ou gonna eat them fries?”

Toy looked down at the basket of French fries slathered with ketchup. The baby was taking up so much room these days that her stomach was squeezed like a pancake. Even though she was always hungry, always nibbling, she couldn’t eat much at one sitting. She pushed the basket across the table to Darryl.

“No. You can have them.”

It was a Friday night and the Burger King was crowded, mostly with overflow from the movie and tourists with tired, cranky kids. Toy watched as a bit of ketchup dribbled down Darryl’s chin.

“What’re you looking at?”

“You’ve got some ketchup,” she said, pointing. “Right there.” As he wiped it off with his finger, she remembered the sandwiches her mother had made for her lunch when things were so tough they couldn’t afford sandwich meat. Her mother had made a game of it, putting little dollops of ketchup on white bread and calling them button sandwiches. Instead of feeling poor, Toy had thought the sandwiches were special.

“I figure we should leave on September 20,” he said, ramming another fry into his mouth.

Toy noticed that he was talking with his mouth full and that his T-shirt had a tear in it, right in the seam by the sleeve. She noticed things like that now but didn’t mention them because she didn’t want to make him mad. He was being so sweet lately, like when they’d first started dating, telling her how much he loved her and all. He didn’t tell her she was pretty anymore, but that was okay. She knew it was because she was pregnant.

“Do you think you’ll be ready to go by then?”

Toy frowned down at her chocolate milkshake, knowing he was really asking whether the baby would be born by then and if she’d be free to travel. Even though he wasn’t snarly about the baby anymore, he still said that he didn’t want it. He thought the baby would slow them down. Darryl’s band had made their first CD and were heading west to California expecting to stake their claim to fame.

She wasn’t lying to Darryl exactly when she told him that she’d give the baby up and go with him to California. She was just giving him time to get used to the idea of being a daddy and them being a family. She wasn’t lying to Cara and Miss Lovie, either. Ever since the Fourth of July she’d been telling them she was going to the movies a lot. She just didn’t tell them that she was going with Darryl. They were little white lies that didn’t hurt nobody.

Besides, she didn’t know what else to do. She had this baby coming and Cara was leaving for Chicago and Miss Lovie was dying and Darryl was going to California. She had to have someone to be with! Everything was such a mess, and if she thought about it she got shaky and teary eyed. All she knew was that she loved her baby and she’d just have to wait until he was born. Everything would turn out okay. It just had to.

“Hel-lo? Ding dong!” Darryl tossed a fry at her. “What’s the matter with you tonight? I keep asking questions and you just sit there.”

“I was thinking,” she replied, brushing her breast where the fry landed. It lay there as though on a shelf. “It’s not even August. I don’t know about September yet.”

“Hey, it’s the end of July already, okay? September is around the corner. I gotta make plans.”

“The doctor says the baby could come two weeks before or two weeks after my due date. Leaving on the twentieth is cutting it pretty close. Besides, I can’t just have a baby then hop in a car and go on a trip. I’m going to need a few days to rest.”

“You can rest in the car. You’ll be sittin’ down for a couple thousand miles. Jesus Christ,” he swore loudly.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!”

It was automatic now; she’d said it without thinking. She darted a nervous glance up at Darryl’s face.

He was looking at her like he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Then he just laughed and shook his head. “I heard that pregnant ladies start actin’ all crazy and I guess it’s true.”

She slumped in relief and ducked her head to take a sip of her shake.

“I dunno, babe,” he said with a dubious shake of his head. A brown curl slipped over his forehead. “The guys are getting anxious. They’re ready to shove off right now.”

“Let ’em go,” she muttered.

“Can’t. We’re all driving together in Hal’s van. Might not matter, though. Hal’s got to square things with his old lady, too.”

“Is Amber having a baby?”

Darryl looked at her like she was crazy. “Hell no,” he said angrily. “She’s not that dumb.”

Toy felt a sharp pain and rubbed her belly.

“Damn, I’ll be glad when this baby thing’s all over,” he said, shifting in his seat and stretching his arms out along the length of the booth. Then narrowing his eyes he asked, “What’s the matter now?”

Toy sat far back in the booth. “Nothin’.”

His sigh rattled in his chest. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m being bad. It’s just because I miss you, is all. Miss bein’ with you.” His gaze deepened. “A man can only eat so many fries.”

She laughed a little and gently kicked his leg under the table. “I miss you, too. A lot. The doctor says we can, you know, be together a week or so after the baby’s born.”

“You wanna know what I really hate? I hate this dropping you off at night at some house way out there. I’m thinking…maybe you should come back with me now.”

“I can’t,” she blurted out. “I mean, it wouldn’t feel right leaving Miss Lovie. And there’s less than a month till the baby’s due. Anyway, you hate to see me like this. You’ve said so enough times. I’m only gonna get bigger and grouchier and I’ll be driving you crazy.”

The corner of his mouth rose in a sneer. “You got that right.”

“It’s only for a few more weeks. Then we’ll be together. You, me and…” Her voice trailed off. She held her breath.

Darryl caught the innuendo and his expression shifted. He dropped his arms and leaned forward across the narrow table. “You and me, period,” he replied, a warning in his voice. “Like it always was and always will be. Just you and me.”

Toy felt a cry bubbling up in her chest and she had to sip on her straw real hard to keep it from coming out.

At the beach house, Cara and her mother sat together on the front porch, holding hands in silence while watching a particularly spectacular sunset. Cara sipped her white wine. Her mother rocked gently in the rocking chair drinking tea. Toy had gone to the Towne Center for a movie again, so they were alone.

They watched the sun dip slowly into the horizon as the daytime song of birds hushed. The sight had moved Cara into an introspective mood, as sunsets were wont to do. How strange it was to sit so comfortably with her mother, feeling a quiet peace. And how nice.

She glanced over to look at Lovie. Her mother’s high cheekbones caught the shadows of the twilight making her appear regal and serene. What was running through her mind as she looked out at the sunset, Cara wondered to herself? What did a woman who faced the sunset of her life think about? Cara knew that one day her own death would be imminent. How would she handle it? The uncertainty caused her to shiver.

“Are you cold?” Lovie asked.

“No,” she replied softly.

“There’s a crispness in the air.”

“Must be you, Mama. I’m sweltering in this heat. The bugs have been nasty on the beach.”

Lovie sighed. “Hope I’m still here to see the butterflies as they come through.”

“Hmm…” Cara uttered, unable to reply.

They rocked back and forth in their chairs as the ocean roared loudly in the distance.

“What are you thinking?” Cara asked after a while.

“Me? Nothing profound, I assure you. Nothing much at all. I was simply looking out and thinking how very long the pink fingers of this sunset are tonight. See? They stretch across the whole sky, embracing it.” She sighed and rocked. “Most comforting.”

“How is it comforting?”

“Why, it makes me think of God, dear.”

Cara stared out as the pink slowly deepened to rose, then purple and then slipped soundlessly into the thin black line of the horizon.

“I’m not certain I believe there is a God,” Cara said at last.

“How can you say that? You were raised to believe in God.”

“It was easier to just say, ‘Yes, I believe,’ whenever anyone asked. But inside, I’ve always wondered.”

“I would find that very frightening.”

“I find the thought of hell very frightening. There’s the rub.”

“The solution is simple, dear. You just have to love God more than you fear hell. My faith has been my solace and my strength through some pretty rough times. I can’t get to church often these days but working in the garden is a form of prayer, as is listening to music, arranging flowers, sewing a seam or just humming.”

“But what if you don’t have faith?”

“Faith isn’t something you wait to happen to you, Cara. Nor is it something you can study for, or work for or negotiate for at some bargaining table. Paul wrote that faith doesn’t come to you. It is a gift from God.”

“We’re back to square one. How can you be so certain there is a God?”

Lovie offered an old-soul smile. “Cara, dear, look at the sky! Sunsets are daily proof that God exists.”

The August moon rose high and the ocean shimmered. On shore, the porch lights from a few houses shone as bright and clear as the twinkling stars.

And the Turtle Ladies were ticked off.

“I’m going to bean those people with their darn porch lights burning so bright,” Flo said with a disgusted snarl.

The Turtle Team was baby-sitting another nest. The offshore breezes were still and the mosquitoes and no-see-ums were wicked. They all had bites around their ankles and bottles of repellent were passing hands.

“It’s the same house I went to the other night,” Flo went on, slapping lotion on her legs. “I smiled and told them, in as nice a way as I knew how, to please turn off those outside lights facing the beach. But look at it! Still all lit up like a Christmas tree.”

“The baby turtles will head straight for it.”

“Whose house it it?” asked Emmi.

“There are renters in there now.”

Emmi took her turn with the repellent. “Most of the renters I’ve talked to about the lights are excited by the possibility of seeing hatchlings while on vacation. They’re happy to do anything they can to help out. They just need to be told.”

“My dander is up after yesterday,” Cara snapped.

“Were the hatchlings really crawling up to the street?”

“It was a disaster. The police got a call about 5:00 a.m. from someone saying there were hatchlings getting smashed in the street. Then the police called Lovie, who woke me and Flo up, and we raced right over. It was pitiful. We searched for hours—way back in the dunes in all the grass clear up to the street. We picked up fifteen dead hatchlings and twenty or so live ones.”

“Barely alive,” Flo said, clearly upset. “The poor things had been scrambling for hours when they should have been swimming. We brought the live ones to the ocean but they were pretty tired and I doubt they’ll make it. I hate to think how many more got snatched by ghost crabs or just died from exposure.”

“So forgive me if I’m mad,” Cara said, slapping another mosquito.

“Okay, I’ll go up one more time and ask them to turn off their outside lights,” said Flo with a groan, climbing to her feet. “We don’t want to appear inhospitable. You stay here, Mother, and keep an eye on the nest for me. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Miranda replied.

Cara chuckled at Miranda’s tenacity. This was the fourth hatching on “her” stretch of beach and she’d not missed one of them.

“The stars are real bright tonight, Aunt Cara.” Linnea leaned against her shoulder. “I think the baby turtles will find their way no matter what. Don’t you?”

Cara smiled down at her sweet, expectant face. Linnea had come for several visits and they’d bonded. Cooper had grown bored with sitting quietly by a nest with a bunch of ladies and opted to stay home, but Linnea liked sitting by the nests with her aunt. They’d also gone shopping together, painted their nails, baked cookies and just cuddled with Lovie at night on the cushy sofa reading their favorite books. Cara hadn’t known that holding a child in her arms was one of the most fulfilling feelings in the world. Nor had she suspected that she could love a little girl so much.

“Do you think they’ll come out tonight?”

Cara chuckled at hearing the question for the tenth time. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll just have to see,” she replied, stroking Linnea’s silky hair.

Linnea wriggled away and crawled near the nest. She lowered her face close to the sand. “Come out, baby turtles. Everything is ready for you. Please come out.” Turning her head she asked, “What time do you think they’ll come out?”

“I don’t know. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow night.”

“They’re coming out all right,” Linnea said categorically, then came back to Cara’s side and tucked her coltish legs under her sweatshirt out of range of the pesty mosquitoes. “How did you learn so much about turtles?”

“I learned a lot from your grandmama Lovie. She taught most of us everything we know.”

Linnea’s expression grew serious and she traced squiggles in the sand with her forefinger. “Is Grandmama Lovie going to die?”

The question caught Cara by surprise; she didn’t know what to say. She had no experience with this kind of thing. She looked around for help but everyone’s eyes were averted. It seemed no one wanted to pursue this taboo topic. Cara looked at her niece’s expectant face and waved her closer, putting her arm around the child’s shoulders.

“Yes,” she replied honestly. “Your grandmama is dying.”

“I thought so. I heard Mama and Daddy talking about it. Except Daddy says she’s not. Are you sure she is?”

“I’m sorry, sweetie, but yes. I’m sure.”

Linnea thought about this for a moment. “Then why does Daddy say she isn’t?”

Cara sighed, wondering why herself. “Some people have a hard time accepting it.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Why is she dying?”

“She has cancer.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Sometimes, but not too much.” Yet, she thought with a shiver.

“When will she die?”

“I don’t know exactly. It’s like with the turtle nest. It happens when it’s supposed to happen.”

“Oh.”

“Honey, didn’t your mama talk to you about this?”

“No.”

“I see.” Julia was apparently skirting the issue as well. Cara didn’t want to overstep her bounds but it was clear Linnea had questions that needed answering. “Do you understand what it means to die?”

“Of course I do,” Linnea replied with preadolescent pique. “It means she’s going to Heaven.”

The children went to church every week so Cara assumed that at nine Linnea had a pretty good concept of God and Heaven. But death was often a gray area in children’s minds. And adult minds, as well.

“Yes, but Heaven can be very hard to understand, can’t it? I’m not at all sure I’ve got it right even at my age.”

“It’s not hard,” she disagreed. “Heaven is where you go after you die. Everyone knows that. Of course, we don’t know exactly what it’s like. I know it’s nice. Mama told me that God’s up there in the clouds and he has all these beautiful houses for us to live in. If we’re good on earth we get a bigger house ‘cause we’ve earned it. I expect Grandmama will have a great, big mansion. And there are angels, of course.”

“Of course,” Cara replied, envying her her child’s faith.

“Do you think the turtles go to Heaven when they die?”

Cara looked to Emmi and Miranda for help, but they only smiled in that way adults do when children ask such questions. “I don’t know, never having been there.”

“I think they do. Grandmama would be lonely without them.”

Cara was alerted by the hitch in Linnea’s voice. “You’ll be lonely for Grandmama after she’s gone, won’t you?” she asked carefully.

Linnea looked down and nodded.

Cara felt a rush of love for the girl. “Oh, sweetie, me too,” she replied softly, gathering Linnea in her arms. She held her and rocked her gently and kissed the top of her head. “We have to stick together, you and me. We’ll be Mutt and Jeff. You can be on our Turtle Team. How’s that?”

“Could I?” she asked, her spirits shooting up.

“Of course,” she replied. “We’ll need you on the team.” She looked over to Emmi and Miranda, and knew they were all sharing the thought that Linnea would be taking her grandmother’s place on the team. Cara was passing the torch. Lovie had taught her, and now it was her turn to teach Linnea.

Linnea began to rattle off the various duties she’d observed over the summer and felt she could do all by herself now. Cara half listened, amused, paying more attention to the enthusiasm in her voice and the excitement in her eyes. Such confidence. And how quickly she could shift her emotions. Nine was a glorious age to be.

“Who’s that coming?” Emmi asked, sitting up.

Cara squinted in the darkness to see the small red beam of a flashlight bobbing in the distance. Just by the color of light she knew it was likely someone on the Turtle Team. Emmi dug into her beach bag to pull out her own flashlight, then made a small wave in the air with her beam to let the newcomers know where they were. The flashlight responded with a wave. All eyes were on the two shadowy figures, one very tall, one quite small.

“It’s Toy and Brett,” said Emmi, nudging Cara.

She smiled indulgently, but secretly she was pleased. Brett had been so busy with the business as the tourist season reached its peak that she’d hardly seen him lately.

They welcomed the newcomers warmly, scooting over on the sand dune to make room and offering repellent. Linnea—such a flirt—leaped into Brett’s arms. He swung her around like a rag doll while she let out a squeal of delight. Next he went to Miranda, who preened like a schoolgirl as he paid his respects. Cara could see that young and old alike were completely won over by him.

At last he came to sit down on the dune beside her. She loved that all he had to do was rest his big hand on her knee and look into her eyes for her to know that she was the one he came for. No public show of a big hug or a kiss. That was all—and it was enough to send her heart spinning and make her dizzy as though he’d just twirled her around, too.

“Any action yet?” Toy asked as she did a funny maneuvering act to settle down in the sand. Her belly was so big now she landed with a graceless grunt and a sigh.

Cara was glad to see Toy down at the nests again. She’d missed the last several hatchings and Cara had wondered if she’d lost interest, what with her own baby due to hatch soon.

“There’s a small depression in the sand but it hasn’t changed in a while.”

Linnea crawled close to inspect the nest for the hundredth time. “Could you check it again? Please?”

Cara obliged the child, flashing the red light on the nest. A gasp of surprise escaped on seeing that the little concave hole had indeed grown bigger. They all crowded close for a look. Even as they watched they saw grains of sand slip away.

Linnea squeezed her fingers tight in a prayer and said fervently, “Come on, come on, come on!”

“Looks like they might come tonight after all,” Emmi said.

“They’ll come,” said Miranda with a definite nod of her snowy-white head.

“Oh goodie,” Linnea squealed, excitement oozing from her pores.

Way up the beach, the offending bright lights on the rental house suddenly went out. There was a muffled cheer from the gang at the nest.

“Good for Flo!” Emmi said in a whispered cheer. “Just in time.”

“How many do you think are in there?” Linnea wanted to know.

“We moved this nest so we know exactly how many. There are one hundred and six eggs.”

“How come the mother turtle leaves the eggs?” asked Linnea.

“Turtles have done it that way for millions of years.”

“I think that’s so sad,” the little girl said with a sigh. “Leaving all those little babies by themselves.”

Toy sidled closer. “It is kind of sad when you think about it. I mean, not just for the babies but for the mother, too. She has to leave her babies and never see them again.”

“I doubt she thinks about it much, frankly,” Emmi said. “She just follows the old call of the wild.”

“It’s not natural for a mother to leave her babies,” Toy argued.

“It’s perfectly natural,” Brett explained in his easy voice. “In nature there are two types of reproducers. One is the maximum investment group. In this group a lot of time and effort is spent on a small number of offspring. Like elephants and dolphins. Then there is the minimal investment group. They have lots of offspring, then leave. It’s called predator glut. The purpose is to overfeed your predators so the species will survive. Frogs, fish and turtles are in this group. In biology, the individual’s worth is nothing. The species is everything.”

Cara gave him a pretend sock in the arm. “I can’t take him anywhere.”

“What?” he asked her. “I’m just answering her question.”

They all started laughing and Brett said, “What?” again with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

“But what about humans?” Toy asked with persistence.

“Humans fit into both strategies,” he replied. “For them it’s a matter of choice.”

“Isn’t that what got Adam and Eve tossed out of the Garden?” Emmi quipped.

Toy didn’t smile. She looked down and scratched the sand with her finger, chewing her lip. “I think it would be better if the mother stayed with her babies. Don’t you?”

Cara searched her face, tuned in to the urgency in Toy’s voice. She looked to Brett.

“I really couldn’t say,” he replied evenly. “Turtles have survived a long time in this scheme.”

Toy stilled her hand, then scraped the sand clean with a single swipe.

“There’s an ancient myth that says the earth rests on the back of an old turtle and this ancient turtle mama takes care of the eggs while the other mother turtle waddles off. I find that beautiful,” said Emmi.

“It’s kind of like the mother turtle leaves her eggs to the Turtle Ladies’ care, too,” Toy said, latching on to this idea. “I guess she knows her babies will be well taken care of after she’s gone.”

Cara shivered in the sweltering night. She was afraid for Toy as she caught a glimpse at where the young woman’s train of thought was leading.

The turtle season moved into its final phase. Cara could sleep later in the morning since no one was calling to report turtle tracks. Altogether, forty nests had been laid on the Isle of Palms and Sullivan’s Island.

The mornings may have grown quiet, but the nights were jumping. Cara and the rest of the Turtle Team were baby-sitting nests most nights, checking for crab holes, managing small crowds of tourists, often divvying up the nests due between them. Even still, some wily turtles slipped past them unnoticed, sometimes emerging en masse after an early-morning rain or, at other times, waiting until everyone had grown weary and left for home to sneak out of the nest and make their dash to the sea. Only their tiny little tracks found in the morning—dozens of them fanning out toward the sea—gave a clue to their great escape.

For Cara, it was the summer she’d always dreamed of. She loved her routine of rising early to birdsong and all the activity on the beach. She looked forward to her solitary time along the ocean as she searched for turtle tracks. She’d never felt so at peace with herself. She loved, too, the camaraderie she felt with the other ladies as they sat on the cool sand together under the different phases of the moon and just talked about anything and everything. The sea turtles may have given the group structure and focus—there were rules to follow and problems to solve—but the real strength of the group came from the bond of mutual care and trust that grew between them. Sitting under the moonshine around the nest, Cara at last felt part of a close-knit circle of friends.

Most of all, she loved the stolen moments with Brett. Over the past few months he’d taught her to be spontaneous. They held hands and jumped into the ocean when the whim struck. They laughed until tears filled their eyes. They threw back their heads to sing out loud to a favorite song. And sometimes, while walking the beach, his eyes would gleam in the moonlight and he’d lead her far back in the dunes to a spot hidden by the sea oats. Then he’d blanket her with his body under a wide-open sky.

When she wasn’t with him, she thought about him. She’d look down while talking on the phone and see that she’d scribbled his name a dozen times. He lent her one of his T-shirts at the beach one day and she kept it to sleep in at night just so she could smell his scent and dream of him. When she heard a love song on the radio, she was sure it was written for them. These feelings were all new for her, and they were all consuming.

“Sugar, you’re in love,” Emmi told her one night as they sat on the beach together at a nest due to hatch.

“I am not. This is just the summer fling I never had as a kid. I’m not in love. I’m in fling.”

“There’s no such thing as in fling. I ought to know. I married my summer fling.”

“That doesn’t qualify. Your summer fling became a year-round thing. By definition, a summer fling must necessarily end at the end of summer.”

“Oh, so you know the definition now?”

“Absolutely. It’s already written in some song. Something about when those autumn winds start to blow. Come on, you know the song.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s just figure this out.” She stretched out her legs and lifted her hand to count off. “You had the requisite props for a summer romance, I’ll give you that. First and foremost, you had the moon.”

“Not just any moon, the Carolina moon. And it was shining over a body of water. We have to get the details straight.”

“Okay again. I agree.” She held up a second and third finger and continued counting off. “You had the sunsets. The boat.”

“Boats are a plus. Not required.”

“No bonus points. What next? Um…you had the kisses.”

“Oh, yes. Definitely the kisses. My God—”

“Stop it. You’re killing me, Cara. I don’t even want to know.”

“Sorry. Go on.”

“Let’s recap. You’ve got the moon, the body of water, the sunsets, the boat, the kisses. What’s missing?”

“The parent. Or the camp counselor, whichever. I qualify there, too. Mama actually waits up for me, and I’m forty years old. Can you believe it?”

Emmi tossed back her head and laughed raucously. “Okay, you win hands down. You’re not in love. You’re in fling. Are you happy?”

Was she happy? Thinking about it, Cara wished she could say that she was. It was mid-August and the tourists were heading home as schools reopened. The blissful summer was moving fast, and the thought of what fall would bring only filled her with dread.

Cara felt the full impact that her summer was coming to an end the morning she awoke to find her mother gone. Panic swelled in her chest when she saw that The Gold Bug was still parked outside the house. Hurrying outdoors, there was no sign of her mother in the yard, either. Cara raked her hair from her face, revving up her sleepy mind. Lovie was not confused like Miranda; nonetheless, Cara couldn’t imagine where she might have gone. Or when.

Until she noticed that the red bucket was missing, as well. She quickly tossed her nightgown from her body and slipped into her shorts, a top and sandals. The screen door swooshed as she hurried outside once again. A chorus of birds sang in the trees and the sand in the path was damp and cool as she ran to the beach. She arrived just as dawn was rising over the ocean.

She found her mother standing at the shoreline, a slight, solitary figure with a bright-red bucket dangling from her hand. Her long, white nightgown was flapping in the brisk breeze. Bathed in the misty pink-and-yellow light, she appeared a ghostly figure looking out to sea.

Cara approached her mother quietly, not wanting to startle her from what seemed a deep and private contemplation. “Mama?”

Lovie turned her head slowly and Cara was shocked to see tears flowing down her mother’s cheeks.

“What’s the matter, Mama?”

“They’re gone,” Lovie replied, her voice raspy and weak.

“Who’s gone?”

“The loggerheads. The mothers. They’re gone now, to wherever it is they go. I can feel it. It’s over. And I miss them already.” Her lower lip trembled as she brought her fingertips to them and tried to control her emotions. “Oh, Cara. I miss them.”

Cara had no words of solace. What could she say? That they’d be back next year? There was no comfort in that. She knew her mother was feeling the pain of knowing that this was her final season. For her, the loggerheads were truly gone.

And soon, so would her mother. Cara felt hot tears flood her eyes. For the past two months she’d denied the truth of what the end of summer would ultimately mean. She’d forced it to the back of her mind as she would any reminder of the cold winter ahead while the sun still shone warm.

“I wish I could go with them,” Lovie said, looking again out toward the swells. “I want to follow my instinct and swim away with them in the currents. To have it all be behind me. Wouldn’t it be lovely?”

“Not yet,” Cara said in a broken whisper and wrapped her long arms around her mother, holding tight. “Please, Mama. Don’t swim away yet.”

Her mother stroked her hair. “My own, dear Caretta. You’re still here, aren’t you? That’s such a comfort.”

While her mother wept in her arms, Cara experienced an odd reversal of roles, as if she were the mother, strong and capable, and Lovie were the child, small and vulnerable. It was as moving as it was terrifying.

Mother and daughter stood together on the beach as morning broke around them. The tide was going out, littering the beach with shells, wrack and sea whip. Together, they wept for all the mothers that had left, and for those that were soon leaving.

After the mother turtles departed on their solitary journey, Lovie’s health declined rapidly. It was as though, in spirit, she had indeed swum off with the loggerheads. She’d been so stoic about her illness that Cara, Toy and the others had fooled themselves into believing that, with a positive spirit, Lovie could live forever. Now, however, her energy waned along with her optimism. She grew more moody and withdrawn. Whenever Cara tried to lure her down to the beach to sit by a nest, she’d just shake her head, claiming that her coughing had kept her up most of the night before and made her too tired. When Cara tried to interest her in the turtle records, or get her opinion on a nest problem, Lovie would lift her slender shoulder, then go to her rocker on the front porch and stare out at the sea. She was drawing inward, swimming in her own currents, and Cara couldn’t reach her.

As Lovie lost weight and grew smaller, Toy was getting bigger as she entered her final weeks of pregnancy. She was cooking up all manner of healthy recipes to tempt Lovie’s palate. But Lovie only nibbled like a mouse, then turned her head away with an apology. “It’s the coughing,” she’d say again, clearing her throat. “It takes my appetite away.”

“If it wasn’t for liquid nourishment, you’d waste away,” Toy complained, tears in her eyes. “Look, Miss Lovie, I made a cheese soufflé. It’s nice and soft. Try it.”

“I’ll try,” Lovie replied as usual, without heart.

Neither Toy nor Cara could argue with her because the coughing was horrendous. One night they’d both gone running into her room, afraid she’d choke to death on her own spittle. After that night, despite Lovie’s resistance, Cara put her foot down and declared they had to see her doctor.

“No, he’s so busy,” Lovie complained. “We mustn’t bother him.”

“Mama, it’s his job. Besides, how can we help you if we don’t bother him once in a while?”

“He’s not going to tell us anything we don’t already know.”

Cara could only look at her mother. They were moving into dark, unfamiliar territory—and they needed help.

The minutes spent dashing from the nest to the sea are very dangerous in a turtle’s life. Ghost crabs tiptoe across the beach to attack the hatchlings. Only one in thousands of hatchlings may survive to maturity.