by Mary Monroe
“No, y’all go ahead. I think I’ve had enough beach for one day. I’ll man the fort.”
“You sure, now?” Brett asked solicitously as he passed her at the door. “You don’t mind being alone?”
She blushed a bit at his concern and shook her head. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m tired.”
Brett caught up with Cara on the porch. Grabbing hold of the blankets in one hand, he scooped her into an impulsive, possessive kiss that set her spinning, words like lost and found running through her head.
“Been wanting to do that all day,” he said with a low voice as he drew away. Then he took her hand and together they took off down the stairs, running like kids to catch up with the rest of the gang.
Cara and Brett found them all standing with Miranda at the 6th Avenue nest. Most of the holiday revelers were farther down the beach by the pier waiting for the fireworks to begin. Flo’s finger was wagging as she lectured her mother about leaving without telling anyone. The children were dancing on tiptoe, getting all worked up about the prospect of seeing baby turtles. Lovie was on her knees bent over the nest, peering at it through the eerie red glow of her turtle flashlight.
“What’s the verdict?” Cara asked, sinking to her knees beside her in the sand.
“See that depression?” Lovie asked, pointing her light to reveal a dip in the sand. “That’s a clear sign something’s going on down there. Children, do stop jumping around so close to the nest. They’ll never come out if you keep that up.”
Miranda came closer to peer at the nest in the light. “Why don’t you stick your fingers down in there and see if the turtles are on top.”
Lovie shook her head. “Let’s just let them be. They’ll come out in their own good time.”
“Aw, go on and hurry things a bit,” Julia said as she came near. “You used to help them out. The children are all excited.”
“This isn’t a show for the children,” Lovie replied to a chorus of groans. “I used to do a few things I shouldn’t have but we’ve all learned. Remember the time they came out with their lunch pails out? I still feel bad about that.”
“You always bring up that one time.” Flo was resentful since it had happened on her watch. “We covered them right back up.”
“More than once…” Lovie countered.
“What’s a lunch pail?” asked Cooper.
Brett patted the blanket beside him as he stretched his legs out beside Cara, who could sense the teacher in Brett about to slip out. Cooper lost no time claiming the spot beside Brett.
“Well now,” he began in a slow drawl. “The lunch pail is a little yolk sack that gives the hatchling the energy it needs to make it to the Gulf Stream. If he comes out of the nest before he’s eaten his lunch, he’s doomed. You see, once the turtles hatch and run to the sea, they do what’s called a swimming frenzy. They swim without eating for twenty-four hours. That is, if they’re lucky enough not to get eaten themselves by ghost crabs and raccoons on the beach or fish and birds in the sea.”
“It’s like a prison break,” Emmi added for the children. “The baby turtles are just sitting there under the sand, waiting for the signal, while one little guy sneaks out to check things out. Then once they get the all clear—boom! They come scrambling out of the tunnel and run madly to their escape in the sea before they get caught by the crabs.”
“You mean the crabs eat the turtles?” Cooper was horrified.
Brett nodded. “Hatchlings are a gourmet meal for them. They can feel the movement in the sand and tiptoe close. Then the crab chases the little guy and nips him in the ten-dons with his pincers.” Brett reached out to nip at Cooper with two fingers. He squealed in delight and terror and tried to wriggle away. Brett held on firm, laughing and acting out the rest of the tale. “They hold on tight as they drag the poor baby turtle down into the hole, and the very first thing they do is gobble up the eyes.” Cooper squealed again as Brett pretended to be pinching out his eyes.
“Thanks, Brett,” Julia said with exaggeration. “Now I’ll have to deal with nightmares.”
“Don’t you fret. They’ll be too tired to dream tonight,” Lovie said.
“Well, that’s one lecture I slept through in high school,” Cara said with a teasing jab in Brett’s ribs. “Say, Cooper, do you want to get those crabs?”
“Yeah!” His face was furious as he scrambled to his feet.
“Me, too,” exclaimed Linnea.
Brett joined them. They showed Cooper how to stuff the crab holes with wrack and sand. He took to the task like the pirate he was at heart, jabbing the spartina sticks in like swords, shouting, “Take that. And that!” Linnea swept the beach clear of debris and filled ruts with graceful, waltzing movements.
“Like this, Aunt Cara?” she asked, eager to please.
“That’s right, sweetie. You’re doing it just right.”
Soon, all was in readiness for the hatchlings’ race to the sea. They gathered around the nest again to sit and wait in an expectant silence as the moon rose higher in the sky, its light shimmering brightly on the water.
Toy stood before the small mirror over her dresser and brushed her hair, her movements slow and dejected. If she just saw the top of her body in the mirror—just the head, neck and shoulders—then she didn’t look all that different from the richer girls who lived around here. Her new golden brown hair color was real natural-looking and she liked the way it fell softly to her shoulders.
She set the brush on the bureau and, looking down, traced the curve of her belly. But this was all those boys saw, she knew. In their eyes, she wasn’t a teenager anymore. All they saw was someone pregnant, used up and discarded.
“Do you think I’m special?” she asked her baby, stroking the mound of her belly. She hated the tear that rolled down her cheek and wiped it away angrily. What good was crying? She had gotten herself into this mess. She might as well try to get herself out of it.
Lying on the bed were her schoolbooks. A few weeks earlier Cara had knocked on her door, then come in carrying them and a brochure about the GED program. She’d sat with Toy every night at the table and gone over the lessons while Lovie sat with her feet up on the sofa and listened. When Toy passed her first test, Cara hooted with delight. “When you graduate, you can go to college!” She’d said it like she really meant it, too. Not like she was just being nice.
Toy stretched out and opened her algebra book. She didn’t tell Cara this, but she’d never even dreamed of college. College didn’t hold anything for girls like her. She had a baby to take care of. She needed to get a job.
She was tired after all the party preparations and the sunshine, but she’d not done much studying in the past couple of days so she’d just better “buckle down and do it,” as Cara liked to say. Toy had learned a lot of Cara’s sayings. Things like “putting one’s nose to the grindstone” and “not procrastinating.” Toy grinned, saying the word aloud. “Procrastinate.” It was one of those big words she’d always wanted to use and she liked best that it meant exactly what she wanted to say. She’d always thought big words were just for showing off, but now she knew that one right word could say what five or six little ones couldn’t. And that thought helped to lift her spirits.
A while later, while solving simultaneous equations, Toy was distracted by the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel outside. She lay still, her ear cocked, but she didn’t hear anything more. She felt cozy and secure in her little room and wasn’t afraid. There were lots of folks parking in the road to watch the fireworks from the beach. She returned to her algebra, chewing her lip and wishing Cara was home to help her with this problem. She worked on until a short while later she heard the unmistakable popping and thunderous exploding of fireworks.
She stopped working to listen closely. They sounded real close. Maybe she’d be able to see them if she stood out on the deck. Just as she stepped outside, another boom rumbled and color exploded in the sky. She leaned against the railing and arched on tiptoe to look out over the eastern sky. The
fireworks were coming from Sullivan’s Island. Two more fired off in rapid succession.
“Oh, baby, if only you could see this,” she said excitedly.
“All I need is to see you.”
Toy startled at the voice coming from the darkness. Her heart pumped so hard it sounded like fireworks exploding in her head. She didn’t need any light to tell her who it was.
“Darryl!”
She heard a shuffling in the sand and gravel and there he was, plain as day. He stood at the bottom of the porch steps with his hands in his pockets and one foot on the first step. She knew she should be afraid or mad, but all she felt was the same traitorous shiver of pleasure she always felt whenever she looked into those baby-blue eyes.
It had been so long since she’d seen him, since a man had looked at her the way he was looking at her now. Not with boredom or disgust, like those Peterson boys had looked at her, but in a way that made her feel the way a woman wanted to feel. He looked good, too. Cleaned up. His brown hair was shorter, cut in a softer style that curled around his neck and open shirt collar in a sexy way. His jeans were dark blue without any stains or holes in them and, looking at the boot on the step, she could see it had real fancy detailing in the spit-polished leather.
“You did something different with your hair,” he said.
Her hand darted to self-consciously tuck a piece behind her ear and she blushed, knowing he was studying her with the same intensity. “I thought I’d try something a little more…mature.” She’d almost said grown-up but thought of the better word.
“Well, it’s different, that’s for sure. You look, I don’t know…real nice.”
Pleasure washed over her, soothing her wounded pride. She remembered how nice he could be and she relaxed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “I told you not to come.”
“I didn’t mean to cause you no trouble,” he answered. “I have a gig at the Windjammer on the island later, and I thought I’d stop by and see how you were doing. That’s all, Toy. I swear.”
There was something in his eyes that drew her in. A lost, little-boy look that made her want to mother him. She thought of words like lost and found, believing there was someone out there for everyone. “The Windjammer’s a real good gig.”
He moved up a few steps, taking them slow. “Yeah. Me and the guys feel like it’s a break. Never know who’s in the audience around here. This might be the one.” He was standing right in front of her now, staring down at her with his hands at his sides. He wasn’t very tall, not even as tall as Cara, but in her mind she’d thought of him as big. She could smell his cologne and her stomach fluttered with desire.
“I was thinking how you were always there for me, Toy, whenever an important gig came up. My little good luck charm.”
The humidity rose like a mist around them. She could hardly breathe.
“Be there for me tonight, baby.”
Her eyes closed and she leaned into him.
Her belly touched him first. Her eyes flew open and, looking down at the obstacle between them, she laughed nervously. She was relieved beyond words to hear his low chuckle in the dark.
“I told you that little guy was getting between us,” he said.
She smiled tremulously because she didn’t hear any of the meanness she’d heard before whenever he talked about the baby.
“He’s getting big,” she said.
“He’s gonna be a big fella.”
It was odd them talking about the baby—their baby—as if they knew it was a boy. But suddenly she knew it was and she saw in her mind a little Darryl. She brought her hand to her belly to stroke it. She felt a little choked up standing close with her baby and the father. It was almost like being a family.
“When’s he going to be born?”
“September. Around the fifteenth. He’ll be a Virgo.”
“Is that good?”
“They’re all good, silly. A Virgo is smart and good with details. I’m a Gemini. Sensitive.”
“I hear that.” He stepped closer, narrowing the space. “What am I?” His voice was husky.
She licked her lips again. “A Leo. That’s the lion.” For no reason she understood, that suddenly seemed terribly sexy.
“I miss you, Toy. Nothing’s the same without you.” He reached up just to skim her arms gently with his fingertips.
She felt the calluses from his guitar strings on her pliant skin and a flood of memories played back like the lyrics of a beloved song. “I miss you, too,” she said softly, reverently.
He lowered his head and the pull was strong. She tilted hers and closed her eyes. She felt his lips cover hers and press softly, and in her heart she saw only the Darryl that loved her.
“Do you want to come hear me play?” he asked when they pulled apart.
The invitation was unfathomable. To go out. To a club. Like old times. A chance to not be old before her time.
“Just give me a minute.”
She hurried to her room to brush her hair and put on some lip gloss. Grabbing her purse from the bed, she turned off the light and hurried back to Darryl. The algebra book lay open on the bed, forgotten.
Male and female turtles are similar except for the male’s long tail and longer claws on the flippers used to grip a female during mating. Courtship is tempestuous. Males may fight with each other in pursuit of a female. When receptive, the female accepts her suitor.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The moon was ghostly in the sky as clouds and fog rolled in. It had been a long night on the beach. The firework show had been loads of fun and they’d all oohed and aahed along with the children. Fortunately, the turtles were smart enough to wait until the crowds had left before emerging from their nest. The clouds had dimmed the moonlight and smoke from the firework shells lingered in the sky. They’d hardly been able to see the hatchlings as they scrambled down the beach into the sea.
Yet emerge they did. Cara had knelt close to the nest and counted nearly eighty vigorous baby turtles as they tumbled out. It was nearly midnight, and though her limbs were tired, her mind was alive with exhilaration.
“Caretta?”
Cara turned her head to peer through the darkness toward the tall shadowy form approaching along the shoreline. As Brett drew nearer she could just make out the chiseled angles of his jaw and chin in the shadows.
“Is that the last of them?” she asked.
He came to stand beside her at the water’s edge. “I think so.”
She looked again at the sea. Even in the mist the edges of the surf were tinged white with light. “They were so cute.” She laughed lightly. “I suppose cute is hardly the word a naturalist would use to describe a baby turtle.”
“Neither is baby, but they both seem to apply.”
She liked the way he was never patronizing. “I was thinking of the night Mama and I saw a turtle lay her eggs in the sand. The moon was full and bright that night. We could see everything as though it were dusk. She was enormous and these little hatchlings were so small. It’s amazing to think that they’ll someday grow so large.”
“If they survive. Only one in a thousand will.”
“That few? It seems so sad.”
“It’s nature’s way.”
“I suppose.” Cara wrapped her arms around herself. “Sometimes nature seems rather cruel.”
They both knew she was thinking again of her mother’s illness and there was little either of them could or wanted to say on that matter. They stared out at the sea for a few moments. The tide was coming in and the water was stretching up to lap their toes, deliciously warm.
“Care for a walk?” he asked.
Cara looked up the beach toward the nest. Julia, Miranda and the children were already gone. Squinting, she could see the shadowy forms of her mother and Flo just leaving the nest. The night was soft, moist and inviting and she didn’t care to go home. And yet…she was hesitant. Brett was an enigma to her. When she’d first
felt the zing of attraction she’d expected them to fall into the usual pattern of casual sex and a quick farewell. He hadn’t allowed that to happen, however. Just when she thought she’d figured him out he did something to surprise her. And that made him all the more intriguing. Not to mention he was the only man she’d ever met who could provide a meal with a bit of string and a hook.
“Okay,” she replied.
He took her hand and they began walking along the surf line. She gradually matched her own long-legged pace to his in an easy rhythm. In the distance, the stretch of white lights along the pier looked like low stars in the velvety blackness.
It all seemed terribly romantic. Very much like a postcard of two lovers strolling along the beach, except, of course, they weren’t lovers. Pity, she thought, as the silence became erotic. She grew intensely aware of the feel of his hand over hers, as though every neuron in her body was focused on those few inches of skin. Each time their hips bumped it sent shivers down her spine. Each ruffle of the breeze seemed a caress.
“Do you walk out here often? At night, I mean?” she asked, then felt silly for the question. “But of course you do. You live here.”
“Actually, it’s because I live here that I don’t. I guess I take the ocean for granted. Look up there,” he said, pointing to a row of houses up the beach. Even at this late hour, a number of them had lights still shining indoors. “See the gray flickering lights? They’re all inside watching TV. I’m not the only one who takes it for granted.”
“My condo faces Lake Michigan and I have to admit, I rarely stand at the window to look out at the lake anymore, either. But I know it’s there. I sense its presence. Every once in awhile I look up and really see it. It takes me by surprise how beautiful it is. Like a gift. I appreciate it then. It may only be a moment, but in that moment my life is better. I suppose it’s the same for those people, too.”
“Do you miss Chicago?”
She had to think about this answer. She hadn’t really thought about Chicago in a while. Not since her conversation with Adele. It was as though she’d closed some mental door to that part of her life and opened the door to her life here on the island.
