Like everything else, the turtle team schedule and duties had changed because of the pandemic. The Department of Natural Resources permitted only two team members to work at a nest, to maintain social distancing. Linnea missed the camaraderie she usually felt with her teammates each morning, the gatherings for coffee at Emmi’s or Cara’s house. Yet she understood the reasoning. Barb was her teammate this morning, and she’d taken pictures that the team could post for all those who followed the nesting season on the Internet.
It was nearly 8 a.m. and the sun was already bright in the sky. Midweek, the beach was empty save for a few walkers pumping arms. A few peeps played tag with the waves. Linnea turned onto her beach path and headed toward Primrose Cottage. She spotted Emmi and Flo in their garden and veered over to say hello.
“Good morning!” she called out.
Emmi swung her head at the sound, then waved her arm in an arc over her head. “How are things on the beach?” She motioned Linnea closer.
Linnea came up to the gate. Emmi drew close, with Flo right behind her.
“Sorry. We have to keep it locked now because…” Emmi jerked her head in Flo’s direction.
“I know. John told me.”
“Any nests?”
“We had two nests this morning,” Linnea told her. “I moved one to the dunes off Second Avenue. Maybe Flo will be able to go out and watch this one.”
“Not this year,” Emmi reminded her. “No gatherings. We won’t even be able to have inventories.”
“You’re right,” Linnea replied with a sigh. “It’s such a weird year with all the restrictions.”
“We always manage.”
Flo surprised them by speaking up. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another.”
Linnea was delighted to hear Flo participate. “That’s right, Flo.”
Emmi leaned closer. “She’s having one of her good days.”
Flo stood nearby wearing a broad-rimmed straw hat and garden gloves. Despite her response and faint smile, Flo’s eyes stared off vacantly.
“How are you doing, other than turtles?” Emmi asked.
“Good, thanks. Oh, I made masks from the fabric you gave me. I’ll bring you over a bunch.”
“Thank you, sweet girl. You are a wonder on a sewing machine. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe your mother sews.”
“Oddly, given her love of decorating, no. She loves fabrics and can search for hours, but sewing, not at all.”
“Who taught you?”
“I learned to sew in school. I begged Mama for a sewing machine for Christmas freshman year in high school. She bought me a classic Singer and I just took to it.”
“I used to knit, back when the boys were little. Might take it up again someday.”
“I have the time to sew now,” Linnea said.
“What’s the matter, honey? You look a bit down.”
Linnea set down her turtle team backpack and rolled her shoulders. “I guess I’m feeling a little sorry for myself today. I’m watching everyone else head out to work in the morning.… I loved my job at the aquarium. I miss it.”
Flo took a step closer. “What do you miss most?”
Linnea was surprised by Flo’s question. She looked into the old woman’s cloudy blue eyes and saw a spark of clarity. “I love to teach,” she answered honestly. “I want to bring people closer to the natural world.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Flo asked pointedly.
“Flo, they laid her off,” Emmi tried to explain.
“Call them up. Tell them you want to work,” Flo said. “Just do it.”
Emmi rolled her eyes apologetically, but Linnea heard wisdom in the old woman’s words. She thought of Anna’s response to the flood crisis and felt her own blood stir.
“You’re right, Flo. Thank you. I will. In fact, I’ll do it right now.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, Linnea lowered her phone, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. Then she fist-pumped the air. She pushed back from the table and hurried out the door on a beeline for John. She rushed next door and knocked on the kitchen door. John smiled when he opened it.
“Hello, neighbor,” he said, drying his hands with a towel.
“John!” Linnea exclaimed, excitement bubbling in her veins. “Do you have a minute?”
“Yeah, good timing. I just finished fixing a leak in the sink. Come in.”
Linnea started pacing the room, her mind firing ideas.
John tossed the towel on the counter. “What’s got you all fired up?”
“I just got off the phone with Kevin Mills at the aquarium. I wanted to talk to him about volunteering to help the education department. You’ll never guess. He said he was going to call me. The education programs are all virtual now. With school closed, their classes were wildly successful. And… the aquarium got some grant money. They’re developing programs for kids online, and he wants me to be part of it. Habitat, food chains, watersheds—I’m so excited I could burst! This is what I love to do. And for kids! Teach them young, and they’re stewards for life.”
John studied her face.
Linnea looked at him askance. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just so great to see you excited again. I missed seeing that.”
She gave a self-deprecating laugh. “I know.”
“When do you start?”
“Immediately. I mean, I got my job back! I’m getting paid.” She clasped her palms to her cheeks. “My mind is spinning with ideas. I have so much to learn. That’s why I’m here.” She dropped her hands and looked at him pleadingly. “I need your help.”
His brows rose. “My help?”
“It’s all online. That’s your world. You design programs. I thought maybe you could help me understand how to best help teachers use the curriculum I write. How to make it interactive and fun. Some of the kids will be learning from home, and others will be in small group classes, depending on the school. So it’s a challenge.”
He took a deep breath, and she thought he was going to refuse, saying he didn’t have time. He released his breath with a droll smile. “Yeah, sure, I’d love to help. Sounds like fun.”
She felt grateful and a bit selfish. She knew he was working from home and helping his mother with Flo. “Are you sure you have time?”
He smiled again. “I’ll make time. Want some coffee?”
chapter fourteen
I’m just trying to get through the day, you know?
Like everyone in this lifeboat called the pandemic.
July
JOHN AND GORDON had decided it was a perfect day for fishing.
They walked side by side along the side street toward Palm Boulevard. The road was busy, despite the tourism drop. John watched the traffic for an opening between cars so they could cross to the other side, where Hamlin Creek glistened in the morning sun.
“Which one is it?” Gordon asked, gesturing toward the docks that bordered Hamlin Creek. There were at least a dozen, protruding from the slim strip of earth alongside Palm Boulevard into the creek. Some were weatherworn, some newer. A few had large boats designed for speed on lifted docks. A few were covered.