The Islanders

by Mary Alice Monroe

  Judy walked over to us and handed Macon a red sticker. “Hey, kiddo, turtles are coming. Put this on your phone. Or turn it off.”

  “Thanks, but I think I should get back home. I hate to miss this, but it’s getting late and Mom’s all alone,” Macon said.

  Judy smiled. “She’s waiting on her own hatchling, isn’t she?”

  Macon snorted at the joke. “Yeah. Just like the turtles, it’s taking forever. I’ve got to go. Sorry, guys.”

  “It’s good to trust your instincts. Just like the sea turtles do,” Honey said. She eased herself up out of her beach chair. “I’ll give you a ride back home.” She looked at me and Lovie. “You two stay on guard, okay?”

  Honey consulted with her friends, then began the long walk across the beach with Macon. We watched until their silhouettes disappeared into the dark.

  I pushed a button on the side of my watch to see the time: 11:32 p.m. glowed on the face of it. I yawned. I couldn’t remember ever staying out on the beach this late.

  Lovie stretched out her legs on the beach towel and leaned back on her elbows.

  “Jake?” Her eyes were fixed on the millions of stars above us.

  “Yeah,” I replied, then stretched out my legs too.

  “I don’t want this summer to end,” she said wistfully.

  We watched long wisps of clouds float lazily in front of the moon.

  “Me neither.” I dug my toes into the sand. “I’m not sure I know where I’ll end up when it’s over. Mom called and said everything is up in the air, because of my dad’s injury.”

  “Will you stay here?” she asked hopefully.

  I shook my head. “Doubt it. I’ll probably be heading back to New Jersey. I have to start seventh grade. That means another new school.”

  “Are you nervous?”

  “Kind of. But I’m used to being the new kid in school.” I scooped sand in my hand and let it slide out between my fingers. “I hear there’s a lot of homework. But I guess it’ll be nice to see my old friends. It’s funny, but I haven’t thought about them all summer.”

  Lovie didn’t say anything.

  I found a moon shell in the sand next to me and handed it to Lovie. “You and Macon are my best friends now.”

  Lovie held the shell gently in her fingers, then lay back on the towel and looked up at the stars. “You’re my best friends too.”

  Her eyes shone in the moonlight. I lay back on my towel. Side by side we stared up at a billion stars shimmering in the night sky.

  “There!” Lovie pointed to a twinkling star. It was larger and brighter than the rest. “That’s the wishing star.”

  “That’s the North Star,” I corrected her. “See? It marks the tip of the handle of the Little Dipper. My dad taught me that if you can find the Big Dipper, you can find the North Star.” I turned my head to look at her, but all I could see was her profile. “Besides, isn’t a wishing star the first star you see at night?”

  “Out here on the island, you can see all the stars. So I pick out the biggest, brightest star to wish on.” She stroked the thick braid of her hair. Then she said softly, “Jake, what do you wish for?”

  I watched the red blinking light of a faraway plane. “I wish I was on that plane, going to see my dad.” I turned to look at her. “What about you? What’s your wish?”

  She didn’t answer. I only heard the rhythmic sound of the waves rolling ashore.

  Lovie sat up and brushed away the sand. “Never mind. Wishing on stars is for babies, anyway.”

  I couldn’t understand why her mood had shifted suddenly.

  “Jake,” Lovie said, peering into the dark, “someone’s coming.”

  I bolted upright and saw a familiar shape walking toward us from the boardwalk. “It’s Honey!”

  Judy and Alicia flashed their lights and waved.

  Honey approached, her breath coming in short pants. “Did I miss anything?”

  “Nope. Just mosquitoes and sand gnats,” Alicia said with a laugh.

  Honey walked to the nest, then crouched low. “I don’t know about that,” she called out in a singsong voice. “The pot is bubbling. Y’all better get ready for a boil!”

  We all jumped up and scrambled to move our towels and chairs out of their path toward the sea.

  Lovie and I kneeled close to the nest, shoulder to shoulder. I couldn’t take my eyes from it. The widening circle in the sand looked like a big chocolate chip cookie with all the little brown bumps popping out. We watched, almost holding our breath, as one lone hatchling, dark brown and only three inches long, wiggled its flippers and pulled itself from the nest. Without pausing, the hatchling began digging its flippers into the sand as it headed straight for the sea.

  “It’s so cute,” said Lovie in an excited whisper.

  “Look at that tiny turtle track,” I said with a short laugh. It was so small compared to the two-foot-wide tracks of the adult sea turtle.

  “That’s the scout,” said Honey. “The rest won’t be far behind.”

  Suddenly the little brown bumps in the sand began to heave, like something from beneath was pushing them upward. Then the bumps in the sand became flippers and heads as dozens of little hatchlings began pushing out of the nest all at once.

  Judy moved the front wood stake out of the sand to clear the way. “Heads up! Here they come!”

  Boy did they! Tiny brown hatchlings were wiggling and pushing as they climbed up and over one another to escape from the hole in the sand. There were a lot of them. They were crazy, scrambling wildly with their flippers waving. They couldn’t wait to get to the sea, where they would spend the rest of their lives. They had to hurry to get there alive.

  “Look at them go!” I shouted.

  It was hard to imagine how someday those tiny creatures would grow to over three hundred pounds.

  “You’re going home, babies!” Lovie cried. I could see how happy she was to witness her sea turtle nest hatching. I was just sorry Macon was missing this.

  When the last hatchling scrambled out of the nest, we all rose to guard the turtles as they crawled across the beach. The moon lit up the shore, so we could see nearly eighty tiny turtle tracks crisscrossing the smooth sand. Everything from footprints to driftwood to wrack were obstacles for them, but nothing stopped them.

  “Never give up. Never surrender!” I called out with excitement.

  As the turtles neared the water, they fanned out across the beach. From a distance, they looked like dark stones on the wet sand. We followed beside the hatchlings, on the lookout for ghost crabs.

  We slowly walked toward the shoreline, careful of our every step. At the water’s edge, we watched the first of the hatchlings dive into the waves and quickly disappear into the dark water.

  “Where do they go?” I asked Honey.

  “They’ll swim for three days without stopping to reach the giant masses of seaweed beds called Sargassum in the Gulf waters.” Honey stepped out of the way of two hatchlings that had gotten close to her feet.

  “They won’t see their mother again, right?”

  “No,” Honey replied kindly. I knew she heard the loneliness in my voice for my own mother. “The hatchlings work together in the nest. But once they reach the sea, they’re lone swimmers. Instinct and luck are their guides now.”

  “Goodbye!” I called out. “Good luck!”

  I felt Honey’s arm slide across my shoulder. “I always feel a twinge in my heart when I say goodbye.”

  “My mama says only a lucky few will make it to the Sargassum,” Lovie said, coming to stand beside us at the water’s edge.

  “True,” Honey said. “But each of the female hatchlings tonight who survives and grows to adulthood will come back here and lay her own eggs. That will be in twenty-nine years.” She squeezed our shoulders. “I might not be here to welcome her back. But you might.”

  We stood at the edge of the shore until the last baby turtle caught the outgoing tide. The moon created a ribbon of light over the water
that looked like a golden path for the hatchlings to follow.

  I thought about how they were all gone now. They’d left the island and were swimming toward their new life.

  Soon, I’d be leaving the island too.

  CHAPTER 24

  The Magic of the Full Moon

  We’re all in it together!

  THE WHIRRING OF AN APPROACHING helicopter drowned out the sound of the ocean. I looked up to see a white-and-blue chopper flying low—straight over us.

  Judy squinted in the blowing sand. “That’s the ambulance helicopter!”

  “To the cart, kids! Quickly,” Honey yelled. We scrambled as fast as the hatchlings to collect our towels, chairs, and bags. As one, we hustled through the soft sand toward the boardwalk.

  “A helicopter only comes to the island at night if someone needs to be medevaced to the hospital,” said Honey.

  She looked over at me. I knew we were both thinking the same thing: Mrs. Simmons.

  Honey drove the cart through the darkness. The moon that lit up the beach lit up the road. We skipped the turn to the Bird’s Nest. Honey made a beeline for the fire station.

  Lovie and I sat on the back seat, gripping the cart. The chopper’s propeller was beating the night air as it landed. The whipping sound was so loud it was frightening. We climbed out of the golf cart and hurried closer as a team of medics jumped out of the chopper. A few other neighbors’ golf carts were arriving to watch the excitement.

  “Surprised to see all of you up at this hour,” Chief Rand said.

  “Turtle nest boil,” Honey said curtly. “Is it Tessa?”

  “Yes, but everything’s fine. She had her baby!”

  “The baby!” Lovie and Honey exclaimed in unison.

  “Wow,” I said. “Macon’s instincts were right.”

  “Is the baby okay?”

  “Yes, everyone appears fine, but we have to get mom and baby to the hospital to get checked out. Baby Girl Simmons came a little early. It turns out your friend Macon saved the day. When he saw his mother was in trouble, he called your Aunt Sissy,” Chief Rand said to Lovie. “She raced over and helped her through the labor. Macon called the fire station and we requested the helicopter. They’ll be transported to the hospital by air.”

  “Macon sure was cool under pressure,” Honey said. “I’m so proud of him.”

  Honestly? I wasn’t sure I would be under those circumstances.

  “Here they come,” Chief Rand said, and saluted a farewell.

  Lovie grabbed my arm again as we watched the team pushing Mrs. Simmons toward the helicopter on the gurney. She clutched the baby in her arms. Macon walked behind them. He didn’t turn or wave to us. His eyes were on his mom. At the helicopter, the medics lifted Mrs. Simmons and the baby on board.

  Then they pulled Macon into the passenger side of the helicopter. Lovie and I looked at each other, wide-eyed.

  “Macon!” Lovie and I yelled out, and waved over the sound of the engine and rotor blades that were still spinning.

  He turned our way. We waved wildly at him. He flashed us a big smile that seemed brighter than the stars and moon combined.

  “The nest hatched,” Lovie yelled out at him.

  What! he mouthed back, shaking his head.

  “The. Nest. Hatched!” Lovie and I yelled together.

  Macon gave two thumbs-ups and disappeared into the helicopter.

  The door shut, but we continued to wave at the chopper as its landing skids lifted off the ground. We watched the chopper rise above the trees, then head toward Charleston.

  When the sound of the helicopter faded into the distance, a noisy yawn escaped me. Suddenly the excitement of the night drained out of me.

  Lovie yawned too.

  “Time for us all to head home,” Honey said. “I think we had enough excitement for one night.”

  We said our good-nights. Lovie headed for home with her aunt. Honey pulled me close as we walked back toward the golf cart.

  “Can you believe it?” she asked. “A turtle nest boil and a baby’s birth on the island. All in one night!” She shook her head in happy disbelief. “Must be the magic of the full moon.”

  Dear Dad,

  What a night! I saw my first turtle nest hatch. It was the nest that Lovie found and we protected. So it was special. It looked like most of the seventy-six hatchlings all came out. Lovie called it a boil because the hatchlings look like they’re all boiling out of the sand.

  Then, Macon’s mom had her baby. At home! It sure was a surprise. The best part was a helicopter landed on the island to take her and the baby to the hospital. Macon got to ride in it too. I was pretty jealous!

  Honey said it was magical that we had a nest hatch and a baby born on the same night. I think a lot of magic happens here on the island.

  Come home quick.

  Ha! I just saw that I wrote the word “home” for the island. I guess I really do love it here. Like you did.

  Love, your son,

  Jake

  Three days later Macon was back on the island—just in time to join us for the turtle nest inventory. We all had on our Turtle Team T-shirts and our Dawn Patrol hats. As we trekked across the warm sand to the nest, Lovie and I told Macon everything that happened the night of the boil.

  “Ready for your first inventory, kids?” Honey asked when we reached the nest.

  “Why exactly do we look inside a nest that’s already hatched?” Macon asked.

  Lovie and I smirked. Macon always liked to know exactly what was happening.

  “We count the hatched and unhatched eggs to see how the nest did,” Honey said.

  “Jake, go in my bag and get the sticks. You have to keep track of the egg count. Do you remember the drill?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Honey put on latex gloves so she wouldn’t pass on germs, then began to dig into the sand where all the turtles came out. A few passersby stopped to watch as Macon, Lovie, and I crouched close. Honey scooped handfuls of broken eggshells out of the nest and set them in a pile.

  “Oh! Look at this, kids!” She pulled her arm out of the hole and held up a small misshapen egg. “Here’s an undeveloped one. And there’s more in there. These just didn’t make it.”

  “Oh no,” Lovie said with a sigh.

  Honey put her right arm back into the nest hole and retrieved two more eggs. She put these in a separate pile. In another pile she collected the eggshells that were broken. The hatchlings had burst out of these. She handed us a shredded shell to feel.

  Macon rubbed it between his fingers. “It feels leathery.”

  In the logbook, I was making tally marks in different categories to keep up with everything Honey was finding.

  The next time Honey put her arm back into the hole, her eyes widened. “Lovie! Bucket!”

  Lovie swiftly ran to retrieve the red bucket and set it beside the nest.

  We were all wide-eyed now.

  Honey turned to Macon and said, “Looks like you didn’t miss all of the action after all. You ready for your lucky day?”

  Macon nodded expectantly.

  With care and precision, Honey pulled her arm out of the hole. “We found a hatchling!”

  In her hand was a sand-covered baby loggerhead. Its flippers waved wildly, ready to race across the beach. In the daylight, we could see the turtle more clearly than we could in the dark. It looked like a mini-me of a full-grown turtle, scutes and all.

  We all leaned in for a closer look.

  “A baby turtle!” Lovie exclaimed.

  “Can I hold it?” Macon asked.

  “Oh, no sir. Only those with permits can. You know that.” Honey lowered the tiny turtle into the red plastic bucket. “We don’t find live hatchlings every time we do an inventory. This is always a treat.”

  She reached her arm back down into the loggerhead nest. Her eyebrows shot up high. “Another one!”

  “Why didn’t they come out with the others?” asked Macon.

  “They either
got trapped in there, or they hatched later than the rest of the group.” She added this one to the bucket. “If we didn’t find them, I don’t know that they would’ve made it. And here’s another.”

  Lovie squealed and clapped her hands at the sight of each hatchling.

  I recorded three unhatched eggs and seventy-six eggshells.

  “With three live hatchlings, that brings us to the total of eighty-two,” said Honey. “The number of eggs we moved into this nest. After all this nest has been through, we can be very, very pleased with that result.”

  “Operation Coyote was a success,” I said.

  “That’s kind of a stretch,” Macon said. “I mean, we caught a dog.”

  “Sure, but there were no coyotes!” I replied, and we all laughed.

  Inside the bucket the three tiny, sandy hatchlings were scrambling around and around in a frenzy.

  “They sure look ready to go,” Lovie said.

  “It’s time to let them follow their destiny,” Honey said. She pushed all the eggshells back into the nest and covered it with sand. Then she looked out at the ocean. “The tide’s going out. That’s good timing for the turtles. Macon, since you’re the new big brother, you can carry the bucket to the water.”

  Lovie walked beside Macon, fussing over his every step. “Be careful. Don’t drop them.”

  Honey had us stop ten feet before the water’s edge. She stood by Macon.

  “Gently now, tip the bucket so the hatchlings can tumble out.”

  “Why don’t I just put them by the water?” he asked.

  “It’s important for them to crawl on the beach so they can remember it. The females return here when they’re mature to lay their eggs. It’s called imprinting.”

  Macon’s face was serious as he tilted the red bucket on the sand. The three hatchlings tumbled out. As soon as they hit the sand, the turtles took off toward the sea.

  “Look at them go!” Macon said.

  “They’re so cute,” Lovie cried. Macon and I smiled at each other. Lovie thought all animals were cute.

  As we followed the three little hatchlings, it was clear one of them had a deformed front flipper. The hatchling couldn’t walk straight. It turned around in circles. I wanted to help it, but Honey said we could not interfere.