?”

“Shhh . . .”

He interlaced his fingers with mine and we set off across the garden. The dewy grass dampened the hem of my nightgown as I walked with Hugh across the back lawn. A fog was rolling in, making the white of the gazebo appear ghostly in the moonlight. We stepped up onto the wooden platform, and, releasing my hand, Hugh spread his jacket over the damp bench for me to sit on. I sat, ankle to ankle, and clasped my hands on my white nightgown, uncertain of what was to come. The mist thickened around us, creating a gauzy curtain. Hugh stood looking at me, seemingly indecisive, and though I was inexperienced in the ways of love, every neuron in my body was aware something important was going to happen.

He cleared his throat then sat beside me. With deliberation he took my clasped hands in his. I felt the warmth of them clear to my heart. Hugh held one hand in each and, looking down, I saw how large his hands were compared to mine.

“Eliza.”

Reluctantly, I looked up.

“I had to see you,”

he said. “There are things I want to say. Before you leave for Charleston.”

I remained quiet, my breath held.

Hugh took a breath then blurted out, “I like you, Eliza.”

I blinked, taking the words in.

“Not just like a friend. Though you are my friend. Not like a sister. God, no, not like a sister.”

He moved closer beside me on the bench. “I like you,”

he continued more forcefully. “And it makes me jealous when Tripp talks about how he’s going to marry you and how he’s taking you to the St. Cecilia Ball.”

“Oh, that . . .”

“I want to take you to the St. Cecilia Ball for your debut,”

Hugh exclaimed. “When that day comes, will you allow me to be your escort?”

I felt his hands tighten around mine, saw the earnestness in his eyes, and it astonished me when I caught sight of worry that I might say no. I almost wanted to laugh. I’d never given the ball much thought. It was desperately important to my mother that I attend. After all, it was my father’s invitation to the exclusive St. Cecilia Ball that secured her entrance into society. I’d always assumed I would go with Tripp because, well, our mothers had decided that at our infancy.

To see Hugh place such importance on not merely attending the important ball, but being my escort for my debut, took my breath away. Suddenly I saw the fancy ball with new perspective.

“Yes,”

I said, looking into his eyes. “I would be honored if you were my escort for my debut.”

Hugh freed my hands as his winning smile bloomed across his face. He slapped a fist into his palm, still beaming. “I didn’t think you were going to say yes,”

he said. Then he wrapped one arm around my shoulder, tilted his head, and pointed at the starlit sky.

“You know I made a wish on that star,” he said.

I looked up at the countless stars and wondered which one was his. “There are so many,” I said.

Hugh turned his head, smiled sheepishly, and said, “My wish came true.”

I held my breath. He was so close I was sure he would kiss me. Then his expression shifted, and I felt his arm slip off my shoulder. “Eliza, I’m sorry about Tripp,”

he said. “I know you were meant to go to the St. Cecilia Ball with him.”

“To be honest, he never asked me. He just assumed.”

“Right?”

Hugh said, encouraged. “I mean, it was your mothers that arranged it, so it’s not like I’m stealing his date.”

Talking more to himself, he paced a few steps as he rationalized his decision. “Tripp’s a nice enough fellow. I like him and all.”

He stopped and looked at me intently. “But all is fair in love and war.”

“Hugh . . .”

His gaze shifted to my lips and his eyes smoldered in a way I’d not seen before, triggering my heart to race and my lips to open slightly in a soft gasp. This time he did not hesitate. He held my shoulders, and ever so slowly, testing me in breaths, drew his lips to mine.

I was powerless against the magnetic power that drew me to him. Brain and heart were sending new sensations through my blood. I closed my eyes and, letting go, succumbed to the pull.

His lips touched mine. Gently. Two quivering, soft pillows that skimmed the skin before retreating. Oh, I thought. More . . . Then, in the space of a single, warm breath, Hugh’s lips descended to mine again. This time his lips were hungry, urgent, as his arms encircled me. My breath caught in my throat, my head was dizzy.

I thought to myself, My first kiss.