RIDE THE TIDE

Chapter 2 - Road to Nowhere:

Penny had been driving for hours and the ache between her shoulders was beginning to spread 

over her whole body.  She picked up her phone and punched in a number. 

"It's done" she said.

"Where are you and are you alright?"

"I'm in Winston Salem and I am not sure about alright. I'll tell you about it when I see you.  

Have you got the key?"

"Yeah, but you aren't going to try and find it tonight are you?"

"No, Terry, I'm too tired to get lost in the dark, I'll see you in about an hour." It had been a 

long day. Soon she'd be welcomed  into the comfort of her brother's home. 

After dropping Penny off at the Hotel, Tom had gone to Shem Creek. Beer and shrimp seemed 

to be in order. There was no way he could work today; his mind was far too scrambled. He had 

a few beers and watched the shrimp boats coming in for awhile. He bought a pound of shrimp 

and headed home, wishing he had asked her about the two plastic bins in the back of her vehicle. 

How does one pack a life? What do you keep and what do you discard? He wished he had asked 

her a lot of things. Picking up his guitar, he sat on the deck, quietly strumming. The tide was
going out.

Penny awoke in the attic bedroom and lay for awhile with the down comforter wrapped around 

her. She was thinking about Tom.  All during the long drive she had tried to remember every 

little detail, every thing he had said, the cadence of his voice, his changeling eyes. He had asked 

for her phone number but she doubted she would ever hear from him. She didn't think she had
presented a very attractive picture of herself.

Today she would collect the key to the Hole In The Wall from Terry and try to piece her life 

back together. After their parents died Terry had become her rock. Her brother was two years 

older and married to Jess, whom Penny thought of as the sister she never had. When she walked 

into the house last night, Jess took one look at her and went to draw a hot bath. "Terry" she had 

said, "leave her alone, you can talk to her tomorrow." Well, it was tomorrow and she guessed 

she had better put a face on it.

Barefoot, wearing jeans and a tank top, Penny settled in the white wicker rocking chair on the 

screened porch.  Terry and Jess were on the loveseat, listening carefully as she told her sorry 

tale. It was in all the Charleston papers, the scandal. Garret Walden, well known attorney, had 

been caught with cocaine and the teenage daughter of his business partner. Out on bail, Garret 

had shot himself to death.  Penny, wanting nothing to remind her, had sold their house and its 

contents. She thanked God they never had any children.  Pregnant when she married him in her 

sophomore year of college, she lost the baby and there had never been another.  Penny found 

out later, he had a vasectomy and never told her. He was free to screw around and he did for 

eighteen years.

Now she was free of him, she had thrown his remains in the ocean. It was done.

Jess was in tears when she finished her story but Terry was angry. Why hadn't she told him 

what was going on?  He would have, well, he would have done something! It's past, it's done 

she told them. She was washed clean. Penny didn't mention Tom.  She wanted to hold that 

close for awhile.

Tom was working.  He woke early and still sat in his pajama pants and tee shirt in front of his 

computer.  The words were flowing; he was making progress.  Every once in awhile he looked 

over the rim of his reading glasses at the ocean but he didn't see it.   He was deep in a South 

American rainforest, following the trail of a killer. He paused, remembering the smells, the 

heat and humidity. He had been there and knew the dangers.

He was very surprised when he finished for the day to find it was 4:00.  He hadn't eaten anything 

all day. Still in his pajamas he went into the kitchen and made himself some beans on toast. Thus 

satisfied, he opened a beer and walked out on the deck. Something had washed up at the foot of 

his path so he walked down to see what it was. Half buried in the sand was a white skirt. He 

picked it up. Penia.

He had thought of her this morning, running his hand over the pillow next to him. The pillow 

was sandy and he left it that way. He spread her skirt over the railing to dry. He would keep it. 

She had given her phone number; he remembered her look when he asked for it.  She didn't 

really expect him to call and he wouldn't, at least not yet. This thought required another beer.

Terry had driven on ahead to the Hole In The Wall house to make sure there were no varmints 

inhabiting the place.  He was always surprised when he rounded the last curve in the rutted 

road to find the meadow, bathed in sunlight. It seemed much smaller now than it did when they 

were kids. The cabin was situated in the center of the meadow with a split rail fence running 

down one side and the creek down the other.  The cabin was built by their great-great-great 

grandfather and had been kept in the family.  He and Penny had named the house the year they 

came up with their father during their grandfather's renovations.  The chimney and fireplace 

had been removed and left a huge hole in the wall. It stood now one and a half stories, a tight- 

fitted log cabin with a porch and two chimneys banking each side. There were some modern 

conveniences, electricity, and a bathroom added on the back porch. The fireplaces provided 

heat. It was still a rustic gem and Terry loved the place.  It was in his care now, and he was a 

good steward.

Terry opened the door and went inside.  It was stuffy and he went about opening windows, 

turning on the fridge and the water. He walked out the back door to the stone porch and stood 

looking over the mountains.  This would be a good place for Penny, for awhile. He worried 

about her, though. For all its beauty, this was a lonely place when you are on your own.

Jess and Penny stopped at the country store to do some shopping.  Jess was picking up basics, 

coffee, milk, eggs, bacon, bread and Penny was buying locally made jelly, honey, fried pies, 

and bottles of wine.  Jess eyed the wine and winked at Penny, "Planning a party?" she asked.

Penny gave her a crooked grin, "No, but I might like a drinkie now and again."

Jess became serious, "You want to watch that, Penny. It's not good to drink alone."

"Jess, I said I might like one, not that I need one." Then they both repeated the mantra, "If you 

need a drink you have to go to meetings." 

Laughing, Penny paid for their purchases and they loaded them up in her Jeep Cherokee.
Penny rolled down the window and the cool mountain air felt good across her arms after the 

humidity of Charleston. They turned off the main road onto a single lane dirt road that wound 

its way up the side of the mountain.  Soon they would be there, Nowhere Meadows.

Tom had made his way over to Charleston this morning. It was the first of July and he had rent 

to pay. Maneuvering through the summer traffic, he found the real estate office and parked. 

Inside there was a family at the counter so he wandered around waiting his turn. He stopped 

cold. On the wall was a picture of Penia Walden. Million Dollar Sells Award 2006. She had lived 

in Charleston. His mind began whirring.

"Can I help you?" the voice behind the counter asked.

Tom turned and decided to ask a few questions. Yes, Penia had been an associate for about eight 

years and did very well.  What a shame about the scandal and all.  Oh, it was in all the papers, 

happened last year. Garret Walden sure turned out to be a surprise. Penia had quit after the 

suicide; there was so much talk. 

Tom collected his receipt and left, heading for the Post and Courier to do a little reading. Later 

over a beer at O'Brady's Irish Pub on Bay Street, he began to form a plan. He knew a thing or 

two about research.  He only had two months left on his lease; the book should be finished by 

then. He had planned to go to Italy for background research on a story he had in his mind to 

write. Maybe he needed a break, take some time for himself?  He finished his beer and left. 

Too bad Garret was already dead.

Tom found himself walking along the Battery watching the gulls over the churning water.  The 

sky was becoming dark, a storm coming, he thought. The wind was picking up, blowing his hair 

around his face. He pushed his sunglasses up, his eyes as dark as the water.

He had been pushing himself, long days and nights but the book was finished in six weeks. Boxed 

up and sent to his publisher, he knew there would be some rewrites. That was expected. It was 

the night research that held his interest. He had tracked her to the University of South Carolina, 

found her marriage license and her maiden name, Chandler.  She was from Mt Airy, North
Carolina. Her parents had died within two months of each other two years ago.  She had a 

brother named Terry Chandler. He would be the key. Tom decided to close out the house and 

hit the road.

Penny was settled in the little cabin, already making it home. There were always flowers from 

the meadow and the old fashioned garden out back. She had worked diligently in the garden, 

weeding and watering. Keeping busy is always a healing balm to the spirit. Jess and Terry were 

frequent visitors, bringing her newspapers, magazines and books.  They brought fresh vegetables 

from their garden. Although she was a fair hand in the kitchen, salads seemed to make up most 

of her diet. The hard work and salad days had worked their magic and she had trimmed down 

and felt good about herself for the first time in years.

It was raining today, so no outside activities. Penny decided to find a book and just read the day 

away. The old wooden bookshelves were full and more books were stacked on the floor.  She got 

down on her knees and started on the stacks. She was picking up a book when the next one on 

the stack caught her eye.  It was the author's name that set her back on her heels.  Tom Cox.
Carefully she turned the book over and there he was on the dust jacket. His hair was fairly short, 

still tousled.  His beard was a little neater and he was looking to the left, those eyes she 

remembered only a blue green blur. In the background were the rolling green hills of Yorkshire. 

He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater and those finely shaped lips were curved in a smile. 

She carefully rose and went to the kitchen, holding the book to her breast. Lighting a cigarette, 

she sat down to read the short bio inside the cover. 

The room had gone dark and only the light from her laptop on the old writing desk illuminated 

her face. Penny was doing some research of her own. He spent ten years in the British army. He 

had graduated from Oxford with honors, written fifteen books of fiction and five of non fiction.  

He traveled the world researching his books.  He owned a large farm outside of Ripon in 

Yorkshire and raised sheep.  He had a brother who owned a pub. His sister and brother-in-law 

lived on his farm along with his parents. He also had been briefly married six years ago in Spain. 
In the darkness she walked to her bedroom.  There was an old faded blue tee shirt hanging on 

the wardrobe. She walked over and touched it.

ON TO PART 3

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