Chapter 2
Leaving Fran behind reminded Sarah of the complexities in her family’s past. While storm damage could be mended, the void left by her father’s untimely departure widened with every mile Sarah put between herself and Sunset View. His accidental drowning on the Islamorada section of the Florida Circumnavigational Saltwater Paddling Trail, a dream he shared with her grandfather Tom Sr., haunted her. Tom, who mysteriously vanished near Renegade’s Bayou on the west coast of Florida, north of Cedar Key, deepened the intrigue surrounding their family’s past.
The clay pendant, a keepsake from her father, passed down by his father, hinted at answers Sarah couldn’t yet understand. It was a constant reminder of the adventure that claimed him and the void it carved in her life.
The ninety-mile drive home wound through the heart of rural North Florida, revealing a landscape adorned with moss-draped oaks, cabbage palms, dusty roads, and sleepy towns. Each mile brought Sarah closer to the haven she and Everett had built together—a classic Florida Cracker house with barn board siding and a tin roof that serenaded them on many a rainy moonlit night.
Entering the driveway, Sarah spotted the warm glow from the kitchen window, a beacon of comfort in the still, chilly evening. The earthy scent of their garden greeted her—a symphony of assorted fruits, vegetables, and fragrant herbs and flowers, a shared passion that had grown into a love deeper than they both imagined.
Chesney, their exuberant “Homestead Hound,” joyously welcomed Sarah beneath the old Live Oaks draped in Spanish moss. A thought crossed Sarah’s mind – coming home was always a pleasure, and a loving smile played on her lips. Everett emerged from the kitchen and onto the wooden screen porch, wiping his hands on a linen dish towel. His face lit up at the sight of her, though concern flickered in his eyes. Pulling her into a warm kiss, his embrace conveyed silent reassurance.
“Rough drive?” he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Sarah leaned into him, finding solace in his familiar touch. “Not as bad as what I left behind,” she sighed. “Aunt Fran’s staying put, though. Says she’s not letting some hurricane chase her away. Stubborn as ever, that one.”
“She’ll be alright,” Everett reassured her, squeezing her hand. “She has plenty of folks looking out for her. Besides, she wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Sarah smiled, picturing her aunt’s fiery spirit. “You’re right, Ev.”
Ev, Sarah, and Chesney entered the house. Chesney intrigued by the scents coming from the backpack Sarah had put on the table.
“Did you grab something to eat?” Everett asked, knowing Sarah had had a long day.
She shook her head. “No, not hungry… but there’s something else.” Her eyes darted to the backpack that held the weather-beaten journal and map.
“Something…interesting?” Everett raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
“I found these at Sunset View, under the damage and debris of Fran’s storage shed.” She pulled out the journal and unfolded the faded map, the edges crinkled with age and still damp from the storm’s rains. “Remember Tom’s stories about his canoeing trips, searching for hidden artifacts and forgotten paths?”
Everett’s eyes widened. “Sure, we always thought they were just tall tales.”
“Maybe they weren’t,” Sarah said, the pendant warming against her skin. Everett listened intently, his expression shifting between concern for Fran and a growing curiosity as Sarah described the journal and map. When she reached the inscription, “Follow the Cypress sentinels, where the river remembers, and truth awaits,” his eyes widened.
“Wow,” he breathed, leaning forward. “That’s… incredible. It sounds like you stumbled onto something quite interesting!”
A surge of relief washed over her. Everett’s enthusiasm mirrored her own, and his unwavering support was a comforting presence.
“I know, right?” Sarah exclaimed, a genuine smile returning to her face. “I can’t believe what we might uncover here. And the map… there’s a symbol on it that looks exactly like my pendant!”
Everett’s eyes gleamed with excitement. He was a man who thrived on riddles and puzzles, and the prospect of deciphering the map’s secrets ignited his adventurous spirit.
“That’s fascinating,” he said, reaching for the map Sarah had placed on the table. “It seems like everything is somehow connected. The inscription, the symbol, your pendant… it’s almost like the map is calling to you.”
He scanned the map, his brow furrowed in concentration. “This is… incredible! We’ve got to dry these out and see if we can fully make out what the journal entries say as well as the writing on this map.”
Sarah, her silver hair framing kind and knowing eyes, felt excited but also aware of the challenges ahead. The damp journal and map, still whispering secrets of the past, wouldn’t be ready for proper examination until they had been properly dried.
“Looks like we can’t crack the code tonight,” she said with a gentle smile, turning to Everett. His weathered hands, strong and capable, rested on the table beside her, a comforting presence.
Everett smiled. “True, but we can certainly enjoy a well-deserved margarita while these precious artifacts dry out.” He winked, his eyes sparkling with a familiar mischievous glint. Sarah’s heart, like the soil she nurtured in her beloved herb garden, held a secret side-dream: to become a mixologist, crafting magic in some local hangout. But for now, she contentedly conjured her own concoctions at home, each sip a testament to a life as rich and layered as the earth itself.
Sarah couldn’t help but smile back. Their shared love for a good margarita, made with secret ingredients from their herb garden, was a cherished tradition. It was a reminder of the day their paths first crossed, years ago, amidst the fragrant herbs of Ev’s herb nursery that fueled Sarah’s passion for healing.
Sarah, was known as “Moonflower” by those closest to her. She carried the quiet strength of the rivers she’d navigated with troubled youth for years. Now, at 65, her silver hair, like the flowing currents she loved, framed a face etched with wisdom and kindness. Her hands, weathered by time and the elements, spoke of resilience and a deep connection to the earth.
She glanced across the table at Everett, “Captain Compass” to his friends. His sun-kissed skin, etched with the stories of countless adventures, mirrored the weathered wisdom of his 74 years. Despite his quiet, calm exterior, a mischievous glint in his eyes hinted at a shared thirst for adventure with Sarah. He documented every stroke of their adventures on the many Florida waterways, a walking encyclopedia of nature’s secrets. The flora, the fauna, the miles they paddled were recorded into Ev’s well worn paddle journal. One day, he knew, these ‘paddle notes’ would be a helpful guide for others following in his wake.
“Intriguing,” he spoke after several slow sips of his margarita. “Seems like destiny has dropped an unexpected adventure on our doorstep, Moonflower.”
Sarah’s heart fluttered at the mention of her nickname. Their bond, nurtured amidst the fragrant herbs of his old nursery where her passion for healing plants had lead her to Everett, was as deep-rooted as the ancient Live Oaks that shaded their shared homestead.
“Remember our first encounters, Ev?” she asked, her voice laced with a hint of nostalgia. “Classes at The Herb Garden and visits to your booth at the farmer’s market…though I will say you weren’t quite the talkative one!”
Ev took another sip, leaned back and simply smiled. He enjoyed when Sarah would retell the story of how they met…it was a local legend in their small rural town and she told it so well…though he had his own take on the story.
They had been drawn together by their mutual passion for the natural world and their shared connection to the world of healing herbs and their love for exploring Florida waterways.
Shared laughter over well-crafted margaritas and evenings spent singing along to Sarah’s dulcimer melodies had woven their bond tightly. Their love story, like the rivers they explored, flowed steadily, each bend offering a new chapter in their journey.
It was getting late, and cooler. As Everett and Sarah finished the last batch of margaritas, they were ready for bed. Sarah had had a long day and was ready for some sound sleep.
“Honey, you go on ahead and get ready for bed. I’ll get a fire going in the wood stove, we’ll leave some windows cracked for a draft. I’ll get the map and journal on the table, spread out and hopefully in the morning they will be a lot drier,” Ev said as he placed some oak logs into the wood stove.
“Sounds like a good plan, Ev. Don’t stay up too late!” Sarah gave him a kiss and retreated upstairs.
It was definitely a cool night as Everett and Chesney went out back to stock up on logs for the stove. He loaded the wagon and called out, “C’mon Ches’, let’s go in the house.” They both headed in, but not before Everett took time to look up in the sky and be amazed at the intensity of the stars. Living in rural Florida, 40 miles from the nearest small town provided many nights of excellent stargazing, unfettered by ambient light from any towns.
Once inside, Everett finished filling the wood stove and started a robust fire. He closed the damper and washed up. Chesney knew his routine and after three circles, laid down in his bed in front of the warm stove. Everett patted him goodnight and, with hopes of a dry journal and map in the morning, went upstairs to join Sarah.
~ Chapter 1 : Wreckage & Revelations ~ Chapter 3 : Secrets of the Map ~