Undaunted Love by Jennings Wright Page B

All other times there was Mama and the slaves and the men who’d come temporarily to help with harvest. But only he and his father fished, or, occasionally, waded in the silty muck and to dig out clams with their bare toes. A few times, his father had set out wooden traps for crabs, but his mama didn’t like the looks of them, and they were hard to keep hold of, so they gave that up.
    The riverbank had a narrow strip of white sand beach, with sea oats and tall marsh grass waving in the breeze. “The ocean’s not far, that way,” he said, pointing east. “When we had a boat we’d row it out there to the middle of the river. But the boat got busted up in a storm, and we didn’t get a chance to build another one like we planned…” He gazed east, out over the blue water. Sighing, he turned up the beach and walked along the water. “Come on, it’s not far.”
    “What will we see?” Liv asked, smiling.
    “I can’t rightly tell you, now, can I? That’d spoil the surprise.” She swatted his arm in mock anger, her teasing look causing his heart to beat faster. “Up here!” he said, dropping her hand and jogging up the beach.
    With her heavy hooped skirts, she followed slowly, losing sight of him as he rounded a short bend. This part of the island was marshy, with a scraggly row of wind beaten trees between the sand and the shorter marsh grass. The tide was low, so the marsh gave off a briny smell, reminding Livvie of the drying seaweed she’d smelled the one time her father had taken them to the shore at Hilton Head.
    “Rafe?” she called out.
    “In here!” she heard him answer, but it was muffled, and she couldn’t tell where his voice was coming from. Looking around she saw only more of the stunted trees, one large oak that was twisted and bent but still alive and thriving, and mound of large leafed shrubs.
    “I don’t see you!” she called again.
    From the mound of shrubs Rafe emerged, grinning. “It’s a duck blind!” he exclaimed. “Daddy and I built it when I was seven or eight. At first we piled tree limbs and such all around, but I planted some of the seeds that washed up on the beach, and now it’s hidden by these shrubs. I haven’t hunted here in a couple years, but maybe after October, when the ducks are runnin’… Come on, let me show you.”
    Guiding her through a very small break in the branches, Liv found herself in a world of green and gold and brown. The leaves of the plants were the size of small plates, bright green but often with gold edges. The limbs were slender and supple, the color of hot tea. In the center of the mound sat a rough wooden structure, with a slit for shooting, a roof made from a large plank of driftwood, and a door only four feet high with rusty hinges. Rafe opened the door and she ducked inside.
    Shelves lined one wall, a rusted lantern the only occupant. Two former household chairs, well past their usefulness in the main house, sat facing the slit, ready for the hunters. The space was large, at least eight by ten feet, and dry. Piled in one corner was a homemade table, leaning against the wall on its edge, with a trunk sitting in front of it. Rafe crossed to the trunk and opened it, squatting down to see better in the dim light. Livvie looked out the slit, imagining herself with a rifle shooting down a duck.
    “We’re in luck!” he said, and she turned to see him holding up an old quilt. The trunk had managed to keep it relatively clean and dry, so he spread it out on the sandy ground. Livvie joined him on it, lying spooned in front of him, her head on his arm and his arm over her waist.
    “I love it here,” she said. “It would be lovely in the rain, listening to the water fall on the roof.”
    Her husband laughed. “It’s only lovely if the rain ain’t coming out of the north and through that opening in the wall. Then it’s just plain wet and cold. Daddy and I spent some nights out here when the weather was fine. Mama thought we were crazy, but