Mary Alice Monroe - Skyward

He could only afford one year, anyway. Miss Majors was taking a minimum salary, a lucky break for him. But even that small salary would eat up every penny in his savings account, and then some. Somehow, he’d make do. He’d always managed in the past, hadn’t he? Even with Fannie’s bills.

Fannie. He paused to run his hand through his hair and take a deep breath. Other than his mother, she was the only woman he’d lived with in his life. And if that was any indication of what that experience was like, he would pass, thanks very much. Lord, if this Miss Majors was anything like Fannie…

He shook his head, surprised at the way his adrenaline was pumping even at the thought. There was no way she could be like Fannie. There was only one like her…

He’d made the decision to bring Miss Ella Elizabeth Majors into his sanctuary. He’d see it through. Even if the very thought of it made his breath come as wheezy and as fast as the osprey’s.

Early the next morning, Harris followed Lijah to the site of Santee’s nest. They trudged in a companionable silence through miles of silt and mud along the Wando River. Harris’s long legs could traverse a rough landscape at a clipped pace. He paused twice during the long trek, thinking perhaps the older man might need a rest. Lijah, however, wasn’t even winded. It was a cold, damp morning and most of the South Carolina reptiles and amphibians were nestled in a quiet, dark place, waiting for the warm sunshine of spring. Here and there, however, they’d spy a shiny black salamander burrowed in a pile of moist, composting leaves, no doubt waiting for a meal of earthworms and grubs. They reveled in the brisk wintry air, breeding and laying their gelatinous egg packets that would emerge as tadpoles months later.

At last the two men reached a cluster of ancient, proud longleaf pines that towered into the sky. Countless smaller trees and shrubs clustered around the bases of the giants like children holding on to the hems of aunts. Lijah reached out and pointed.

“That’ll be it.”

Harris craned his neck to gaze up at the conical nest. It was massive, more than six feet in diameter, comprised of large sticks knitted together, deep in a vertical fork of the tree. Sitting beside the nest like a lone sentinel was the eagle. He glared at them, as though daring them to come closer.

“He’s still sitting by the nest,” Harris said. “Poor guy.”

“He sat on those eggs for the longest time. I knew he’d have a hard time of it without Santee. Did what I could to help. Brung him fish most every day. I’d whistle to let him know I was here, then set the fish right at the bottom of the tree. Once he knew it was me, he’d come on down, grab a fish, then go right back up to the eggs. I was hopeful.” He shook his head.

“Don’t take it too hard, Lijah. It’s just the way of things. It takes two adults to incubate the eggs.”

“But Pee Dee…He kept with the nest. He didn’t give up.”

“Even when the father makes a valiant effort, he eventually has to leave the eggs from time to time to feed. The odds were against him. It’s just too cold to leave those eggs exposed. Sometimes, if he’s lucky, a male will find a new mate who will help incubate and raise the young as her own. But that’s rare.”

“It’s a real shame.”

“That it is. I feel for him.”

Something in his voice must have alerted Lijah, because he turned his attention from the nest to look at Harris. “You mean, on account you taking care of your young one alone, too?”

Harris drew in a long breath and placed his hands on his hips. It was rare for Harris to speak openly to others. He found the act of confiding personal information painful and often wondered why others seemed to do it freely. But the old man’s sincerity and disarming warmth thawed his icy hesitance. Or, it might just have been some private longing for advice from a father he’d never had.

“Marion’s mother left me soon after she was born. Fannie was a beautiful woman, but flighty. She had…problems. But she gave me Marion, and for that I’ll always be grateful to her. I never for one moment regretted having my daughter.”

“’Course not.”

“I do the best that I can for her. I’ve provided a decent home. I see that she’s warm, fed and has enough clothes. I’m gone a lot, but I’ve always had someone to look out for her.” He shrugged, hearing the plea for understanding in his own voice. “It’s hard. They count on me at the clinic to treat the injured birds that come in day after day. Then there are the resident birds to look after, and their training. That alone requires hours of my time. On top of all that, I’m always seeking donations, doing fund-raisers, sending out mailings, anything I can to keep the center afloat. I have to bring home food to the nest, too, so to speak.”

He looked up at the eagle sitting alone among the cluster of tree limbs. The nest beside him loomed empty and desolate.

“I rationalized how busy I was, how I had so much to get done.” His lips tightened. “But when I look back on those days, those weeks, before her illness, if I’m honest, I see how I wasn’t paying attention. Sure I put the food on the table and paid the baby-sitters, but I wasn’t really watching. If I had been, I would have seen her symptoms, seen that she was thirsty or losing weight. Seen that she was looking poorly. I’m her father. I should have seen. My daughter had to have convulsions before I noticed. What the hell kind of a father was I?” He paused. “So yeah. I do feel for that eagle up there. You think Pee Dee failed? I failed.”

He wanted Lijah to agree with him, to tell him that he was a bad father, guilty as charged. Maybe then the voice in his head that whispered those words over and over would be silenced.

Lijah only nodded to indicate he’d heard. After a moment, he looked across the wetlands. “Son, it’s a fair way back,” he said. “I’ll walk with you.”

They walked shoulder to shoulder through the mud, back toward home. The sun was rising higher into an azure sky, promising a clear day. Without preamble, Lijah began to sing. His rich baritone rose up from his chest and poured out over the wetlands like a fresh morning breeze that spirits away the darkness. He sang a Gullah spiritual, one that Harris had heard long ago, perhaps in his childhood along the Edisto River.

I look down duh road, en duh road so lonesome,

Lawd, I got tuh walk down dat lonesome road.

En I look down duh road, en duh road so lonesome,

Lawd, I got tuh walk down dat lonesome road.

Owls: Hunters of the Night.Owls are nocturnal raptors adapted for hunting at night. Fringed feathers allow for soundless flight and larger eyes and ears aid auditory hunting. Owls rest during the day, but at dusk they come alive, ready to hunt. South Carolina owls include great horned owls, barred owls, Eastern screech owls and barn owls.

Highway 17, a long stretch of four-lane divided highway, took Ella Elizabeth Majors toward what she’d hoped would be the beginning of something new in her life. She wasn’t looking for magic. She wasn’t looking for love. What she was looking for, at the very least, was a rest stop between where she’d been and where she was heading.

The open map lying on the passenger seat of her modest four-door sedan informed her that the highway dated back to the colonial days when it was called King’s Highway. Redcoats, “Swamp Fox” Frances Marion, slaves and planters had all traveled up and down this roadbed once upon a time.

But it was all new to her. She’d arrived in Charleston a month earlier, and though she’d moved to the south to stay, she was as yet a Yankee tourist—and would be for another twenty years, if the guidebooks she’d read were true.