Swimming Lessons

by Mary Alice Monroe

  Cara sighed and sank back into the chair. Brett had been fanatic about her taking it easy since the implantation of eggs. He didn’t even want her to attend the annual barbecue at the beach house on the Fourth of July. At first she’d been annoyed by his hovering and worry, but in her heart she viewed his concern as a sign of his desperation for a child. His face was set yet she saw the softness of concern in his eyes. So she obliged him and propped her legs up on the bait box.

  “Happy now?”

  He cracked a grin as he nodded, then turned back to Lovie. “Okay, now stand back from the edge,” he said to the girl when she finished rolling up her fishing line. “I’m going to pull up the crab pot.”

  “Come over here, honey,” Cara called, waving her over to her chair.

  “I want to see.”

  “You can, just give him a chance to pull the trap up on the dock. You don’t want him to bump into you and knock you into the creek, do you?”

  Lovie leaned against the chair with a sigh. Cara put her arms around her slender body with bones as tiny as the egret’s standing in the marsh. As they watched. Cara caught the scent of bug spray on Lovie’s arms and shampoo in her wispy hair. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes. Across the dock, Brett bent far over the edge, straining the fabric of his shirt as he pulled up on the thick rope, hand over hand, until a large, black iron cage emerged, dripping from the murky waters. Inside the trap, several crabs skittered noisily along the bottom, their claws waving in the air.

  “You got some!” Lovie exclaimed, leaping from Cara’s grasp to join Brett at the edge of the dock.

  “Everybody stand back!”

  Lovie halted in her tracks as Brett eased the trap onto the dock. Then she inched closer, hovering nearby, oohing at the crustaceans clicking madly.

  “Lovie, go get me a ruler,” he ordered.

  The little girl ran to Cara who lifted her legs from the bait box. Opening it, Cara pulled out an old, splintered wooden ruler and handed it to Lovie, who raced back to Brett with her treasure.

  “Okay then,” he said, waving her closer. “Here’s what I want you to do. Bring the ruler up close to measure. The crab has to be longer than five inches for us to keep it. That’s from here to here on the ruler, see? If it’s too small, we’ll toss the crab back in. Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  Cara smiled at Lovie’s seriousness. Brett was a natural teacher. He loved his work as a naturalist and hated being trapped behind the desk. At every chance he shot off from the office like a kid excused from school to go out on the sea with the boats. He believed deeply that in teaching children—of all ages—he was helping to preserve the landscape he loved for another generation.

  Brett pushed back his sleeve and reached into the crab trap. The crabs scuttled sideways as far from his hand as possible, their pincers clicking menacingly. Moving with the speed of experience he dipped his hand in, grabbed a crab and pulled it out.

  “How big is it?” he asked Lovie, holding the crab out for her to measure.

  She shrank back, afraid.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I can do it,” she answered defiantly and overcame her fear to reach out her hand and bring the ruler close to the crab.

  “Come on, slowpoke. This guy’s gonna pinch me, not you.”

  “Okay, okay.” She gathered her courage to bring the ruler close and measure carefully, though with excruciating slowness. “Six,” she announced with relief.

  “Good girl. That’s a keeper,” he replied and put the crab into the bucket. “I’m proud of you. Now here comes a big Jimmy,” he said, holding up a large blue crab with beautifully blue tipped claws. “I can tell just by looking he’s legal.” He put this one into the bucket as well. He reached in again and pulled out another crab for Lovie to measure.

  “It’s five,” Lovie reported with a hint of cockiness.

  “Hmm…are you sure? Check again.”

  Lovie held the ruler closer to the crab.

  “I don’t think it’s quite five,” Brett said. “So, what should I do with her?”

  “Put her back in the water?”

  “Right. She needs time to grow up, just like you.”

  “But Uncle Brett, how do you know it’s a girl crab?”

  Brett turned the crab so Lovie could see the underside. “Girls have an apron, see?” he said, pointing to the rounded curve on the shell. “When she’s grown up, we call her a Sook. But this one isn’t grown up enough. So back to the water, Sookie.” He gently tossed the small crab into the creek. Then he reached into the pot and pulled out another large crab with blue tipped claws snapping. This one he turned over so that he could show Lovie the underside.

  “The boys have shiny blue tips on their claws and on the back of the shell they have a point. It looks like, uh…a pencil.” He looked over at Cara and they shared a silent laugh. “We call the boys Jimmy. Into the bucket, Jimmy.”

  When he pulled the next crab out, Lovie leaned far forward, pointing excitedly. “Look, Uncle Brett. What’s that? The big crab is holding on to the little one!”

  Brett nodded while gently lowering the crab to the dock. The larger crab remained immobile, carrying the smaller crab closely beneath him with its front claws mantled over it.

  “We call this a doubler. Come, honey, look closer. This Jimmy is a daddy crab. When the mommy crab is carrying the fertilized eggs, the daddy mantles her for about three days until she can defend herself. He guards and protects her so nothing can hurt her.”

  Cara listened, never having known this about blue crabs. She was strangely moved.

  Brett went on, “When the eggs grow, it will look like she has a big orange sponge on her abdomen. Then, when the eggs are ready they turn black and she’ll release them into the water. Guess how many.”

  “A hundred?”

  “Nope. Around two million. Can you even imagine that many eggs?”

  Lovie shook her head.

  “Neither can I. That’s one big passel of eggs.” He reached over to pick up the doubler. The male crab held tight to the female, cradling her when lifted in the air. “Only one egg in every million will survive to adulthood. And that’s why,” he said as he very gently lowered the pair of crabs back into the water, “we take care to put each and every mama crab back into the sea so she can produce more crabs for you in the future.”

  He reached into the creek to dampen an old towel with sea water then placed it over the crabs in the bucket. “That’s all we’ll collect this time. Let’s bring the lot inside and we’ll cook them up for the party.”

  “No, Uncle Brett! I’m not going to eat any crabs. They’re my friends,” Lovie said tearfully and got up to get her fishing pole.

  Brett understood this sweet reaction and let her go, walking instead to Cara. He stood behind her to bend low and wrap his arms around her.

  “Know what I’m doing?” he said in a low voice at her ear.

  “No.”

  “I’m mantling you.”

  Her heart near spilled over with love for him. She closed her eyes, feeling safe in his arms and leaned far back. She turned her head to rub her cheek against his. “You Jimmies sure know how to talk pretty to a Sook.”

  “Yep. It’s my job to guard and protect you.”

  “Sure. For three days.”

  He chuckled. It sounded low and rich against his chest. “For you, maybe a full week.” He gently rubbed his palm across her belly.

  She felt the lump in her throat about to choke her. “Well, come on, Jimmy. Help this old Sook up. Let’s go inside before we become bait for the mosquitoes.”

  The Aquarium was a dark monolith against the harbor as Toy and Ethan approached the dock. Toy looked dreamily up at the sky and could have sworn the quarter moon smiled down on her like a Cheshire cat. It had been the most perfect, magical evening. Ethan had spread out a glorious picnic on the beach and they sipped chilled white wine with strawberries as the sun set in its fiery path to the sea. She’
d never suspected he had such a deeply romantic side. When the blue sky deepened to lavender, he’d carried her in his arms back to the boat and they took off for Red’s Bar, docking at Shem Creek. There they’d talked under the stars for hours.

  It was after midnight when they slipped in the rear door of the Aquarium. He held her hand and led her through the dimly lit, hushed halls. Other than the security guards who waved at Ethan as he passed, the entire building was deserted, save for the animals.

  “It’s so mysterious at night,” she said.

  “But you’ve been to parties here at night.”

  “Yes, but those are grand affairs with plenty of people. I’ve never been here when it’s so empty. It feels like another world.”

  “It’s my favorite time to come. Some of the animals are nocturnal. Wait here. I’ll drop the keys off and be back in a minute. I’d like to show you something.”

  The great entry hall gleamed like burnished silver in the moonlight that poured in from the enormous plate glass windows. Toy’s heels clicked as she walked the hall, waiting. Curious, she pushed open the door to the Mountain Forest section. The heavy door clicked on closing and the metallic sound reverberated in the deep, shadowed quiet.

  Stepping into the darkness, the air changed from the cool of the air-conditioning to the sultry, moist air of a summer night. This area was open to the outdoors and a light, moist breeze caressed her cheeks. As she walked the winding path she was enveloped in the earthy, green scents of woodlands and felt mesmerized by the pale light that cascaded through the foliage, creating a mosaic of shadows on the floor. She heard the eerie, rhythmic hoots of an owl and from deep in the green, crickets and frogs sang their night songs.

  When she approached the pond, she saw that the river otters had been alerted by the noise of her arrival. The pair stood on tiptoes with their large soulful eyes open and alert, curious as to why a human was walking by the pond so late at night. One bold one scampered close to investigate, pressing its nose close to the glass that separated them. His luminous dark eyes were like pools in the moonlight. Toy bent lower to his level, equally curious, but in a flash he pushed off the glass, somersaulting into the water. She laughed as the second otter dove in after him.

  “Toy?” Ethan called softly from the main hall.

  “Coming!” She left the mysteries of the forest behind her as she hurried to the shadowed figure in the hall.

  “It’s wonderful in there,” she said when she came to his side. “I felt like I was walking alone in a forest.”

  “Come with me. Wait till you see this.”

  He took her hand and led her to the gallery of the Great Ocean Tank.

  “Oh, Ethan,” she sighed as she entered the dimly lit arena.

  If the forest was exotic at night, the Great Ocean Tank was other-worldly. Moon glow shimmered from high above, created by one of the fifteen incandescent lights at the top of the tank. The glow cast eerie wave shadows on the surrounding walls. Standing at the ocean’s bottom, she saw the water’s color deepen in degrees. She felt as though she stood within an ocean at deep night. The coral glowed and she watched in awe the mysteries unfolding before her. Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist and they stood, linked, watching as fish schooled slowly by.

  After a few minutes, Toy sensed awkwardness between them, a holding back after an evening where they’d talked about whatever came to mind.

  She’d opened up and told him about her harsh upbringing, how she’d left home while still in high school to live with Lovie’s father, and how Darryl had abandoned her after she’d given birth to their child.

  Tonight had been an evening of revelation for her. Ethan had expressed himself in words and in experiences. He’d traveled the world, yet she’d learned that he felt more at home here, with the sharks and fish of the Great Ocean Tank, than he did anywhere else. This was the culmination of his life’s work. This mysterious, exotic, erotic world was part of him.

  Toy understood it all. She had no need or desire for more talk. Yet she didn’t know how to move from this painfully stiff moment to where she knew—hoped—they were heading. Was it up to him to make the decision? His arm grew tense around her waist.

  Deciding, Toy leaned into his arms. One smooth movement, yet one filled with significance. She felt her body slide and mold against his. Each point of contact along her skin thrummed and she thrilled at feeling like a woman again, one of real flesh and blood, after so many years of isolation. Then she turned, wanting to see his face.

  His gaze locked with hers and his eyes spoke eloquently of his desire for her, of his hesitancy, of his understanding that she was not one to be rushed.

  She raised her hand and delicately skimmed her fingers through his hair, beginning at the temple and trailing down to curl around his ear. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he, in turn, lifted his own hand and repeated the familiar motion. This time, however, he let his hand linger to cup her chin.

  Yes, her eyes pulsed to him. Yes…

  As though he’d heard her, he lifted her chin slightly and lowered his head slowly. She counted his approach in ragged breaths. His lips veered to the left, scorching a trail across her neck, to kiss her ear. Then again to the right, to kiss the other. Pausing before her mouth, their breaths mingling, he said her name in a deep, anguished whis r, “Toy.” Then he lowered his head and she felt his lips on hers.

  Closing her eyes, Toy felt herself swirling, going deeper and deeper, letting go, until, with a soft gasp, she slipped beneath the depths.

  Medical Log “Big Girl”

  July 3

  Observed turtle sleeping on the bottom of the tank, completely submerged.

  At last, Big Girl! TS

  12

  The American flags along Palm Boulevard were waving in the breeze as Cara and Brett drove to the beach house. Golf carts festooned with red, white and blue crepe paper paraded down the side streets by Breach Inlet, dogs were walked in flag T-shirts and here and there she spied a henna flag tattoo on the taut, tanned midriffs and arms of the beautiful youth. The festive mood of the island permeated everyone on this favorite holiday. Traffic crawled over the connector from the mainland with visitors hoping to watch the fireworks from the beach and the congestion on the streets brought driving to a snail’s pace.

  The Fourth of July Celebration at the Rutledge beach house began five years earlier during that final summer of her mother’s life. Miss Lovie had told Cara that the gathering was to celebrate just being alive and sharing time with those they loved most in the world. Her mother had smiled and said, If that wasn’t cause enough for fireworks, then she didn’t know what was!

  Indeed, Cara thought as Brett pulled up to the pale yellow beach house her mother called Primrose Cottage. It was in continuation of that very sentiment that everyone came to the barbecue tonight. She saw Emmi’s blue sports car and Palmer’s Volvo wagon already parked, and of course, Toy’s Gold Bug. Brett hurried around the car to help her out of the car.

  “Don’t you think you’re going overboard on this ‘mantling’ thing?” she asked as she gave him her hand.

  “I told you that I was giving you the full week,” he quipped, guiding her out of the car.

  “A whole week? Lucky me.”

  “You just sit in a chair and put your feet up. I don’t want you doing any dishes or serving any food this year. You already spent too much time standing up making salads and baking.”

  “Brett, I like to cook and we planned this barbecue for weeks. I’m supposed to take it easy, not be holed up like an invalid.”

  “You’ve been cooking up a storm. There’s always enough food to feed an army in there, anyway.”

  “It wouldn’t be a family barbecue if there wasn’t a mountain of food. That’s half the fun.”

  “Well you can eat all you want but just sit down while you’re doing it. Please. For me.”

  She heard the seriousness in his plea and readily capitulated. “Oh, all right. But I’m alread
y late showing up and if I don’t help clean up they’ll think I’m a slacker.”

  “I’ll help clean up for you.”

  “See? You say something like that and it is impossible to deny you anything.” She leaned over the pie she was carrying to kiss his cheek. Then sighed and said, “They’ll still think I’m a slacker.”

  “Not if you tell them you hurt your back.”

  “And you think they’ll believe you? Flo’s antennae will be wagging. She’ll ferret out the truth, you just wait.”

  “Leave Flo to me. I’ll get her talking about turtles and she won’t be thinking about you.”

  Cara laughed, knowing it was true. A nest was due to hatch tonight and Flo was on tenterhooks that those babies would boil out during the fireworks and get trampled in the dark by the multitudes.

  Brett went to the back of the car to collect the steamed crabs while Cara carried her blueberry pie to the front door. She waited at the porch and took a moment to survey the little plot of property that her mother had left her.

  The beach house had been spruced up in the past several weeks. Brett had eked out time to make repairs on both this house and Flo’s next door. All the trim of both houses was given a fresh coat of white paint. Meanwhile Cara, Emmi and Toy had a “weed fest.” That consisted of a weekend of backbreaking work putting Flo’s disheveled garden back in order. She chuckled at the memory of the three of them pulling weeds, digging holes, spreading mulch and planting colorful annuals in pots. Emmi had groaned over breaking her nails, but Flo had wept tears of pure joy. Despite her claims that the garden didn’t mean much to her, she had since been seen strolling through her mother’s garden, tugging a weed, plucking a deadhead, or just sitting on the front porch gazing out at the blossoms.

  Cara sighed, recalling how her own mother had loved the wildflowers that covered the dunes of her property. Their riotous color had diminished in the high heat of summer. Now, Miranda’s roses took center stage and were showy against the soft green dune grasses of her mother’s property. Both women were gone now, she thought with a twinge of sadness. How she’d have loved to share her secret with them both.