She came out into the early August morning to find the low-tide beach alone and the sky spewing golden and orange rays. Maxine McLeod Miller began to stroll up the sand as she inhaled the aroma of salt and dampness.
Ahead, two nests of sea turtles were identified by brightly-colored ribbons affixed to sticks. She instinctively looked for evidence of recently formed life.
She had traversed this stretch of South Carolina’s Edisto Island innumerable times throughout her more than 50 years, ever since her younger self dashed across the scorching sand and splashed in the foaming waves. Her grandfather purchased land on this sea island in 1935, and since then, two houses and four generations of McLeods have resided there. Miller, a current resident of Charleston, was spending a week with her family.
As she combed the sandbank for turtle hatchlings, the sun’s early-morning rays illuminated something affixed to the strata a few inches below the surface. She assumed it was a cigar band as she reached to pick it up. Yet it felt solid.
She was holding a gold ring.
It was miraculous that she had ever noticed it.
The most recent high tide must have eroded the sandbank sufficiently to expose the ring. If Miller had taken her walk 30 minutes later, the wind or excited beachgoers could have reburied it.
Miller, a real estate agent, returned inside carrying the ring. Her husband was working on his computer, while her daughter had not yet awoken.
As she cleaned the sand from the ring in a sink, she noticed that it was in amazingly good condition. It was a large, flat gold band that likely belonged to a man. The inside was engraved with words of inspiration or remembrance that were obviously significant to someone.
And who?
Mysterious! She pondered.
In reality, the interior of the band featured three distinct inscriptions. The easiest line to decipher was “virtus junxit mors non separabit,” which translates from Latin as “What virtue has linked together, death shall not separate.”
In contrast to the block letters, the other inscriptions were written in a thin, curling style that was more difficult to read.
She finally deciphered “Herman H. Hahn 1919.”
The ring was older than one hundred years.
She then sat on a wooden barstool in front of her laptop after taking a few cell phone photographs of it. Perhaps someone had lost the ring the previous evening.
She wrote about the unusual treasure on the Edisto Locals and Friends Facebook page and subsequently on her own page.
“This morning, I discovered it in the sand in front of our house. It appears that Herman H. Hahn was inscribed in 1919. Could this belong to you?” Several friends who noticed the posts volunteered their assistance. Miller discovered Herman Hahn in the 1940 census after searching for him on ancestry.com. He was born in 1892 and lived with his wife and two children in Aiken at the time.
Another buddy sent Miller an email containing a link to a page about Aiken and stated, “Herman Hahn was quite famous.”
Miller noticed her 12-year-old daughter Emme stirring and called her over as she typed. Perhaps her youthful eyes could decipher the third inscription.
Emme translated what appeared to be initials and another date, but she was stumped by one of the complex letters.
Miller added to her tweet, “There is a second inscription to ARW 2020 inside HAL(?).”
A second acquaintance, a hand engraver, suggested that the mysterious letter was a S.
This resulted in the plaque reading “HAS to ARW 2020.”
Was this an engagement ring?
A ring is not simply any piece of jewelry. It is a very intimate one. This was no ordinary ring. It was a reminder of a couple’s vows from two years prior.
Another buddy advised reading the obituaries at the local funeral home for information about the Hahn family. In fact, it revealed a record for Hahn’s daughter Edith, who had a descendent called Andrew Wade.
ARW was the second pair of initials on the ring.
Miller googled “Andrew Wade Aiken” and discovered a LinkedIn page. In addition, she observed a wedding registry for Ashley Smith and Andrew Wade, who will marry in January 2020.
Miller was unable to believe it.
It must have been them: “HAD to ARW 2020.”
Immediately after Miller saw Andrew Wade’s LinkedIn profile, another acquaintance discovered Ashley Wade’s Instagram. They were unaware that Ashley’s initial name is Hollis, which is the H in HAS.
Kerry Adams, a friend of Miller, sent the woman a private message “Hello, Ashley. My friend discovered a wedding band in Edisto. I’m trying to assist her in locating the owner. It bore an inscription containing initials. It’s yours?”
Ashley, on the other end of this Instagram account, was a little skeptical. Neither she nor Andrew knew this enigmatic woman with the ring.
Ashley replied by text “Hello Kerry, is this a diamond or men’s ring? I apologies if this is the case, but have we met before?” Then she asked, “And do you know where it was discovered?”
Adams wrote back, “Sorry, but this is a men’s ring. We have not met, but I have researched couples that tied the knot in 2020. I believe I have the incorrect Ashley. My apologies.”
When Ashley read the message to Andrew, he regarded her with astonishment.
Ashley swiftly composed a response “Oh my goodness, I will be stunned if it is my husband’s ring! We did lose in Edisto in 2020, so I’m not going to keep my hopes up. Is it a gold flat band? More information available?”
Since more than two years, the ring had been lost, buried in the sand or drifting at sea.
Herman Henry Hahn is the great-great-grandfather of Andrew. Hahn had the 14-karat gold ring created prior to his 1919 wedding.
After graduating from The Citadel, he and his wife stayed in Aiken and raised their children while continuing his family’s third-generation grocery store. Andrew’s mother gave him the ring when he became engaged, as a particular family relic for a special love.
Andrew resized it so that he could wear it as his wedding band. When he collected it from the jeweler, it was slightly loose.
He married Ashley in January 2020. In July of the following year, the newlyweds vacationed with her family in one of Edisto’s beachside rental homes. Everyone, including Andrew, spent lengthy days constructing sand castles and playing in the surf amidst a commotion of small children.
It wasn’t until they were preparing to return home that he realized he was missing his wedding ring. Perhaps he removed it before going to the beach.
Despite a desperate search of the house, they were unable to locate it.
The pair drove home, wracked by anxiety. Perhaps he left it at home. Perhaps it was lost in the seas.
Months went by. Years went by.
The mystery was resolved less than six hours after Miller’s initial post about finding the ring.
She and Ashley exchanged text messages. They live only twenty minutes apart from one another. Miller resides in downtown Charleston, whilst the Wades call Mount Pleasant home.
Miller promised to deliver the ring to the Wades upon her return to Charleston, given the couple’s 5-week-old daughter.
Miller and her daughter stood at the Wades’ front door on August 12, exactly 10 days after Miller discovered the ring.
Miller pulled out a navy blue ring box and smiled at Andrew just as the introductions were winding down.
“I believe this to be yours.”
As he thanked her, she displayed an image of the location where she discovered it. They quickly understood that the Wades had rented the house between the McLeod residence and the beach. Miller discovered the ring hidden in the sand in front of these residences.
“Then it did not move at all!” Ashley stated.
Miller laughed. “I feel like it’s just divine.”
Andrew opened the package, examined the gold band contained within, and reapplied it to his ring finger.
He said, “I can’t believe you found it!” “Thank you a great deal.”
He intended to wear it on exceptional occasions, but never to the beach.