Beach House Memories (24 page)

July also meant that the first sea turtle nest on Isle of Palms was due to hatch. A volunteer reported seeing a concave drop on the 6th Avenue nest, a good sign the nest would hatch sometime that night. So Russell and Lovie were starting out the evening rotations as well.

Lovie was always excited for the first nest to hatch. After dinner, she changed into her turtle team T-shirt and plaited her blond hair into a long braid that fell down her back like a rope. The humidity was high and she hoped the mosquitoes wouldn’t be too bad while they sat at the nest. She leaned over the sink, closer to the mirror, to apply a coat of ChapStick.

“Why are you getting all dolled up?” Palmer was standing in the hall staring at her, his head tilted in scrutiny.

“I’m not getting dolled up,” Lovie exclaimed. “I’m just getting ready to go out on beach patrol.”

“You’re putting on lipstick.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s not lipstick. It’s ChapStick! And what difference would it make if it was?” she blustered, but inside she felt a faint cringe that her son, like his father, was a natural-born hunter. Stratton could catch the scent of prey when no one else could.

For the truth was, it wasn’t just the nests tonight that she was looking forward to—but also seeing Russell. It was only natural she’d like to be presentable for once, she told herself as she set down the ChapStick and turned off the light, not meeting Palmer’s gaze. In her heart, she knew she
had
taken extra care with her appearance. She’d even ironed her shorts in the dreadful heat—something she never did when she went out by herself.

“You meeting up with that Dr. Bennett guy?” Palmer asked, tossing a ball in the air with his hands.

“As a matter of fact, I am. We’re the team coordinators. Is that all right with you?”

Palmer didn’t answer. He just kept tossing the ball.

Cara, who was sitting like a kitten on the large easy chair in the living room, looked up from her book and yawned. “Have a nice time, Mama.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Then she had a thought. “You know, kids, I think we’re going to see a hatch tonight. Why don’t you both come with me?”

Palmer leaned against the doorframe. “You just sit there and wait for the sand to move?”

“Pretty much.”

He snorted and tossed the ball. “The guys are having a pickup game of basketball tonight. Besides, I’ve already seen a turtle nest hatch.”

“It never gets old,” Lovie replied.

“Nah,” he replied. Then, remembering his manners, “Thanks anyway.”

Lovie was glad to see the suspicion dim in his eyes.

“Cara? How about you?”

“No, thanks, anyway,” Cara mechanically replied, returning to her book.

“Please? I’d really like to share this with you. Just once.” She heard a soft rapping on the front door. “Please?” she asked again as she went to the door.

She hadn’t seen Russell since he’d returned from Maine. He was dressed in dark green fishing pants and an olive shirt with the sleeves rolled up. In the light at the front porch, his eyes seemed to sparkle at seeing her. She paused, lost for a moment in the sight of him.

“Ready?” he asked.

“In a minute. Come on in,” she said, stepping aside. She felt awkward, as though he were a gentleman caller picking her up at her house. “Did you have a good trip?”

“It was a long flight but worth it,” he said, entering the house. “I just got back a little while ago.”

“I’m glad,” she replied, catching a scent of his soap. He must have just showered, she realized. “I’ll just get the bucket and a flashlight.”

Cara had set aside her book, and Palmer walked back into the room, his eyes trained on the tall, fair-haired man.

“Russell, you remember my son, Palmer.”

She was glad to see Palmer step forward to shake Russell’s hand, but he only mumbled his hello.

Russell took it in stride. He turned his attention to Cara, who sat with her long legs curled up. “So, Caretta,” he said, using her full name, “did I tell you I think you have a beautiful name?”

Lovie held her breath.

Cara’s dark eyes narrowed as if trying to decide if this man
was sincere or teasing her. “I’m glad someone likes it,” she said grudgingly.

Lovie felt her face blush as she went directly to the porch to grab her backpack. “We’re off to the beach,” she told the children in a perfunctory tone.

“Cara,” Russell said, this time using her preferred diminutive, “why don’t you join us? I think we’ll have some luck tonight.”

Lovie was about to say that Cara didn’t want to go, when her daughter set her book on the table, unfolded her legs, and replied, “Sure.”

It felt good to get back in the Jeep. Her old station wagon just didn’t have the same panache. On the way, Lovie told Russell about Flo’s progress and updated him on nests. Cara sat in the backseat, listening. Reaching the beach, Lovie was disappointed to feel only a whisper of breeze, barely enough to rustle the fronds of the sea oats. She knew that when the sun lowered, the mosquitoes and no-see-ums would come out in merciless force. Lovie spread out beach towels for her and Cara while Russell settled on the dune and stretched out his legs, leaning back on his arms.

“What was I thinking, wearing shorts tonight?” she said. “My legs are bare for the bugs to feast.” She dug into her backpack for bug spray and began applying it to her legs and arms, then moved to do the same for Cara. Even Cara knew enough to wear long pants, she thought.

The moon had not risen yet, but the night was clear, and looking up she could tell the stars would be bright.

Cara crawled over to peer at the nest. “You sure it’s going to hatch tonight?”

“No,” Lovie replied with a light laugh.

“But you said . . .”

“We’re never sure, honey,” she said. “But we think so.”

“When will they come out?” Cara asked.

Lovie and Russell exchanged amused glances. This was the question most visitors asked, over and over.

Russell answered, “If I were a betting man, I’d say in the next hour or so. And if all goes well, they’ll all come out like an eruption. We’ve only recently learned that the hatchlings work together under the sand as a team to get the job done. Imagine, Cara. They’ve been digging in there for days in fits and starts.”

“You mean they’re already hatched out of the shells?”

“Yes, a few days ago. It’s crowded in there. When one gets tired, another one stirs him up again. So flailing and digging, they rise to the top as a group. Kind of like an elevator.” He pointed to the concave circle atop the nest. “This tells us they’re resting near the top now, breathing the air, and waiting for the trigger.”

Lovie watched her daughter grow intrigued. “What’s the trigger?”

Russell leaned closer. “The cooling sand. That’s why the turtles emerge at night, under the cloak of darkness.”

Lovie could tell Russell was enjoying teaching Cara about the turtles. “I wish Palmer was here,” she said. “He should be learning all this, too.”

“He’s a teenage boy. This doesn’t interest him,” Russell said.

“I have to admit, I do not understand teenage boys.”

“It’s a tough time. It was the age my father began expecting me to be a man. He took me on outings with him.” He chuckled. “Not to see turtles. We did manly stuff like hunting and fishing and flying.”

“Daddy takes Palmer hunting,” Cara said.

“And my mother was like yours, pressing me to be a gentleman.” He chuckled. “It was her life’s work.”

“I feel for her,” Lovie said. “It’s pulling teeth to get him to cotillion.”

“No wonder!” Russell replied. “Cotillion is torture for young boys. Especially on a beautiful day. We’d rather be out playing ball, doing almost anything rather than eating tiny finger sandwiches and dancing a waltz in a stifling suit, holding some girl’s hands with sweaty palms. I shudder to think of it, even now.”

“Me, too,” Cara agreed, swatting a mosquito.

Lovie laughed again, thinking of Palmer scowling and cursing in the car all the way to cotillion. “It’s a necessary evil.”

“Maybe,” said Russell, “but I have a theory that’s the reason young boys get so angry at their parents. We feel our rights are being abused.” He shook his head and chuckled lightly at some private memory. “It wasn’t until much later that I spent more time trying to figure out who I was and why I was here, that kind of thing.”

“I don’t know if we ever completely figure out the
who
,” said Lovie, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I like to think we keep evolving.”

“I found out the
what
at an early age. I’ve always been a loner. Parties and small talk continue to be the same torture for me now as they were when I was a boy. My parents had hopes I’d go into finance or politics or law.” He snorted. “Wasn’t going to happen. I took a year off from college to sail, dive, travel. I was always drawn to water. The more I grew interested in the animals that lived in the sea, the more I wanted to study them. Marine biology soon emerged as my passion. I could see myself as a science teacher. But I also loved being outdoors, doing fieldwork. That led me to research.” He spread out his palms. “And here I am.”

Lovie wondered what it would be like to be a man with that kind of freedom to make choices. To follow your passions like bread crumbs till they led you home. She couldn’t even imagine.

Russell swatted a mosquito and shifted in the sand to sit cross-legged. He peered up at the sky. “Here we are, struggling with our little lives. But when you look up into the sky, it puts everything into perspective. Take a look, Cara,” he said, pointing to the sky. “See that pretty milky swath? That’s Via Lactea. It has another name. Do you know it?”

“Duh,” Cara said. “The Milky Way.”

“Right. It contains two hundred to four hundred billion stars and maybe some fifty billion planets,” Russell continued. “Makes you feel somewhat insignificant, doesn’t it?”

Lovie could see that Cara was eating this up, as was she.

“In the big picture, yes,” Lovie replied. “In my own little world, I’m still the star,” she said as a joke.

“I think, Olivia Rutledge, that in any galaxy you’d be a star.”

Lovie was glad the darkness hid her smile. She glanced at Cara, who was leaning back on her elbows, staring up at the sky. Lovie looked up at the stars, too, and basked in the glow of that compliment.

“I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be than right here, under a bright moon and stars, listening to the roar of the ocean . . .” Russell said. “What could be better than this?”

“Nothing,” she replied. “I feel exactly the same. That’s why I’m always out here. I’m drawn to the ocean, too. It’s in my blood.”

“Mine, too.”

Another bond, she thought. Lovie reached out to slap a mosquito from her ankle. “I’m getting eaten alive,” she said.

“I’ll check the nest.” He rose to walk to the dune. A moment later he called out, “You two better come over here. I think it’s starting.”

Cara scrambled to the nest with Lovie right behind her, her heart pounding with excitement and scooping up the towels to get them out of the way. She arrived just as there was a cave-in,
and seconds later, the sand seemed to boil over with tiny hatchlings, one after the other scrambling out from the hole, flippers waving comically, rushing down the dune’s slope to the sea. Russell and Cara walked with the vulnerable hatchlings to the shore, guarding against attacking ghost crabs. Lovie remained at the mouth of the nest to count the hatchlings as they emerged.

The light of the moon brightened the beach so that from the dune Lovie could see the hatchlings as tiny dark shadows, dozens of them, fanning out across the beach. Beside them, she watched Cara, pointing to something with excitement, bending low to study a hatchling. She rose to ask Russell a question, then they went together to the water’s edge. Russell leaned over to talk to Cara, his arm outstretched to the hatchlings entering the sea. Lovie smiled, knowing he’d be explaining the hatchlings’ dive instinct to her.

Lovie could see that her daughter was swept up in the emotions of the evening. She’d always hoped for this, and here it was unfolding before her on this moonlit night. Rising to a stand, Lovie wrapped her arms around herself and felt her own emotions soar. She watched her daughter and Russell at the shoreline, waiting until the last hatchling made it successfully into the sea before they began their trek back. Lovie felt she was the moon, glowing, guiding them toward her. She tucked the memory of the night into her heart, knowing she’d remember it always.

The two shadowy figures walked toward her across the moon-drenched beach. Cara broke rank and ran the final few feet to her mother to fall against her, arms tight around her waist.

“Mama, you were right. It was cool! I called one of the babies Dumbo because he kept going the wrong way. But he made it.”

Lovie reached down and hugged her daughter, incredulous and grateful. “I knew you’d love it.”

“You’re not going to make me walk the beaches every morning now, are you?” she asked, worried.

“No,” she replied with a light laugh. “We’re covered. You’re off the hook. This summer.”

“Whew, good,” she said with an exaggerated drawl.

Russell came closer and picked up his backpack. “Let’s hit the road. These mosquitoes are relentless.” He slapped his neck.

“Meet you at the Jeep!” Cara grabbed her towel and a flashlight and took off for the beach path.

Alone, Russell spoke softly. “She’s really a great kid. I wish I could get Pippi down here.”

“Why don’t you invite her? I’m sure she’d love to come.”

He shook his head grimly. “She wouldn’t come. She’s angry at me at the moment.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” He paused, then said, “You’re a good mother. But I’m sure you know that.”

“Does any mother know that?” she replied. “We try. I think that’s the best we can do.”

“Is it? You put your children as a priority. I respect that. Admire you for it.”

“Russell,” she said, sensing his pensive mood, “what’s troubling you?”

“You don’t want to hear my troubles.”

“I do. If you think it will help.”

He sighed, reluctant to speak. Lovie waited, not pushing him, hoping that he’d trust her enough to confide in her. He seemed to need a friend now.