Swimming Lessons. Mary Monroe Alice

boots. “No, I wouldn’t. You know I wouldn’t hurt no turtle. But folks like you,” he said to Toy “just can’t believe we care.”

      Toy felt tongue-tied.

      “She’s not saying that,” Ethan interjected.

      Bigger shook his head. “I got a turtle shooter on every net. But hey, it happened. And here she is. I could’ve just chucked her back in the sea. That’s what some others might’ve done. But I brought her in. I called Ethan, didn’t I?”

      Ethan slapped Bigger’s back. “You sure did. And I thank you for it. You did the right thing. We appreciate it. Don’t we Toy?”

      “Yes. Absolutely,” she blurted out. “Thank you, Bigger. This turtle owes you its life. Any time you see a sick turtle out there, we’ll come out here to fetch it and thank you each time.”

      Mollified, Bigger hoisted his son higher in his arms and smiled at his daughter. “Go get your pictures for your project. These folks have to move the turtle and I’ve got work to do. We’re wasting daylight.”

      It was no easy task to maneuver the injured sea turtle from the shrimp boat into the crate in the back of the truck. With every move, Toy worried more damage would be done to the badly cracked shell. Ethan’s family went out of their way to help in any way they could, and before leaving, Bigger had promised her a ride on The Miss Peggy, and Lily was beaming that Toy had named the sea turtle Cherry Point.

      On the way back to the Aquarium, Ethan was quiet, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Toy wondered about the family man that she’d seen at Cherry Point, a man in sharp contrast to the loner. With his family, Ethan had opened a window to himself she’d never seen at the Aquarium. There, Ethan seemed as mysterious as the twelve foot shark he swam with every day in the Great Ocean tank.

      Toy cast a slanted glance at Ethan, eager to learn more about him before he shut the window completely.

      “Your family seems very nice.”

      He nodded, eyes on the road. “They’re good people.”

      “It sounds like you haven’t been home in a while?”

      “Never often enough to suit my mom.”

      “But you’re a genuine local.”

      “Yep. Born and raised. You can’t go anywhere near Wadmalaw without bumping into a Legare. The whole of Johns Island, really.”

      “It must be nice to have a big family.”

      “At times.”

      “Are you close?”

      He cast a quick glance. “I guess you could say we are. We have our spats, like most families. But we’ve been in these parts since before The War. Most everyone’s settled somewhere around Rockville or Charleston.”

      “Except Jim in Atlanta.” She said “Atlanta” with the same sour tone Uncle Will had used.

      That drew a reluctant laugh from Ethan. “Poor Uncle Will. He’s worse than my mother. He never can tolerate any of us moving off. I reckon it’s because we keep losing bits of our land and he’s afraid we’re losing the family, too. He holds on pretty tight.”

      “I find that endearing.”

      Ethan barked off a laugh. “I’m sure he’d like to hear that.” He shook his head, muttering, “Endearing.”

      “Hey, it’s better than enamored.”

      “I don’t know but I was right. My family was enamored with you. Especially Bigger.”

      “Your cousin is a real character.”

      A grin stretched freely across his face and affection gleamed in his eyes. “Yeah, that he is. One of a kind. You wouldn’t want to mess with him, but he’s got a heart of pure gold. Would give you the shirt off his back if you asked him. He’s saved my sorry ass a few times, I can tell you. Guys like him are a dying breed.”

      “Did you ever want to be a shrimper, like him? Or run Cherry Point?”

      His hands tightened on the wheel as the tires spun beneath them. “No,” he replied at length. “I never did. It’s not like I don’t enjoy going out on the shrimp boats and lending a hand from time to time. Some of my best memories were on board the Miss Peggy. But it’s a hard life. Long hours, tough work, hard men. The dock can be a pretty rough place at times. I used to work there in the summers coming up and some of the stuff I saw…”

      He shook his head. “It’s not for me. Never was. When I was a boy, I got a lot of ribbing for having my nose stuck in a book. I read about exotic places far away—Treasure Island, Narnia, Forty Leagues Under the Sea. If I ever dreamed of being a boat captain, it was Captain Nemo. My blood raced at the thought of getting in a boat and just…” He shrugged lightly. “Going.” He stretched out his arm. “Sailing on and on and on. Seeing the world and not worrying about coming back.”

      “So, where did you end up going?”

      “I went to Woods Hole in Massachusetts for my graduate degree. It’s beautiful up there, but way too cold for a Southern boy. Once I’d left home, I just kept traveling. Farther and farther away. I did marine research in Fiji, the Caribbean, the reefs off Australia, Indonesia, then ended up in Costa Rica. I spent six years there, the longest I’ve ever spent in any one place.”

      “I heard that you discovered some kind of bottom dwelling invertebrate?”

      He nodded. “But I’m most proud of the work I did drumming up international support for sharks.”

      “When you add all that up, I can see how you were an ideal choice to run the Great Ocean Tank.”

      “You never know where the knowledge and experience you’ve gained is going to lead you in life. When I was chasing down black market shark poachers, I didn’t think I’d be caring for sharks in an Aquarium. It’s funny how life turns out sometimes.”

      “Did your father want you to take over the family business?”

      “Yes, sure. It’s only natural that he would. But I think he always knew I was more interested in studying the living fish, not the ones caught to be eaten. And between you and me, he’s the one who inspired my interest. He was the one who taught me the names of all the fish, about their habitats and habits. He never let me keep an undersized fish and was mindful of our role as stewards of the earth and sea. When I went off to study marine biology I got some raised brows from some of the family, but he never once criticized my decision. He always encouraged me to carve out my own destiny.” He chuckled ruefully. “Though he’ll never understand why I ever wanted to leave a place as beautiful as Cherry Point. My greatest fear was that I never would.”

      “But you did.”

      He nodded. “Yep.”

      “And now you’re back.”

      “I guess it’s like what Bigger said. The tide brings us back, sooner or later.”

      “Sort of like the turtles. You came back home.”

      He turned his head to face her. “Sort of. Now, your turn. Where are you from?”

      She shrugged nonchalantly, but inside she cringed. In the South, asking someone where they were from was asking for a family history and church affiliation. Toy didn’t have a family to brag on. She was ashamed to admit that her daddy had run off before she was born and the only siblings she had were two half brothers who were mean curs who’d as soon steal from her what little she had as say hello. One of them ended up in jail—to keep his daddy company, her mama liked to say.

      No love was lost between Toy and her parents, either. Her mother and step-father had kicked her out of the trailer at seventeen when she got pregnant and never opened the door to her since. Not exactly the warm family bond that Ethan knew.

      “I used to dream of traveling the world, too,”