Carson was stricken. “I know!” she cried. “Now. I never thought anything like this could happen.” Looking at Delphine’s ravaged back and listening to her labored exhales, she felt Blake’s words cut as deeply in her mind as the fishing line. “She came on her own. She found me. I’d never hurt her.”
“You wouldn’t, huh?”
His words cut so deep she felt her knees weaken. She clamped her eyes shut to keep the tears from coming as she clung tight to Delphine.
His anger diminished somewhat. He took a breath. “I’m sure you didn’t mean to hurt her. I don’t believe anyone who feeds a wild dolphin means to hurt it.” He looked down at Delphine in his arms. “But this is what happens.”
Carson couldn’t respond.
Delphine squirmed again, attempting to flap her powerful tail. With each push the slender, invisible fishing lines dug deep through the flesh like a razor.
“Hold her steady!” Blake shouted, struggling with Delphine’s head.
“I’m trying!” Carson shouted back at him over the dolphin’s body. It was near impossible to restrain Delphine’s power, even wounded. She brought her face close to Delphine’s eyes and murmured soothingly to calm her. “Delphine, it’s going to be all right. We’re going to help you. I won’t leave you.” Delphine responded to her voice and ceased struggling.
“Good. Keep it up. It’s working,” Blake acknowledged.
“I love her,” Carson choked out, looking up into his dark eyes, still so deeply distrustful.
She saw the scorn dissipate in his gaze, but his face was still taut. “I believe you. But frankly, so what?”
“I know. God, I know and I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t stop apologizing. “What’s going to happen to her?”
“We’ll find out after the vet gets here. And I hope it’s soon. Every time she moves, those lacerations get worse.” He glanced up and searched her face. His own reflected worry. “You’re shivering, and your lips are turning blue. Why don’t you get out for a while?”
“No. She’ll get upset if I leave her,” Carson said, even though she didn’t know how much longer she could hold on. She felt Delphine’s energy waning as the minutes ticked by. “When are they going to get here?”
“They’ll be here,” he answered. As though in reply, they heard the loud beeping of a truck backing up. He looked over her shoulder. “That’s them now.”
Carson looked up to the house to see a yellow Penske truck backing in. The rear lights flashed as it parked and the doors swung open. Two young men came running toward them, each wearing a diver’s top over a swimsuit. They were carrying a bright blue stretcher.
“Carson, you can let go now. Go up and get something warm on. You’ll just be in the way.”
“No, I—”
“Carson,” he said firmly, cutting her off. “Let us handle it now. It’s best for the dolph—for Delphine.”
Carson nodded and carefully released Delphine. Blake held tight as Carson stepped away. The muscles in her arms felt like they were being pricked by a thousand needles. As Carson left Delphine’s side and stumbled out of the water, Delphine squirmed in Blake’s grasp and screamed out in distress. Hearing her, Carson doubled up in anguish at the shoreline.
Mamaw hurried to her side and Carson at last released her tears.
“Come inside and get some dry clothes on. You’re soaked to the skin.”
“I can’t leave Delphine,” she replied, shivering, her eyes glued to the veterinarian at Delphine’s side.
Harper ran from the house to the end of the dock carrying a towel. Mamaw took it and wrapped the towel around Carson’s shoulders, gently rubbing them, getting the circulation going.
Harper stood helplessly at their sides, a pained expression on her face.
Carson kept her gaze on the team in the water, as the veterinarian, his assistant, and Blake maneuvered the blue stretcher under Delphine. It came up along the dolphin’s sides to hold her steady. Then the vet pulled out his pack full of supplies and at last started cutting away the deeply entangled lines. Carson couldn’t see much between the trio of broad backs huddled around the dolphin. When it looked like they were finished, the vet was talking intently to Blake. Carson didn’t like the way he was shaking his head.
Lucille came from the house carrying a tray with biscuits and cheese. Dora was behind her with a thermos and Styrofoam cups. Lucille set the tray on the edge of the dock, took the thermos and poured out a cup, added plenty of sugar, then handed it to Carson. “You drink this, hear?”
Carson took the cup gratefully. It tasted sweet and hot. The liquid scorched a welcome heat into her bloodstream. Her fingers were wrinkled like prunes around the warmth of the cup. The heat seemed to seep right into her bones.
“Carson!” Blake called.
She dropped the towel, handed the cup to Lucille, and ran back into the water.
“We’re going to carry her up to the truck. Can you take a side?”
“Of course. But now that she’s loose, can’t you just let her go?” Carson asked.
“No,” the veterinarian replied abruptly. “These injuries need medical attention. Okay, on the count of three.”
Each of the four grabbed a handle of the flexible stretcher. Then, on the count, they synchronized their movements and gently lifted the stretcher. Carson’s muscles shook as she determinedly kept her side of the stretcher level, step by step. At the water’s edge Harper and Dora each grabbed a side to assist on the agonizingly long trip up the steep slope to the truck, then up the metal ramp to lay the dolphin in a special transport carrier.
Carson slumped back, exhausted, as once again, she was ignored. The men huddled over Delphine, Blake and the other man working in tandem as the vet treated her. Carson walked down the ramp to Mamaw and huddled under her towel, waiting. After a short while, the vet got back on his cell phone. Blake jumped down from the truck.
Carson walked toward Blake, who was wringing out the bottom of his shirt. Behind her, Lucille brought the tray filled with steaming black coffee and food. She held the tray up to Blake and he took a cup, gratefully. Lucille proceeded to the truck and offered the same to the other men.
“How is she?” Carson asked Blake.
Blake’s eyes narrowed over the rim of his cup as he sipped. He shook his head. “Not good. We prefer to treat and release a dolphin after we get the wire off, but there are too many injuries. And there’s that damn hook. It’s in deep. She needs to go to a hospital.”
“Oh, no.” Carson felt the news like ice water in her veins.
“And that’s not even the worst part. Now, the remaining requirements have to be met.”
“And those are?” Carson asked, feeling her stomach tighten.
“It’s complicated,” he began, shifting his weight to lean against the truck. “First we need to find a facility that has space. He’s on the phone now. It looks good for an availability in Florida, either Sarasota or the Panhandle.”
“Why Florida?” Carson asked. “Isn’t there someplace closer? What about your facility?”
Mamaw came up beside her to listen.
“Only dead animals come to our place,” he said ruefully, and took another sip of coffee.
Carson’s knees went weak.
“Lord help us,” Mamaw murmured, patting Carson’s back reassuringly.
Blake continued. “South Carolina doesn’t have a dolphin rehabilitation center.” He swiped a lock of dripping hair from his face. “Which brings us to our next requirement. We have to transport her to the facility. Unless a military or USGS chopper is approved and available, which is unlikely, the animal would normally have to be transported in a truck. With the water-to-water time in between here and anywhere in Florida being ten to twelve hours plus . . . the vet doesn’t think she’ll make it. Sometimes we’re lucky and get a donor, like FedEx, to fly a dolphin in.” He blew out a stream of air.
Carson felt a new chill enter her body. “What if you can’t do all this? What if she can’t be relocated
. . .”
Blake’s eyes looked pained. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“No!” Carson cried. “You can’t.”
Blake turned his head to look out at the sea.
“Will any plane do?” Mamaw asked.
Blake swung his head back to answer Mamaw. “As long as it can fit a wet transport.”
“Hold on a bit, hear? I may know someone.” Mamaw patted Carson’s arm, then went marching with purpose back into the house. Lucille promptly followed her.
Carson and Blake didn’t talk anymore. Blake turned and went back into the truck to confer with his colleagues.
Harper and Dora came to Carson’s side and guided her to the dock. Her legs felt weak and her guilt and worry mingled to make her feel she could collapse in a corner somewhere and cry. But she wouldn’t leave Delphine. She sat on the edge of the dock wrapped in a towel and kept vigil while the NOAA team worked on Delphine and made more phone calls.
It seemed a long while before Mamaw came back out. She walked briskly, carrying a sheet of white paper that flapped in the air beside her. Carson jumped to her feet to meet her.
“I have a plane,” she announced with pride. “A jet, actually.”
“What?” Blake said with surprise. He turned to call out to the others, “Hey! We’ve got a plane!” He hurried to meet Mamaw. “What’ve you got, Mrs. Muir?”
“I called in a favor,” she replied, her eyes shining with satisfaction at having succeeded. “My old friend Gaillard has a jet he uses for business. He’s a true gentleman and right neighborly. He didn’t hesitate one moment when I told him our situation. Nobody loves our coastline better than he does and he won’t have this poor dolphin die on his watch. Here’s the information,” she told Blake, handing him the paper. “Just call that number. Gill said the plane’s ready when you are.”
“This is major,” Blake said, taking her hand and shaking it. Hope entered his voice for the first time. “Thank you. You may have just saved this dolphin’s life.”
He turned and raced back to the truck. Once there, he handed the paper to the vet and climbed into the truck. “Let’s go!”
“Wait! I’m going with her,” Carson called out, the towel falling from her shoulders as she ran to the truck.
Blake’s eyes flashed. “You can’t.”
“She needs me.”
“You’ve done enough,” Blake said bluntly.
Carson cringed under the sting of the double entendre.
“You’re wasting precious time,” Blake said. “Time this dolphin doesn’t have. You can’t come, Carson, so drop it.” He paused, then offered, “I’ll call you and let you know how she is.”
“Let them go, darlin’,” Mamaw said at her side. “You’ll just be in the way. Sometimes the best support is a retreat.”
Carson nodded her head reluctantly and looked up at the truck. All she saw was the box that carried Delphine.
Blake’s face softened as he stood at the edge of the truck. “We’ll take good care of her. I’ll call you.”
He reached up to slide down the back gate. The metal slammed loudly in her face. The truck’s engine fired. Mamaw took Carson’s hand and they stepped back away from the vehicle.
A gut-wrenching sob erupted from her mouth when she saw the truck drive away. She felt as though part of her soul was being torn from her, leaving her raw with loss.
Carson turned to Mamaw. “How did it happen? The fishing line . . . where did it come from?”
Mamaw’s eyes flickered and she looked away. “He meant well. He was trying to catch fish for her.”
Carson felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at the empty space where the truck had been parked. She swung her head to look at the dock. Blood still tinged the water where several long pieces of fishing line from several rods caught the wind and blew gaily like streamers. Carson felt a sudden and overwhelming surge of guilt. It roiled in her stomach like nausea. Followed quickly by a white-hot fury that blinded her. And her rage had a target.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Nate!”
Carson felt like a demon licked at her heels as she stormed through the wild grass to the house. Her heart was pounding in her ears, blocking out the cries of Mamaw and her sisters as they followed her.
“Carson, wait,” Mamaw said, reaching out to grab her arm. She was pale and breathless from the exertion. “Don’t do anything in anger. You’ll regret it.”
“I already regret it. I’m sick with regret,” she said, choking out the words. She pushed on out of Mamaw’s grasp and bolted through the porch door. “Nate!” she called out, so loudly her voice was raspy. “Nate, where are you?”
Dora was at her heels as she marched through the living room. “What do you want with Nate?” she cried.
Carson wiped the damp hair from her face as she continued down the hallway, her feet dripping mud and sand on the Oriental carpet. She pushed open the library door without knocking. The curtains had been pulled and the room was darkened. She found Nate sitting on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped between his knees. He was rocking back and forth, keening in a low wail.
She went to stand wide legged in front of him. Nate didn’t look at her or acknowledge her presence.
“Do you know what you did?” she screamed at him. “Do you have any idea what you did to Delphine?”
Nate continued rocking, his eyes focused on the floor.
Dora ran into the room, blustery with outrage. “What are you doing? Don’t you dare yell at my son!”
Mamaw, Harper, and Lucille were right behind her
Carson swung around and faced off with Dora. “Stop protecting him. You’re always protecting him! Do you even know what he did?”
“No! What did he do?” she shouted back, near tears of worry. It was a standoff between the two sisters, face-to-face with eyes raging.
“Your son set up all the fishing rods out on the dock. He left them out there all night.”
“So?”
Carson’s eyes flamed. “So, that’s how Delphine got caught in the wire. She’s severely hurt, maybe dying. And it’s his fault! He knows better than to leave his gear out. He practically killed Delphine and he doesn’t even say he’s sorry.”
“He won’t say that. Don’t you get that yet? Stop yelling at him!” Dora yelled, the irony lost on them.
“I’m so angry!” Carson cried, fisting her hands at her sides.
“Well, you taught him how to fish,” Dora said accusingly.
Carson took a step back. “That’s just great. Blame me. The truth is, he was having a good time out there, without you, and you can’t stand it.” Her voice was rising. “He has to accept the blame when it’s his fault.”
“Look who’s talking about accepting the blame!” Dora shouted back at her. “Who was the one who brought the dolphin to the dock in the first place? You, that’s who! Not Nate. You’re the one who calls for it to come, and swims with it. It’s your fault that dolphin got caught. That dolphin had no business being by the dock in the first place. Stop blaming a nine-year-old boy. Grow up for a change and put the blame where it belongs. On you!”
Carson stepped back as though she’d been struck, hearing the echo of Blake’s accusations in Dora’s words. A silence fell between them as, for a moment, the pain literally took her breath away.
“Okay. Fine,” Carson said, admission in her voice. “But I’m not the one who put the hooks on the line and left the fishing rods out there like some trap,” she cried. “Goddamn, Dora, you can’t always protect him. He hurt Delphine. He almost killed her. She may not live. And he doesn’t even acknowledge what he did.” Tears sprang to Carson’s eyes as she glared at Nate accusingly, but his eyes wouldn’t meet hers. She knelt down and placed her hands firmly on his upper arms, forcing him to look at her.
Nate reared back and struck out. There was a collective gasp as fist met skull. Carson saw stars and fell back, cradling her cheek.
Nate leaped from the bed,
running for the door, but Lucille reached out and caught him. He flailed his arms, screaming hysterically. Dora ran to his side and wrapped her arms around him, trying to calm him. Everyone started yelling then as the room erupted in chaos. Nate put his hands over his ears, slid to the floor, and wailed.
Dora turned on Carson, her eyes flashing with fury. “Get out of here,” she shouted over her shoulder. “Haven’t you done enough damage? The last person I need mothering advice from is the daughter of an unfit, husband-stealing, drunken suicide!”
Carson’s face grew ashen. “What did you say?” she sputtered.
Dora’s face looked as though she knew she’d crossed a line, but it was too late. “It’s true. Everyone knows it’s true. No one believed that lie about the lightning. Except you.” She turned her back on Carson and tended to Nate, speaking in a low, calming voice as he wailed.
Carson didn’t respond. She stood staring blindly, feeling the sting from the slap. Something in that accusation niggled at her, like a ghost howling at the window. Bewildered by Dora’s accusation, she instinctively looked to Mamaw. Mamaw’s face drooped with sorrow and she looked every bit her eighty years. She shook her head slowly, then motioned for Carson to follow as she left the room. Harper stood by the door, her eyes wide.
“Harper,” Mamaw said, “go on and bring your sister and Nate a nice cool glass of water.” She turned to Carson. “You come to my room. It’s time you heard the truth from me.”
The thick, creamy matelassé curtains fringed in blue tassels were still drawn, leaving the room cool and serene. Mamaw sat in her favorite upholstered wing chair and motioned for Carson to sit beside her. Carson shut the door, silencing the sound of Nate’s keening wail, and joined Mamaw in the sitting area. She slid soundlessly into the soft cushions, utterly exhausted and yet still bristling with pain from the nightmare of the morning.
“Do you want something to drink?” Mamaw asked her.
“No.” Carson closed her eyes, trying to calm down. Trying to focus. She was so upset she had to concentrate to get the words out. “What I want is to know what Dora meant about my mother. She said suicide.” Carson opened her eyes and stared at Mamaw, demanding the truth.
The Summer Girls Page 25
