Chapter 11
“
T
heir facility is easily four times the size of yours,” Morgan said, surprised at the news. “How big is big?”
“Three mature loggerheads. Two are over three hundred pounds. And a nine-hundred-pound leatherback. All of them are in pretty bad shape. The leatherback was a boat hit and the others were longlines,” he explained.
Standard practice for some fisheries was to set long trawling lines, with hooks that often snagged sea turtles. Being reptiles, the turtles needed to surface periodically to breathe, and, when hooked under water, they would either drown or tear themselves up trying to get free before the lines were checked. Getting caught in longlines, trawling nets, and other commercial fishing gear was the biggest threat to their ongoing survival and a big reason they were on the endangered list.
“That’s a lot of turtle,” Morgan said.
“Right.”
“So, what are we bringing up here?”
“Five young turtles; three are loggerheads, two are very young hawksbills, so they’re pretty small, and one mature loggerhead, running about two-hundred-seventy-five. All of them are out of danger, health-wise. They are either waiting for release or for adoption into a zoo or long-term facility. We’ll keep them here until that happens or until Jekyll can take them back.” Gabe’s expression was bleak. “There didn’t seem to be a great deal of optimism on the new arrivals, but just in case . . .”
“I’m sorry. And sure, I can go. Just tell me what to do.”
“I need to send two people—one to drive, one to monitor the turtles during transport back. I have two new interns coming in shortly, but was thinking maybe, since you know Kit, the two of you—”
“Wouldn’t the interns be more experienced? I mean, than either Kit or myself?”
Gabe shook his head. “When I said new, I didn’t mean just new to me. They’re coming here to help out for the holiday break. Today is their first day. Ever.”
“Ah. Wow.”
“One is nineteen, the other eighteen, both freshmen, so, I’d feel better with someone a little more . . . seasoned. The folks down at Jekyll will know what to do to get the turtles loaded up and will explain what you need to do during transport. They’re healthy, so it’s more just keeping them safe during the drive. It’s not that far, it’s off-season, and a Sunday, so it shouldn’t be too bad a trip. Once you get back here, I can help oversee the off-loading and getting them situated. I’ll put the interns to work prepping for their arrival.”
“Okay, okay, no problem. Wait—what about—can Lilly come with us?”
“I don’t think that would be a good idea. I can’t guarantee what she’d see down there. Things are a little . . . frantic, at the moment.”
“Right, okay.” Morgan glanced behind him to the rehab area. “Maybe leave Kit with her and send an intern with me? She trusts Kit, and if Kit’s willing . . .”
Gabe smiled for the first time. “I’m sure she’d be happy to. She’s a very sharp girl and seems genuinely interested in the work here. And in Miss Lilly.”
Gabe’s expression implied Kit’s genuine interest might extend beyond just Miss Lilly, but Morgan hardly thought Gabe was in the frame of mind at the moment to continue his matchmaking efforts.
Just then, both interns arrived and wound their way through the group still clustered in the greeting area, heading toward Gabe and Morgan.
“Dr. Langley?” The shorter one was maybe five foot tall, at best.
If she weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, Morgan would have been surprised.
Probably not a good candidate for big turtle transport.
“We’re the interns, from the university?” Intern number two was male and more closely resembled a college fullback than a scientist.
Morgan’s hopes went up.
“I’m Flip and this is Greta,” he went on to say.
“Hi,” Greta chimed in. Perky, blond, and energetic, she was the cheerleader to Flip’s football player. “I’m here for as long as you need me today, but Flip is just—”
“I had a call from my family,” Flip broke in to explain. “My grandmother—she’s eighty-two—just went to the emergency room. I’m really sorry to duck in and run, but it’s the holidays and everyone is at my house and my mother is—I really need to—”
“He was my ride out here,” Greta said, talking over him. “He made sure to get me here and wanted to at least meet you. He’s really dedicated to this, Dr. Langley. And we’re super excited to get to work with you and the loggerheads. I hope this doesn’t mean—”
“Once I get to the hospital and find out what the deal is, I will call,” Flip promised. “I really want to be here, Dr. Langley.“
“Oh, he does,” Greta assured them. “We both do. Really.”
Gabe and Morgan had been watching the two young students as if they were observing a high-speed Ping-Pong match.
Gabe reached out and shook Greta’s proffered hand, then shook Flip’s hand as well, probably more to stem the word flow than anything else. “I’m happy to have two such dedicated individuals. Your enthusiasm is duly noted. Flip, please, head on out and my good wishes and Godspeed to your family. I’ll keep your grandmother in my thoughts. Don’t worry about things here; we’ll figure out a schedule for you later.”
“Thanks, Dr. Langley.” He glanced at Morgan, seemed unsure what to say to him, then lifted a hand. “Okay, so, I’m outta here.” He looked at Greta and paused. “Will you be able to get back okay?”
“We’ll work something out,” Gabe assured them.
Flip nodded. “Okay. Cool.” He wove his large frame back through the crowd.
“He’s really great,” Greta said, looking after Flip, with—if Morgan wasn’t mistaken—a bit more in her eyes than simple admiration for his scientific dedication.
That made him smile. And hope like hell he didn’t look at Kit like that.
“I’m sure he is,” Gabe said. “Listen, we’ve had a few things drop in our laps today, so it’s not a normal routine at the moment. Far from it. I need to . . . take care of a few things, and then I’ll be with you to get you settled in. In the meantime, go ahead and take a good look at the facility, the labs, the rehab area.”
Greta’s face shone with excitement. “Excellent. I’m on it, Dr. Langley!” And with that, she ducked past him and began her exploration.
“Wow,” Morgan said. “I think, right at this moment, this is the oldest I’ve ever felt.”
Gabe chuckled at that. “It only gets worse, my friend. It only gets worse. But I’m happy for the enthusiasm. Keeps me young.”
Morgan turned back to Gabe. “I’m not sure what to do about Lilly. She doesn’t know anyone here yet that she’s really comfortable with, other than you, and, I guess, Kit.” He wished things had progressed better with Birdie, but that was going to take time.
“I can keep her with me on the facility tour, then let her color while Greta watches her.”
“You don’t need to be dealing with that. This is important for you. And Greta seems to be a nice girl, but Lilly isn’t always good right off with—”
“Hey, Doc.”
Gabe and Morgan looked up. The body of the person belonging to the voice was kind of lost, weaving through the crowd, but he’d recognize that purple Mohawk anywhere.
“I have samples,” Dre said as she made it through the throng. “Big crowd today.”
Cupcake samples?
Morgan thought that was kind of odd, but maybe the bakery offered samples to local businesses. Then she pulled a manila envelope out of her black messenger bag.
“Let me know if this works. I think I captured what you wanted with the graphics and got the information organized in a way that would encourage a person to actually read it.”
Gabe opened the envelope and slid out a couple brochures for the center. His face instantly brightened. “These look great. I’d like to go over them more thoroughly.” He looked up at her. “Things are a bit crazy at the moment—”
“No problem. I figured as much. Actually, I was going to ask if it would be okay to look around, maybe hang out a bit. I was working off your other material and our conversation, but . . . it kind of got me interested in finding out more. I have some ideas I’d like to talk over with you.” She lifted a hand. “Don’t worry, doesn’t have to be today. And it isn’t going to cost you anything. It’s . . . just something I want to do.”
“Sure, of course.” Gabe’s cell started buzzing in his lab coat pocket. He checked the screen. “It’s Jekyll. Let me take this.”
“Okay,” Dre said. When Gabe stepped away she turned to Morgan. “I’m glad you’re here.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You are?”
“Well, glad, meaning if you’re here, your niece is probably here, too.”
Sounds more like the Dre I’d met,
Morgan thought, amused. “She is. What’s up?”
“Cool kid.”
He smiled. “I think so. She liked you, too.”
Dre smiled, and it struck him how dramatically that altered her otherwise . . . interesting visage. Between the Mohawk, the multiple piercings, kohl-heavy makeup, and fairly gender non-specific clothing she wore, he didn’t know quite what to make of her. But, when she smiled, she was actually quite a beautiful young woman, in an uncommon kind of way.
He thought about the elaborate, delicate, and quite feminine fairy tattoo on her neck, and, when she smiled, it all seemed to make a little more sense.
“Cool. So, while I was doing this work for the doc, I went ahead and put together a little book for Lilly. Kit said she’s really taken with the turtles, and I know she likes to color.” She reached in her messenger bag and pulled out a spiral bound notebook about half the size of a standard coloring book, but about three times as thick. “It’s nothing fancy, but”—she shrugged and handed it to Morgan—“I thought she might get a kick out of it.”
The cover was sturdy black mat board and featured a beautiful print of a wide blue ocean with a single sea turtle swimming in the midst of its rich vastness. Below that, in a whimsical print evoking images of mermaids and other nautical fantasies, it said
The Adventures of Paddlefoot & Friends.
Morgan flipped it open and discovered the contents were separated by a half dozen tabbed dividers. Between them were a mix of pages with outlined images of turtles and seascapes, some very simplistic, some far more detailed, along with lined journal paper, and other pages that were entirely blank.
“I thought it was something she might keep. Color in the easier stuff now, maybe the more detailed stuff later. If she wants to write stories, or just her thoughts, the lined paper is for that. And the blank paper is for whatever she wants to do. Draw her own pictures, write more. The paper I used is for multimedia, so she can color, paint, marker, anything.”
Morgan continued to flip through the book. “This is . . .” He looked up to find Dre watching him closely, her normally unreadable expression replaced by one of . . . nervous anticipation. She was trying to sound casual, but clearly it meant something to her.
“It’s stunning,” he finished. “Thoughtful and . . . really wonderful. Thank you. Very much. She’s going to love this.”
Dre beamed, and he wanted to tell her she should do that more often. She really was a beautiful young woman, inside and out. “Good. I’m glad.”
“Where did you get these drawings? These prints? They’re amazing.”
“Oh, I did those.”
His mouth actually dropped open and he flipped through the book again. “Wow. This is . . . a lot of work.”
“Not really. I mean, I drew up a ton of things for Gabe, and, well, for myself. Turns out these guys kind of grab at you, the more you get to know about them. And . . . well, it’s my thing. It’s fun.”
“It’s definitely that. You’re . . . amazingly talented.”
Her lips twisted in a wry half smile. “You sound surprised.”
He looked up, instantly contrite. “No, not at all.”
“Don’t sweat it. A lot of people underestimate me. I’m used to it.”
“I’d like to think I’m not that person. But . . . maybe I was, a little. My apologies.” He smiled. “Never hurts to take a good look in the mirror once in a while. I appreciate the opportunity.”
Her expression turned to one of studied observation. “I was prepared not to like you before we even met.”
His eyes widened, not because the comment surprised him, but because she’d admitted it. “I gathered as much, that day in the bakery.”
“I guess we both need to look in the mirror every so often.”
He grinned. “Apparently.” He lifted the journal. “Would you like to give this to her? She’s going to absolutely be head over heels about it. And coming from you . . . well, she was really taken with you, and she doesn’t warm up so quickly to many people.”
“Ditto,” Dre said. “I’m not much for blending in.”
“I got that,” Morgan said, and they both exchanged wry smiles. “But I think you enjoy standing out.”
“It’s . . . amusing. At times. I’m just being who I am, though.”
“That’s all we should be.”