The Islanders

by Mary Alice Monroe

  “Too common,” I said. “He needs a special name. Like Braveheart. Think of how brave he had to be to live out in the wild by himself.”

  “We don’t know how long he was out in the wild,” Macon said. “Maybe it was one night.”

  Lovie lifted her chin. “How about whoever gets to keep him gets to name him?”

  Macon and I looked at her, mouths open. She’d said aloud what we were all secretly wanting.

  “I want to keep him,” I said. “I’m the one who figured out he was a dog. And he’s at my house.”

  “We all found him,” Lovie fired back. “Plus, you have to go back to New Jersey at the end of the summer.”

  “But I’ve always wanted a dog,” I told her, feeling suddenly defensive.

  “So did I!” she said.

  Macon said morosely, “I wish I could keep him. But Mom says with the baby on the way, she can’t allow a big dog in the house.”

  I was surprised that Macon had already asked permission. I had not worked up the courage yet to ask Honey.

  “Well, we can’t get our hopes up anyways,” I said. “He obviously belongs to someone. He has that collar.”

  We all fell quiet while petting the dog, who was now flopped out on the driveway with his long pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. His watery brown eyes looked at us with relief and joy. I thought about how scared the poor dog must’ve been.

  A fire department pickup truck rolled up to the house. It was one of the very few vehicles allowed on the island. We watched as Chief Rand stepped out of the truck. He wiped his brow and looked around, then, spotting us, he waved and walked toward us.

  “So, here’s the furry mischief maker,” Chief Rand said, bending down to pet the dog. “Sounds like it was a pretty crazy night for you kids and your four-legged hostage.”

  “He’s really nice,” I said, feeling the need to defend him. “We just gave him a bath and he didn’t nip at us or bark. Not once. Not even when Honey pulled sandspurs off him.”

  “Well, I yelp when I get those prickly suckers on me.” Chief Rand gently held the dog’s face with his hands. “You did a real good job cleaning him up.” He ran his hands down the length of the dog’s body. “He’s a skinny thing. Likely been lost for a while. I’d say he’s one lucky dog to have survived in the wild with coyotes around too.”

  “Does he belong to someone on the island?” Lovie asked.

  Chief Rand shook his head. “I put the word out, but no one here’s stepped up to claim him. Plus, I think I know every resident dog on the island. I’ve never seen this guy.”

  “Well then, how did he even get here?” Macon asked.

  Rand stood up, stroking his bearded jaw in thought. “It’s possible he swam over from Capers Island. It’s a short distance from here. Deer do it all the time.”

  “They do?” I tried to imagine the sight of deer swimming across the inlet.

  “Yep. This poor fella probably got left behind from a boating trip—on purpose.” He shrugged. “He likely smelled food on Dewees and swam over.”

  The chief looked down at the collar tag and read it. “It’s good to know he’s up-to-date on his rabies. That’s one less worry. And it shows he belonged to someone.”

  I looked into the dog’s liquid brown eyes. Something inside of me shifted, and I just knew this dog was going to be mine… somehow.

  “Do you have to take him away?” I asked.

  “We all love him already,” Lovie said, wrapping her arms around the dog’s neck.

  Chief Rand’s face softened. He reached up to scratch his beard again. “Tell you what,” he said. He spoke to all of us, but his eyes were on me. “I’ll take him to the vet on the mainland, to check for a microchip and make sure he’s healthy. Then I’ll report him to the local animal shelters to see if this dog is on any lost pet list. If I come up empty-handed, I’ll bring him back here. I don’t see much point in him having to stay in a cage at a shelter when he could be living the good life out here on the island with you kids.”

  We jumped to our feet, cheering. The dog jumped to his feet too and barked.

  “Thanks, Chief Rand!” I exclaimed.

  “Hold on now!” Rand motioned for us to calm down. “We have a lot of hoops to jump through first. And I have to know your grandma agrees to all this. What she says, goes.”

  “She’ll say yes!” I didn’t know what I’d have to do to convince her, but I’d figure something out. I just had to.

  “Then say goodbye for now. Hopefully, I’ll have this dog back to y’all soon. What’s his name, anyway?”

  My friends and I looked at one another. I remembered what Chief Rand had said when he first saw the dog. I’d say he’s one lucky dog.

  “His name is Lucky,” I said, and looked to Macon and Lovie for agreement.

  Lovie and Macon both smiled and nodded.

  * * *

  Waiting for Lucky to return seemed like the longest day of my life! The three of us tried to pass the time catching a meal. We hung out at the crab dock armed with long-handled nets and a bucket. But we were quickly run off by curious alligators, only the tops of their heads and dark, bony ridges of their backs visible as they drifted lazily toward us like logs in a pond.

  Lovie suggested a cart ride to the northern end of the island to fish. But the bright afternoon sun was zapping our energy and would keep the fish away. July was the hottest month of the summer in South Carolina, and this felt like the hottest day.

  So we retreated to our usual hangout… the Nature Center. Inside, the air was chilled and a fan circulated it in a gentle breeze that cooled our skin. We got out our journals to recap the wild experiences from the last twenty-four hours. Each of us had our own best way of telling stories. Macon’s notebook had lots of cool facts and he wrote long paragraphs about what he saw, and more about what he felt about it.

  I could draw. I felt good about my skill after a month of practice. My details were better. Honey told me frequently how good my powers of observation were. She said I was a born naturalist.

  Lovie’s drawings were not as detailed as mine, but, well, prettier. More like paintings. Her art classes were paying off. She filled her pages with color. I was jealous of the way she could draw faces that actually looked like the people she drew. Her drawing of Lucky was just plain beautiful.

  * * *

  When I returned to the Bird’s Nest, the fire truck was parked in the driveway. My heart skipped a beat. I darted up the stairs and raced into the house. Chief Rand and Honey were talking at the kitchen counter, coffee cups in their hands. I searched the area, panting, but I didn’t see Lucky.

  Honey looked up, saw my face, shook her head, and smirked. “Go on to the porch. That lucky mutt is back.”

  I dashed to the back porch. There was Lucky, sitting like he belonged there, wearing a brand-new red collar. I slid open the sliding glass door, and in a flash I had the dog in my arms. I gave him head scratches and belly rubs, and I wasn’t ashamed of the tears.

  Chief Rand and Honey stepped out onto the porch.

  “So far so good, Jake,” Rand said. “He isn’t microchipped, and the vet gave him a clean bill of health.”

  “And flea medicine,” Honey added.

  “I posted Lucky’s picture at the local community centers, and on the ferry,” Chief Rand added. “I also ran a check of the local animal shelters. So far, no one’s posted a lost dog of his description. And no one has claimed him.”

  “Yet,” Honey warned.

  “I just know no one is going to claim him. He belongs here.” I gave Honey my most desperate, pleading look. “Pleeeeeease, can we keep him?”

  “You can stop the begging,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I already told Rand that Lucky could stay here. Temporarily. We have to wait seventy-two hours for someone to call about the dog. After that, we can discuss Lucky’s future.”

  Chief Rand winked at me. “Animal control is not coming out to us, so the way I see it, possession is nine-tenths of
the law.”

  I smiled and buried my face in the dog’s fur. As if Lucky heard my thoughts, he put his paws on my lap and started licking my face. It tickled and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Chief Rand chuckled and said, “A boy and his dog.”

  Honey crossed her arms and sighed. “Sometimes life makes decisions for you, and it’s best not to fight it and just to go along.”

  Dear Dad,

  You’re not going to believe this, but we have a dog! Honey just doesn’t know it yet.

  His name is Lucky. We had our stakeout last night for the turtle nest. We thought he was a coyote, but we saw it was just a scared, lost dog. And hungry. He probably smelled the beef jerky tucked in Macon’s pocket.

  I know you’ve always said no pets for as long as you and mom are active duty. But he needs a family. And I think we could all use some luck in our lives, don’t you?

  PLEASE write to Honey and tell her I can keep him. She’ll do anything you ask. I want him so bad. I don’t think I ever wanted anything more. (Except you getting better.)

  Here’s my best drawing of Lucky. I promise he looks way better than that. Can we keep him?

  PLEASE?

  I miss you.

  Love,

  Jake

  CHAPTER 22

  The Tests

  Your dad would be proud.

  THE SUMMER DAYS FLEW BY and the July weather kept getting hotter. Quick afternoon pop-up storms raced across the island on their way to the Atlantic Ocean, adding to the humidity. The bugs sure loved it. At night the songs of the cicadas swelled and the frogs bellowed. The mosquitoes were bigger and hungrier than ever. Honey joked that the mosquito was the state bird!

  The Turtle Team was super busy now. In the mornings we looked for turtle tracks and nests, and in the evenings the early nests were beginning to hatch!

  Best of all, no one ever came forward to claim Lucky, so he got to stay with me. Lovie was okay with that. She was happy to see the dog every day. Honey wouldn’t admit that we were adopting him. But I could tell Lucky was winning her over. He couldn’t climb the ladder to my loft, so he slept on a mat in the main room. Every morning Lucky scratched at Honey’s bedroom door and whined to wake her up. Up in my loft, I could hear her croon to the dog as she made her coffee. Lucky also put his head on her lap for attention and dropped toys at her feet to play.

  Mostly, though, Lucky was my sidekick. I was in charge of feeding and walking him. He sat on the golf cart with me while I did my chores. And he was officially part of the Dawn Patrol.

  The big shift for the second half of my summer was the classes we were all taking. Macon was signed up for private swim lessons at Huyler House. Lovie met a retired artist on the island who agreed to give her art lessons. Me? At last I was taking my boater education course.

  I’d passed the written part of my boating test. Now I just had to pass Honey’s test. She said she wouldn’t let me operate a boat unless someone she trusted could agree that I knew my way around a boat. Chief Rand volunteered for the task on his day off.

  On the big day, Lovie was waiting for me at the end of the dock. She’d helped me practice on her boat and was as eager for me to get my license as I was.

  “Good luck,” she said. Her eyes were bright.

  “Thanks,” I said.

  Then, taking a deep breath, I turned and walked to the end of the dock, where Chief Rand was standing wide-legged in a boat named the She Crab. His beard was as red as a channel marker. He waved his arm high above his head and tossed me a tube of sunscreen.

  “Lesson one: Always protect your skin.”

  “You sound just like Honey,” I replied, while removing my Army ball cap and slathering lotion on my face and arms.

  “Let’s get this show on the road, or should I say water.” He chuckled. “First, untie the boat.” He pointed to the metal cleat on the dock.

  I scurried to release the rope.

  “Hop aboard!”

  I tossed the rope into his arms, then jumped aboard the boat.

  Chief Rand said, “What’s the front of the boat called?”

  “Bow,” I yelled out.

  “Correct,” he said, and tossed me a life jacket. “Back of the boat?”

  “Stern.” I felt confident as I snapped on my orange life vest.

  “What’s the difference between starboard and port side?”

  “Port side is the left side of the boat and starboard is the right.”

  Chief Rand playfully slapped down the bill of my cap. “You’ve been studying, I see. All right then, I’m ready to help you captain your own vessel.” He clapped his hands together. “This here is a sixteen-foot Boston whaler. It’s my pride and joy. Had it since I was a teenager. I bought it with my own money, too.” He rubbed his hand across the upper edge of his boat.

  That’s the gunwale, I said in my head, still thinking about all the parts of a boat.

  “A little TLC and you can enjoy a boat like this for decades. There are a lot of good memories here. You should ask your dad to tell you some stories about our times out on the She Crab.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  He grinned at my enthusiasm.

  “Okay, fire her up, Jake!”

  I licked my lips, dried my damp hands, and scurried to the engine. I quickly got it growling. I couldn’t help but throw my shoulders back and grin.

  “Well done! How much practice have you had taking off from the dock?” Chief Rand asked.

  “Uh, none, sir.”

  My proud moment was totally over. Luckily, Rand was a patient teacher. I followed his every command, and under his guidance, managed to slowly steer the boat away from the dock.

  “You’re a quick learner,” he said as I eased the motor’s tiller handle to follow the creek.

  A breeze rippled across the sparkling water. The green tips of cord grass swayed in the high tide. The creek snaked lazily from left and right. Every bend revealed hungry birds fishing for their meal.

  “It’s like riding a bike, Jake. Once you learn, you’ll never forget,” the chief said. His eyes were hidden behind reflective wraparound sunglasses. “Every Lowcountry kid should know how to operate a boat.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, keeping my eyes on the water.

  “Did you know your dad and I learned how to drive a boat together one summer?”

  “No sir.”

  “Your dad and I spent practically every day together on the island. We were best friends, back in the day,” he said, looking off at the water. Suddenly he shouted. “Whoa! Cut the engine! Dolphin, starboard.”

  I followed his command and scanned the dark water. Suddenly a smooth gray dorsal fin emerged. I gasped and pointed.

  “Dolphin at two o’clock!” I called out, using the clock as a marker, the way my dad had taught me. I just spotted the dorsal fin before it slipped beneath the surface again. “Are you sure it was a dolphin and not a shark?”

  “Definitely not a shark. A dolphin’s dorsal fin has a very curved edge like this.” He curved his fingers on one hand. “Sharks have a straight dorsal fin. Plus, watch the way they swim. A dolphin arches in and out of the water. A shark glides in a zigzag pattern.” His head jerked up. “Dolphin… three o’clock!” Rand shot his arm out.

  I scanned the water and spotted a dolphin arching in the water.

  “Look! Another one!” I yelled.

  “Two of them! No, three of them,” Rand said, shaking my shoulder with excitement. “They’re checking us out.”

  When they surfaced again, I spotted one with a damaged fin. “Look at that one.” I pointed. “Part of its fin is missing.”

  “Dorsal fins are like fingerprints for humans,” Chief Rand said. “That’s how we identify them. I’ve spotted that one a few times over the years. It’s likely a resident dolphin that got hurt, either from a shark bite or boat propeller strike. Boats sometimes speed too fast in these waters, without a thought to the animals they might hit.”

  I felt sorry for the do
lphin and kept my eyes peeled. I didn’t want to hit a dolphin or a turtle.

  We bobbed quietly on the water, trying to guess where the dolphins would appear next. Suddenly a loud puff cut the silence. I spun around to the bow of the boat. I couldn’t believe it. A dolphin was right by the boat! Its blowhole was just above the surface. Then it rolled over a little on its side so it could look right at me.

  “Someone’s feeling curious,” Rand said softly.

  “It looks like it’s smiling at me,” I said. I leaned over the edge of the boat, and my eyes locked on the dolphin’s eyes. I wasn’t imagining it. In that instant, I felt a connection. Like we were talking, without words.

  Then it slid over and disappeared into the water. Come back, I wished in my mind.

  “That right there is the sign of a very good day,” Chief Rand said, interrupting my thoughts. “Every time I see a dolphin, it feels like a gift. Especially up close like that.”

  “Yeah,” I said. I couldn’t believe my luck. I wanted to write my dad.

  “What do you say I bring us back in?” asked Chief Rand.

  “Aye aye, sir!”

  “Grab your hat,” Chief Rand told me as he stepped in to take the wheel.

  I did so just as he powered up the engine. Within a minute, we were skating over the water. Big white wakes spread out behind us, and I couldn’t stop the ear-to-ear grin across my face. I felt the salt water flowing through my veins. I was more of a Lowcountry kid than I thought.

  When we neared the dock and entered the No Wake zone, Chief Rand throttled back the engine and stepped aside.

  “Now bring us in,” he said.

  I grabbed the wheel. This would be the hardest part of my test. I couldn’t believe he was trusting me to bring in his beloved Boston whaler.

  “Rule one: Line up your approach,” Chief Rand told me. “How’s the wind or current?”

  “Behind me.”

  “Good. Then come in shallow to stay off the dock.”

  “Aye aye.”

  “Rule two: Come in slow!”

  I slowed the engine to a crawl.