Swimming Lessons. Mary Monroe Alice

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      The big turtle was in much sorrier shape than she’d first realized. As she drew near, the turtle’s dark, almond eyes rolled in her large skull in a mournful gaze.

      “Don’t be afraid, big girl,” she said to the turtle, feeling an instant connection. “I’ll get you out of here in no time.”

      A small wave slapped her face as she swam around the turtle. Her eyes stung and she spit out a mouthful of saltwater. Once behind the rear flippers she could get a good handle on the shell. Then, using the carapace like a kickboard, she began kicking and pushing the turtle toward the shore.

      She was making good progress when she caught a quick silvery flash of movement in the corner of her eye. Her breath hitched as she scanned the vista. The water’s surface was turning glassy in the brilliant colors of the setting sun. She hesitated, not fooled by the serenity. Dusk was feeding time for sharks.

      Toy knew she was in a vulnerable position. The predator would be curious about the sick turtle—an easy prey. With her toe bleeding she knew the smart thing to do would be to leave the turtle and get out of the water.

      Then she saw it again. This time it was unmistakable. The slim, v-shaped dorsal fin broke the surface, heading her way in a lazy, zigzag pattern. Toy froze as the shark neared, then swiftly veered off. The turtle’s instinct flared and her flippers feebly stroked in the surf. The shark surfaced again, but this time farther out by the inlet.

      “Well, no one ever said I was smart,” she told herself, gripping the turtle’s shell. With a grunt, she pushed with all her might, propelling the turtle forward. She repeated this twice more before her feet hit sand. The shark was closer again, circling in a pattern of surveillance.

      That bull shark was four feet of sleek danger and she knew it could attack in shallow water. She hurried to the front of the turtle and grabbed hold. “We’re not home yet,” she muttered and began tugging the enormous turtle in. Behind her on the beach she heard Florence Prescott calling her name.

      “Hurry, Flo!” she cried over her shoulder.

      With athletic grace that belied her advanced years, Flo ran straight into the water, her tennis shoes still on.

      “Drag her out of the water,” Toy cried with urgency. “We’ve got company.”

      Flo looked over her shoulder. “God damn,” she muttered.

      Little Lovie ran into the surf, arms reaching for the turtle. “Let me help!”

      “Lovie, you get back on the beach this instant!” Toy ordered.

      “But I want to help!”

      “Do as your mama says,” Flo told her. “Sharks nibble hatchlings in ankle deep water and your toes are just the right size. Go on now, git.”

      Little Lovie scrambled out of the ocean.

      Flo grabbed hold of a side of the turtle’s shell. Her deeply tanned arms spoke of many years spent in the sun. “On the count of three…”

      With a heave-ho, they shoved the turtle up the final few feet to the edge of the beach. Out of the water, the full impact of the huge turtle’s weight was felt. It was like pushing a boulder and it took all they had to get the turtle to scrape sand till only the tips of the incoming tide caressed her rear flippers.

      The turtle remained motionless. Toy plopped down on the sand beside her and lifted her foot to check out her wound. She was shocked to see that the cut in her big toe was deep and bright red blood trickled in a steady flow. And it hurt like hell. It hit her how reckless she’d been to stay in the sea with a bleeding wound. Raising her gaze, she looked again out at the sea. The shark had already disappeared beneath the murky water. She started to laugh with relief.

      “What are you laughing at?” Flo asked. “Is that a cut you’ve got there?” She swooped down like a mother hen.

      “It’s nothing.”

      “I’ll be the judge of that. Those shells can be like razors. Let me see it.”

      “Really, Flo, I’m okay.”

      “Bring it here.” Flo bent and, grabbing hold of Toy’s foot, studied the toe closer. She clucked her tongue. Little Lovie hovered nearby, mesmerized. After a quick perusal, Flo released the foot and rose to a stand. “Put some antibiotic ointment on it and you’ll live.”

      Toy looked up at her daughter with a reassuring smile.

      “I can’t believe you went out there with a shark trailing you,” Flo said. “You know better.”

      Toy took the scolding with good nature. “I didn’t see it when I swam out and I wasn’t sure I was bleeding.” She snorted and added smugly, “But I got her in, didn’t I?”

      Florence Prescott usually had something upbeat to say about most things, but she looked at the turtle with a frown and shaking her head said, “I’m not sure it was worth the risk. This turtle looks barely alive. And she’s covered with gunk. I’ve buried strandings that looked better than this one.”

      “No, she’s beautiful. That gunk is merely leeches, algae and barnacles. We just have to get her someplace where we can clean her up.”

      Before they could discuss this further, their attention was caught by calls coming from up the beach. “Well, thank goodness the cavalry’s here,” Flo said. She stretched her arm overhead and waved, calling out, “Cara! Brett! Over here!”

      Toy turned toward the dunes and saw an attractive couple in khaki shorts and green Barrier Island Eco-Tour T-shirts. Toy’s spirits soared and she grinned from ear to ear as she lifted her arm in a wave.

      A tall, lean woman strode toward them in a long-legged, no-nonsense manner. Her glossy, dark hair whipped in the breeze and behind her smart, tortoise sunglasses, Toy knew Cara’s brown eyes were sparkling with excitement at the prospect of a live turtle on the beach.

      Behind her, Brett’s broad shoulders and height towered even over Cara. Though he wore the same T-shirt of the tour company they owned, on Brett the clothes were faded and worn, giving him the disheveled appearance of an island boy.

      Little Lovie yelped with excitement at seeing them and ran into Brett’s arms for a quick hoist high up in the air.

      “It’s a turtle, see!” she cried out.

      “I see it!” Brett’s blue eyes brightened against his weathered tan as he grinned wide and swung Little Lovie around, her legs flying behind her. Then he tucked her on his hip with a hug of affection.

      “What’ve we got?” Cara asked, walking directly to the turtle. She bent over the sea turtle to get a closer look.

      “Probably a nesting female,” Flo replied as she quickly moved to Cara’s side. “She’s covered with barnacles. And look, leeches too. Ugh, the horrid blood suckers are all over her.”

      Cara grimaced at the pitiful sight. “She must’ve been floating for weeks.”

      “Weeks? Longer than that,” Flo replied. “These poor floaters СКАЧАТЬ