Swimming Lessons (33 page)

Little Lovie was kicking her legs and pawing at the window when the truck came to a halt.

“Auntie Cara!” she cried, struggling for release. As soon as Toy unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door, the child scrambled from the truck.

“Where’s my baby?” Cara called back, her voice breaking.

Lovie took off across the yard in a beeline for Cara. Cara bent to one knee and flung open her arms. Lovie ran into them, wrapping slender arms around Cara’s neck. Cara hugged the child to her breast, clinging to the life in her arms. Her eyes sought out Brett’s.

“There’s your sign,” he told her, his eyes pulsing with meaning.

Cara’s grin trembled and she nodded in agreement, then she kissed the child’s face. “You’re home,” she said, her trembling hands smoothing Lovie’s hair from her face.

“Did you miss me?” Lovie asked.

“Oh, yes,” she replied with a watery laugh. She squeezed Lovie tight. “We missed you.”

“My turn!”

Lovie released her and ran directly to Brett. With a joyous “Whoopee!” he lifted her high into the air and swung her around, eliciting squeals of delight. Everyone laughed, relief ringing in their voices.

The sight of Brett with a child was bittersweet for Cara. She rose slowly, her hand on her back and grimacing at the cramping. Looking up, her gaze met Toy’s. There was a moment of silent commiseration. They had not seen each other, not spoken one word, since Lovie’s disappearance. Cara’s breath caught and she lowered her hands to her side.

Toy smoothed the hair from her face and walked with a steady gait up the driveway toward her. Cara was aware that Brett had stilled, holding Lovie in his arms, watching. Emmi and Flo silenced as well. Cara’s fingers twitched at her side and her eyes pulsed. In her mind she’d said “I’m sorry,” so many times that she wasn’t even aware she’d spoken the words aloud as she took a faltering step forward. Toy flung open her arms and Cara stepped into them.

Flo clapped her hands and stepped forward. “Now that’s what I call a homecoming,” she exclaimed, her blue eyes shining as she wrapped her arms around the pair. Emmi joined them, grinning wide and uttering words of support. They formed a united circle. Little Lovie wiggled free from Brett’s arms and ran to join them, pushing her way between the legs so she could be part of the circle of turtle ladies. The women cooed their welcome as Toy lifted Lovie up to their presence.

Ethan strolled from the truck to Brett’s side, his hands in his pockets and slumped-shouldered, not sure of his position in the tight group. Brett stretched out his hand in welcome and Ethan reached out to grab it.

“We owe you,” Brett said, tugging him closer and delivering a few firm slaps on the back.

“Hey, no you don’t,” Ethan replied, stepping back. “That’s my family.”

Brett’s eyes narrowed as he studied the man. “Is it really?”

Ethan nodded firmly, crossing his arms. “You bet.”

“Well, hell!” Brett shook his head, laughed and stuck out his hand again. “Congratulations.”

Ethan shook his hand again, joining in the laughter. They were of equal height yet now Ethan had achieved equal status.

Brett drew back and his hand indicated the group of women. They were clustered together, heads bent close and arms intertwined, talking with animation. Their voices were high with excitement. From the outside it was clear this was a tight, devoted group.

“Those are our women. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Ethan’s eyes kindled and he nodded. A grin stretched from ear to ear. “I’ve been ready for a long time.” Then he scratched his jaw and said in a wry tone, “But if you think this is a tight group, wait till you meet the Legares.”

F
or Toy the most beautiful time on Isle of Palms was October, when the evening air cooled and the wildflowers bloomed purple and gold, bringing color again after months of sizzling heat. The busy tourist season quieted and the residents relished the peaceful off-season with less traffic.

She would miss it here, she thought, pausing in her cleaning to let her gaze sweep the quaint beach house that she’d called home for the past five years. Each rafter, each mullioned window, each stick of furniture was precious to her. Over there under the front window was Miss Lovie’s favorite chair. If she let her mind wander, she could still see her old mentor sitting deep in the cushions reading her bible and sipping tea. Miss Lovie would tap her hand on the ottoman, indicating for Toy to come sit by her for a moment to chat.

What would she tell her, Toy wondered? She had so much bubbling inside of her to share.

Surely Miss Lovie had witnessed from heaven all the trials she’d endured in these past months, she thought. Such a journey it had been! In hindsight she saw now that the past five years of struggling to stay in school, estab
lishing routines for herself and her daughter, working long hours, and her unwavering focus had all been preparation for the events of this past summer. They’d formed her armor as she’d come to terms at last with the ghosts of her past—Darryl, her mother and the legions of insecurities and self-doubt.

Her musing was interrupted when Cara walked into the room carrying another box in her arms. She set it down on the floor by the door with a thump.

“I swear, I never knew a child could have so many toys.”

Toy laughed and scolded, “You gave most of them to her so no complaints.”

They had been working steadily for all of the morning and most of the afternoon cleaning the beach house and loading up Toy’s possessions into Brett’s truck. It had been a day of bonding again. They’d scrubbed and polished this place that they both loved and that harbored so many of their most precious memories. Perhaps it was because their hands were busy vacuuming and washing that their tongues loosened and they’d been able to talk as they hadn’t been able to since Lovie’s disappearance.

“That’s the last of the boxes,” Cara reported. “The bedrooms are cleared.”

Toy removed the rubber gloves and tossed them into the bucket. “I just finished the last of the windows. Once I get the cleaning supplies put away and set the trash at the curb, we’ll be done.” Toy looked around the room one more time, feeling a tightening of her heart. “I guess that’s it, then.”

Her voice broke and her lip trembled. Embarrassed, she brought her fingers up to cover them. But she was too late. Cara had seen them and came quickly to her side.

“I didn’t think I had any tears left,” Toy said with a broken laugh. “I about cried a flood last night.”

“Are you sure you want to leave? You know you don’t have to. You and Ethan can live here.”

Toy stepped back and wiped her eyes. “Don’t think I wouldn’t love to. It’s going to be a little crowded in Ethan’s apartment. But he’s all ready and it’s only for a little while. I can’t wait to move into that sweet house on John’s Island, even if it is a stone’s throw from his mama’s.” She rolled her eyes and Cara nodded in understanding.

“I’ll be fine,” Toy said resolutely. “It’s time for me to move on.”

“You know what Mama always said. A long journey begins with the first step.”

“Imagine me, getting married. Oh, Cara, I’m afraid of such happiness.”

“Don’t be. You’ve earned every bit of happiness that comes your way.”

“So have you,” Toy said.

Cara’s face sobered to reflect the depth of her emotions. “Filling out the adoption papers was our first step. I suspect it will be a long journey. Not too long, I hope. We are so ready to have a child.”

Toy linked arms with Cara. They stood together in the middle of the room, each lost in her thoughts as the ocean’s salty air whisked in through the open windows. Outside, the palm fronds bent in the wind, scraping the frame. Beyond, the sea oats clicked. Toy thought how another turtle season was over and the loggerheads were swimming off for a winter of foraging. She was swimming off, too. And tomorrow, Big Girl was scheduled to be released back to the ocean to follow her sisters in the great current.

“Things are changing so fast,” Cara said wistfully.

Toy felt a sudden sadness at the prospect of Big Girl leaving. That, coupled with her own leaving, loomed heavily over her.

“Sometimes I wish things wouldn’t change,” Toy said. “Why can’t things stay the same?”

“Because they can’t,” Cara replied simply. “Look at your little girl. If you want to mark the passage of time and changes, just take a picture of her every year.”

“I’m thinking of Big Girl. It’s going to be hard to let her go.”

“I know. But it’s time for her to go home, to be with her own species where she belongs. We have to know what we can let go of, and what to hold on to.”

“You’re right, of course. I want her to go home and be free. But looking around, I’m finding it hard to let go of so much all at once. It’s all very emotional, you know?” she asked with a sniff. “Just before you came in I was thinking of Miss Lovie again and the good times we had here, in this room, together.”

“She always created such magical times for us. She had a gift for making people feel at home and welcomed.”

“Sometimes, I just want those sweet moments back again,” said Toy.

“We all want them back But it’s our job now to be the good mother, and to create that magic in our own lives. With our children.”

“I’ll always be grateful to Miss Lovie—and to you—for all I’ve learned while living here.”

“There’s something about this place,” she said looking around the room again. “The older I get, the more I understand what my mother meant when she said that the
beach house was not so much a place as a state of mind. So you see, Toy? You’re not really leaving, are you?”

Toy shook her head as tears threatened and they hugged exuberantly.

“Time to go!” Cara said, separating quickly, not one for gush and sentiment.

They began piling Toy’s last remaining items from the house into the truck. Their heels clicked loudly on the polished floors. After a final quick, perfunctory walk through the house, Cara closed the front door. Standing beside her, Toy thought it closed with a whisper of wind. But she heard the click of the lock as a ponderous clamor in her heart.

As she walked down the wood stairs, Toy turned her head to look once more at Primrose Cottage. A tremulous smile played at her lips. “Oh, Miss Lovie,” she whispered. “Thank you for being there for me when I needed you most. I may be leaving the beach house, but I’ll always carry you and your words in my heart.”

Medical Log “Big Girl”

I
t was a glorious day for a release.

The rain had finally stopped and the sun shone high in the late October sky, warming the ocean’s water and the faces of all who had come to Isle of Palms to observe the return to the sea of a turtle rehabilitated at the South Carolina Aquarium.

Toy drove in the Aquarium’s pickup truck with Ethan. She looked over her shoulder for the hundredth time to check on the large sea turtle bundled under damp towels. Big Girl was unmoving, nestled securely in a white crate. Toy bit her lips, trying to keep her composure as they passed over the marshes toward Isle of Palms. Looking out, she was amazed at how much more yellow had tinged the grasses in the few short weeks since her return to work. Time was passing by so quickly, she thought. Some days it seemed like only yesterday they were driving in the opposite direction with a sick Big Girl in the back of the truck on her way to the Aquarium for rescue. Other days it seemed like years had passed.

There was no denying that this turtle was special. With Big Girl, she’d battled with her personal attachment
versus the scientist’s neutral detachment. The reality was that her blood work came back clear and the waters of the Atlantic were cooling. It was time for Big Girl to go home.

Ethan reached out across the seat to pat her hand. Toy turned her head to look at his face. He glanced from the road to offer her a smile of encouragement, knowing how hard today was for her. She returned a watery smile and they both set their gazes on the road ahead without needing to say anything.

Ethan drove the truck up the vehicle path directly to the beach. A small crowd had already gathered at the water’s edge, many of them readily recognized as turtle volunteers by their T-shirts. Stepping out from the truck Toy saw a television crew as well. A man with a microphone was interviewing Flo. Toy smiled, thinking that no one could answer their questions more colorfully.

She turned her attention to the turtle and climbed to the back of the truck. Ethan was already there, directing Favel, Irwin, Brett and Elizabeth into position. On his cue, the six of them carefully unloaded the large white crate to the sand. Immediately the crowd drew closer, eager to see the turtle. Children pushed past the barrier of tanned legs, pointing and crying, “Look! Mama, look at it!” Volunteers guided the crowd back, instructing them all to form a wide, inverted V along the sand, opening up a wide space at the surf for the turtle’s final trek to the sea.

When they were in place Toy stepped forward with a microphone. She looked over the crowd dressed in swim suits and casual clothes and saw true affection for the sea turtle shining in their faces. Feeling a bond, Toy’s nervousness fled and she spoke with warmth as she told them Big Girl’s story of rescue and recovery. When she finished, she turned and walked to the crate.

The excitement built as the damp towels were removed from the shell and Big Girl was lifted from the crate. Toy felt a hitch in her throat when she watched the great sea turtle touch sand for the first time in many months.

Once again, the crowd edged closer. Big Girl lifted her head and looked around, her beak open, trying to make sense of what was happening. Emmi, Flo and Elizabeth sprang forward to walk the line and kindly but firmly nudge the crowd back into position. “Give her room,” they called out.

Toy turned to Cara. “Would you help us escort Big Girl home?”

Cara’s hand flew to her chest. “Who, me?”

“Of course. You spent that hellish first night under the porch keeping guard over her. It seems only fitting that you act as her honor guard today.”

“Why, sure! I’d love to. What do I do?”

“Same thing you did that first day. Pick her up and carry her. Only this time in reverse. This turtle is heading home.”

Cara wiped her hands on her shorts and bent over to grab hold of Big Girl’s side next to Brett. Toy and Ethan took hold of the opposite side.

“I’m warning you,” Toy said. “She’s a bit heavier than the last time you carried her. We only have to carry her a little way. We want her to walk herself to the water. Ready? Let’s go!”

They hoisted the big turtle, straining at the task. With synchronized steps they carried Big Girl to within several feet of the ocean then gently lowered her to the sand. Big Girl rolled her almond eyes back to look at them.

“It’s okay, Big Girl,” Toy told the turtle. “You know
what to do. Don’t you hear the ocean calling? Go on, now. Don’t be afraid. You’re going home!”

Her voice broke and she tightened her lips, willing herself not to get too emotional, especially not on film. Her job was to heal sea turtles and each release marked a success for the Aquarium. But sometimes the job was bittersweet and she couldn’t stop the tears from blurring her vision of Big Girl’s first, tentative moves toward the surf.

This was not the weak and listless turtle they’d rescued from the sea months earlier. This was a healthy female turtle in her prime and she moved like an iron tank, slow but deliberate, to the sea. Her powerful flippers dug into the sand, creating the turtle tracks that volunteers searched for every morning from late May through July. The closer she drew to the water the more determined she stroked, pausing only once to raise her head, straining, sniffing the salt air. The surf rolled in, white and foamy, and Big Girl dug in with renewed vigor, propelling herself forward.

Cara and Toy were her honor guard, walking behind her to the water’s edge. Big Girl pushed into the sea without pause, her beautiful dark eyes focused on the horizon where sea met sky. Cara stopped at the water’s edge but Toy continued forward, feeling the warm waters of the Atlantic swirl at her ankles. A white crested wave crashed over Big Girl, washing her shell. Her gorgeous, reddish brown coloring glistened in the afternoon sun. Toy sensed the turtle’s awakening as she tasted salt water. Her own heart quickened as Big Girl’s clumsy struggle grew graceful in the deeper water.

Onward Big Girl swam, far beyond Toy’s reach. Toy pushed clumsily against the waves but she could not catch up to the powerful turtle in her element. When the
water reached her thighs Toy stopped. Her heart lurched as she watched Big Girl dive into an oncoming wave and disappear.

Standing alone in the swirling waters of the ocean, Toy thought again of her recurring dream. She saw again the great mother turtle, journeying through the dangers of the murky waters, following the call of instinct and knew with sudden clarity that she was the sea turtle in her dream. It was herself pushing through the crashing waves, propelled through the great current, swimming forward to find her way home.

She heard the crowd behind clap and cheer at Big Girl’s return to the sea. Toy knew a sudden sense of loss and took a few more steps into the depths, wildly searching the horizon for one more glimpse of the sea turtle. She’d rescued this loggerhead from the ocean, helped her to heal and grow strong. She wanted just one final chance to say goodbye.

For several minutes she stood in the water watching the horizon, feeling a growing despair. A long line of pelicans flew low over the water. A gull circled overhead, crying out its mocking laugh. She stood shivering, staring out. But Big Girl was gone.

With a heavy heart, she turned back toward the beach. The crowd had already begun dispersing, walking off in groups along beach paths. The television crew was packing up. She saw Emmi and Flo walking shoulder to shoulder back to their beach house, Flo’s hands gesticulating in the air as she spoke. Not far behind, Cara and Brett strolled hand in hand.

Her gaze landed at last upon the tall man standing at the water’s edge with his hand resting firmly on a little girl’s shoulder. Suddenly Lovie raced off across the
beach to climb the dune. Perched at the top, she stretched out her arms to the sea in a heartfelt embrace of sea and sky. Wisps of her blond hair caught the wind to sail above her shoulders and she cried out with all the joy and exuberance and hope of youth.

“Goodbye, Big Girl! Goodbye!”

Toy swung her head around to scan the horizon once more. With a gasp she caught sight of the large glistening brown head of a loggerhead rising high from the water, far off in the distance. Toy’s heart lifted with joy and she brought her hand up in a wide, arcing wave.

“Goodbye, Big Girl!” she whispered. “Thank you!”

Then she watched as Big Girl dove a final time and disappeared under the dark water.

She turned back toward shore and saw Ethan standing at the shoreline, waiting. He stretched out his hand to her.

With a sudden brilliance her heart expanded with light. She waved her arm and quickened her steps as she moved toward shore. Lovie jumped up on tiptoe, then ran back to the shoreline calling out to her, “Mama!”

Toy felt herself carried by waves, gliding through liquid wind, propelled by love. She pushed on through the surf, stroking with her long, slender arms, reaching out to her family, finding her way home.