Winter's Tide (7 page)

A
fter Stephanie and Norm left, Mom and I decided to take Jelly to the beach using the golf cart. Mom grabbed her cell phone and the shell bucket from the back porch, and we put on our coats, gloves, and scarves.

When I approached Jelly with the leash, he growled faintly but allowed me to attach it. Outside, he jumped into the passenger seat on the cart, looking at Mom and wagging his tail. He ignored me.

“Look! He's used to riding in the cart,” Mom said. “He knows we're going to the beach.”

“Why doesn't he like me?” I asked. “Grammy asked me to take care of him. How can I when he doesn't like me?”

Mom shrugged. “I have no idea. You just have to hope he gets used to you, I guess.” Mom climbed in the driver's seat.

“Hey, can I drive?” I said impulsively.

Mom looked at me thoughtfully, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. “Well, you will be taking driver's ed next semester,” she said. “Okay.” She showed me how to use the key to start it and how to move the knob next to my knee to go forward or backward. She also showed me the gas and the brake.

“Duh!” I said. Who doesn't know where the gas and the brake are?

“All right then,” she said, walking around the cart to the passenger side. She poked me. “Slide over.”

I climbed over Jelly into the driver's seat, my heart speeding up. I was going to drive! I jammed the knob into the reverse position and pressed on the gas pedal. The cart leaped backward, beeping loudly.

“Whoa! Too hard!” Mom said. I tried again, pressing my foot more softly, and the cart began to back up, still making beeping noises. Jelly leaned against Mom, his
ears twitching as he felt us moving, and she cradled him with her left arm, rubbing his head.

“Okay, watch for traffic before you back out,” Mom warned.

As if I didn't know that! Besides, there was hardly any traffic on Grammy's street since it was a dead end.

“I know, I know.” I came to a stop in the street, then moved the knob over to go forward.

“Okay, head down the street, and let's find the area where you can park the cart.” The front window of the cart protected us from the brunt of the winter wind, but the air still felt cold and damp. Light-gray one-story apartment buildings lined the street on either side, each with two apartments.

I steered the cart down the street, going too fast at first, then hitting the squealing brakes, then going fast again, then hitting the brakes again.

“Whiplash,” Mom said, grabbing the dashboard with a laugh as I sped up.

“I have to get used to it,” I said. “Don't laugh!” I tried turning the steering wheel to the right and then the left, veering into the left lane, to see how quickly the cart responded.

“Diana! Stay in your lane!” Mom said. “Golf carts have to obey the rules of the road, just like cars.”

“I know, I know. I'm just messing around.” Mom always worried!

“You don't mess around when you're driving a vehicle. Even a golf cart.”

The street ended in a small parking area next to the beach. Jelly jumped down, barking, as I braked to a stop, and Mom gripped his leash. I asked Mom if I could walk him, and she gave the leash to me.

In front of us, between two dunes dotted with clumps of sea grass, a white sand pathway wound to the beach. With excited little barks, Jelly pulled on the leash toward the pathway.

Our shoes sank in the sugar-fine sand as we followed the path down to the beach. A fierce wind blew, tugging at my scarf. The tide was low, allowing a long walk across the dark stippled sand to the water. Meandering just above the waterline was a dark frilly line of seaweed. The ever-moving water was gunmetal-gray, choppy, and had a lacy froth on the waves. No one else was on the beach.

About thirty yards away, splashing in a small inlet of water that was about three feet deep, was a huge, dark shape about the size of a Sunfish sailboat.

Jelly began to bark and pull me toward the splashing creature.

“Mom, what do you think that is?”

“I don't know.”

We hurried closer. Jelly barked continuously as we
approached, and the fur stood up on the back of his neck. Fear pricked the back of my own neck, and my heart started to beat faster.

When we were about ten feet away, Jelly suddenly stopped barking and didn't want to go any farther. He planted his feet and began to actively sniff, holding his nose high in the air.

Closer, I saw the creature was shaped like a large dolphin, but it was black rather than gray, and instead of the dolphin's bottle-shaped snout, it had a shiny, rounded, bulbous head with a small beak-like mouth. Its mouth was slightly open, and I saw a neat row of small, sharp teeth. The creature rolled back and forth, and the two fins of its tail flopped frantically in the shallow water. Its top fin had a nick in the top, as if something had taken a small bite out of it.

Jelly stood quietly, sniffing, his fur still on end.

“Oh, Diana,” Mom said. “I think it's a whale. Look, there's the blowhole.”

At that minute, the blowhole opened and the whale breathed, a rushing sound of air, out and then in, loudly and quickly.

“Oh!” Mom stepped back, surprised.

Mom must be right. A whale! Right here on the beach. But why was it here? Something must be wrong.

“Mom, the water's too shallow for it! It needs to be in deeper water! We need to push it back out to sea!”

“I don't know if the two of us can manage that, Diana. It must be twelve feet long.”

“But we have to help it!”

“But the water's freezing.” Mom looked up and down the nearly empty beach. “Look, are those surfers down the beach? They're wearing wet suits. Maybe we could ask them to help. Why don't you run down and ask them? I'll stay here with Jelly.”

The cold air burned my lungs as I took off running down the beach toward two guys sitting on surfboards in the water. I ran along the water's edge, where the sand was hard and shiny and wet. I stopped in front of them, panting, waving my arms.

“Help! Can you help us?” I pointed down the beach toward Mom and the whale.

The two guys looked at Mom, then slid off their boards and into the water, and walked to shore, carrying their surfboards.

“That a whale?” Both of the guys were lean and muscular, wearing black, fitted wet suits. The one speaking was African-American, with a dripping ponytail of dreadlocks. The other had a sharp nose, a small mustache, and a wet shock of light brown hair.

“Yeah,” I said. “It's stranded in shallow water. We need help pushing it back out to sea.”

“Sure, no problem,” said the one with dreads. Both
of them hefted their brightly painted surfboards and walked rapidly next to me toward Mom and Jelly.

“I can't believe I didn't notice it before,” Mustache said to Dreads. “I wonder how long it's been there.”

Jelly started barking at the surfers when we arrived, and Mom had to pull his leash tighter and talk over his barking. “Thanks for coming over. We think this whale needs to be pushed back out to sea.”

“Sure,” said Dreads, and he kneeled and took some time to pet Jelly.

Jelly seemed to accept the surfers once they took time to pet him. He sat with his fat, little haunches on the sand, watching the surfers and the whale with a wrinkled brow.

The surfers laid their boards on the beach and stood at the edge of the water. There was an indentation, or small inlet, almost like a bathtub, of slightly deeper water around the whale. The double fins of the whale's tail flopped crazily, and it made high-pitched squeaking sounds. Periodically, a rush of air whooshed from its blowhole.

“Ready?” said Dreads.

“Watch that tail!” Mustache said to Dreads.

“Be careful!” Mom yelled over the wind.

They took a few steps in, then leaned over. Each placed two palms on the whale's side and, bracing
their legs in the surf, began to push. The whale's tail flopped again, and they jumped back, staggering a few feet through the frothy waves.

They needed help! Without another thought, I ran into the water.

“Diana!” Mom yelled.

I shut out her calls, wading deeper, until I was next to the whale, by its head. The freezing water splashed around my thighs. Cold water streamed over my arms. Half of my coat was soaking wet. The surf pounded and roared.

“Okay,” said Dreads. “On three. One, two, three!”

We all leaned forward, pressing our palms against the whale's rubbery side, and pushed with all our might. I took two giant steps, my feet sinking in the sand, and as the whale made whistling sounds, its fins seemed to dislodge.

Then a freezing wave came in and pushed the whale back where we'd started. It whistled again.

“Aww!” groaned Mustache.

“Again,” said Dreads. “One, two, three!”

Again we leaned with all our might against the whale, pushing it deeper into the water. As I pushed, I looked into the whale's large, wrinkled eye. It gave a plaintive call, almost like a birdcall or whistle.

“We're going to get you back out there, buddy,” I said. “Don't you worry.”

We worked out a rhythm where we'd wait for each wave to crest and pass, then, just afterward, we'd shove, using the withdrawal of the water to help pull the whale out to sea.

After we'd pushed four or five times, a guy and a girl walked up.

“Move down,” the girl said, and both of them splashed into the water. Their jeans turned dark halfway up their legs as they got soaked.

I was panting and my hands and feet were so cold I could hardly feel them.

“Okay. Wait for the wave.” Dreads let his arm drop as if starting a race. “Go!”

I gritted my teeth and groaned as I threw every ounce of my strength against the whale's side. As the water drew back from the wave, we pushed the whale deeper, scrambling to make progress with our legs.

“Go, go, go!” yelled Mustache.

Suddenly the whale flicked its tail, trying to swim, and the guy at the end got knocked against Mustache. “His tail just nailed me!” he yelled, scrambling to his feet.

“Please be careful!” I could hear Mom's thin voice cutting through the roar of the wind and the waves.

Then the whale sank under the waves, gave a powerful thrust of its tail, and began to swim out to sea. As
I watched, a wave hit me and knocked me down. Water gurgled and boiled around my face, and I flailed, trying to get up on my knees.

A hand grasped mine and pulled me, gasping, to my feet.

“You okay?” said Dreads.

I nodded. The whale disappeared for a moment, then we saw its nicked top fin break the water as it swam. We all stood, dripping, with our chests heaving, watching the whale make its way back out to deeper water.

“We did it!” said Mustache. “What an amazing experience!”

“Nice work, guys,” said Dreads.

“Yes!” said the guy who'd come with the girl, pumping his fist in the air.

We all stood and watched the gray water for a few long minutes, but the whale had disappeared. I had ignored the cold while trying to push the whale, but now that I was standing still, my hands began to ache and my teeth started to chatter.

“Diana!” Mom was saying. “We need to get you inside and get you dry.”

But it felt great to be standing out here with my new friends, basking in our success.

“Wouldn't it be cool if the whale breached right out there, like it was saying thank-you?” said Dreads. We
stood in silence, breathlessly watching the shifting waves, hoping that it might. But it didn't.

“Well, I guess it's gone,” said the girl. “I wonder what kind of whale that was.”

“I have no idea,” said Mustache.

“All's well that ends well,” Mom said. “Thanks to all of you.”

Dreads and Mustache picked up their surfboards. “See you later,” Dreads said. “Hey, wonder if we'll run into him later while we're surfing.”

“He's probably over a mile away by now,” said Mustache.

Everyone said good-bye, and we went our separate ways. I was shaking too much to try to drive the golf cart, so I let Mom do it. “We're going to get you right in the shower,” she said as Jelly hopped up beside me. He leaned over and licked my coat.

“Hey, now that I'm a hero, Jelly likes me,” I said. The ride home was even colder with the wind whistling around the glass windshield. I was shaking violently. “Wasn't that cool, Mom?” I said, my teeth chattering. “Wasn't that the coolest thing ever? We saved a whale!”

T
hat afternoon, in the car on the way back to Grammy's apartment, I told Daddy I'd received a text from Mama about Matt maybe not being able to move his arm.

“That's terrible! Which arm is it?”

“His left.”

“Well, if he's right-handed, he'll still be able to write and do some sports. Maybe he'll still regain movement.”

“Yeah.” I wondered if Matt would still be in the hospital when I got back. What I would say when I saw him?

Daddy glanced over at me, his eyes very serious, and he patted my leg. “This has been a pretty stressful couple of days, hasn't it, honey?”

“Yeah.” A memory of Matt flashed into my mind, the one where he put his face right up to mine and whispered, “If you tell, you'll be sorry. Do you understand?”

A little shiver ran down the back of my neck. Why did I let him scare me? Was there a part of me that was happy that he couldn't move his hand? That felt maybe he deserved it?

And I was not looking forward to seeing Diana again this afternoon. To tell the truth, my track record with stepsiblings wasn't too good right now.

“Daddy,” I said.

“Yeah?”

I hesitated. I didn't know exactly what I wanted to say to him. Plus, he was already tense about Grammy, and I didn't want to worry him more. Finally I said, “What do you think about Diana and Lynn staying home from the hospital today?”

Daddy was driving across the first bridge over the water, and I looked over at the grayish-green waves at
an ugly industrial area with a tall mountain of sand. “You have to remember that they don't know Grammy the way we do. You've grown up with Grammy. Diana and Lynn have only known her for a little while. Don't hold it against them, Stephanie.”

“Okay,” I said. But I realized I
was
holding it against them. I didn't think they were being loyal enough to Grammy. Especially Diana. Grammy had been so kind to her!

As if reading my mind, Daddy added, “It's not our place to judge others for what they do or don't do.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Leave that to God. Plus, think of it this way. This morning you and I got private time with Grammy. And they'll go to the hospital tonight when we go back.”

I nodded as we passed a surf shop that was closed for the winter. Shiny plastic mannequins wearing bikinis and surfer jams seemed to be shivering in the frosty window. A big sign said,
REOPENING EASTER WEEKEND.
I knew Daddy was right. I needed to stop being mad at Diana. Telling myself that and doing it weren't the same though.

When we arrived back at the apartment, the aroma of chicken soup surrounded us. Diana was sitting on the couch with wet hair, wrapped in a blanket, eating a bowl of soup, while Lynn stirred the pot by the stove.
In a closet in the corner of the kitchen, Grammy's dryer clanked and whirred. It sounded like a pair of shoes was in there, thudding as the dryer turned.

Jelly ran to the door when we came in, but when he saw it was us, his head drooped, and then he waddled back down the hallway and plunked himself down outside Grammy's bedroom with a loud sigh.

“How is Grammy? Want some chicken noodle soup?” Lynn asked.

“Sure,” Daddy said. “She's resting right now. We met with the doctor, a Dr. Claiborne. They don't have visiting hours again until tonight. I tried to call you earlier.” Daddy took off his coat and hung it on the coat tree next to the door. Then he headed to the kitchen and started helping Lynn get out spoons and napkins and bowls.

“You'll never believe what we did!” Diana said. “We saved a whale!”

“Really?” I said.

“Yes! There was a whale in the shallow surf, and we got some surfers to help us, and we pushed it back into deeper water, and it swam away.”

“You went in the ocean in the winter? You touched a whale?” My heart tripped.

“Yeah! It was so amazing!”

“She ran in before I could stop her,” Lynn said. “It was terrifying.”

Now, as Lynn ladled soup for everyone and set it on the counter, Diana described how Jelly had barked, how she had run down the beach to get the surfers, and how another couple had stopped to help.

“What did it feel like to touch a whale?” I asked. “Did it have big teeth?”

“Like an inner tube,” Diana said. “And yes, it had big teeth. Not as big as a shark's though. It flipped its tail and knocked one guy down. But it wasn't that big, maybe about twelve feet long.”

“That's huge!”

“And it had a nick in its top fin, like another fish had taken a little bite out of it. I think I'm going to name it Nick.”

“Nick the whale,” Daddy said. “Sounds like a typical Diana adventure! You're very lucky that tail didn't get you.”

“Mom,” said Diana, “I want to take Stephanie out on the beach and show her where Nick was.”

“Your hair is still wet,” Lynn said. “Not to mention your coat and shoes and jeans.” She pointed at the dryer, which was still making a rhythmic booming sound as Diana's running shoes tumbled around. “Let's all have some soup right now.”

Diana had clearly forgotten that I was mad at her.

After we finished our soup, Diana and I loaded the
dishwasher while Daddy and Lynn talked in the living room about what the doctor had said about Grammy's surgery.

I just wanted to be alone. Back in our bedroom, I got out the colored pencils I'd brought, thinking that I'd try drawing one of the shells that Grammy kept in a basket on her back porch. Shivering out on the screened back porch, I sifted through the shells, listening to the soothing sound as they clinked together. I found a pinkish-white conch shell with a pattern of sharp spines along the edge of the opening. Grammy had bought it for me at a shell store when I fell in love with it. That had been that summer I'd stayed with her while Mama and Daddy were deciding to separate.

I brought that shell and a few others back into the bedroom and arranged them on the end table for a still life.

Diana came in, dropping her wet towel on the floor and flopping onto the bed. She grabbed her hairdryer and turned it on, the sound of the dryer blasting my concentration.

I tried to block it out, focusing on the curve of the shell and the way the pale winter sunlight shone on its bumpy surface. It was like Diana was following me around. I thought about what Daddy had said and drew a deep breath, trying not to be mad. The thing
that made me maddest was that she didn't even seem to notice I was avoiding her.

It didn't take long for her to dry her flyaway hair.

I thought she'd leave then, but instead she lay on her side, propping her cheek on her palm. “Nick the whale reminded me about that preppie guy named Nick who you met at the ranch two summers ago,” she said. “Do you ever text him?”

“Not for a long time,” I said, still sketching. “Not since I saw him at that soccer game where we played his school.”

“Then it made me think of Russell,” she said. “I wonder how he's doing.”

I put down my pencil with a sigh and pushed my hair behind my ear. “You could write him, using the address at the ranch. Or write Maggie.” Maggie had been the head wrangler at the ranch. She'd had a special relationship with Diana, and she'd helped me lose a little of my fear of horses.

“I did write him. He never wrote back. Anyway, he's probably forgotten all about me.”

I glanced over at her. “How could he forget you? With all the searching for the wolves and the surgery with Doc?”

“Or maybe he just remembers how mad he was at me.”

“He's had time to forgive you. And now both the wolves are safe. You should write him again.”

At that moment, the clothes dryer buzzed from the kitchen, and Diana jumped up and ran down the hall. A few minutes later, she was back in the bedroom, her arms full of her shoes and jeans, and she dressed to go outside.

“Come on, let's go down to the beach, and I can show you where the whale was. I can drive the golf cart.”

I slowly put away my colored pencils. She was never going to get the hint.

Then Daddy was standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “Why don't you go down to the beach with her, Stephanie? A little fresh air will do you good.”

I stood up. Nobody was leaving me alone.

“Now, I can't believe I'm having to say this, but don't go in the water again!” Lynn warned Diana as we put on our scarves and gloves. I shoved my cell phone in my pocket.

“And be careful with the golf cart,” Daddy said.

“Okay, okay,” Diana said.

Outside, the sea oats beside the house bent low in the wind. The sky was bright blue with thin sunlight streaming through wispy clouds.

“Hop in!” Diana said as she slid behind the wheel.

I climbed in the passenger seat, beginning to feel excited. The wind seemed to blow the cobwebs from my head. The past few days, I had spent a lot of time in the hospital. Maybe I did just need to go have some fun.

“Whee!” Diana backed out of the driveway at record speed, slammed on the brakes, and began speeding headlong down the sandy road toward the beach.

My scarf and hair blew out behind me, and I leaned out to the side, holding onto the windshield brace. “Wahoo!” I yelled.

The road ended in a small parking lot next to the beach, but Diana didn't stop. She just drove the cart over the mound of sand, past the sign that said No Vehicles, and down the path to the beach.

“Whoa!” The cart bounced so hard I almost fell out.

Diana drove down to an area near the breakers. “Here's where Nick was. The tide's come in since then. It took us about seven or eight tries to finally get him back in deep enough.”

With a wrenching turn, Diana turned right and started speeding down the empty beach. Far away down the beach was the pier. It was so tiny we could barely see it. The wind whipped tears to my eyes and the end of my nose tingled with cold.

“Okay, I'm going to go as fast as I can go! All the
way to the pier!” Diana shouted over the wind, pushing her foot to the floor. The cart sped up, and we were flying over the sand. She zigzagged around clumps of seaweed. Three sandpipers frantically ran away from our tires.

I clung to the brace beside the windshield. I wanted to shut my eyes, but I was afraid to. The beach in winter was a different place. There was absolutely no one out here. The majestic gray-green ocean stretched out across the horizon as far as I could see, a bone-chilling damp wind whistled by, and closed-up houses nestled behind the dunes.

I thought of the many times I'd come out to this beach with Grammy, building sand castles while she read her history novels, walking out on the pier, and leaning over to look into the plastic buckets to see what fish people had caught. Once, when Daddy and I were staying here with Grammy, we saw someone catch a baby hammerhead shark. We'd watched in fascination and horror as it flopped around on the worn, warped wood of the pier.

“Yahoo!” Diana yelled again. She started turning the cart in big S curves, and I slid across the seat and crashed into her. I started laughing and realized it had been a couple of days since I'd laughed.

“Hey! Oh, my gosh. What's that?” Diana suddenly
said, pointing. I looked down the beach and saw something huge and black, like a giant tree trunk, lying on the beach a few yards from the water. We raced toward it.

As we approached, my breath caught in my throat. Shiny, black skin; a big anvil-shaped tail slowly flopping. I glanced at Diana. She braked to a noisy stop, jerking me forward, and leaped out.

Covering her mouth with one hand, she pointed with the other to the wilting triangular fin on top. A jagged nick.

“Oh no! It's Nick! He's stranded again!”