Page 36 of Where the Rivers Merge

Dragonflies (Anisoptera) are insects characterized by large, multifaceted eyes, two pairs of strong, transparent wings, and an elongated body.

Their flight is agile and graceful, and they are often found near ponds, lakes, and streams.

Predatory insects, dragonflies feed on other insects like mosquitoes, flies, and gnats, which is important in controlling insect populations.

Dragonflies symbolize change and transformation.

1988

Outside, the sun had shifted in the sky.

I turned from the window, took a long, deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

I allowed my gaze to sweep the mural, ticking off in my mind the many stories that I’d shared over the past days.

My eyes lingered on the scene of the great live oak tree with a large hollow in which three children played.

There was Rawlins and Sloane’s wedding, another with a pair of oxen pulling a plow in the rice fields, a young girl racing a horse, young teens at Sweetwater Pond, two blond-haired men in uniform standing shoulder to shoulder, and gravestones on a hill.

It was a good start, I thought, feeling a weight lifted from my shoulders.

The early years were finished.

My gaze swept across the multitude of other scenes and I sighed wearily.

I knew these next told of other joys and other sorrows—adult and more profound.

All chapters of the tale I had yet to complete.

The two women sitting at the table appeared as yet rapt with attention.

But their faces looked tired.

Cold coffee cups littered the table.

The air felt stale.

Enough for now, I thought.

I rose and clapped my hands, startling them.

“We’re going out,”

I announced. “We need to breathe some fresh air and feel the sun on our faces. And I know just the place.”

* * *

Sweetwater Pond glistened as dappled sunlight filtered through the dense canopy of trees. The light seemed to dance on the water with a mesmerizing play of light and shadow. Near the water’s edge reeds and cattails stood tall, their slender forms casting elongated reflections on the surface. Dragonflies fluttered their iridescent wings as they performed their graceful aerial dances.

We carried a cooler and old Hudson blankets from the ATV and spread them out on the soft grass beside the pond. Norah opened the wine and poured glasses of chilled rosé.

We sat for a while gazing at the expanse of water that glinted in the sunlight like a huge jewel. After a while, feeling the wine, I set my glass aside and lay down on my back. The sky above was brilliant blue with white cumulus clouds drifting past. My body slowly softened.

“We’ve talked a lot about the past,”

I said aloud. “Let’s spend some time focusing on the present moment instead of thinking about the past or future. I’ve learned that coming outdoors to the natural world helps me relieve stress and clear my head. And cheers me up. Tuning into what’s happening around me helps create calm. Let’s just sit quietly for a moment. Or lie down if you prefer. Become aware of your surroundings—the feel of the sun on your face. Use your senses. Sight. Sound. Smell. Touch. Taste. They link you to the world around you. Go on, now. Close your eyes.”

After a few breaths I asked, “What do you hear? What do you smell? What do you feel?”

With my eyes closed my senses heightened, I felt the softness of grass tickle my palms. Heard the gentle rustle of the wind in the leaves of the trees. From somewhere came the buzzing of a bee and warblers trilled from branches above. Pine and cedar, I thought as I caught their distinctive scent. In that moment, I felt very much alive, even as I understood at a cellular level that my health had diminished. Like the mural, I was in the final scenes of my life.

I gave them time to let the spell work. I looked to my side to see Savannah still sitting with her eyes closed, breathing heavily.

“Are you asleep?”

I asked her.

She pried open an eye. “No. But close.”

She giggled and rubbed her eyes. “Actually, it was great. When I close my eyes, breathe in and out, and just listen, it’s like you said. I feel . . . more connected. But it makes you sleepy.”

“That’s because you’re relaxing. That’s good.”

Savannah yawned noisily. “I needed that.”

“I try to get outdoors at least once a day,”

said Norah. “If only for a couple of minutes. Life can get pretty fast and hectic and I just need to take a break in nature. You could say it’s my form of meditation.”

She looked across the pond. “I imagine that would be easy to do here.”

“I’ve always found it to be,”

I replied. “As much as I love coming to Sweetwater Pond, in truth I haven’t been in quite a while. I have to make time in my schedule, plan how to get way out here. Get the bug spray,”

I added with a light laugh. “It doesn’t matter where I go, as long as I get outdoors. Even if it’s just sitting in my garden.”

“Do you still work full-time?”

asked Norah.

“Yes.”

Seeing her astonished expression, I continued. “I’ve relinquished the reins of my corporation bit by bit over the years. Still, I shoulder the weight of the company and the direction it takes. At the shareholders meeting, when I announced my intention of letting the load go, I knew it was time. Past time. I was waiting, hoping for . . .”

I paused. It was too early to discuss my plans. I had watched the two young women listen and absorb the family stories and was heartened. Watching them here and now, at this beautiful spot, I sensed they were forging an attachment to Mayfield.

“Changing the line of succession was not an easy decision for me.”

I looked at Savannah. “Your father was, understandably, upset. At another time, I’ll explain my reasons.”

“I don’t need to know,”

Savannah rushed to say.

“I want you to know. It’s important that you understand. And perhaps,”

I ventured, “agree with my decisions. Still, family strife causes a lot of stress, and my work has monopolized my time for many years. One thinks one can go chugging on like some train engine forever. It’s hard to accept when one comes to the end of the track.”

I took a breath. “I had a heart attack recently.”

“Grandma,”

Savannah said with alarm. She clutched my hand, eyes wide. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

I was filled with affection for her emotion. “It was minor,”

I replied, patting her hand, making light of it. “I went to doctors, had countless tests, was poked and prodded. And I survived. I don’t want you to worry. But it did convince me to retire.”

I laughed. “Your father should be pleased.”

Savannah scowled. “He shouldn’t have said those things. He’s terrible.”

“No, he’s not,”

I chided. “But . . . maybe he needs to open his senses a bit.”

I steepled my hands under my chin. “You asked if I remembered Hugh. I do,”

I said honestly. “But Heyward, Hugh, and Covey are gone. Your grandfather too. Dear Tripp. And so many others. My ode to joy is having you here now.”

Thunder rumbled softly in the sky, signaling it was time to head home. We quickly gathered our supplies and loaded the ATV. As the clouds overhead began turning gray, we headed back to the house.

* * *

We arrived at the house laughing. Slightly sunburned, our hair in disarray, we felt rejuvenated as we climbed from the ATV. Savannah assisted me and slid her arm around my waist as we walked to the rear door.

I felt the day’s fatigue as we strolled along the brick walkway. I enjoyed my granddaughter’s arm around me. Drowsy, I thought I might take a nap. Maybe a shower first.

A flutter caught my eye, and looking up I saw a bluebird hopping onto a green bough of a nearby live oak. I took the opportunity to pause and listen as he regaled us with this sweet melody. Bluebirds were considered a harbinger of good fortune.

On entering the coolness of the house, Savannah saw that the answering machine’s light was blinking. She slid her arm away and dashed to the hall table to punch the play button.

“Hello, this is Hana. It’s urgent. Mrs. Delancey, please call me back at your earliest convenience.”

After a momentary pause, there was a click of disconnection.

Hana’s voice was monotone, but she rarely used words like urgent. I hurried to the phone and dialed her number.

“Hana? What is urgent?”

I said when I heard her hello.

“Mrs. DeLancey. Thank you for returning my call.”

She paused, then launched into her report. “As you expected, there was great disappointment at the luncheon yesterday when you did not appear. And concern. Given it was your birthday, many of the family felt you would have attended if you could have. The message that circulated was that you are not well.”

“Did you tell them I returned to Mayfield?”

“Yes, I did,”

Hana answered succinctly. “This did not deter Arthur. Rather, it seemed to fuel his argument. Arthur is undermining confidence in your ability to lead the business by reason of your health. He is pointing out the sudden—and he says dramatic—move to put thousands of acres into conservation as being affected by your illness. Arthur is also working to gain the support of other family members and key stakeholders by portraying himself as the solution to the immediate challenge of your illness. You should know, he has successfully rallied people against your proposal to change the hereditary succession.”

“Of course he has.”

I took my son’s plans in stride. I would not allow myself to get emotional. “I see now I shouldn’t have left the fox in the henhouse.”

“Ma’am,”

Hana said. “Arthur stated that he was coming to see you.”

“Coming here? To Mayfield?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I’m not sure, but soon.”

“Is Bobby Lee now at Green Pond?”

“He is.”

“Thank you, Hana. I’ll call him.”

I said goodbye to Hana and immediately dialed Bobby Lee’s phone number, one of the few I knew by heart. He answered on the second ring. After pleasantries, he repeated Hana’s account of the fallout after the shareholders meeting.

“He’s coming loaded for bear,”

Bobby Lee drawled.

“Does he have the votes?”

“Not yet. The family likes the idea of having a vote in the election of the chairperson. And I’m sorry to say, given that he’s your son, there is little confidence in Arthur’s ability to manage the corporation.”

“Bobby Lee, you are right. I cannot delay securing the final thousand acres of Mayfield. I’ve been formulating a new plan. Do you remember the young woman at the meeting who spoke out for conservation?”

“Yes. She was Heyward’s granddaughter, am I right?”

“Yes. Norah Davis. She’s highly qualified, with a PhD in environmental science and experience with the Nature Conservancy. And more . . . she’s family.”

“I see. Are you considering Miss Davis for chairman of the board of the Mayfield Foundation?”

“Indeed I am. She is perfect. The best of Heyward and Covey both.”

After a pause, Bobby Lee said with an emotional tremor in his voice, “I’m happy for you, Eliza. I know you’ve been waiting for this moment.”

I was grateful to my old friend. “Do you have the papers ready?”

“Yes. They’re waiting for your signature.”

“It’s time for the next step.”

I placed the receiver in its bed and took a deep breath. When I was a child, Wilton had affectionately said I had feral instincts. That extra sense that alerted me to change and allowed me to pounce in time. I felt those senses tingling now and hope surging in my blood.

The pieces were coming together. Norah had the résumé and the brains for advancement. Savannah had curiosity, a quick mind, and a good heart. They were each at a different stage in life, and they each would take what they needed from the stories I told. My task was to help raise questions in their minds. To help them visualize opportunities.

But it was Norah Davis who was a key to the future of Mayfield. I had to convince her of that.

“Everything okay?”

Savannah asked.

I smiled weakly and nodded. “All is as expected.”

The door opened and Norah came in with a gust of wind that smelled of rain.

“Made it in time,”

she called out, hustling into the kitchen.

Another gust whipped through the rice fields, sending the tall spartina grass swaying under the force of the wind, creating a mesmerizing dance across the landscape. Rumbles of thunder echoed, ominously, like a warning growl. Dark, roiling cumulous clouds were forming in the distance.

I walked to stand at the large windows. “Big storm coming,”

I said. “I can feel it in my bones.”

Nature was both powerful and dangerous. Only a fool underestimated it. I thought of the next set of stories I would tell and wondered how the women would respond to them. Today I’d ended at my wedding to Tripp, akin to a sunny day. My stories were about to change eras and mood. In these, we were no longer children riding horses, falling in love, and playing in the wild. We had become adults and would begin navigating difficult decisions and changes of fortune. I looked at the ominous sky over the fields and shivered, thinking of the cold winds about to blow.

“Savannah, Norah,”

I called out, waving them closer. We stood shoulder to shoulder at the windows watching the approaching tempest. “Do you recall the year of my wedding?”

“Nineteen twenty-six,”

said Savannah.

“That’s right. Now think about history. What was looming on the horizon like those dark clouds overhead?”

After a brief pause Norah said, “The Great Depression.”

“Yes,”

I said somberly. I wrapped my arms around myself thinking of all the changes that harsh era had brought to Mayfield and the Rivers family. I had more stories to tell them: of joyous birth and tragic death, poverty and great wealth, divorce and marriage, hunting and killing, love and lies. And through it all, the fate of Mayfield hung in the balance.

The magnitude of the realization brought a stab of pain to my heart, quick and sharp. Gasping, I reach out for Savannah’s hand, finding comfort in the connection with my granddaughter. As the pain ebbed and my breath returned, with my other hand, I took Norah’s. I smiled, sensing the meaningful bond that was growing between us.

“This story is far from over,”

I said, squeezing their hands. “But for now, we rest. It is my honor to share all this with you. My greatest hope is that you, together, will carry on the history of Mayfield. And preserve its land, waters, and wildlife for generations to come.”

I looked out at the gathering clouds. “Tonight, a storm will brew. But trust that tomorrow the sun will shine again.”

End of Book One