Chapter Fourteen
Sea turtles that arrive at sea turtle hospitals most commonly suffer from debilitated turtle syndrome, shock from exposure to cold temperatures, injury from a boat strike or shark bite, and consumption of marine debris like plastic bags or fishing line.
OVER THE NEXT few weeks, John showed up at seven every morning that the surf was good, and if Linnea was free from baby duty they took off together. He brought the boards and Linnea brought the coffee. His knocks on the door became customary. John often dropped in for no particular reason. Sometimes he’d show up with lunch or coffee, or occasionally in the evening with a bottle of wine. They would sit at their laptops, he working, she searching for jobs. Cara had already declared he was a “lovely young man,” and felt comfortable having him around. The fact that he often sat on the floor and played with Hope helped solidify that opinion. Hope couldn’t pronounce his name and it came out “Don,” so John’s nickname around the beach house became Uncle Don. Emmi was over the moon about their friendship and her matchmaking arrows were flying.
Linnea wasn’t interested in falling in love this summer, however. This brief period at the beach was becoming an extraordinary time of self-discovery. A hidden self was emerging—independent, courageous—that had previously been tucked away by a lifetime of feminine inhibition.
Part of this awakening came from her time out on the ocean. She found that being on the water heightened her perceptions and her senses. She carried the peace of the sea with her throughout the day, tackling tasks with an ease that brought tranquility not only to her but also to the household. Cara had commented on it several times: “You have such a lovely calm about you,” she’d say. Or, “I never for a moment worry about Hope when she’s with you.”
John’s coming and going also added a new dimension to her life. She’d always felt she had to be “on” with other men. With John, it was refreshing to share a common interest rather than a drink. They were friends first.
On such a day in early July, it was Linnea’s day for turtle duty so she couldn’t go surfing. The team was busy morning and night, since the females were still nesting and the earlier nests were beginning to hatch. When she stepped out of the house in her uniform T-shirt, Linnea was surprised to find John waiting by the door. He was clad in his usual swimsuit, but instead of a rash guard, he wore a turtle team T-shirt.
“John, good morning! I’m sorry, but I can’t go surfing this morning. I have to walk the beach for turtle duty.”
“I know,” he replied easily, reaching out to take her turtle team bag. “I thought I’d tag along, if that’s okay.” He pointed to his chest. “I even wore my turtle shirt.”
“I saw,” Linnea said, raising one brow with amusement. “I have to say, I’m surprised you have one.”
“Are you kidding? My mom’s on the team, remember?”
She laughed. It was just like Emmi to give her son a Turtle Team shirt every year, convinced he’d want one as much as she did. As far as Emmi was concerned, nothing was cooler than being on the turtle team.
“So, no surfing today?” she asked.
“It’s a lake out there today. We’re not missing anything. Shall we go? Mom’s already sitting by the phone, waiting for calls.”
They walked along the beach in the same relaxed manner in which they paddled out on their boards. Completely at ease, they talked about anyone and anything. Linnea always started her walk toward Breach Inlet. Then she’d turn around and head all the way north to Ninth Avenue. Beyond that was someone else’s area to monitor. It was an easy walk, no more than half an hour, designed to get all the volunteers’ turtle track sightings reported by seven o’clock.
“Have you found any leads yet for a job?” he asked.
“No,” Linnea replied. “But I’ve narrowed my search.”
“Location-wise?”
“No, I’m pinpointing what part of the field I’m most interested in. As for location, I’m open to moving, but I’ve concentrated on the South.”
“Do you want some help?”
She turned her head, curious. “You know the business?”
“No. But I’m a whiz at search engines. And . . . you might consider broadening your location search. California might be someplace to start looking. Lots of opportunities.”
“Thanks. I’ll take you up on that.”
He looked at her and said, “What are friends for?”
Linnea swiped a pesky mosquito from her face, then stopped to tuck her hair into her turtle team cap. Something at the water’s edge a distance away caught her attention. She squinted at the large, dark shape.
“John!” she called out, pointing. “Do you see that?”
Not waiting for an answer, she took off at a clip toward the bridge at Breach Inlet. Her heels dug into the soft sand along this always-changing section of beach. The turbulent water of Breach Inlet roiled as she trotted toward the mysterious shadowed hulk that lay unmoving near the base of the bridge.
It was a sea turtle! Her breath caught in her throat, and she ran faster, her heart pounding in her chest. An adult. Probably a female. As she drew closer, her heart nearly broke at the tragedy of losing a nesting female holding future generations.
John came to a stop behind her and whistled softly. “That’s a big one.”
“Yeah,” she said, and began rolling up her pants. It was the biggest she’d ever seen, a full-grown turtle, maybe three hundred pounds and three feet long. It was unmoving and covered with barnacles. Not a good sign. The first thing she had to do was drag it ashore before the current towed it off into Breach Inlet. She stepped into the chilly water and felt a yank back on her arm.
“You can’t go in there,” John said, holding her back. “It’s like quicksand, and the currents in Breach Inlet are deadly.”
Linnea jerked her arm free. “I’m getting that turtle. It’ll get swept away, and we’ll lose it.”
“No,” he said sharply. “I’ll get it. Wait here. I’ll push it to you.”
Before she could stop him, he stepped into the sloping sand of the shoreline. She held her breath as the gelatinous sand sank around his feet. Fortunately, a motorboat sped by, creating a strong ripple that pushed the turtle closer to shore. John took a few more slow steps out along the shallow slope. There was an abrupt drop-off not far offshore, she knew, and the water roiled beyond, deathly and dark.
“Be careful, John!” she called, clutching her hands.
But John was already at the turtle’s side, a few feet beyond the shore. Any farther and they wouldn’t be able to fetch her. They only needed to get her a few feet farther up on the sand. John stood behind the turtle and grabbed hold of the shell. With a guttural grunt, he pushed her forward, and like a surfboard, the turtle sailed closer to the beach. Linnea rushed into the water, the sand sucking at her feet. The turtle’s shell was slimy with barnacles and algae, but it was the chunk of shell missing from her rear that stole her breath. But there was no time to stare. John was already at the turtle’s back. They had to lift the turtle up the sand. He gripped the opposite side of the carapace and, looking up, met her gaze, his eyes shining with determination.
“Ready?”
When she nodded, he shouted, “Lift!”
John gave another grunt, and his arms strained under the tremendous weight of the turtle. But Linnea could barely move it.
“Wait,” she called, catching her breath. She hurried to the front of the turtle. It wasn’t smart to stand near a loggerhead’s jaws, but she wasn’t even sure this one was alive. John moved to the back of the shell. As she bent to grab the front of the shell, she saw one of the eyes flicker open a slit.
“John, she’s alive!”
His face focused with new intent. “All right then,” he said. “Ready?”
Linnea pulled and tugged, leaning back to add her body weight to the effort. Her arms strained so hard she thought they’d pop from their sockets. Even still, she knew the real effort was coming from John. His face was red, his muscles bulging, and his heels dug deep into the sand like a great beast of burden. The huge turtle scraped the sand as it slid uphill, victory gained by inches, until they pulled the massive creature the final few feet onto dry sand.
Linnea plopped down, gasping. “I’ll never watch a turtle drag her shell ashore without remembering this,” she said.
John was bent over, wiping his hands on his shorts. “That’s a big turtle,” he said again, sounding winded. She noticed he was missing a sandal, but he raised his hands before she could speak. “I’m not going back in there after it.”
“I have to call this in,” Linnea said, and scrambled to her feet. She wiped her hands on her shirt, then retrieved her phone from her bag and dialed Emmi’s number. She answered on the first ring.
“Emmi, we’ve got a stranded turtle. A big one. And she’s alive!”
“Oh my God!” Emmi took a breath, and Linnea imagined her grabbing a pen and paper. “Where is she?”
Linnea passed on all the details. Emmi would call the Department of Natural Resources, which would contact the South Carolina Aquarium. All Linnea had to do now was wait for the cavalry and guard the turtle. She released a long sigh, feeling the tension slowly leave her body. This was a first for her. One for the books.
“Your mom’s coming,” she said to John as she walked back to the turtle’s side and crouched to inspect the damaged shell. A few large, crusty barnacles clung to the carapace, and smaller ones were scattered in a splay pattern. A jagged-edged half-circle had been chomped out of her carapace.
“Looks like a shark got a good bite out of her,” said John, joining her at the turtle’s side. “But she was lucky. She saved her rear flipper.”
It pained her to see it. “Poor mama,” Linnea said. “This turtle has survived unimaginable odds just to reach maturity. Then she traveled thousands of miles to return to this area to mate. She’s already crawled up these beaches a few times this season carrying that shell. Now she’s back.”
“How do you know it’s a female?”
“Because it has a short tail. But, also, a mature turtle near shore right now is probably a female with a body full of eggs to lay. What a waste. Damn shark. There’s plenty of fish out there. Why’d he have to pick on this mama going about her business?”
“A shark’s got to make a living too.”
“I hope they get here soon. She doesn’t look too good.”
“Turtles have been around for millions of years,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder for comfort. “They’ve got to be resilient.”
She leaned against him, feeling the warm water and gritty sand against her shoulder. “Thank you, John. I couldn’t have gotten her ashore without you.” She laughed shortly, remembering the weight. “No way.”
“We make a pretty good team.” He snorted. “Plus Mom will be thrilled I helped the turtle team. She’s been angling to get me to help on the team since I was a kid. I’ve successfully avoided it until now. And it’s all because of you.”
Linnea smiled and looked up at him, squinting in the sun.
Emmi came running around the bend of Breach Inlet, her red hair flying in the wind, a red bucket banging her hip. Not far behind her was Flo, walking swiftly for her age, her arms pumping the air. Linnea knew nothing would keep that old turtle lady from a live turtle on her beach.
Before long, a group of eight people from the SCDNR and the South Carolina Aquarium, all in branded T-shirts, converged around the turtle. Strandings were common along the coast, but the appearance of a mature sea turtle that was alive was cause for excitement. Michelle Pate, the head of the SCDNR turtle program, pulled out a measuring tape and bent over the turtle, calling out measurements to another on her team who wrote the information on a clipboard. They confirmed Linnea’s estimates, and she smiled each time someone new arrived and exclaimed, “What a big turtle!”
“Well, lookee here,” Michelle said, crouching over a flipper. “This turtle’s been tagged.” This caused a flurry of excitement as team members gathered around.
Toy Legare, who’d arrived with the aquarium crew, quietly drew near the limp turtle’s head. Linnea watched as she gently poured seawater from the red bucket over the turtle to keep her cool and hydrated. The turtle had been lying on the sand passive and unmoving. Toy crouched close, which was cumbersome with her pregnancy. When she knelt and lowered her head to peer at the turtle’s face, the creature moved a flipper and opened her eyes.
Toy looked into the turtle’s eyes, and a slow smile spread across her face. “I know you,” she said with wonder. Looking up, she called out, “It’s Big Girl!”
Emmi stepped closer, squinting at the turtle’s face.
“How can you tell?” she asked doubtfully. “They all look alike to me.”
“Oh no, they don’t,” said Toy, her eyes set on the turtle. “Each one has a different look, a different personality. Big Girl is special. I’d never forget her.”
“Well, we’ll know for sure when the tag numbers check out,” said Michelle, rising. “She is a big girl, I’ll give you that. And fast. The shark got only a small chunk. Her rear flipper is intact.” She looked to her team. “We’re done here,” she said as she stepped away from the turtle. “She’s all yours, Toy.”
“Thanks, Michelle,” Toy said, rising to shake her hand. “We’ll do right by her. Not too many organisms on her carapace. I don’t think she was out there floating long. I think she’ll make it. We got her in time. Or rather”—she turned to Linnea—“you got her in time. Good job.”
Linnea felt extraordinarily pleased at being singled out. She looked for John and smiled at him with gratitude.
Toy turned to her team members from the aquarium. “Let’s carry her up to the van.” She looked back at Michelle, a grin across her face. “I don’t need an ID to tell me that’s Big Girl. She was my first turtle rescue, the one that founded our hospital. I pulled this turtle out of the ocean myself. When was it?” She scratched her head. “Had to be more than ten years ago.” She shook her head with wonder. “We had to put her into a kiddie pool. There’s going to be a lot of people stoked to see this turtle come back.”
Michelle laughed. “If you’re right and that is Big Girl, that’s a huge success. The first drink’s on me.”
“You’re on!” Toy said. Then, tapping her belly, “As long as it’s juice.”
“Be sure to call Cara,” Flo said before she left. “She’ll want a full report.” Then, in a softer voice, she asked, “Do you really think it’s Big Girl?”
Toy’s eyes lit up. “I do.”
Flo shook her head in disbelief. “Big Girl back . . .”
“I know,” Toy said. “I’m sure she has lots of stories to tell us.”
CARA AND DAVID were enjoying a second cup of coffee while the children played at their feet. Rory was pushing a wooden train around the track, but Hope was more interested in the trees and people that stood around the tracks. When the phone call came from Toy, Cara bolted to her feet, electrified.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she told Toy. She looked out at the commanding vista of marsh and sea from David’s window, her mind clicking fast.
“Is everything okay?” David asked. He’d set his mug on the table and stood beside her, his face etched with concern.
“Oh, yes,” she replied. “It’s actually great news. A turtle has been rescued and sent to the aquarium. Toy thinks it’s one we rescued years ago. A very special turtle. David,” she said, deciding. “I have to go.”
“Of course.”
“I’m sorry to cut our playdate short.” She looked at her watch. “But if I leave now, I can make the next ferry.”
“Cara . . .” He touched her sleeve, stalling her. “Before you go—I wanted to let you know I’ll miss our playdate next week. I have to go out of town on business.”
“Nothing bad, I hope?”
“Something came up. I have to fly to London. I’ll only be gone a week.”
“Goodness. You go to London on business?”
“I told you I have other business concerns. Some of them are in London. What I wanted to ask you . . .” he said, and his voice lowered. “When I get back, I’d like to take you out to dinner. Not a playdate. Just you and me and no distractions.”
Cara swallowed, feeling the force of his intent.
David misunderstood her hesitancy. “I know going out on a date is a major step for you. I’ve tried not to rush you. But”—he smiled at her—“we have been seeing each other a couple of times a week for over a month.”
She smiled then, too. “You’re right. It is a big deal. But I’d love to go out to dinner with you.”
His smile broadened, and his dark eyes lit up. “I’ll call you with the details. But for now, you’ve got a ferry to catch.”
A FEW HOURS later Cara reached the impressive steel and stone structure of the South Carolina Aquarium. She never failed to feel a deep flush of pleasure at seeing the harbor’s crown jewel beside the sea, a proud symbol of preservation, education, and conservation for all the marine creatures that called the ocean home. She walked at a brisk pace through the park leading to the aquarium’s front gate. It had been several hours since the turtle was rescued. She hoped they’d be finished with the intake procedure. The security officer checked her in, then notified Toy of her arrival.
“Take the elevator to your right to the third floor,” he instructed her. “She’ll have to buzz you in.”
Cara walked to the stainless steel doors of the private elevator, then decided instead to enter the aquarium through the public entrance. She made her way along the entrance walkway, then paused at the top veranda overlooking Charleston Harbor. From this high point, the wind gusted salt-tinged air and she heard the raucous cries of seagulls. This was a commanding view teeming with sailboats, pleasure cruisers, and great cargo ships heading to the world beyond. And just in view was Fort Sumter, a place rich in history. The harbor was the heart of this historic city, she thought. Where the past had been forged and the future promised. Not far from the docks she spied the quick arch of a dolphin, its gray skin gleaming in the sun. As quick as she saw it, the dolphin disappeared.
Entering the aquarium gave Cara a sense of déjà vu. Suddenly she was back at the Tennessee Aquarium as their public relations director. Seeing the bustle of visitors, hearing the buzz of excitement, witnessing the level of learning, she felt an unexpected, thus all the stronger, wave of longing to return. She looked around at the gleaming tanks filled with colorful fish and at the people watching, transfixed, and realized that she missed being involved with an aquarium. Every day presented new challenges, new opportunities. Each day was an exercise in giving back and bettering the lives of animals and the people who learned from them. She thought of Linnea’s comment about wanting to educate, and realized that she did, too.
She watched the fish swim around the coral and reflected on why she so enjoyed working for a nonprofit. She’d had a long and successful career in the corporate world, had enjoyed the excitement, the demands. In these regards, however, nonprofits were companies too. Certainly her time at the Tennessee Aquarium had brought creative challenges. In fact, because it was a small operation, she’d had to wear many hats and do so much hands-on work that each day was a surprise.
Cara began to walk toward the elevator where she was to meet Toy. She’d just had a successful client meeting. Her consultation business was on its way. Why then did she feel so nostalgic about her former job?
She knew the answer. Working for a nonprofit had given her a strong sense of purpose. Nonprofits had a mission. And the aquarium’s mission was to preserve and protect marine life—something she believed in and that gave her a personal motivation. What she sacrificed in a paycheck she made up for in satisfaction. And they needed good people running them.
“Cara!”
Shaken from her thoughts, Cara turned quickly to see Toy walking toward her. She was wearing jeans and a loose SC AQUARIUM shirt that couldn’t hide her pregnancy. Despite her snappy gait, as she drew nearer, Cara noticed gray smudges under her eyes and a lackluster skin color that spoke of her exhaustion. But her eyes gleamed with the news. They hugged warmly, as sisters would.
“Is it Big Girl?” Cara asked.
“Come see for yourself.”
Toy led her on a tour of the turtle exhibit and recovery area. Cara was deeply moved at having witnessed the hospital evolve from a dream and a makeshift hospital in the basement to this magnificent recovery center. Its growth, she felt, was a reflection of the growing concern about issues surrounding coastal development and ocean conservation.
“I’m so proud of you,” Cara told Toy, meaning it. “You’ve been here since the beginning. You’ve come a long way.”
“Thanks.”
But Cara saw the fatigue etched on Toy’s face and felt a sudden concern for her. “Are you taking on too much?” she asked gently. “You look exhausted.”
“I am. But it was an unusually busy day. Speaking of which, let’s go see Big Girl. She’s not up here. We still have a hospital in the basement. We use it for intake and critical care.”
Toy led her down the gray back stairs to the aquarium basement, a far cry from the sleek exhibit upstairs. Down in the bowels of the building was where the power of the great aquarium hummed. Giant pipes and wires snaked along the ceiling, and red-painted pumps with shiny black valves and rows of gray steel fuse boxes lined the walls.
“There she is.” Toy pointed to a large cylindrical tank.
Cara approached tentatively. The blue tank wall was solid, with a single window through which to view the turtle under the water. From the top, however, she had a full view of the sea turtle, its shell dusky brown and covered with nasty-looking barnacles. They even clung to her head and near her eyes. The turtle was motionless.
“She’s alive?”
“Oh yes,” Toy replied, drawing closer. “She’s had a busy morning. We scrubbed as much of the slime off of her as we could. Those barnacles will come off in time.”
Cara felt sorrow, seeing the ragged edges of the broken shell. “Look at that shark bite,” she said. “You can see the teeth marks.”
“I’ve seen worse. A lot worse. She must’ve tucked tail and skedaddled, because she got away without losing a limb or her tail. Experience.”
“Can she be released?”
“Oh, sure. We release turtles that’ve lost flippers.”
Cara looked at Toy. “So, it’s really Big Girl?”
A smug smile spread across her face. “It sure is. The tag was confirmed. I don’t know why anyone doubted me.”
Cara scoffed, “Maybe because I sure couldn’t tell if it was her . . . except for her size. I hate to say it, but it’s been years, and they’re not that different. Though she’s still the biggest sea turtle I’ve ever seen.”
Toy crossed her arms, her face soft with affection. “She sure is. And she’s even bigger after ten years.”
“Has it really been ten years?”
“I was putting this together in my mind. I was living in the beach house at the time. And Little Lovie was about five.”
“That’s right,” Cara recalled. “Brett and I had moved out of the beach house into his house.”
“And I had started working at the aquarium. They didn’t have a sea turtle hospital yet. Remember?”
“How could I forget? We had to put Big Girl in a blue plastic kiddie pool under the porch of the beach house for the night.”
Toy chuckled. “Do you remember we took shifts sleeping next to her in case she decided to crawl off?”
Cara barked out a laugh. “Oh, yes. What a miserable night! So hot and humid. And the mosquitoes!”
“As if you or I could have held back a three-hundred-pound sea turtle anyway.” They both laughed again at the absurdity. “It was a good thing she was so sick.”
“But we got her into the hospital,” Cara said smugly.
“Yes, we did. And she was the aquarium’s first official sea turtle hospital patient. It’s pretty amazing to realize that our first rescue turtle, the turtle that founded this hospital, that was healed and released, is back again. After a decade, she’s still laying eggs. Think of all the turtles this one produced.”
Cara perked up. “You know, this is a phenomenal PR moment for the aquarium. Big Girl is living, breathing proof of the importance of sea turtle hospitals. This rehabilitated nesting female has been out in the ocean laying new generations of turtles for ten years because you saved her.”
“Because the aquarium’s hospital saved her.”
“Right. But it’s nice to have a face with the story.”
Toy looked at the turtle. “That is a great idea.” She turned to Cara and said thoughtfully, “You really do have a knack for this.”
Cara rolled her eyes. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks. Tell you what, let me play with the idea a bit and I’ll submit it to Kevin. He’s still the CEO around here?”
“Absolutely. Stop by his office before you go. He’d love to see you.”
Cara felt the kick of exhilaration she always did when she came up with a good idea. Something would come of it, she felt sure.