Firefly Summer (10 page)

C
HAPTER
20

“W
hat happened to your car?” David asked when he came in with the paper.

“Why? What's wrong with it?”

“There's a dent in the bumper.”

“There is?!” Birdie got up, frowning, and limped outside. She looked down at her car and then touched the yellow indentation in the bumper.

“It looks like you hit one of those yellow poles on the bike trail,” David said, following her outside.

Birdie swallowed, trying to remember the drive home from Sailor's the night before. She
had
gotten a little mixed up in her neighborhood when she left, but the bike trail was nowhere near there. After that, she vaguely remembered pulling into the driveway when she got home because David had left the outside lights on, and she remembered Bailey struggling to her feet to say hello. She also remembered drinking a large glass of water, but the actual drive from Wellfleet was a bit of a blur and she certainly didn't remember hitting anything.

“I don't know,” she said, sounding perplexed. She looked at David, but he just pressed his lips together.

“I did
not
have too much to drink,” she said defensively.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You didn't have to,” she said angrily. “I know what you're thinking.”

“You don't know what I'm thinking.”

“Yes, I do—you think I drink too much. I can see it in your eyes—it's like living with a judge. But I
don't
drink too much. You drink as much as I do, and every time you play golf, you have a drink at the clubhouse . . . and that's in the middle of the day. At least I wait till five o'clock.”

David stood silently, listening.

“You should've seen how much my father drank. When he was home, he sat in the dark living room with his damn Scotch and no one was allowed to bother him or turn on the TV. We had to tiptoe around him after dinner. You have no idea how hard it was. Thank goodness he was flying most of the time, and thank goodness my mom eventually arranged for us to go to prep school, because at least there, we were free from seeing the torment in his eyes.” She paused. “No one in my family was the same after Easton died.”

David slowly shook his head. “For the millionth time, Birdie, Easton's death was
not
your fault,” he said softly. “It wasn't anyone's fault.”

“Yes, it was,” Birdie said, tears springing to her eyes. “You weren't there. You wouldn't know.”

“It was an accident. Accidents happen. They're a part of life.”

Birdie clenched her fists in anguish. “Don't you understand? Because of me, our family was shattered. Because of me, there was no joy in our house. Any happiness we felt was always shadowed by loss and unimaginable grief. Easton was the only boy. He was my father's
only
son.”

David took a step toward her, but she put up her hands. “I don't want your comfort. I just want to be left alone.” He pressed his lips together and turned to walk back to the house. Birdie stared blindly at his back and then sank to the bottom step, covering her face with her hands. A moment later, she felt a warm body leaning against her. “Oh, Bay,” she said sadly. “How did you end up with such an awful mother?” Bailey wagged the tip of her tail and licked Birdie's salty cheeks, and Birdie wrapped her arms around her neck. “What would I do without you?” she whispered.

Oh, what a gift God made when He created dogs. She had loved—and laid to rest—so many sweet dogs in her lifetime—each with its own personality; each with its own way of bringing comfort; each with solemn, loving eyes that were filled with all the wisdom in the world; and each leaving a gaping hole in her heart when they died and making her vow to never get another, never set herself up for so much sadness again. But she always did.

Bailey stuffed her wet nose in Birdie's ear and Birdie laughed and thought of Willow, the big yellow Lab her family had had when she was growing up. Willow had loved to stuff her nose into their ears, too. She was supposed to be the whole family's dog, but they'd all known she loved Easton best, and when he didn't come home that night, she looked all over for him. She cried and cried and wouldn't settle down, but in the days that followed, it was Willow who nuzzled their ears and gave them solace.

P
AQRT
II

 

—Job 11:16–17

 

Whitney nodded. “I'll get this, the broken glass,
and
I'll take them for a hike.”

“Okay,” Whitney said with a smile. “I'll
let
you do the dishes.”

“Yes, we
have
to,” Whitney said.

As Easton waited for his sisters to sort through the pails, he watched the lighthouse scanning the darkening sky. Red . . . white . . . red . . . white. Rhythmically. Faithfully. Endlessly.
It never stops
, he thought.
It just keeps turning . . . on and on . . . forever!

C
HAPTER
21

“O
h, my! She's beautiful!” Piper said as they pulled alongside the huge loggerhead turtle swimming in the sparkling blue water of Cape Cod Bay.

“She sure is,” Nat said, smiling as they slowed down to get a closer look. “I bet she weighs three hundred pounds.”

“How do you know it's a she?” Elias asked.

“Her tail,” Piper said, pointing to the turtle's tail trailing along in the water. “The male's is longer and more prominent.”

Elias frowned. “It looks like she's only using two of her flippers.” He leaned over the side, trying to see what was impeding her ability to swim. “I think she's caught on something.”

Nat leaned over the side, too, and saw a buoy bobbing under her belly, the line of which was wrapped around two of her flippers. “It looks like she may've been hit by a boat, too,” he said, pointing to a gash on her shell. He frowned. “I think we better bring her in.”

Piper frowned. “Do you think you can lift her?”

“If Elias takes one side,” he said, pulling a pair of gloves out from under the seat.

He found a second pair, handed them to him, and they both leaned over the side and grabbed onto her shell. It was slippery and covered with barnacles, and the old turtle, unhappy about being pulled into a boat, began working her flippers extra hard, trying to get free. Then, out of the blue, she stopped struggling, and they were able to pull her up into the boat—dragging the entangled buoy and line with her.

Nat surveyed the mess and shook his head. “Poor girl,” he murmured.

“How old do you think she is?” Elias asked.

“I bet she's at least thirty, maybe older,” Nat said, “and she's been hit more than once,” he added, lightly tracing the scars on her shell. He finished examining her and cut off as much of the line as he could, and then Piper soaked a beach towel in the water and laid the dripping towel over her shell and head. Elias poured a bucket of cool seawater over her, too, and Nat turned the launch around and headed back to the sanctuary while Piper radioed ahead to let them know they were bringing her in.

Twenty minutes later, the sanctuary was in full emergency mode as they loaded the big loggerhead onto a special cart and wheeled her into their small hospital. They immediately set to work freeing her from the rest of the line that was cutting into her skin and began administering fluids and nourishment. At the same time, Piper smoothed a gentle, healing balm onto her wounds. The old turtle didn't struggle but her solemn eyes watched their every move—it was as if she knew they were trying to help her.

Later that afternoon, Piper suddenly remembered it was Friday, which meant they were supposed to be at Remy's that evening to celebrate Birdie's birthday. She looked around for Nat and saw him on the phone, and when she walked over, heard him making arrangements to bring the turtle to the Boston Aquarium for rehab—their facility was better equipped for big sea turtles in this much distress.

He hung up the phone and looked up. “What's up?” he asked quizzically.

“You're taking her tonight, aren't you?”

He nodded. “I don't think we should wait. Why? Do we have something going on?”

“It's fine,” Piper said, looking down at the turtle. “I think you should take her . . . but I can't go.”

“That's okay. I'll take Elias. Why can't you go?”

“We're supposed to go to Remy's for Birdie's birthday.”

“Oh, that's right! I forgot!” he said apologetically.

Piper sighed. “It's okay. I'm sure she'll understand,” though she knew her sister would be disappointed.

“Do you want me to get someone else to take her?”

Piper shook her head. “No, you take her.”

“Dad,” Elias said, coming into the room. “I filled up the truck. Are you ready?”

“Yeah, just a sec.” He looked back at Piper. “I'm sorry to mess things up.”

“Don't be sorry,” Piper said with a half smile. “This old lady needs you more than Birdie does. Take good care of her.” She knelt down next to the holding tank, looked into the turtle's solemn eyes, and stroked her smooth head. “We'll see you back here in a couple of weeks!”