Where Dolphins Go

by Webb, Peggy

  She jerked away from him and turned on the water faucets. Water spewed out, wetting the front of her blouse. She added too much soap, then flung the dishes into the sink and scrubbed with unnecessary force. There was a fragile splintering sound as a dish broke apart in her hands.

  For a moment she stared at the dish as if it had betrayed her. "I've ruined it," she whispered. Suddenly defeated, she bowed her head over the broken dish.

  "You'll cut yourself." Gently Paul pried her fingers off the dish. She heard the pieces tinkle as he tossed them into the garbage can. Then, without a word he gathered her into his arms. She leaned against his chest, finally letting her anguish spill over.

  One of the things she loved most about Paul was that he was strong enough to let her cry. When her sobs turned to hiccups, he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped her tears.

  "It's not fair," she whispered.

  "Life never is."

  She leaned against him until she felt her own strength return. Then she gripped the front of his shirt and tipped her head back so she could look straight into his eyes.

  "Do you know how much I'll hate you if my son dies?"

  "I know."

  The risk they were taking loomed before them like a mushroom cloud. And yet, how could they not take it when the life of her son was at stake?

  "Believe in me, Susan. Trust me."

  The silence between them hummed with tension.

  Fear and desperation collided in Susan, metamorphosed into a violent need that shocked her, shocked both of them. Greedy, desperate, they reached for each other. He lifted her hips and she wrapped her legs around him. Propped against the kitchen sink with the soapy water sloshing over them, they drowned themselves in love, seeking to deny death with the act that created life.

  And when it was over, they clung together with their slick bodies still joined and soapy water running down their legs. Susan leaned her forehead against his chin.

  "Oh, God, Paul, promise me . . ."

  "I promise you, Susan. I won't let your son die."

  o0o

  As soon as she woke up, Jo Lisa knew she had to leave. The town with all its bad memories was weighted about her neck like a millstone. If she didn't get a change of scenery soon, she was going to end up screaming through the streets naked.

  She shoved aside the covers and reached for a cigarette.

  That might not be such a bad idea. Maybe it would improve her love life.

  With the cigarette dangling from her lips she reached for her kimono, then padded to the closet and started pulling out her clothes. She'd stop by the club and pick up her sequined dresses. She might even tell the manager she was leaving. And then again, maybe not.

  Nobody would miss her.

  Three cigarettes later, she was completely packed.

  She let her robe fall to the floor and climbed into the shower. When she got out the phone was ringing. Jo Lisa let it ring.

  She pulled on her jeans and boots, then shrugged into a red knit wrap top. Jo Lisa started to dig out a bra, then changed her mind. She might as well give the old boys at the bus station a thrill.

  Picking up her bags, she started to the door. The phone's shrill ringing jangled her nerves. She jerked up the receiver.

  "What?"

  "Jo Lisa?" It was Bessie. "Today is Jeffy's surgery."

  "I hope everything goes well."

  "You're not coming to the hospital?"

  "Susan doesn't want me there."

  "Yes, she does. She just doesn't know how to tell you."

  "She's done a pretty damned good job of telling me to stay away from her."

  "Deep down, I'm sure she doesn't mean it."

  "Look, Mother, I don't blame her for feeling the way she does, but it's useless to pretend that we can go on as a family. We can't."

  "What about Jeffy? He loves you."

  "Give him a big kiss for me."

  Jo Lisa hung up before she could change her mind. She had to get to the bus station.

  o0o

  Jeffy looked so fragile lying on the hospital that Paul had a moment of panic. Was he doing the right thing, insisting on performing the surgery? Watching as Susan bent over her son and smoothed his hair back from his face, he felt something inside him loosen, relax..

  "Everything is going to be all right, darling.” She was hovering over Jeffy, but Paul knew she’d meant the words for him, too. “Mommy and Paul are right here with you."

  "You gonna get me a new heart, Paul?" Even in his groggy state, Jeffy reached for Paul's hand.

  "Sure thing, sport. Hang on to my hand." The small fingers closed around his..

  "That's right. Hang on tight now. I'm not going to let you go." Paul kept holding the little hand long after Jeffy closed his eyes and drifted off.

  I won't let this one go. Do you hear me, God? I won't let You have this one.

  "Paul?"

  "He's relaxed, Susan. That's good."

  He slid his arm around her, then stood beside the bed holding both the people he loved, loved so much that he was willing to put himself through hell for their sakes. Outside the window a lone sea gull soared by, his snowy wings beating toward the Gulf. Jeffy's grip relaxed, and slowly his small hands fell away from Paul's.

  "Bring my son back to me, Paul."

  "I promise." He bent over Jeffy and kissed his downy cheek. "I promise."

  He left quietly and the door swung shut behind him.

  o0o

  Susan waited beside the bed. Soon they would come to take her son away.

  Behind her the door opened, and she thought Paul had come back. She swung around, and there was her sister, dressed in red with gaudy rhinestones swinging at her ears.

  "Don’t look at me like that, Susan. I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to Jeffy."

  Jo Lisa went to the other side of the bed and bent over Jeffy. Her lips left a bright red imprint when she kissed his cheek. Wordlessly, Susan took a tissue and wiped the mark away.

  She and Jo Lisa stared at each other, then her sister left as abruptly as she had come. Susan forced her sister from her mind, forced herself to act positive and hopeful when they came and wheeled her son away. If she acted that way, maybe it would be so.

  o0o

  Masked and gloved, Paul waited and watched…and prayed.

  Bright lights illuminated the pale face, the long eyelashes that lay upon the delicate cheeks...

  Can you get me a new heart, Paul?

  His scalpel gleamed from the tray of sterilized instruments. The sheet exposed Jefiy's tiny breastbone, the frail chest that held his damaged heart.

  "Doctor?"

  "Ready."

  He held out his hand for the scalpel.

  o0o

  In the waiting room Bessie sat on the sofa beside Susan. Occasionally she reached over to pat her daughter's hand, but mostly she thumbed nervously through a dog-eared magazine. There was a picture of a woman with a beehive hairdo on the cover. Jo Lisa figured the magazine was at least thirty years old. Where did they get those relics?

  She sat on the opposite side of the room in the world's most uncomfortable chair. When all this was over she was going to complain to the hospital board. Didn't they know that people awaiting word on loved ones didn't need the added discomfort of chairs designed to give them back trouble?

  Susan looked at Jo Lisa, then her glance slid away.

  She wasn't going to be around long enough to complain to the hospital board. As soon as Jeffy's surgery was over she was going to hightail it out of this joint. Get on the first bus leaving Biloxi and go wherever it took her.

  She reached into her purse for a cigarette, then saw the no smoking sign on the wall. Nervously she tapped the filtered end on the arm of her chair.

  "Do you have to do that?" Susan said.

  "Sorry." She stopped tapping, then glared at her sister. Hell, no, she wasn't sorry: she was mad. She jerked up her shoulder bag. "I'm going out for a smoke."

  "Jo Lisa," her mo
ther called after her.

  She ignored her.

  When she got outside she felt the bus ticket in her pocket. Maybe she wouldn't stop for a smoke. Maybe she'd keep on going.

  "Jo Lisa." Bessie came up, breathless, her hand pressed over her heart. "What in the world's the matter with you . . . leaving like that?"

  "I had to get out of there."

  "Susan's upset."

  Always Susan. Jo Lisa lit her cigarette, took one puff, then tossed it away.

  "I know, Mother. Go back and tell her everything's all right."

  "Are you coming back?"

  Was she? She wanted to tell Jeffy good-bye.

  "Yes. I'll be back in a minute."

  "Good." Bessie patted her hand. "I knew I could count on you, Jo Lisa."

  She let the remark slide. All right. So today she'd be somebody other people could count on. Then after that she didn't plan to ever have anybody counting on her except herself.

  o0o

  Alone, Susan sat in the waiting room with her arms wrapped around herself. Jo Lisa was hurting. She could tell.

  Susan glanced out the window and saw Bessie talking to her. Brittle, self-sufficient Jo Lisa. How Susan had loved her. And now how she hated . . .

  Would God punish her for hating her sister? Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.

  She put her hand on the window right where Jo Lisa's face was.

  "Susan?" Paul stood in the doorway.

  "It's Jefiy . . ." She didn't know if her legs would let her stand. "Is he . . ."

  "He's fine, Susan." He hurried across the room and held her close. "He's going to be just fine."

  "Oh, God . . . Thank you, Paul . . . thank you." She began crying and laughing at the same time.

  Bessie came back, and Jo Lisa not far behind her. They stood in the doorway, uncertain.

  "Jeffy made it," she said. "He made it."

  Susan released Paul and went to hug her mother. Bessie was crying so hard, she washed the mascara off her lashes. It streaked down her face, detouring in her lines and creases.

  Jo Lisa stood watching them.. Something about her, the way she looked so alone, so apart from the family, broke Susan’s heart..

  "Jo Lisa?"

  "I'm glad he's okay, Susan. If it's all right with you, I'm going to stay awhile longer. I'd like to go in when he's out of recovery to tell him good-bye."

  Her sister was leaving again. Instinctively Susan knew that this time she'd never come back . . . not with the past still standing between them.

  Paul came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder. Gently he squeezed.

  He knew. He understood. If she held on to her hatred, it would destroy her, perhaps destroy them both.

  Slowly she reached for her sister. Without hesitation Jo Lisa came into her arms.

  "I'm so sorry, Susan. So sorry."

  "So am I, Jo Lisa."

  "Can you ever forgive me?"

  "I already have."

  They broke apart, and Jo Lisa reached into her bag. "God, I need a cigarette."

  "Not in this hospital, you don't," Paul said.

  Laughter through tears, the universal language of healing.

  o0o

  The bus was old. It swayed and rocked along the highway. Outside the windows, wind ruffled the waters of the gulf and an occasional sea gull dipped down in a showy display of his flying skills.

  "Next stop, Pass Chris-ti-an." The bus driver drew out the last syllable.

  "Just a poor lost sinner," Jo Lisa sang under her breath, "passing through Pass Chris-ti-an."

  An old lady on the next seat looked at her as if she had lost her mind. Maybe she had. Maybe she'd never had one to lose in the first place.

  She felt in her pocket for her ticket. New Orleans, it said.

  Susan had wanted her to stay. Paul, understanding her need to leave, had asked her to come back for the wedding.

  She'd made no promises. But who knew? A few months from now when Paul's divorce was final and Jeffy had recovered from his surgery, maybe she'd be sitting on the front row of Hope Methodist Church cheering her sister on.

  She might even sing the bridal song. Softly she began to hum Someone to Watch Over Me.

  The old lady gave her another look, but Jo Lisa kept on singing. Reaching into her pocket once more to feel her ticket, she encountered a card. She pulled it out and held it to the light. Matt Benedict. With addresses in Chicago, St. Louis, and New Orleans.

  "All a-board." The driver closed the doors and put the bus into gear, and they all rolled down the coastal highway . . . going places.

  Epilogue

  They sailed silently across the Mississippi Sound in the early morning hours, just the three of them, man, woman, and child, lifting their faces toward the far- reaching sky. The sum rose over them in benediction.

  The sails swelled in the breeze like giant snow white birds straining to be free from the mast, and a pod of inquisitive dolphins appeared beside the boat.

  The dolphins raced with the boat, their slick gray bodies rolling through the water in perfect formation. A small boy squealed with delight, and the breeze caught his laughter and carried it upward toward a flock of gulls winging in stark splendor toward the sun.

  There was harmony between the boat and waves, a beautiful order in the flight of the gulls and the frolicking of the dolphins.

  The boat sailed on, led by the dolphins, until they came to a quiet cove off Horn Island. Sea oats waved their pale gold heads, whispering secrets to the wind, and a rusty old terrapin, roused from his nap in the sun, belly flopped into the shallows. A tern called to them, and foam collected at the tide line.

  Paul dropped anchor, and his wife moved into the protective lee of his arm.

  "Look at him, Paul," Susan said as her son walked to the railing. Jeffy's cheeks glowed with color and his legs were sturdy. "Did you ever think we'd come this far?"

  "I never doubted it for a minute."

  "Jeffy and I could never have made it without you." She touched his face. "You're wonderful."

  "It's because I have you and Jeffy to believe in me."

  Jeffy clung to the railing with one hand and shaded his eyes with the other. Dolphins cavorted in the water below him.

  "I don't see him," Jeffy said.

  "Who, sweetheart?"

  "Fergie."

  A look of understanding passed between Susan and Paul. Fergie, who taught Jeffy to walk. Fergie, who taught them to love. In telling and retelling the stories Jeffy loved so much, they had named Fergie the Magic Dolphin, and he had taken on the proportions of myth.

  On the day of Jeffy's surgery, Fergie had disappeared through the sea gate at the Oceanfront Research Center and had never returned. Bill feared the worst, but neither Susan nor Paul had the heart to tell Jeffy.

  Jeffy turned from the railing. "Is it time, Paul? Can we go now?"

  "We can."

  It was time to fulfill a long ago promise. The three of them suited up, and Paul guided them over the side. The water was cool and green, so clear they could see forever. They splashed awhile, letting Jeffy get comfortable, then they swam into the deep.

  Curious, some of the dolphins swam close and touched their legs with bottlenose snouts, then raced away. The three of them played the game of tag until Paul signaled it was time to go up.

  Jeffy peered through the water, searching, searching.

  Suddenly a great gray shadow appeared beside them. There was something unmistakable in the wise eyes and the special smile. Joy bloomed on Jeffy's face.

  Fergie rolled, then offered his dorsal fin.

  The three of them were already linked, Paul and Susan with Jeffy in the middle. Paul reached for Fergie, and the gentle giant carried them down into his underwater kingdom. The sun sent its rays far below the surface of the water. There were wonders in the deep, color and movement and sounds so strangely exotic, they seemed to be in the middle of a dream.

  They glided on, th
e four of them, linked together by trust and love and a mysterious connection that defied understanding. Swimming silently, Fergie carried his human friends where dolphins go, and Jeffy's eyes grew big with wonder. With the precise timing and perfect understanding that had bonded them together so many months ago, Fergie at last rose to the surface.

  Paul released his fin, and the great gray dolphin watched until his friends were safely aboard the sloop. With one arm around Susan and the other holding Jeffy, Paul stood at the railing. Fergie leaped high into the air, spinning in the sun. When he hit the water, he rolled to his side and lifted a dorsal fin.

  "He's saying good-bye," Jeffy said. "Why is he saying good-bye?"

  Tears gathered in Susan's eyes, but her husband, who understood her so well, knew they were tears of joy.

  "When the magic show is over, the magician leaves the stage," Paul said, holding his wife and the son he loved as his own.

  "What happens to the magic?"

  "It lasts forever."

  And in his heart, Paul knew it would.

  -o0o-

  Chapter One Night of the Dragon

  EXCERPT

  by Peggy Webb

  A time travel romance

  Once upon a time . . . The wooden sign, painted with red lettering in Old English scroll, held promises of faraway places where magic was as commonplace as mourning doves cooing on the windowsill, and dreams could be plucked by the pocketful from golden trees growing along the wayside.

  Lydia loved the sign. She had brought it all the way from Pontotoc, Mississippi, in the back of her 1988 blue Ford truck, covered with a tarp so the storm she'd come through in Texas and the blistering heat in New Mexico and Arizona wouldn't warp it and damage its bright colors. Perched on a ladder she'd found in a dusty back room of the bookshop she'd purchased from Michael O'Hurley, she hung the sign over her front door.

  "How does it look, Uncle Michael?" she said.

  The old man who held the ladder looked like a leprechaun, with three tufts of white hair that sprouted from his head, a face as brown and wrinkled as a hickory nut, and a large hooked nose that dipped down over a generous mouth. His smile showed four gold teeth. He was fond of telling people he had found them at the end of the rainbow.