Swimming Lessons

4

Toy woke while the sun was still rosy on the horizon. She quickly went through the motions of her morning routine, then went to rouse a sleepy Little Lovie from her bed.

She paused at the door of the pink bedroom, soaking in the vision of that sweet face swathed in frills and lace. Children looked like angels when they slept, she thought. She hated to awaken her. Moving to the bed, she sat beside her and showered Lovie’s face with kisses, murmuring, “Wake up! Wake up, sleepyhead!”

Lovie rubbed her eyes and yawned. “Is it time to go to day care?”

“No. I have to go to the Aquarium to feed Big Girl. I’m taking you to Flo’s, just for a little while. You can watch cartoons.”

“It’s Saturday?”

“Yes.”

“But you promised me we’d go to the beach.” Her voice was filled with reproach.

“I know. And we will. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Now up and at ’em.” She patted Lovie’s bottom to get her moving, then drew back. Lovie’s arms shot out to grab hold of her and tug her back.

“What, honey?” Toy asked.

Lovie’s small hands reached up to frame Toy’s face like blinders. Toy felt the gentle pressure on her cheeks while Lovie’s blue eyes gazed at her, as though saying fiercely, look at me!

“I wanna be with you,” Lovie said.

Toy’s breath hitched. “I know,” she said, knowing her answer fell pitifully short. “I want to be with you, too. I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

Lovie nodded and dropped her hands.

Toy picked them up and kissed each one. “I’ll be home in a jiffy and we’ll build that sand castle.”

Flo, bless her heart, was only too happy to mind Little Lovie for the morning, even at such an early hour. When they showed up at her door, Flo greeted them at her front door brandishing a neon green super-squirt gun and calling out, “Tawanda!”

“Oh, brother,” Toy said with a light laugh. Flo was incorrigible. Toy thought the gun was a better toy for a boy than a girl, but Lovie lit up at seeing it. She grabbed the gun and tore out the back door to fill it at the spigot.

“I’ll be back early so we can go to the beach,” she called to Lovie’s retreating back.

“Time for a cup?” Flo asked.

“I wish. But I’d like to get in and out of the Aquarium as early as possible. Lovie is giving me the cold shoulder for going in to work this weekend. She’s so looking forward to going to the beach.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. I’ll take her.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Toy replied with faint heart, “but I’d like to go with her. I’ve yet to keep my promise to help her build a sand castle. I’ve been so busy this week trying to set up a program for Big Girl at the Aquarium, my little girl is getting the short end of the stick.”

“She doesn’t look the worse for wear.”

“I hope not. But this schedule isn’t about to slow down any, at least not until I get a better handle on things.”

“You know I’m here for you. Anytime”

She felt a rush of emotion. It had always been this way with Flo. “I know.”

Flo narrowed her eyes in scrutiny, then pushed open the screen door and signaled with her hand that Toy should come into the house. “Come on, just for a minute. No whining.”

Toy did so reluctantly. Flo closed the door and sat on the Chippendale wicker bench in the front hall. It fit two women comfortably.

“Now tell me. What’s really bothering you?” asked Flo.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Mmm-hmm. Nothing always means something.”

Toy heard Lovie’s high pitched laughing outdoors, no doubt because she pelted something with a super stream of water. The women chuckled and Toy felt her burden lighten.

“You look worried,” Flo said.

“I am, a bit.”

“Not about Lovie? She’s fine, you know. No child could be loved more.”

“Thanks to you and Cara. You’re like surrogate mothers to her.”

“More like favorite aunts. So, don’t waste your energy feeling guilty about that. If not Lovie, what’s the problem?”

“It’s not a problem, exactly. I’ve been put in charge of Big Girl at the Aquarium.”

“How wonderful! Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yes,” she said with hesitancy. “I volunteered for the task and would have been crushed if Jason hadn’t given me the assignment.” She threw up her hands. “What was I thinking? Suddenly I’m aware of everything I don’t know.”

“But that’s normal, my dear. It happens to all of us when we start a new job or a new project. How do you think I got all this white hair?”

“Oh, great,” Toy said with a rueful smile. “I’ll be gray before I’m thirty. That’s always a big help in attracting a husband.”

Flo shrugged. “I never worried about finding a husband. Oh, sure, I thought about it when I was younger,” she said. “It was the natural path for women. You married and had children. Folks were always after me about it, like my being single was a state of affairs I should be ashamed of. I never was in any big hurry. I surely never felt deprived. Just the opposite. Honey, I thrived!” She tossed back her head and laughed.

“After a while, heck, I just didn’t want a husband. I got set in my ways, I reckon. I was fulfilled with my career as a social worker, I made a good living, had dear friends—male and female. I suppose I’d simply accepted that I’d live my life single. Not a spinster…”

She turned her head, eyes blazing, “Isn’t that a horrid word? Spinster? It implies someone old and dried up. Unwanted.” She frowned and shivered with disgust. “Unmarried men are called bachelors. I like that word. It conjures up someone debonair, even sexy. Freedom. Men have bureaus called ‘bachelor chests.’ Can you imagine ever wanting a ‘spinster chest’? Women have ‘hope chests’, for hoping they’ll get married.” Her eyes flashed. “It’s a conspiracy. Don’t get me started on that. No,” she said in conclusion, “I never worried much about finding a husband.”

“I reckon I’ve always worried about it, but at the rate I’ve been working, I’ll never find a husband, either. And lately, I’m too tired to worry about it. So, I guess you and I are alike in that.” She sighed and, growing serious again at the mention of work, leaned back in the bench. She thought about Flo’s life, her unconscious decision to remain single, and her satisfaction—even pride—of that path. Toy had always assumed her primary role as a woman was to marry and have children.

Yet life had taken her down another path. She had, in fact, not married. She had a child and now a career. It was possible she might not ever marry. Her acceptance of that possibility thrust her career as a provider for herself and her child into primary importance. She had to depend on herself.

It was a daunting realization, one that kept her up at night shivering in fear that she’d fail in her career or make serious financial blunders and end up in trouble. This was the dark shadow Flo had spied behind her eyes this morning.

She sighed and began to open up. “I’m afraid, Flo. The other day when Dr. Tom was examining Big Girl, he used medical terms I didn’t know. I pretended I did, but in my notes I was madly writing the words down to look up later. Flo, I live in constant fear that my ignorance will be discovered and I’ll be found out for the fake I am.”

“Oh, Toy…” Flo said with a light laugh.

“Don’t laugh! I’m serious. You can be sure Ethan knew the terminology. He chatted so easily with Dr. Tom, like he was a doctor, too.”

“Well, of course he did. It makes sense, Toy. He has more experience. Isn’t he your supervisor?”

“That shouldn’t make any difference at all. I’m the one in charge of the turtle. But I’m always asking Ethan a question or having him double check most everything I do. I’m terrified of making a mistake. After all, this turtle’s life depends on me.” She wrung her hands. “But sooner or later I have to depend on my own abilities.”

“And you’ll know when that moment comes, my dear. Toy, I’ve been in that very same situation. Most of us have. When I started out as a social worker, the doctors came in and yammered on and on with their ten dollar words. I was shaking in my shoes, just like you are now. I felt downright stupid, completely out of my depth. But you know what happened?”

Toy shook her head. She’d been listening intently, not stirring in her seat.

“I studied hard, like you are now, and learned the words quicker than a hot knife through butter. Toy, every job has its own jargon, some more than others. But you’re young, you’re bright, you’re enthusiastic.” She smiled with great warmth. “You’ll catch on.”

Toy grasped this like a drowning woman. “I am studying every free minute, that’s for true. Why, the other night, poor Lovie fell asleep next to me on the sofa waiting on me to read to her. She looked so cute with her storybook tucked under her arm.” She sighed. “Of course, I felt guilty.”

“Guilt is part of motherhood, my dear,” Flo said archly. “Why would you think you’d be spared?”

Toy looked at Flo’s leathery, deeply lined face and her bright, spectacularly blue eyes. Ever since Miss Lovie had died, Flo had taken up the role of godmother to Toy and Little Lovie. Her advice, though often delivered with a velvet fist, was always heartfelt.

“You sure you don’t want that cup of coffee? Maybe a sweet roll?”

“No, thanks,” Toy, replied, rising. “I’ve really got to go. Thanks so much for listening. I truly do feel better.”

“Go on then and make good your escape. And don’t worry about that little ragamuffin. I got me one of those super squirters, too, and I’m dying to soak her good and proper. We’ll be so wild with our new toys, she won’t even notice you’re not here.”

What a pair, Toy thought but she walked with a lighter step to her car. With Flo’s fiery tongue and Little Lovie’s stubborn streak, they just might be good for one another.

Toy put down the ragtop of the Gold Bug and let her hair blow in the wind. The tide was high as she crossed the Ben Sawyer Bridge and the water of the Intracoastal Waterway reflected the brilliant blue, cloudless sky like a mirror. It was going to be a hot one, Toy thought. A lot of beachcombers were going to be happy and Brett’s boat business was going to go through the roof.

Toy glanced at her watch. It was already 7:30 a.m. on the Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend. Traffic was blissfully light this early and she’d make good time. If she worked fast, she’d be home by lunch. Then she’d keep her promise and take Little Lovie to the beach. And this time, she thought as she tightened her hands on the wheel, she’d help build that sand castle.

Toy turned on the radio and hummed as she zoomed over the gleaming new Ravenel Bridge. She liked country music. Songs of unrequited love, broken dreams, fights in bars, life and death. Country music sometimes made her think of Darryl and how he used to sing to her the songs he’d written. She rarely thought of him anymore, and when she did, it was with detachment, like he was dead or from some other life, long ago.

Her future lay before her, she thought with a heady grin. Onward and Upward! Charleston loomed, its church spirals pointed heavenward. Traffic was light on East Bay Street and she make good time, parking in the empty lot just down the road from the Aquarium that would soon be another condominium. The city was changing along the waterfront at a pace that seemed faster than the one she walked as she made her way down the street.

Her Aquarium T-shirt was already beginning to cling to her skin by the time she entered the blast of air-conditioning inside. Her first stop was the compact, industrial food prep kitchen. Big Girl might be emaciated, but she was still a fussy eater. So far, she seemed to like squid best. Toy cut and weighed the squid and fish, thinking as she did so that trying to feed a thirtysome-year-old turtle wasn’t all that different than trying to feed a picky five-year-old child. Toy cleaned up her kitchen mess and brought the food to Big Girl.

“You’re here. Perfect!”

“Ethan?” She hurried toward his voice to find him cleaning Big Girl’s tank with a skimmer. “What’s happened? Is Big Girl okay?”

“She’s fine. I got a call about another turtle.”

“A turtle? Where?”

“At Cherry Point on Wadmalaw Island. The fishermen who found her are bringing her in to the fishery.”

“How did you hear about it?”

“They called me.”

“They called you?”

“Hey, don’t get your panties in a wad. The fishermen down there know me and that I work at the Aquarium. They wouldn’t know who else to call. So, boss, is it okay with you to bring the turtle in?”

“Let me get this straight. You’re asking me if it’s okay to bring another turtle into the Aquarium. Into your space?”

She could almost hear the chuckle in his voice. “No. Jason has already given the okay. I’m asking you if you’re ready to take on another one.” He rubbed his jaw. “I don’t seem to be on this decision tree, or you’d know what my answer would be.”

The prospect of a second turtle was exciting, but the fact that Jason and Ethan had given the okay was thrilling.

“Yes, I do. And yes, I am. Bring it on in!”

“All right, then. I’ve already rustled up another holding tank. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we’ll make it. Are you ready to go?”

“Go? Go where?”

“To get the turtle, of course. It isn’t going to crawl in on its own.”

“I thought you said that the fishermen were bringing it in.”

“To the fishery, yes. But not all the way here. They’re already doing us a favor by cutting their day short to bring the turtle to the dock.”

“Oh, sure. Fine.” She looked at the food dish in her hand as her mind spun around all she had to get done. “I just have to feed Big Girl first, and clean out her tank.”

“You feed. I’ll sweep.”

His enthusiasm was contagious. The corners of her mouth lifted to a smile as she felt the tension of the early morning bubble to excitement.

Cherry Point Seafood Company had been in business on Wadmalaw Island since the 1930s. It was a family business that once upon a time had transported passengers as well as seafood and local crops between the Sea Island plantations and Charleston. Back then, local folks could travel to Charleston by either water or horse, and most preferred a boat trip to a long, hot horse ride. Today, there were no more passengers. The long wooden structure with docks that stretched along Bohicket Creek was used strictly for commercial fisherman. It was home to the dozens of shrimp boats and fishing boats that brought in their daily catches.

“Sure seems quiet today,” Ethan said, pulling the Aquarium’s white pick-up truck into the parking lot. The bed of gravel and shells crunched beneath the tires. He cut the engine and the truck shuddered to a halt.

“Well, it is a holiday,” she said, looking out the window. “Likely most folks took the day off.” The fishery looked like a big, roughened wood shack. Along one side was a high loading dock fit for trucks, a smattering of heavy iron equipment, bales of rope, and farther down was the dock. She spied a burly man in jeans and white rubber boots leaning against a wood pillar, smoking.

“Usually the place is jumping, just swarming with fishermen and shrimpers bringing their catch in to be weighed and packed.”

“It’s not very big.”

“Don’t let the size fool you. On a busy day in the season, thousands of dollars of fish go through these doors, packed in ice and shipped out to restaurants and markets all across the country. Used to be there were a number of fish houses in these parts, but this is the only one left. Sign of the times, I guess.”

Ethan wasn’t dressed in his usual Aquarium uniform of khaki. On his day off he was slumming in olive green shorts, a stained white T-shirt and scuffed leather boots that had seen plenty of wear. His dark hair was an unruly mass and dark stubble coursed along his jawline. It occurred to her he looked right at home here on the docks.

“I’ve never actually met shrimpers before,” she told him. “Should I be nervous?”

Ethan appeared puzzled. “They’re just folks.”

“Ethan, I’ve heard the stories,” she replied with a roll of her eyes. “How they hate anyone connected with turtles. I’ve heard the names we’re called, too—turtle kissers, turtle Nazis…”

His lips twitched but he only shrugged.

“I know there’ve been some pretty strong words between the two camps over the years. I just want to know if I’m going to have my head served on a platter in there.”

“That was before—sure, there were some, well, unfriendly feelings between some shrimpers and those folks who were demanding that the boats put those TEDS on their nets.” He scratched his neck and added wryly, “Time was, shrimpers called the Turtle Excluder Devices ‘Trawler Elimination Devices.’ Safe to say it was a touchy subject.”

“To say the least.”

“Hey, the bottom line is, those TEDS cost money.”

“But it wasn’t about the money.”

“It was to the shrimpers who had to put out money they didn’t have.”

“Yes, I see what you mean. But, what’s different now?”

“Well, for starters they’ve got the TEDs on every net they own now. And, those turtle shooters work. Hey, they never wanted to hurt the turtles and I think that’s what riled them the most. They were painted as being bad guys when they were doing their best to make a living—a damned hard one—and not getting a break from anywhere.”

“Why are you so defensive? You’re a turtle kisser, too, you know.”

He laughed. “I am. But I see their side of the story, too.”

She turned to look out over the fishery and sighed. “So, no one’s going to bite my head off out there today?”

She felt his gaze sweep over her.

“I think they’ll be enamored.”

A short laugh escaped. “Enamored?”

“Sure.” He reached across her legs to lift the door handle and open her door. “Some of these guys have been out on the sea for weeks. You look a sight better than a turtle.”

She pushed open the door. “Thanks a lot.”

She followed Ethan into the dim, narrow halls of the fish house. Behind glass windows in the large room, the rusting machines lay still. Here and there she’d spy rubber boots but no man to fill them. Only when they neared the office did she catch the scent of burnt coffee and hear the hum of voices, punctuated by a woman’s hearty laugh.

When Ethan stepped into the small, wood paneled office, all talk stopped. Two middle aged, deeply tanned men—one weathered and tall, the other short and paunchy—leaned against a Formica counter covered with stacks of paper. Both wore white rubber boots over their jeans. Across from them, sitting at an ancient wood roll top desk was a sweet faced, robust woman of the same age in a blue floral dress and shiny black flats. They turned to face him, and like lightning, their faces lit up.

“Lookee here! You son of a…sea horse,” the woman sputtered. “Where’ve you been?”

She had to be at least sixty but she leaped up like a woman half her age to wrap soft, fleshy arms around Ethan in a bear hug.

“Shame on you for making yourself so scarce. If I didn’t see you at church from time to time I’d think you’d gone off traveling again.”

“I’ve been busy,” he replied, accepting the rebuff good naturedly. “But you knew I’d be coming home for your barbecue tomorrow. I couldn’t stay away.”

“Your mama’s been cooking pies all week so you’d better be there.” The shorter of the men had eyes the color of sea glass and a thick gray beard that swaddled his cheeks like a wreath. He stepped forward to deliver a few good slaps on the back and mutter words of welcome.