Mary Alice Monroe - Swimming Lessons

The VW Bug was once the pride and joy of Olivia Rutledge. Everyone who lived on the island knew that if they spotted “the Goldbug” parked along Palm Boulevard, the Turtle Lady was out on the beach tending to a turtle nest. Miss Lovie had left the car to Toy in her will, and at 103,000 miles, the Gold Bug was still going strong.

While Toy moved the car, the others worked together to shove the clutter to the lawn, leaving only Little Lovie’s blue plastic kiddie pool. This was scrubbed, rinsed then filled to the half way point with water.

“I reckon this is as good as it’s going to get,” Cara said, surveying the cleared and swept space. “Let’s bring her in.”

“Easy now,” Flo said as they each took hold of the turtle and carried her under the porch. Gently, they slipped the enormous turtle into the kiddie pool. She landed with a soft splash, filling every inch.

“Snug as a bug in a rug,” Brett said, rising.

“You ain’t kidding,” Flo added, drying her hands on her shorts. “She barely squeezed in. If that loggerhead was healthy, she’d use those powerful flippers to climb out from that ridiculous plastic bin and stopping her would be like trying to stop a tank.” She clucked her tongue. “Poor thing. She’s so weak and sick, she doesn’t even try.”

Toy crouched closer to the sea turtle that lay dull and limp in the pool. She looked more like one of Little Lovie’s inflatable toys than a real loggerhead. She knew this noble turtle had survived against daunting odds to reach maturity. She’d traveled countless miles to the beach of her birth to lay her eggs. She didn’t deserve to be in such a pitiful condition.

“I’m going to scrub her down,” she said, rolling up her sleeves.

“Are you sure you’re supposed to do that?” Flo asked. “Maybe we should just leave her be.”

“Flo,” she said, rising to a stand. “May I remind you that I work at the Aquarium and I’ve handled lots of sick sea turtles when I interned at the turtle hospital in Topsail. So, yes. I am sure we’re supposed to wash her down.” Her expression shifted to reveal the hurt exasperation she felt with the other woman.

Flo’s brows rose in surprise at Toy’s reaction. Then her shoulders lowered and her lips lifted to a thoughtful smile. “I reckon I can get pretty fixed in my ways at times.”

Cara guffawed from behind them. “Who, you?”

Toy breathed easier and met Flo’s smile.

“Well, kiddos,” Flo said, slapping her hands together. “It looks like this turtle is in good hands. It’s getting dark and I’m already late for my date. If you don’t need me, I gotta go.”

“Who is the lucky guy this time?” Cara asked.

Flo just waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “You’ll be fine without me for a while. I’ll come back tomorrow morning to help with whatever you need done. What time do you think we’ll be shoving off for the Aquarium?”

“Jason is getting there early to set up a tank for her. He said to bring her in around eight,” replied Toy.

“Then I’ll be here at seven. I’ll bring coffee.”

She leaned forward to give a quick kiss on Little Lovie’s cheek then offered a wave to the others. “Take good care of our girl,” she said as she walked off, her flip flops clapping against her heels. She disappeared around a gangly oleander.

The small space beneath the porch seemed suddenly quieter without her energy.

“So then,” said Cara, breaking the silence. Her eyes turned toward Toy. “What should we do first?”

Toy scratched behind her ear, surprised to suddenly find herself in charge. She caught sight of Little Lovie standing by the steps of the porch wrapped tight in her beach towel, shivering. Her damp hair lay in clumps around her head. She was slight with no meat on her bones, as her mama would say. “The first thing I’ve got to do is warm up the little bug over there before she chatters away her teeth.”

“Let me do that,” Brett offered, walking toward Little Lovie. “I know you two ladies can’t wait to get your hands on that turtle. While you scrub to your heart’s content, I’ll scrounge around the kitchen and fix up some hot dinner for all of us.” He turned to the child. “What do you say to that?”

Little Lovie looked up at him with limpid eyes and her teeth biting the towel. She nodded.

“Come on then, before your lips turn any bluer,” he said.

“Hey, darlin’,” Cara called out to him. “While you’re at it, I’d like a vodka martini with three olives.” She winked when he glanced back at her with a smirk.

Toy enjoyed their banter and watched Brett place his big hand against Little Lovie’s back, nudging her toward the door. They were so like what she thought a father and daughter should be. And she felt again a stabbing guilt that somehow she’d failed her daughter because there was no father for her.

“He’s a pretty remarkable guy,” she said to Cara.

“Don’t I know it.”

“He’ll make a great father someday.”

Cara’s smile slipped. “God willing.”

Toy caught the sudden shift in emotion and let the topic drop. Miss Lovie used to say that the island breezes softened the bones. In Cara’s case, Toy saw that it was true. Marriage had sweetened Cara. And for sure, no one could have been nicer or more supportive of her and Little Lovie than Cara and Brett. They were like family—the only family Toy and Little Lovie could count on.

“Let’s get this show rolling,” Cara said in an upbeat voice, wiping sand from her hands. “You’re the boss here. You’ll have to tell me how this is done.”

“There’s not a whole lot we can do here,” Toy replied, unrolling the hose. “All the medical treatments will be done tomorrow at the Aquarium. But at least we can get all that slime and those leeches off. Even if she doesn’t make it, I reckon she’ll be happier for a bath.”

“I hear that,” Cara said, walking to the faucet. “Fresh water okay?”

“Yep. It’s even better than sea water for cleaning her off. Kills those ol’ barnacles.”

“Well, here’s a nice fresh water shower, baby,” said Cara. Water gurgled from the hose and splashed onto the turtle’s shell.

While Cara hosed down the turtle, Toy brought over a bucket filled with soft scrub brushes. Her stomach clenched as she knelt by the turtle. It was covered with stubborn barnacles and hundreds of thread-like, wiggly leeches.

“God, I hate leeches,” she muttered with a shudder.

“You and me both,” Cara said as she knelt beside her. Her mouth was a tight grimace. Their eyes met, then with a mutual sigh of resignation, they both dove in and began to scrub.

They scrubbed and picked and rinsed until it seemed to Toy that she’d removed acres of the ocean’s slimy bottom from the turtle. The bigger, gray, crusty barnacles were tenacious but the smaller ones were easily plucked off. Dozens more clung stubbornly to every inch of the turtle like boils. At least the horrible leeches were off and she had to admit the loggerhead did look better. The shell was spongy to the touch, but bits of its rich brown coloring could be seen between the dried, flaky bits.

The gentle turtle remained still and uncomplaining. She rolled her eyes back to stare at Toy with an almost human expression.

“Bless her heart. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was saying thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” Cara replied, patting her shell.

“I think we should name her.”

“I thought you biologists didn’t like to get personal with wild animals.” Cara said the word biologists with a gentle tease.

Toy made a face, but secretly she thrilled to the title. It was hard earned. “It’s true, but I confess I like to give names to the ones I work with every day. It helps me remember one from the next and it’s more personal. Besides, I have a hard enough time remembering names. Who can remember a number?” She paused to look with scrutiny at the loggerhead. “How about Caretta?”