"Just wait for me, Charles," Rachel drawled to her grandson as he opened the door to the Cadillac, spit-shined and gleaming in the sunlight of a hot July day. Her words crackled low from her throat, struggling to emerge from deep within. She seemed to sense those who strained to hear her, so she always accompanied her speech with a disarming smile and a gentle touch from her wrinkled hand."Yes, Grandma," Charles returned. He had protested many times the walk she always wanted to take to the wooden park bench that was a good fifty feet from the pavement where she now stood. But, Grandma Rachel always wanted to go alone.Rachel plodded the distance from the Cadillac to the bench, her head erect, admiring the scenery. Reaching the bench, she eased her body onto the wooden seat, clutching a hand carved dogwood stick cane one of her great grandsons had given her on her ninetieth birthday. Rachel grumbled at having to make a concession to her age but satisfied her ego by reckoning that she would have to use the cane since her great grandson had given it to her as a birthday present. When her aged body reached a comfortable resting position, she stared forward and smiled as her squint-eyed gaze caught a refreshing intake of the beauty that was Cooper River.Rachel was 104 years old. Her sagging shoulders were draped in an ever-present shawl that was always worn, even in the steamy South Carolina weather of mid-July. She was thin and frail, expected of a 104 year-old lady. But, she was a remarkable lady.Admirers, and indeed she had many, were always challenged to strip away all that was old, and imagine this remarkable woman in her youth. Her skin was the texture and color of tangerine rind now, yet one could imagine her skin all smooth and tawny in her youth. Her gray hair, cut short and thinning now, was in her youth, long, straight, and shiny black like the manes of the champion stallions on the plantation where she was born into slavery. Where she was once statuesque and beautiful, even dressed in the most plain of clothes, her tired old body was now bent and twisted.Had Rachel known some people were thinking this way, she would have told them not to bother to imagine. Yet, no one could resist looking into eyes that seemed able to calm wild beasts. They glowed like the Charleston lighthouse that she watched across the Cooper River when she played here as a child. Back then, she, her siblings and the grandson of her master roamed this area for hours, chasing fireflies, playing hide and seek, hunting mud puppies in the inlets and squishing their feet and toes in the sandy beach.She sat in peaceful contemplation, moving her head back and forth at the boats sailing up and down the river. A young couple strolled hand in hand along the beach in front of her, the shape of the young girl's body clear under her clinging jeans. Her long blonde hair challenged the brightness of the sun and, indeed, its light bounced off the sheen and reflected over the water. The young man cast loving gazes at the girl, undistracted, even at the sound of a motor boat or a fisher bird sweeping low over the water searching for its meal. Then, the girl spied Rachel."Miss Rachel, it's so good to see you!" the girl yelled as she ran toward Rachel, dragging her reluctant suitor along. Everyone knew Miss Rachel, but Rachel had long since given up on remembering all the names of the students. So, all her young admirers were greeted with "child" or "children.""What are you doing way out here, Miss Rachel?"The boy interjected before she could answer, "How are you, Miss Rachel?""I'm just fine, children," she answered with a nod of assurance. "And it's good to see you." Rachel had noticed the couple one other time kissing in front of the mansion. She smiled then and she smiled now.Rachel's voice stirred from its stillness as she brought her attention back to the girl's question. "Oh, I come here once in a while to remember and think.""I bet you got a lot to remember and think about, Miss Rachel." The girl hesitated in embarrassment, feeling shame for an awkward reference to Rachel's age."Yes, child," she answered with a smile meant to deflate the girl's concern. There was a pause as the two young people waited for elaboration. Feeling the inquisitive stares, Rachel continued, "My husband and I used to walk along this river just like you two."The girl sidled her body in beside Rachel and hooked her arm into Rachel's, her curiosity aroused by the thought of two lovers from long ago walking in the same footsteps that she and her boyfriend had just tread."Boy, I'd love to hear that story, Miss Rachel," she urged.The boy breathed a sigh and took his place beside the girl.Rachel contemplated her memories, staring forward with an almost mesmerized intensity. Over her many years, those eyes had crept into the mind, imagination and will of all those she encountered. Even enemies wishing her harm or those determined not to be awed had to admit that their attention was always drawn by Rachel's eyes. Now, time had left tiny rivulets of red running across eyes that were once as clear and magnificent as a beautiful spring day on Scarborough Estate. But, they were still working their magic on the two young lovers. Both watched as Rachel's eyes seemed to penetrate the water, sky and trees as they reached back into the depths of history. Her visitors sat in stillness, waiting for more.Rachel responded. "Oh yes, child. My husband was a wonderful man. But, the story starts way before I met Gideon."The eyes continued to search, moisture covering her gaze. Memories were flooding every vestige of her soul, pointing her toward the past, not with reluctance, but with joy. So much pain, yet so much love.Rachel leaned forward, her words joining her soul as they marched backward to Scarborough Estate, to Moses, to Samuel, to Clarice. She struggled to organize her thoughts and chose to begin where it all started, in a swamp eighteen years before she was born.A mischievous smile was followed by a brief pause. Then, she began, "That ole man Sam Scarborough was a mess. A mess, I tell you children........"
