Swimming Lessons (17 page)

Cara doubted it was by coincidence. “Palmer, you know I don’t want to mess with short term rentals. Everything in the house is just too precious. I’d be afraid some party or young children would get careless and something would get broken.”

“That’s what makes this lady unique. She’s older, maybe fifty-something, and she is looking for a long term rental.”

“Do you know how much I’d have to charge her for that location?”

“Honey, I’m telling you, this house is exactly what she’s looking for. And she’s got pots of dough and can afford to pay you what this location is worth. Not the paltry sum you’re collecting from Toy.”

“Palmer…” she said in warning.

“It’s a perfect set-up. We both know that a long term rental like that is hard to find. Look, I know how tight things are for you right now and that money could come in handy.”

“Brett shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Hey, I’m your brother. He didn’t go out of house.”

“Even still.”

“If you don’t want this rental, so be it. The point is, it’s time to talk to Toy about finding a new place.”

“We’ll see,” Cara said, then dipped her head to sip her water.

Toy stood in the kitchen with a butter dish in her hand. She didn’t mean to overhear Cara and Palmer’s conversation, but she’d heard her name and paused at the door in time to hear Palmer tell Cara to rent the house for more money.

A faint prickling spread across her face and her stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor. She didn’t have any idea that Cara and Brett were stretched for cash. They’d never let on, or even hinted that they needed to raise her rent. She slowly turned and went back into the kitchen. Setting the butter on the counter she looked out over the dunes to the ocean, feeling dazed. She knew the day would come when she would have to leave the beach house. But that day had always seemed so far away—some distant time when her life was settled. The white-tipped waves rolled into the beach, one after another in constant motion. She took a long shuddering breath and closed her eyes. In truth, she never saw herself leaving the beach house. She couldn’t even imagine living anywhere else but here, where she felt safe, secure, loved.

Ethan’s words of the day before came back to her:
change is a part of nature
. She’d thrilled to those words the other night. Today, those same words shook her world.

Flo brought a plate full of food to Cara then plopped down in the chair beside her. Her hands grabbed hold of a bun filled with juicy barbecue pork and brought it to her mouth. She closed her eyes and released a slight groan of pleasure.

“I think the barbecue pork is the best ever this year,” she said.

“You say that every year.”

“Every year it’s good, but this year the red sauce has some serious bite to it.”

“I’m partial to the fried chicken myself. You done good, Flo. It’s as light and crispy as can be.”

“Thank you,” Flo replied in a tone that implied she already knew that to be the case. “I did a little something different with the batter. Miranda never let me change a whit in the past, but this time… Oh, never mind. I can tell you really care.”

“I’ve never been one for cooking. But I’m real proud of my pie.”

Flo dabbed a bit of sauce from her chin with a crumpled flag napkin then said, “Frankly, I’ll be glad when the festivities are over and done with this year.”

“Oh? Aren’t you having a good time?”

“Sure, sure. A great time. It’s not that. I’m just in a frazzle whether that nest will pop tonight with all those people out there.”

Cara hid her smile, recalling Brett’s comment.

Flo looked at her, assessing. “So, I guess you’re out of commission tonight?”

“Afraid so. Sorry.”

“Your back, eh?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she replied, biting into her chicken.

“No nausea? Tender breasts? Anything like that?”

Cara looked heavenward. “Just the back.”

Flo shifted in her chair and took another bite from her sandwich. “Like I said, I hope the hatchlings don’t come out tonight. If they do, we’ll need all the help we can get.”

“With all the noise out there, I doubt it will hatch anyway.”

“You never know, those wily turtles. Who’d have
thought a turtle would come ashore right where a bunch of tourists were partying? Remember the Fourth of July that crazy sea turtle crawled up right at Front Beach?”

“Oh, yeah, I do remember! When was that? Two years ago? Three?”

“Four,” she replied in a know-it-all tone. “That turtle couldn’t have picked a worse spot to land, but crawl ashore she did. I remember I was eating dinner when the police called me to come over. I dropped everything and ran but by the time I’d arrived the turtle was surrounded by tourists. They were clicking cameras and trying to touch the shell. Most didn’t know better, but still.”

“I remember. Thank heavens Brett was there. He had to push back a few drunken fools who wanted to ride the turtle back to the sea like they’d heard their granddaddy once did. He almost got into a fight with one of them. I was fit to be tied.”

“Thank goodness the police came to
explain
the facts to them.” Flo shook her head, sending her dangling earrings rocking. “That poor turtle, she was frantic. I’ve never seen a sea turtle hiss at a body before that. And I mean never to see it again.”

“From your lips to God’s ears.”

“Well, let’s hope nothing happens tonight. If it does, we’d sure need you out there.”

“I can’t, Flo. I could ask Brett to cover for me.”

“No, don’t bother him. He has precious few nights off. Well,” Flo said rising like a bolt. “I’m going for seconds on this barbecue before Cooper eats it all. I swear that boy’s been parked in front of that pork all night. He’s growing right before my eyes.”

Later that evening, when the sky began to darken and the food was cleared from the tables, Brett earned the ac
colades of the women and teasing of Palmer when he went into the kitchen to help clean up after the feast. All the focus quickly shifted from him, however, as soon as Ethan walked into the room.

Flo and Emmi were at his side faster than hungry swamp mosquitoes on a humid night. He was dressed in casual island attire—khaki shorts, a loose shirt and sandals. His dark hair was brushed back from his forehead to settle loosely along the collar of his shirt. He had a strongly featured face that was proud yet not aloof. His eyes were deeply set and he wasn’t afraid to look someone straight in the eye while he fielded their questions with a polite evasiveness that impressed Cara.

She was sitting like a queen bee in her chair off in the corner, watching. This evening she’d discovered that she liked being invisible. People walked past her to join in other conversations and it afforded her the chance to simply observe.

She saw the speculation in Brett’s eyes as he checked out this young suitor of Toy’s. In contrast, Palmer was all handshakes and welcome, no doubt hoping this young man would marry Toy and carry her off someplace—anyplace—other than the beach house. The lady in question seemed coquettish when she went to greet Ethan and gently but firmly unwound Emmi’s arm from his and replaced it with her own. As she made the introductions, Cara saw a spark in Toy’s eyes that she had never seen before. When she saw Ethan turn his head to look at Toy, she saw that same spark in his eyes.

Very interesting, she thought as she rose from her chair. It was high time she got to know this man better. She took but one step when the first boom of a firecracker burst in the sky, startling them all. Cooper
whooped and hollered for everyone to hurry up as he bolted for the rear door with Little Lovie in hot pursuit. En masse, they grabbed a drink or a sweater and marched to the rhythm of percussive explosions to the rear porch that faced the ocean, excitement bubbling for the big show to begin. To their right, they could see in the distance the finale of the Sullivan’s Island fireworks. Then boom! An explosion of color burst straight ahead over the ocean in all its whistling glory. Brett came to stand beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Together they lifted their gazes to the sky.

It was a perfect night for fireworks. The weather was neither too hot nor humid and just a breath of breeze blew in from the ocean. A friendly family crowd sat on towels and blankets on the beach. They oohed, aahed and clapped after each aerial display of red, white and blue that thundered in the sky. When a series of great chrysanthemum patterns exploded directly overhead, lighting up the sky in gold, the neighbor’s dog barked and Cooper brought his fingers to his lips and let loose a piercing whistle of approval, eliciting guffaws from his father and a “shhh” from his mother.

Turning her head, Cara caught sight of Ethan dipping his head to kiss Toy’s upturned lips. They seemed to glitter in the golden light. Leaning against her husband, Cara smiled as the sky exploded once more with brilliant colors that bloomed across the sky.

B
ig Girl’s rear was causing problems.

Toy, Ethan and Jason huddled around the tank discussing how to keep the turtle from floating.

“We’re going to have to move her from the big tank,” Ethan decided.

“No, Ethan, she loves the big tank,” Toy argued. “She’s been doing so well with the swimming and exercise. I hate to move her out.”

“We’ve been going round and round with this problem and still no success,” Jason argued. “I don’t like the way her swimming is so labored. How many eggs did she release?”

“Fifteen total, but not any for a couple of weeks. Her shell is clean and she’s eating well, catching food under water. Plus she’s gaining weight. That’s all good.”

“But something’s not right if she can’t fully submerge.”

They stood for a few minutes watching the turtle swim. Big Girl spent most of her time in an awkward head down, tail up position. Toy knew that Jason was right to make a new plan, but she thought the decision to
move the turtle from the big tank and putting her back in a small one was the wrong one to make.

“Before we decide to take her out of the tank, I have a few ideas I’d like to try,” Toy said. She glanced at Ethan. They’d discussed her idea and he nodded his head briefly, encouraging her to go on.

“Now, just think about this and don’t laugh. What if we put a diver’s weight belt on her?” she asked. “It would give her the boost she needs to stay under water.”

“A diver’s belt?” Jason asked, incredulously. “On the turtle?”

“Why not? It might just do the trick of keeping her submerged.”

Ethan spoke up. “It’s thinking outside the box, Jason.”

Jason had a bemused expression on his face as he considered it.

“We could just give it a try,” Toy said. “She’s had the endoscopy, medications, and though she’s improved, her rear still floats. We’d have to secure together two belts to get around an adult loggerhead, but hey! This idea would give her the tincture of time she needs to heal. What have we got to lose?”

Jason watched the turtle as it swam in a circle around the tank, rear up. He shrugged. “Okay, we can try it. I don’t know how your turtle is going to like the new fashion statement, but if it keeps her from floating…”

“We’ll watch her closely and adjust the weight. If it doesn’t work, we can do a second endoscopy,” she countered. “I’ve read that if we limit the belt procedure to fifteen minutes, it shouldn’t be stressful for her.”

Toy noticed a sharper attention in Jason’s eyes that spoke of respect for her opinion. When she first began working at the hospital, she went to Ethan and Jason with
countless questions and for approval of her decisions. As the summer peaked and everyone became overworked, however, necessity forced her to trust her own decisions and not go to Jason or Ethan for approval. It occurred to her that Jason had come to this realization as well.

“Let’s do it,” Jason said enthusiastically. He liked innovative solutions.

Ethan immediately went to get a couple dive belts from his supply, eager to test out the theory. When he returned a short while later he was wearing his dive suit and was accompanied by Favel and a strange woman dressed in an Aquarium volunteer T-shirt. With her head of striking white hair Toy guessed her to be in her late sixties.

“Look who I found wandering the halls looking for a turtle hospital,” Ethan said.

Favel greeted them with a brief wave but the woman walked straight for them with a smile that lit up her beautiful blue eyes.

“I’m Elizabeth,” she said in a forthright manner and extending her hand. “Elizabeth Scrimgeur. I’ve been assigned to the sea turtle hospital as a volunteer.”

Toy almost gasped aloud. She quickly took the hand and pumped it, afraid if she let go she’d lose her first full time volunteer.

“You’re assigned to the turtle hospital?” she asked. “Nowhere else?”

“I’m all yours,” Elizabeth replied with enthusiasm. “I’m a turtle team volunteer on Folly Beach and a self professed turtle fanatic. Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

“I like the attitude,” Jason said, then stepped forward to introduce himself. “We all chip in where we’re needed, but this program is growing fast. Welcome aboard.”

“And just in time,” Ethan said, stepping up with the dive belts in his hands. “You’re about to get an introduction to our first—and biggest—patient. Come on over and meet Big Girl, up close and personal.”

As they walked past the tanks, Toy gave brief histories of the patients: Cherry Point, Hamlin, Sharkbite and Kiawah. The turtles swam close to the edges of the tanks, their almond eyes watchful as Toy passed.

“They seem to know you,” Elizabeth said.

“Oh, these moochers. They’re just hungry,” she said, looking at the turtles with affection. “They each have their own personality. After we take care of Big Girl, I’ll show you how to feed them. They do know who I am and are wary of strangers, but they’ll warm up to you in no time. There’s a lot to learn so we’ll just take it one day at a time.”

“I’m eager to learn,” Elizabeth replied her eyes lingering on each turtle as she passed.

Toy smiled, understanding that fascination completely. Once smitten with sea turtles, it was a love affair for life.

By the time Toy and Elizabeth got to Big Girl’s tank, Ethan had already climbed in. This large, 11,000 gallon tank had been Big Girl’s home for the past few weeks and she swam quickly away with powerful strokes of her flippers, giving Ethan a hard time rounding her up. Toy climbed the platform of the large tank while Ethan tried to chase and maneuver Big Girl closer to her. Jason, Favel and Elizabeth stood at the ready, waiting for the chance to grab hold of the turtle and haul her out.

“Ethan, get a move on!” Toy called to him as she leaned over the edge of the tank. “She’s getting past you.”

“Hey, you come in here and see if you can do it better,” he called back. He was chest deep in the water with his long
arms outstretched, trying to herd the enormous turtle closer.

“Do you want me to get in there with her?” the new volunteer asked. “I’m not afraid of getting wet.”

Toy turned from the tank to look at her. She had the agility of a woman half her age and was reaching for the turtle, not the least inhibited. “I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Well, Elizabeth, watch your hand. Those jaws are powerful and I’d hate to see you bitten on your first day. You’ll have plenty of opportunity to get in that tank in the future, but since this is your first day, we’ll let you stay dry. We need all the help we can get on this side just to haul her out. She’s one big turtle.”

“But be careful,” Jason chimed in. “Big Girl is wise to this maneuver and every time she comes near she gets her revenge by heaving water at us. If she looks you in the eye, duck.”

Ethan herded the big turtle towards them. As Big Girl swam closer, she lifted her head out of the water with a noisy gasp for air. As her head skimmed just above the water, her dark, almond eyes looked at Elizabeth as if taking her measure.

“Duck!” Jason called.

In a swoosh, the turtle pushed the water with her flipper and a wave of water gushed from the tank, splashing Elizabeth from head to toe.

Dripping wet, Elizabeth sputtered with shock as Toy prayed Big Girl hadn’t cost them her first volunteer. Elizabeth caught her breath then threw back her head and laughed. It was a hearty sound, contagious. Relieved, they all joined in.

“Hey, welcome to the team,” Ethan called out from the tank. “You’ve just been baptized.”

“Big Girl’s gotten all of us at one time or another,” Toy said. “If a turtle could smile, she’d be grinning from ear to ear right now, the stinker.”

“Come on, Ethan,” Jason called out. “You’re swimming like a girl in there. Be a cowboy and round up that turtle.”

“Hee haw,” Ethan called back and once again, tried to maneuver the wily, two-hundred-fifty-pound turtle closer to them. This time when Big Girl swam by Toy determinedly flung herself forward to grab hold of the carapace.

“Got her!” she called out.

In synchronized motion, Jason and Ethan lunged forward to grab the carapace and as a group they brought the huge, flipper-flailing hulk out from the tank. Elizabeth grabbed a side of the shell, and in a seal-like motion, Ethan pulled himself from the tank and again took hold of the shell. They maneuvered Big Girl to the scale where they weighed her, then moved her to a long stainless steel table where they completed the procedure that secured a four-pound weight with a wrap.

As she worked on the belt, Toy tried not to laugh at the jokes flying fast and furious between Ethan and Jason, all having to do with fashion, the dive belt and unlikely scenarios. Even laughing they got the job done and had the turtle back in her tank in no time.

Big Girl was highly indignant nonetheless. Once she hit water she swam furiously to the opposite side of the tank, all flippers flailing. She took a few spins around the tank before she finally settled down. Toy leaned against the big tank, holding her breath as she watched and waited.

With relative ease, Big Girl dove to the bottom of the tank. Once there, she glided along the bottom in a slow sulk

“It works!” Toy exclaimed and she clutched Ethan’s arm. “Look, she’s on the bottom!”

“Well, whaddya know,” Jason said with a clap of his hands. His smile reflected both his approval and surprise that the belt had actually done the job. “Good job, team.”

Ethan wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She smiled up into his face. Then she looked over to see Elizabeth standing, soaked to the skin, with a puzzled expression.

“You have to understand that this turtle’s rear has been floating for weeks and we’ve been pulling our hair out trying to figure a way to help her dive,” Toy told her. “She’s had a litany of treatments. Now look at her! She’s resting on the bottom. You came on a good day. To celebrate, how about I get you a dry T-shirt?”

“That’d be great, thanks,” Elizabeth replied, relief etched on her face. “But before everyone leaves can I ask, who is in charge here? Who do I report to?”

There was a moment’s hesitation. First, everyone naturally looked to Jason. But Jason’s gaze was firmly, meaningfully, on Toy.

She felt his gaze on her but her own gaze turned inward. This was a defining moment. Her chest rose and fell as a calm certainty settled within herself. She’d worked hard for this position. She had earned it. The turtle hospital’s creation and success was shared, and yet, at this moment, in the eyes of an outsider, she saw
herself
as its director. And that, she knew, made all the difference.

Toy turned to Elizabeth, her conviction welling up. “I’m head of the turtle hospital,” she said in an unwavering voice. “You report to me.”

Truth be told, Emmi had been a worry these past weeks. Cara felt she hardly knew her. Since she’d come to the island, Emmi’s determined, single-minded focus had shifted from her family exclusively to single men. She was man hungry, there was no other way to describe her fervor in dating. And it was like she was trying to be young again, not only in the way she dressed but in the way she acted, too. It was plain embarrassing to witness.

And then there was the drinking. On the surface Emmi might look like she was living a good time but Cara had known her since she was eight and she’d never known Emmi to hit the bottle like she’d been doing lately. She’d tried to give Emmi her space, but friends didn’t let friends wallow. It was time for a serious heart-to-heart.

Cara rode her bicycle from Seventh Avenue to Ocean Boulevard, thankful for the salty ocean breeze that stirred the soaring heat of midsummer. Theirs was a neighborhood of small, original beach houses, like her own and Emmi’s, interspersed with the newer, bigger houses that seemed to be replacing them. It always annoyed her when builders referred to the original, small houses on the islands as “tear downs,” as though the wrecking ball was only a matter of time. She pedaled past a charming, pink stucco house that had been at the corner for as long as she could remember. She worried that with the tearing down of the quaint original beach houses to build the mansions, the island would also be destroying its residential charm.

Hers and Emmi’s houses were only blocks apart, too close to excuse the few times she’d stopped at Emmi’s for a cup of coffee or dinner over the past few months. She rode up the cracked driveway, squeezing her hand
brakes till they squeaked. The rusty bicycle finally stopped before a modest beach house. She swung her leg over the bar and rested the bike against the trellis. The house looked much the same as it had since they were children. She used to ride her bike from her beach house down the boulevard to the Baker’s house to hang out, and if they got bored or were hungry for different snacks, they got on their bikes and rode back to the Rutledge house.

To Cara, the white wooden cottage on low wood pilings would always be the Baker House. Even after Emmi married Tom, no one referred to it as the Peterson house. She was relieved to see that the trim was freshly painted and that a pot of cheery red geraniums with trailing vines sat in a large terracotta pot on the porch. No one answered her knocks so she poked her head in, like she’d been doing this since she was eight.

“Emmi? Cover up, girl, I’m coming in!”

Stepping in, she almost stumbled over a pile of books. She caught herself, then looked around the front room, aghast.

Her first thought was that a hurricane had hit the inside of Emmi’s house. Cardboard boxes littered the floors, each half filled with the contents of the open cabinets and drawers. The counters were cluttered with more boxes, rolls of tape, papers and dishes ready to be packed.

Emmi came walking into the room carrying a pile of blankets in her arms. Her face was chalky with fatigue and her red hair was held precariously in place with a single plastic clasp. She wore a bright yellow apron dotted with red chili peppers over an orange spandex top and chocolate brown yoga pants. She stopped short when she spotted Cara in the foyer.

“Hey!” she exclaimed in surprise, her mouth stretch
ing to a delighted grin. “This is a nice surprise. What brings you here?”